FIFTY YEARS OF A SHOWMAN'S LIFE OR THE LIFE AND TRAVELS OF VAN HARE FIFTY YEARS OF A SHOWMAN'S LIFE OR THE LIFE AND TRAVELS OF VAN HARE BY HIMSELF LONDON W. H. ALLEN & CO., 13, WATERLOO PLACE PALL MALL, S.W. 1888 LONDON: P R I N T E D BY WOODFALL AND K I N D E R , 7 0 TO 76, LONG ACRE, W.C. INTRODUCTION. W H Y don't you write your Life and Travels, Van Hare ? After some years of interrogation in this manner, I began to turn it over in my mind, and consulted a very old friend, a public man, and a man of the world. H e replied,— " Van, there's thousands in i t ! " " Well," thought I, " that's very encouraging." " But," I asked, " how can you expect an old showman to write a book ? " " Well, just write your adventures, as I have heard you tell them in company, whom you could always amuse, and keep them up half the night." Yes, I t h o u g h t ; but there is a wide difference between talking and writing, and people who would be amused at hearing me tell my stories might not be so in reading them, though, as I have generally been taken for a foreigner, if I spoke somewhat ungrammatically they were very indulgent, and frequently complimented me for speaking such good English. I n my schoolboy days education was not so easily and cheaply obtained as in these much-vaunted enlightened times; there were no School Boards and ratepayers to pay your quarter's school bill, and I little thought that I should ever be compelled to contribute towards educating other people's children. I t was my lot to attend a village school, to reach which I had to ride from three to seven miles ; and I suppose very few of the masters would stand an examination beyond the three B>'s, although they professed to teach English Grammar ; but I doubt if they understood anything about it. I swallowed an English Grammar, but I never digested it— that is, I got it off by heart at each school I attended, but VI INTRODUCTION. the master never explained the meaning of it. I recollect that I could write a long time before I could read, for in those days a man who could write a good hand was considered a fine scholar. I attended at one time or another about a dozen different village schools, and amongst the masters were some odd characters. I recollect one old gentleman; I never knew his exact age, but he must have been getting on to 100 years. I have him in my mind's eye; the Jew Shylock would have been awfully disappointed upon insisting on the execution of his bond for a pound of flesh. Poor old man ! I hope he forgave me before he retired to a better world, for I always promised him, when he chastised me with his ruler or an ash-stick, that I should give him a good thrashing when 1 got to be a man. Another schoolmaster was an old bachelor. H e had formerly been a sailor, but, having landed property adjoining the village, he thought he would lead a quiet life, and direct the youth on land in preference to a ship at sea. He was considered to be a very learned man, but he was a queer fish. He would take a walk every half-hour to the nearest public-house, and occasionally he would, in the middle of the school hours, tell all his scholars to go home, and not come back any more that day ; then lock the door, and go and sit by himself in the pub, and sometimes he would not come near the school-house, as it was called, for a week or more, and I used to go every morning, hoping to find the school still closed. I thought him the best master I had ever been under, and I wouldn't have minded keeping to his school during my natural life. I had another master, a kind of an aesthetic young gentleman. He was a poet, if you please. I'll give you a specimen of his sublime capabilities. He courted the daughter of a small farmer, and one evening after school hours he took a walk over to pay his addresses, and found her in great trouble, through an old sow having destroyed a dress which had been washed and hung out to dry upon a hedgerow. He sat down and wrote the following lines (as near as I can recollect) :— INTRODUCTION. Yll " Alas, t h e day ! " poor Betsey cried, " I'm wretched and forlorn ; Tears m u s t forever bedew these eyes, My favourite gown is torn. The pig, t h a t vile and filthy wretch, T h e worker of this woe, I hope t h e butcher's knife will reach, And lay t h e miscreant low." THE MORAL. " Forbear, dear g i r l ! and dry those tears, W i t h patience bear t h e cross ; A n d t h a n k t h e Ruler of t h e sky T h a t it is no greater loss. I t is neither friend nor lover dead, B u t only a spoiled gown, Which can be replaced, by fancy's aid, I n any m a r k e t town." I suppose it ended in a breach of promise case. Having an uncle called old Captain Hare (a regular old salt), a retired naval officer, living in a very comfortable way, keeping his carriage, &c, at a village named Kiceall, where there was a good day school, it was arranged that I should go and stay at his house, for the convenience of attending the said school. His wife being a very religious old lady, and " Having no children, she did with singular care and tenderness intend my education."* So, instead of my playing with the rest of the boys, my old aunt determined to bring me up in the way I should go, &c.; so she taught me, morning, noon, and night, to read the Bible; and to incense my intellect with a perfect understanding of the proper pronunciation of the difficult words therein, I had to spell every word, and pronounce it t h u s : W-o-u-l-d—Would, C-o-u-l-d—Could, and S-y-n-a-g-o-g-u-e —Synagogue. I thought this a very dry study, and was most anxious to get out of it, which, through a piece of accidental good luck, I accomplished. My uncle being a tremendous big fellow, and not being a total abstainer, used to take an occasional dose of half a pound of Epsom salts. So I suppose my old aunt thought that one quarter of that * Bacon. viii INTRODUCTION. quantity (two ounces) would be a proper dose for a child. Well, I had to take it, and it nearly killed m e ; after which, to my great joy, my mother insisted upon having me home again. My mother, being far in advance of the generality of farmers' wives in those days, must have her promising juvenile go to a boarding-school; so arrangements were made for me to go to a school at Thorparch (not at Dotheboys Hall), and after the Midsummer vacation I and my wardrobe were taken on to Selby to join some young gentlemen, with whom I was transported, bag and baggage, by an antiquated post-chaise to our destination, where I stayed the following d a y ; but the establishment not being exactly to my ideas I took French leave, and started off the next morning, tramping all day, more than 20 miles, and after a good many inquiries found my way home, and at dusk crept stealthily into the kitchen, creating quite a terror amongst the servants, for they were afraid t h a t my father would kill m e ; so they hid me under a large table alongside of the wall, and, as Toole says, " still I was not happy." But I was not kept long in this state of purgatory. I suppose someone had given notice of my whereabouts, for my father walked in, with one of his smartest horse-whips in hand, drew me from under the table, saying, "Do'ad dang y o u " (he never swore—he cheated the Devil), " I'll mack you remember! " So he d i d ; for I can almost fancy feeling now the swingeing stripes upon my back; after which I was sent supperless to bed, wondering what I should be done to the next day. There was a great hue-and-cry at Thorparch, for a messenger from the school had arrived during the night in search of the lost lamb, and in the morning I suppose there was a consultation between my happy parents, who came to the conclusion that it would be no good to send me back ; some arrangement was made with the proprietor, and my juvenile outfit was fetched home, and so ended my boardingschool education. So, taking it altogether, you can imagine that the culture of the human mind was not very extravagantly forced INTRODUCTION. IX upon me, and that when I left my uncle with the intention of seeing the world I had, as it were, everything to learn, and I took every opportunity of improving myself, and may be called (as far as it goes) a self-made scholar. I n fact, the whole course of my life has been guided by the event of circumstances. However, with much persuasion, I took up my pen and commenced writing my history, but soon felt as if my poor illiterate brain was not equal to the task, and laid it aside ; but after a brief space of time I recommenced it, and began to feel more confidence in myself, and after many interruptions caused by my business, and with much labour, I at last got it completed. And I now submit the book of my Life and Travels to an indulgent public as a plain ungarnished tale, having used as much brevity, and as little of alien language as possible. G. VAN HARE. CONTENTS. PAGE CHAPTER I. EARLY LIFE 1 CHAPTER II. FIRST EXPERIENCE AS A PUBLIC CATERER . . . . . 18 . CHAPTER III. IN IRELAND . . . . . . . . 33 CHAPTER IV. THE BEDOUIN ARAB TROUPE . . 43 CHAPTER V. WITH E. T. SMITH . 58 CHAPTER VI. EXPEDITION TO HAMBURG—THE PERSIAN PRINCE . . . . 70 CHAPTER VII. THE WIZARD DOG NAPOLEON . . . . . . . 8 5 . . .103 CHAPTER VIII. TOUR IN SPAIN . . . . . , . CHAPTER IX. BULL FIGHTS 119 CHAPTER X. THE "MARY ELIZABETH" 130 CHAPTER XI. AT CADIZ 138 CHAPTER XII. START FOR AFRICA 154 Xii CONTENTS. PAGE CHAPTER XIII. GORILLA HUNTING 170 CHAPTER XIV. BACK TO THE COAST , 184 CHAPTER XV. THE FAN COUNTRY 196 CHAPTER XVI. AMONG THE CANNIBALS 212 CHAPTER XVII. EUROPE AGAIN . 223 CHAPTER XVIII. HAVANA 280 CHAPTER XIX. AT CADIZ AGAIN 247 CHAPTER XX. TOUR WITH THE AMATEUR SPANISH GYMNASTS 254 CHAPTER XXI. FAREWELL TO SPAIN 273 CHAPTER XXII. HASSAN, THE GORILLA CHIEF 282 CHAPTER XXIII. HASSAN'S ENGAGEMENTS . . 299 CHAPTER XXIV. HASSAN'S TEETH 316 CHAPTER XXV. CONTINENTAL TOUR 340 CHAPTER XXVI. AT THE FAIRS ABROAD 357 CHAPTER XXVII. HINDOO SNAKE-OHARMERS 377 CHAPTER XXVIII. TOUR IN SWEDEN AND NORWAY 397 FIFTY YEARS OF A SHOWMAN'S LIFE; OR, THE LIFE AND TRAVELS OF VAN HAEE. — •» CHAPTEE I. EARLY L I F E . I WAS born at Barlow Hall, near Selby, in the "West Eiding of Yorkshire, on the 15th of September, 1815, and inherited a most extraordinary memory, for I can recollect every circumstance that has passed from day to day from my childhood, but I hadn't it with me on that eventful day, for I can't bring to my mind whether it was on a beautiful bright day, or a dreadful dark night, when the authors of my being were rejoicing over this restless young scapegrace, nor did they have the presumption to think or even hope that their youthful progeny would ever attain that most sublime honour of being a showman. Why should they ? They had never heard of any of the family bearing that distinguished title, nor would they, if they had traced their genealogy back to the landing of William the Conqueror, whom the family of Hare are supposed to have accompanied. It's true there was one queer character in the family, a great, great big uncle I have heard them speak of; he was a kind of local philosopher; he was also a farmer and coal merchant, and had the Turn-head fishery on the Eiver Ouse between Selby and York, where they used to catch immense quantities of salmon and smelts; but since B 2 FIFTY YEARS OF A SHOWMAN'S L I F E . the introduction of steam packets, which run betwixt Hull and York, there are none left—they have washed them all away. I'll just give a brief specimen of my great big uncle's philosophy. H e used to visit all the farmers in the neighbourhood on each side of the river. One morning he went in one of his boats across the river to a field, where they were sowing peas, to have a chat with the proprietor. " Good morning, Mr. Scott; I see you are busy tilling and sowing. It's a glorious seed-time.'' " Yes ! it is, Mr. Hare ; if that's aught to do with it, we ought to have a good crop." " W e l l ! but you see, Mr. Scott, if they don't come, they will come, and if they do come, they won't come." " N o w , Master Hare, you're on me with your riddles again. I don't understand what you mean ? " " W e l l , you see, Mr. Scott, if the pigeons don't come on the land, the peas will grow and come up ; but if the pigeons do come on the land they will pick up the peas, consequently they can't grow and won't come up." " That's very true, Master Hare. Let's go up to the house and have a horn of old ale." I will just give another one which amused me the most. One day a Mr. Jackson, a gentleman farmer, with whom my great big uncle was very intimate, came down to the river side to watch the fishermen have a few tacks—that is, when they draw their net it's called a tack; if there are plenty of fish in the net they call it a good tack, or if there are very few fish they call it a bad tack. My philosopher great uncle saw him coming across the river and went down to meet him. After the usual compliments, shaking hands, &c, " Come up to the house and have a horn of ale ! " They drank nothing but malt home-brewed in those days, after which they went to superintend the fishing. This was the smelt season, and every time they drew their nets they were full of fine fish, so they were having good tacks. My great uncle had a nice little hamper packed with some of the finest smelts they had caught, and on his friend taking his departure he said,— 3 EARLY L I F E . " Now, Mr. Jackson, I will give you a fine fry of smelts for your wife." " Oh ! thank you, Mr. Hare ; I am greatly obliged to you. Good day, sir ! " " Good day, Mr. Jackson; I hope you will enjoy your smelts. I shall come for Mrs. Jackson to-morrow." " W h a t do mean, Mr. Hare ? " " W e l l , haven't you agreed to take of me a basket of smelts for your wife ? And, of course, I shall expect my bargain." Mr. Jackson in a terrible huff and with a great big D chucked the basket of fish into the river saying, " Take your smelts ! " and started off in a deuce of a hurry home. They soon made friends again over a pipe and some homebrewed. I believe our family have been noted for their longevity. My father was one of seven brothers who were all born at the old hall afore stated. One of them was an officer in the army, another an officer in the navy, another a banker, and three were farmers ; most of whom lived to near ninety years and upwards, and none of them were very staunch abstainers, but invariably breakfasted with the brandy bottle on the table. I believe I am the only one in the family that has ever been known to have embraced the teapot. The seventh son, from some superstitious belief that the seventh son or the seventh daughter was imbued with more natural faculties than the rest, was to be educated to become a great doctor, but he never obtained that degree, having died before he arrived at maturity. I never knew any of my mother's family, only that she was of foreign extraction, and her family name was Van, and that I was named after her. She was a very fine woman, highly accomplished, and possessed a large fortune. When she was married to my father she was under seventeen years of age, and he was over forty. She always used to say that she married him because he had such fine horses. She was herself a splendid horsewoman. Anyhow, she was a good and most affectionate mother, a kind-hearted, charitable creature, and beloved by all who knew her, both rich and poor. These are all the B 2 4 FIFTY YEARS OF A SHOWMAN'S L I F E . branches of the family tree that I have known anything of. My father lived to near ninety years of age, holding his appointment of G-eneral-Surveyor over the Selby and Bawtry Turnpike Eoad, 30 miles long, up to his death, an appointment which he had enjoyed for the last thirty years of his life. He was a large farmer and horse-dealer. He farmed about one thousand acres of land; he always kept a large stud for the London dealers to come down to see, consequently he had a good many grooms besides stud-groom and horse-breaker, &c, therefore I may be said to have been brought up in a good school and pretty well on the pigskin. When I was eight years of age I wore breeches and topboots same as my father, and attended all the horse fairs and cattle markets, dined with the leading farmers, cattle dealers, &c, and, of course, took my wine and grog, &c, the same as any other gentleman. I recollect my first appearance as a salesman was at the York Fortnight Fair, where we had a good drove of cattle bought from different farmers round the country, all of which were sold, except a heifer. My father went away with some gentleman, leaving me to sell her. My first customer says,— "Now, my little man, what do you want for your heifer ? " I said, " Fifteen guineas, sir." " Is she with calf ? " I said, " N o ! " " H a ! if she had been with calf I would have bought her." Second customer comes. " Naw, my lad, what's ta want for the c'ow ? " Says I, " Do you know who you are talking to ? " He says, " Hey, lad!" Says I, "Where do you find your lads that wear topboots, old fellow ? " " Never mind that," says he. " What's the price of her ? " " Sixteen guineas," says I. " Is she with calf ? " said he. " Yes," says I. EARLY L I F E . 5 " If she had not been with calf," says he, " I would have bought her." I began to be down upon my luck, knowing my father had gone to the Market Hotel to get his breakfast, it then being eleven o'clock, and I getting very hungry. Having been stuck in the market ever since six o'clock, I began to get sore in temper, when up comes number three customer. " Now, my brave fellow," says he, " what are you asking for your heifer ? " " Oh ! " says I, " you may have her for seventeen pounds, as I want to go to my breakfast." " I s she with calf ? " says he. " H o w do you want h e r ? " says I ; " y o u can have her which way you like." " Where's your father ? " says he. " Gone to the hotel to breakfast, and I wish I was there too," says I. I t happened that this was an old friend of my father's. H e went straight away and says to him, " That is a queer lad of yours," and told him all that had passed with the other customers, as he had been watching me all the time. My father sent a man to tell me to send the cow to the stable and to come to have my breakfast, and to my surprise there was my last customer at breakfast with my father, and they had a good laugh at me. When I got on to nine years of age, I began to feel my feet; I began sketching all the horses, cows, &c, and always playing some game with some of the horses. Having been to see a circus at York, I commenced what I called training some of the horses, but my father called it spoiling them. I have never forgot one day, when the foxhounds came across the farm. I ran into the hall in a wonderful hurry to look for my father, and said, " Oh ! father, tell Thomas to saddle the bay horse, for me to go after the hounds ? " H e looked at me laughing, and said, " Why, you would fall over his head and be killed." This was a death-blow to me. I began crying, and they could not get me pacified until my father took down a whip, and measured my back with a nice bit of small whip- 6 FIFTY YEARS OF A SHOWMAN*S L I F E . cord, that made me remember. But I was not to be licked out of my hunting propensity. I had to attend a school about three miles off, and had a pony to ride o n ; so one day, when the hounds were out, I asked the schoolmaster for leave to go out. W e were not allowed to take our caps out. I went straight to the stable and saddled my pony, and away I rode in search of the hounds, for I knew where they were to throw off; and soon came across them in full cry upon the common, where there was a preserve, or fox covert, as they called it, and several plantations. I sighted them across a ploughed field, skirted by a narrow plantation, so I took the nearest cut right across, to be able to get up to them. The pony got so wild and excited that I had no control over him ; and he galloped right into the plantation amongst a lot of fir-trees with low boughs, that knocked me about awful. H e got betwixt two trees, and there he slipped me and the saddle off together, and away he went after the hounds. I took the saddle on my head and ran yelling after him as fast as I could. When I got outside on the common I found they had killed the fox, and my pony was up at the death. They caught him and put the saddle on for me. The gentlemen asked me where my cap was. " Oh ! (I said) I had lost it." They laughed at me, and said, " Fine boy, he will be a good sportsman some day," and told the huntsman to give me the brush. W h e n my father and mother went to Selby Market, which was held on the Monday, and left me at home, I amused myself by shooting the pigeons off the top of the dove-cotes, and distributing them amongst the labourers on the farm. But this battue-shooting of mine decreased them so much that my mother began to complain at not having any young pigeons, and eventually they found out, to their wonder and surprise, that there were very few old ones left. When getting on to twelve years of age, I took it into my head that I would be an artist (School Boards did not bother me). I may say I was a self-taught artist, for I had scarcely seen either pictures or artists. I got the carpenter that worked on the farm to make me some stretchers; J got some brown holland to nail on them ; then prepared it with stone-colour paint with a brush. I ground my own colours, and tied EARLY L I F E . 7 them up in pieces of beast-bladders. I procured some brushes in York and set to work, painting horses, cattle, landscapes, an old farmyard, dead game, and a few portraits. This sort of business did not suit my father (not understanding the fine arts). H e would say, " H e r e , t h a t will never get you a living. I want you to go after something else—better employment than that." Some of the neighbouring farmers would call to see my father, and I was very proud of showing them my pictures; and the compliments I generally received from them was, " Oh ! I would sooner see some good flitches of bacon hung on the joists than those things ! " This was not very encouraging to me. I have some of my pictures by me now, and when I look at them, I think I made a mistake in my profession. I might have become a great artist. I used to spend my evenings with two old men—a Mr. Masters (a retired veteran huntsman, who had formerly hunted Sir William Milner's foxhounds at N u n Apple ton, near York) and a Mr. Meynel, a notorious cock-fighter, and celebrated breeder of game cocks, who used to supply the old E a r l of Derby. They learnt me to play at cards, &c.,< and you can guess they p u t me up to a thing or two. W h e n I was twelve years of age I was adopted by an uncle, who was a large farmer, and land steward for Miles Stapleton, Esq. (afterwards Lord Beaumont) of Carlton Towers. This suited me admirably, he being a great stock breeder. I was allowed to paint the prize cattle, horses, &c.; but I did not appreciate having to, get up every morning and ride round the farms before breakfast. At breakfast my uncle would ask me all about the sheep, cattle, &c. " How did such a field look ? " " I don't know. I did not stop to look at it." " A h ! if I asked tha what sort of a picture it would make, thoud'st have known." W h e n any show-folks, mountebanks, or anything of that kind came to the village, especially Wombwell's Menagerie, whatever I was doing, nothing could stop me, go I must. I would have given the coat off my back only to touch the hem of one of their garments. W h e n I used to come back, my uncle would say, " Thou will never be nought b u t a show- 8 FIFTY YEARS OF A SHOWMAN'S L I F E . m a n ! " A company of strolling players came to the village. They came to grief for want of patronage, and broke u p . One of them, Mr. Wilton, with his wife, stayed behind-—I suppose for want of funds. These were the parents of Miss Marie Wilton (now Mrs. Bancroft), who, I think, was born there. If not, she must have been very young. I shall have occasion to speak of an extraordinary incident in my life, of meeting her under very different circumstances. At this time there happened to be an appointment for the village schoolmaster vacant, which Mr. Wilton applied for, and obtained. As the schoolmaster always had a commission from my uncle to collect dues, &c, for the estate, Mr. Wilton had the same appointment, consequently was a frequent visitor, as he used to have to go out collecting after school hours. H e was supplied with a pony to go his rounds on, and used to return about 8 P.M., and always took supper with us. As Wilton was a very genial sort of fellow, sang a good song, published books of his poetry, &c, he made many friends. This was just the thing for me, to be jolly ; so I used to whisper to him to meet me at the old inn. After which I retired to my bedroom, disordered the bed to make it appear as if I had slept upon it, stole quietly out, and Tom Eandel, the stud-groom and rough rider, and I went to the pub to meet Wilton and enjoy ourselves. Of course we stayed there till the small h o u r s ; and no chance of getting in the house to go to bed unless some of the farm servants were sitting up expecting some cows calving, mares foaling, or ewes lambing ; which were very often at certain seasons. If not, we had to t u r n into the hay-loft till the servants got up. Occasionally, on an evening, I used to go up to old Sally H's—the Stot House as my uncle called it, on account of its being the rendezvous where the plough stots or plough boys were fitted out, according to an old custom. The set of plough stots consisted of nine couple of lords and ladies, as they were called, in dresses of coloured calico, tinsel, &c.; the ladies wearing false curls, we naturally expected to do- as well as on the previous n i g h t ; but, strange to tell, we only had £A 10s. in the hall—not even the expenses. She was a very clever reader, and her anti-Bloomer lecture was very good, of course condemning the folly of wearing such a dress. She gave the first part of her lecture in English costume, then retired to change her garment and appeared as a real live Bloomer. She was a big, fine woman, and presented a most imposing figure in it. W e visited some of the market towns in the * South, West, and North Eidings of Yorkshire, but in every place there had been a Bloomer before us, and mostly some good-looking girl who could not speak a word, and only like a moving wax figure dressed in Bloomer costume. This had ruined the business entirely and we had very poor audiences, but were consoled in each town by the assurance that if we paid another visit we should do immense ; but we did not think it good enough to try i t again, and came to the conclusion that the Bloomer game was played out. We finished in York and returned to London, from whence Mrs. Brougham took ship for Australia. I found the Crystal Hall doing a wretched business ; the manager wanted me to take it off his hands, trying to persuade me that I could make it pay, but I could not see it. The next great event was the death of the Duke of Wellington and the lying-in-state at Chelsea College, and there would be great crowds of people, thousands of whom would not be able to gain admission. My old friend Mr. Springthorp, one of the oldest waxwork showmen—one of the originals of Bartlemy Fair who had made a fortune—had then his exhibition at 399, Strand. Not having anything to FIRST EXPERIENCE AS A PUBLIC CATERER. 25 do, I spent a good deal of time with him, for he was very partial to me, and I was very proud to be schooled by such a successful showman, and by his advice I took a shop in the main street close by the College. W e went to the showyard, Tower Street, in the Borough ; this was a large yard, let out to the itinerant showmen to stand their caravans for the night—I engaged a very wonderful dwarf, named the celebrated Miss Paten, an alligator, a boa-constrictor, and a conjurer, and opened the gaff at the low charge of one penny. Every day the street was crowded from morning till night—I recollect Bob Hales, the Norfolk giant, walking down; I could see him all the length of the street, half a yard above the rest of the crowd—but they would not come into my show. My doorsman halloed and bawled at the top of his voice, but all to no purpose; they had only one object in view—to see the lying-in-state—and I was disgusted with the penny-show business. My friend Springthorp laughed, saying I must not be disheartened; he would show me what could be made out of penny business. So I joined him with the Bearded Lady. W e took the Doctor, who had been doorsman for Mr. Springthorp's exhibition some time—he really had taken the degree of M.D.—we had a new suit made for him to order trimmed with gold lace. We attended Nottingham G-oose Fair, and Birmingham Onion Eair, and did very well; we took as much as £26 in a day at a penny admission. The Doctor was a wonderfully clever doorsman ; he could talk the crowd in as he liked; he was worth <£20 per week to any show. W e returned to London for the Duke of Wellington's funeral, upon which occasion Mr. Springthorp took over J2100 for seats at the windows of his house in the Strand, where he had his waxwork exhibition, to view the procession ; and we had a jolly time of it, for he provided a cold collation, with champagne, &c. ad libitum. Upon our arrival in town our doorsman, the Doctor, disappeared with his new suit, and we never heard of him any more. I was next offered an engagement by a theatrical agent to be treasurer, &c, to a Mr. Lloyd, who was going to open the theatre at Cork, and not having anything on hand I thought 26 FIFTY TEARS OF A SHOWMAN'S L I F E . I would try that line of business—I might learn something ; anyhow, I should see the country and enjoy myself, as the salary was good enough for me to live as a " rale gintlem a n " in Ireland. So I accepted it (this was in 1853). I n due time I took my departure from the metropolis to undertake my treasury duties, and arrived by steamer at the Quay in Cork about midday, and engaged a rale Irish jaunting car to take me and my luggage and get a lodging near the theatre, which journey was quickly accomplished, and an apartment taken in G-eorge Street, close by the theatre. " Now, Paddy, what's the fare ? " " Och, and shure, your highness, an half a suvereign won't h u r t you." I asked the landlady's advice upon what I considered to be a little out of the way charge. " Och, shure, sir, give him eighteenpence." I handed his fare. Och ! and shure he wouldn't take it. " An' shure you're no gintleman to offer a paltry eighteenpence." The landlady said,— " Shure, sir, it's his just fare, and don't give him any more." H e bullied for some time, called me a bad Englishman and every other bad name. I offered it him again, telling him he could take it or leave it. H e took it quiet as a lamb, saying,— " Thank you, your honour, an' shure I shall be glad to drive your honour any time. Shure, an' God bless you, your honour; you'll give me a penn'orth o' whisky! " I then went straight to the theatre, and inquired for Mr. Lloyd. I found him on the stage. I presented my credentials, and whilst we were talking over matters of business the carpenter came up from under the stage and asked him for a penny to get a candle to work by. H e said he had not got any money. I tipped the carpenter a bob, and told him to get some lights, and also a liquor to cheer him up, for in the best-regulated theatres it is not very cheering in daylight behind the scenes. But this to me was quite distressing. I went up to my FIRST EXPERIENCE AS A PUBLIC CATERER. 27 lodgings to see about some luncheon, congratulating myself upon the bright prospect I had—to be treasurer, and no money in the firm. I then perceived I had made a grand mistake. I had been led to believe that it was Mr. Lloyd, the respected Scotch manager, b u t this was Mr. Fred Lloyd, a son of his. Well, the company engaged began to report themselves, amongst whom I may mention were Mr. John Webster, nephew of Mr. Benjamin Webster, manager of the Adelphi Theatre, and Mr. Jack O'Farrell. Miss Marie Wilton was the leading actress, with whom were her mother, Mrs. Wilton, and some younger children. Mrs. Wilton came to me and asked,— " Are you the nephew of Mr. Hare, the gentleman who was steward to Squire Stapleton at Carlton ? " I said, " Yes, that's me." " Dear me ! " she said, " how strange! Many a fat fowl have we had from your uncle's hen-roost! " Well, the opening night arrived, and a very poor house was the result (of course no one could expect otherwise in a Catholic country at the latter end of Lent). Well, the manager took all the first night's receipts for his own use. On the following night the house was very bad. H e told me to take the receipts to provide for the payments at the end of the week. " Yes," thinks I, " and a very poor prospect too." Anyhow, I bustled about as big as if I were treasurer at Covent Garden Opera. I must put down smoking. One other thing did not appear pleasant to my hearing. When the audience were tired of waiting for the curtain to rise they would be shouting out, " Up with the rag! " I got large posters stuck all over the theatre, " Smoking strictly p r o h i b i t e d ; " but they took no notice of it, so I went up to the gallery and pointed out the notice, and asked them very politely, just to oblige me, not to smoke. Paddy said,— " A h ! shure, sir, it is not your entertainment that we come to see. Shure, we only come here to have a smoke ! " After this I said, " Well, it's better for me to dry u p . " 28 FIFTY TEARS OF A SHOWMAN'S L I F E . When Saturday came, the time for " the ghost to walk," there was only a shadow of it. Mr. Webster was the first to walk into the treasury, as we were supposed to name it. " Well," thinks I, " I am a treasurer in a fix ; I must put a bold face on, and speak out boldly." (If it had been for myself I could not have spoken at all.) So I says,— " Good morning, Mr. Webster. I am really very sorry ; of course you know—I need not tell you—that we have had very bad business this week. I trust it will pull up next; but you know, Mr. Webster, we must pay the little people who have only fifteen shillings or one pound per week, and those who have more must wait till the end of next week. You can do very well, as Mrs. Webster (she was the wife of Mr. B. Webster) has four pounds a week coming in from Mr. B. Webster." I got through that very well. Mr. O'Farrell was the next; the same tale to him. I said,— " I understand you are a gentleman of fortune, and you won't mind waiting till next week ; that's all right." (Mr. O'Farrell had been an officer in the a r m y ; I have not heard of him on the stage for a long time; I often wonder to myself if he was the O'Farrell who fired at the Duke of Edinburgh in Australia.) The next was Miss Kate Kirby, a fine, handsome young lady, who had a fancy for the stage. Her mother travelled with her. They were possessed of property, and were very easily talked over. I told her it was a splendid opportunity for her to practise. I think I might have borrowed a good sum of them if I had wished to do so. ( I have not heard of her being upon the stage since ; I suppose she got married.) I had half a dozen more to settle with in the same way. I paid the small-salaried people. Then the band were an awkward lot. They threatened to strike. Herr Wallerstein (late conductor at the Strand Theatre, a most amiable gentleman) was our conductor of the orchestra. H e was very much annoyed at the band, and proposed that I should hire a piano, and he would do without them; but I managed to square them by paying them a part of their salaries. FIRST EXPERIENCE AS A PUBLIC CATERER. 29 The following week we had Mr. Charles Dillon, who was a great favourite in Cork, for three nights; b u t this brought very little improvement in the receipts of the house. There was an old theatrical manager in Cork, named Mr. Frank Seymour, commonly called Frank Schemer, for his extraordinary sharp practice, played upon the various stars who had visited his theatre. One was upon the celebrated Edmund Kean, to whom he owed £50, which he said he could not pay that night, but promised to meet him (Mr. Kean) where the coach started from by which he was to leave early the following morning. Old Seymour wrapped up very tightly in brown paper fifty new farthings, and sauntered down to the appointed place, being most particular not to arrive till the coach was starting, when he ran u p almost out of breath, calling out, " Kean ! Kean ! " just in time to hand him the fifty supposed sovereigns, wishing him Grod speed, &c. Another trick he played upon two other stars by paying them with one Bank-of-England note, which he cut in half, giving them each one half, with a promise to forward the other half, which he expected by the next mail, which of course he never sent; but the two artists accidentally met some years after, and in conversation it turned out that they had both visited the Cork Theatre, and each telling their tale about receiving half of a bank-note, but never received the other half, which he thought very strange, as half a bank-note was of no use to anybody; b u t by comparing, they found that both bore the same number. They pasted them together, and shared the amount, being most agreeably surprised to get ten shillings in the pound. H e promised to bring u p a pair of black stockings for Hamlet, b u t upon his arrival at the theatre in the evening he fumbled about in his pockets, but could find no stockings, on which he exclaimed,— " O h ! begad, sir, sure and the d—d rascals have picked me pocket while I was waiting at the bridge ! " Well, from my own experience in Cork, I can vouch the Cork boys to be the smartest pickpockets I ever met, for I lost several silk pocket-handkerchiefs, although I tried to 30 FIFTY YEARS OF A SHOWMAN'S L I F E . baffle them by placing them in my inside pockets, but they invariably managed to extract them. On the Saturday, I had to tell the company the same old story, and with a little more persuasion I got through pretty well, with the exception of Mr. O'Farrell. When I talked about having to pay the little salaried people, he said,— " D— the little people ; let us have a b i t ! " W e went on the following week, b u t with no better success. The band struck, and some of the actors, and the proprietor took possession of the theatre. The manager kept out of the way. I divided the money in hand amongst those who I thought most needed it, and left myself without. I had always boasted that, being treasurer, I should have the first chance, and that I should take care to pay myself, but the state of affairs was really so bad I had not the heart to do it—I even gave money out of my own pocket. W h a t with the printer, bill-posters, scene-shifters, &c, &c, I was nearly worried out of my life, and stood a very good chance of being lynched. I made a vow I would never be treasurer any more. After this all the company were in a fix, and many of them did not know how to live in the town, nor how to get out of it. The proprietor, Mr. M (commonly called " old cent. per cent."), came to me in his artful way and claps me on the back and says, " You are the man that can make this theatre pay. Lloyd was to pay me ten pounds per week, I will let you have it for eight; you try, it will make money for yourself and get the poor people out of their difficulties." I said I did not care about theatrical speculations, and particularly as the one in question had not proved very encouraging; but he almost begged of me to take it. I consulted with John Webster about i t ; it was only a week before Easter, which ought to be a very good time to open. I called all the people together and stated to them how things stood, and that every one must make a reduction in their salary, as I intended to pay them, but I did not want to lose money. They were all very glad to agree to my terms. I then saw Mr. M-——, the proprietor, and settled with him, and made out an agreement for <£8 per week FIRST EXPERIENCE AS A PUBLIC CATERER. 31 rent for the theatre. I consulted with John Webster and Fred Lloyd, my late employer, as to what would be the best for the Easter piece. W e agreed to bring out " The Invisible Prince," and Miss Marie Wilton (now Mrs. Bancroft) was to personate the Prince. There was only a week to get the piece up, and^every one gave a helping hand. New dresses, scenery, &c, all bustle and throng, posters out, afterwards the bills proper for windows, &c. Herr Wallerstein in his former position as conductor of the orchestra, with the band augmented. Our opening night, Easter Monday, 1853, came, so did the people, for we had a pretty good audience. The house was not full, but very tidy, and everybody was very well satisfied, and all said we should do much better. I suppose the proprietor thought so too, for he came and demanded two guineas of me for the night. I reasoned with him that my agreement was to pay £8 per week, and I should pay him at the end of the week; and even if I had agreed to pay nightly, it would not be two guineas per night. H e said, " A h ! well, if you do not pay me four guineas to-morrow you will not open at night," so I took care to take the keys of the theatre in my own charge. Next morning M went and ordered the gas company not to supply me with any more gas without his orders. I went and offered to deposit £50 as a guarantee for payment for the gas I consumed. No, they could not, without M 's orders. I went back to the theatre. I had let the woman in to clean the theatre and put the keys in my pocket. I was on the stage holding a consultation, the woman came and asked me for the keys to open the gallery doors, as she wanted to sweep them. I incautiously gave her them. After a short time I thought about the keys. I went u p to the gallery and asked her for them. Oh ! Mr. M had taken t h e m ; he had sent her for them and skulked away; so we packed all our things up and removed them close by, so as to be ready if we should be allowed to open. M locked up the theatre, and we had to wait the result. I n the meantime I sent the agreement to Somerset House to be stamped. The company were all in readiness if they were required. People began to arrive, the street got crowded, waiting for 32 FIFTY YEARS OF A SHOWMAN^ L I F E . the doors to open, which old M would not allow. I had already employed a solicitor, and he at once commenced an action for damages for ,£1,000. My friends told me I should get no justice in Ireland; that old M had always worsted every one that had to do with his theatre ; that he locked up the members of the Eussian band all night in the theatre because they could not pay the rent, and took all their jewellery from them ; and that he would tire me out with law; which he tried his utmost to do. I made my mind up to stick to him and try it out, which took about six months. 33 CHAPTER III. I N IRELAND. I FELT I must now do something. The Regatta at Queenstown was coming on, and required some fireworks, which a man in Cork had usually found for the Committee. I happened to have a man in the company who had been with the once celebrated G-yngell, the firework artist of Bristol, so I took the steamer to Queenstown and called upon the secretary. H e asked, could I give them a better display than the other man for j£20 per night. I went to an hotel, had some lunch, after which I got a sheet of foolscap and sat down and wrote a programme of fireworks with a grand set piece. I put anything I could think of. I had studied the Yauxhall programme very often, and what I could think of, and what I wrote that I did not know, was something, I daresay, very extraordinary. So thought the Yacht Club Committee, and accepted my contract for the two nights, at <£20 per night, and £20 for illuminating the outside of the ball-room the last night of the regatta. I took the precaution to write at the bottom of the programme that it was subject to alterations, as I had no great faith in it, as I knew no more about making fireworks than a tom-cat, and I had no guarantee that my man knew much more. Anyhow, we set to work: first we had to get all the apparatus made for making them. There was a wholesale chemist in Cork who supplied me with combustible materials. I took some rooms at the top of the house where I was lodging (I have often wondered to myself since that we did not blow the roof off the house) ; we had the property man, the scenic artist, and the carpenter to assist us. W e 34 FIFTY YEARS OF A SHOWMAN'S L I F E . got all ready with the exception of the grand set piece, which was ready painted. We started by the first steamer from Cork on the first day of the Eegatta, as we had this said set piece to fix all the different coloured fireworks upon, but when we had got it about three parts set we came short of quick matches. W h a t were we to d o ; there was no time to make more, so we used strips of paper in long pieces, running gunpowder all along and closing it all with gum. W e got all ready and amused ourselves with looking about. (I do not think in all my travels that I have seen a richer display of beauty and fashion than on this occasion.) At last the time came to exhibit the said fireworks, and all my fear was that the set piece would not go off, as it was to be the finish. W e commenced and kept firing away and got great applause; but somehow, in the middle of the programme, the grand set piece caught a light from some sparks and went off of its own accord, and very beautifully too ; and such a burst of applause. Yes, it's all very well, thinks I, but we have got nothing to make a good finish with. W e finished the best way we could ; the Committee complimented me very highly for the grand display ; they had never had anything like it before. I hardly knew how to take i t ; I wondered if they were kidding me, but I found after it was really genuine. As a proof they proffered me the use of the ground which was boarded in and a grand stand, &c, to give a public display for my benefit, which? of course, I accepted as the best compliment. The next night the set piece went off all right, and I illuminated the outside of the ball-room, with a grand device over the entrance, with coloured oil-lamps; also round the windows flags, &c, which I borrowed from some of the ships and from Spike Island, which proved a great success, and finished my contract. The following day the Committee gave me a cheque for the amount, and promised me, if I was anywhere near, that if it would be worth my while, they would be glad to engage me for the next Eegatta. I arranged for the following week for my benefit, for which they kept the boarding and grand stand up. I got the I N IRELAND. 35 patronage of Sir John Smith Barry, who had an estate, and was the leading man in the county, and one of the principals on the Committee ; also the Admiral at Spike Island. I went up to the barracks at Cork and got permission from the colonel of the 39th Eegiment for their band to attend. I then went to my printer, Mr. Scraggs, and got some flaring bills out, stating that this would be the grandest display of artistic fireworks ever seen in Ireland, and the 39th band, fcion. The following day I collected all my ticket money, and got everything ready, in case I should have to go on the Tuesday. I called on all my friends to wish them good-bye, telling them I should be back in Cadiz in about two months. I found I should not be required till Wednesday, so I had all the Tuesday to myself, and spent the day paying visits, and dined with my English friend. I engaged a trolly to come the next morning for my animals and baggage, rose early, and got all ready, had breakfast with the manager, who was very sorry I was leaving him, and hoped I should come and stay with him when I came back, for I had made him good business, &c. I thanked him very much, and told him the business had been reciprocal; and, wishing him good-bye, HAVANA. 237 we started, all the dogs having free liberty till we came to the town, which they greatly enjoyed. My English friend met me on the quay, and saw me and all my belongings on board the good steamship Cristobal, el Capetan Martineau. I found plenty of company, numbering nearly fifty artistes, including the orchestra, and one of the finest ballet companies in Spain, the ladies all being picked Andalusian beauties. I got all put on board in their proper places, took charge of my private cabin, which the manager had arranged for me, my friend wished me God-speed, a good voyage and a quick return, and not to keep myself dark so long as I had on my previous voyage. The steam was up, and we started on our course for the Cuban capital. I found her a very fine, first-class steamer, and everything I could wish for. W e had plenty of singing and guitar playing, dancing, castagnettes et tambour de basques, &c, and a splendid voyage for the time of year, and arrived all right at the golden Havana, or, as it is styled in official documents, " La siempre Fidelisima Ciudad de San Cristobal de la Habana." The agent was there to meet the company, and my animals and apparatus, with the theatrical wardrobe and properties, &c, were taken to the Grand Teatro, and our personal luggage to a private hotel. I took possession of my dressing-room, and arranged my animals in rooms adjoining, all being near to the stage. I found plenty of fellows anxious to assist me, and also anxious to be well paid for what they did (as they say it costs you five shillings to open a man's mouth, and five more to shut it again). Having got all in order, I was conducted to a kind of private hotel or boarding-house close by, for which the agent had arranged. I had a private room to myself, but had to take my meals (which was all Spanish fare) with the rest of the company. This was not exactly according to my agreement, but I put up with it, for I never liked to make myself disagreeable, and enjoyed myself, like other people, as well as I could. W e had three days' quiet, for rehearsals, &c, as we were not to perform till the following Sunday. I took a stroll round the town, and came upon a menagerie. 238 FIFTY TEARS OF A SHOWMAN^ L I F E . The performance was going on, so I paid my money, half-aduro (two shillings and a penny), and walked in. I found a big crowd standing, and the grandees occupying raised seats, like in a circus tent, for which they were charged another half duro. As the place was full, I could not see over the people's heads, so I took a seat; that was four shillings and twopence. I thought I was commencing rather extravagantly to pay four shillings and twopence to see Herr Jounglar, the great lion tamer. Well, if he was not German the musicians were. The menagerie consisted of three caravans or waggons, one containing a. pair of tigers, another with a partition across the centre, one end occupied by a bear, the other by a pair of jackals; and the third, which was much larger, and contained five fine lions, Herr Jounglar entered, and put the lions through their performance, to the great delight of the audience. The menagerie was enclosed by a large canvas tent. After the performance I sent my card to him (Mr. Jounglar) ; he came to speak to me, saying he had heard of me before. W e spent the evening together; he assured me he was English, but having been so many years away he had almost forgotten his own country; that his wife was G-erman, and that he was the sole proprietor and manager of the show. I told him if I had known that he was in Havana I should not have come, for he would crab my performance. He said,—"Oh n o ; everything did well that came. There was plenty of money for anything." I found him a very nice fellow, and we became great friends. I showed him my troupe the next d a y ; he was very much taken with my performing leopard, and begged of me to sell it to him. He made me great offers for it, in fact, I think he would have given me all he was possessed of. I went every day to see him perform the lions ; he wanted me to go into partnership with him, but I told him I could not break my engagement. He said Sunday was his best d a y ; he always gave two performances, but he must come and see my performance. On the Sunday I was most anxious to know how my entertainment was received, for I was told by the manager t h a t there was a great call for tickets; but I made time to run HAVANA. 239 over to see how the menagerie was attended, and found it crowded. At last the time came for opening the theatre, and there was a big crowd round ; when the doors opened they flocked in till every seat was taken up, and numbers could not be admitted, as it was on the same principle as the theatres in Spain. The performance commenced, and everything was greatly applauded, which put me into better spirits. My entertainment was to take place in two acts, between the pieces; the first was Napoleon, the Wizard Dog (el Pero adivino), which struck the audience with bewilderment and dismay. They seemed to have lost all power to applaud; I did not know what to think, whether they were pleased or n o t ; but anyhow I had not caught the bird, as we call it in Spain (when anything did not please them they whistled). The next was the troupe of performing dogs and leopard; that livened them up, and they became exuberant with applause, especially when the leopard gave an awful growl at one of the dogs, which the audience anticipated would come to a fight, for which they were very anxious to have an encore of the first part, after which we were called before the curtain, &c. My next part did not come on for an hour ; that was " el Mono Blondin," the celebrated Blondin Monkey, on the high rope, carrying Madame Blondin on his back, &c. That pleased them immensely. The next was a short ballet, to give me time to get ready for the grand steeple-chase with the large dogs and baboons (Peros y Monos Africanos), which finished the night's entertainment, and sent the audience home highly delighted. Herr Jounglar came round to see m e ; he had been in front of the house ; he was very much pleased, and wished I could only join him—we could make a fortune. When I had got all put straight I went with him to a grand cafe, and spent a couple of hours with him, and arranged that I should call upon him after rehearsal the following day; he would take me for a stroll round the suburbs, or barrios estra muros. The next morning I was anxious to see the papers ; I found they all gave me very good notices. I was very well satisfied that I had got the first night over with every prospect of being a great success, and went to the theatre to practise the animals, 240 FIFTY YEARS OF A SHOWMAN*S L I F E . &c., and after breakfast went to call upon my friend Jounglar, when I met with a moral disappointment. I found him very ill in b e d ; his wife told me when he came home he complained of not feeling well, and was afterwards taken worse. She had had the doctor to see him, who said it was a slight attack of fever; he would be better in a day or two; so I had to stroll by myself, feeling anything but cheerful. I did not go far, for I could not enjoy myself, and returned to the theatre to stay with my animals. I had almost forgotten my little gorillas in the excitement'of my other affairs; I thought I would try if I could do anything with t h e m ; not a bit of i t ; they were more wild if possible than the day I caught them. After dinner I went to see my friend; he was no better, and the menagerie was closed. I felt very sad on going to the theatre to give my second performance. I found crowds outside, and the theatre with every seat engaged. The excitement of the people, the music and gaiety of the artistes, soon drove away my melancholy, and I went through my performance as if nothing was the matter. I got immense applause for everything I did, and felt in high spirits. I saw that all my things were taken care of, and fed the animals and bid them good-night, and went to inquire after my friend, and found him worse. I stayed with him some time, and returned to the hotel. I found the company enjoying themselves as usual, but I felt too sad to join them, and went to bed. I n the morning I went to inquire how my friend Jounglar was, and found he was worse; he had had a bad night. During the day the fever was more severe, and at night he became delirious. The following day he got worse and worse, and the following morning, poor fellow, he died. H e had only been ill three days, and three hours after his death it was my mournful lot to attend his funeral. That was the most melancholy affair I had ever had to do w i t h ; the poor woman was almost broken-hearted. B u t however sad my feelings were, I had to go through my performance at the theatre as usual. The following day the poor woman sent for me. I went; 241 HAVANA. she wanted to consult me about her affairs; she did not know what she should do with the animals; they were no use without her husband to perform them. I could see what she was working round for, and at last she mustered up courage to ask me if I would undertake to perform them. I said that would require some consideration, and I was not my own master; if I was willing to do so I should have to consult my manager. She said I could have my own terms ; I had only to name the price, she would give it me. I said, well, I would think over it, and let her know the following day. I consulted with my manager; he said he thought I should be very foolish to run the risk of being worried; in fact, he could not allow it. Who was to recoup him for his loss if anything happened to me ? I said, " No fear. Supposing we were to take half the receipts, which the poor woman, I have no doubt, would be very glad to give, for she says I can name my own terms, and you and I divide the half betwixt us ; it will ease your expenses, and make me a bigger draw in your show." He replied, " Well, if you think it safe I do not mind, but I should not like to lose you." I said, " I am sure to be a big draw to the menagerie, for everybody will rush to see me, in expectation that I shall be worried." I went to see Madame Jounglar (or rather Mrs. Braithwaite, for her late husband's name was William Braithwaite), and told her what the manager would agree to take. She said she would be thankful if I would undertake it upon the terms. I said, " I must have a few days to get used to the lions." I commenced paying them friendly visits several times a day, in order to become more acquainted with their temper, &c, for I had taken particular notice of the modus operandi of their late " Domador." On the third day I suppose I had got tired of dawdling outside the cage, for something came over me. I felt I must enter the den, and get over my difficulty. There were three of the servants standing by. R 242 FIFTY YEARS OF A SHOWMAN'S L I F E . I said, " Now, boys, give us the steps ; I'm going inside to shake hands with these animals." They thought I was joking, but when they saw that I was determined they wanted to persuade me not to go in that day. But it was no use, go I must, and I rushed in with the heart of a lion, poor Jounglar's whip in hand. The animals were at once struck with awe, and crouched into their usual corner. I felt at once I was their master; I placed the hoop against the iron bars for them to leap through; the first came up with a growl. I gave him a good cut with a whip, which he answered pretty quickly by flying through the hoop like lightning, and the others followed suit. I found I could do as I liked with them, and put them through their performance, and backed out of the cage. The men applauded me greatly, saying they had never seen them perform so quick before. I felt somewhat proud at my achievements ; but still a sadness crept over me for the poor fellow, whom I had taken a great liking to, but felt that I was doing a kindness to his sorrowing widow. She was awfully astonished when I went and told her that I was ready to perform the lions any time she liked. I then told my manager; he was pleased, and said we must have an agreement from the proprietress, which was at once made out and executed. I then said to my manager, " But I must have an agreement from you, signor, or perhaps I shall get nothing." "Oh," he said, "there is no occasion for that; we can settle that betwixt ourselves." "No," I said, " I am your servant; you have got an agreement for me to perform under certain conditions for .„ stipulated remuneration, and I am not going to risk my life at your mercy without having any claim upon you. I must have an agreement signed by you, that I shall receive one half of the money received for every performance, or I shall throw it up. It will be more beneficial to you than to me." So he said, " Well, if you must, I suppose you must. Write what you want and I will sign it." I got that settled, and went to see Madame Jounglar, and arranged with her that I should be announced to perform for HAVANA. 243 her benefit, and to double the price of admission; for there would be great sympathy for her, and no doubt but the people would be anxious to see if I should be worried. So I concocted an advertisement, stating that Professor Yan Hare, " T h e African Traveller," from the Teatro Principal, had volunteered to perform the lions for the benefit of Madame Jounglar, &c, &c. Admission, one duro ; seats, two duros ; and a limited number of reserved seats with a full view of the lions' den, five duros (by ticket only), which was sent to each paper, and put on some posters all over the town and neighbourhood. I practised the lions every day, so as to keep on good terms with them. W e had the tent enlarged to its utmost capacity, and added more seats, and erected a very ornamental gallery, with two hundred numbered stalls in the best position. I t created the greatest excitement amongst all classes; the best seats were quickly taken up, the people were rushing to secure the second seats, and the poorest were anxious to invest their duros for standing room. Consequently, when the appointed time arrived for opening the show, the place was besieged, and every space filled to the utmost, to the disappointment of hundreds of eager sightseers who could not be admitted. On my appearance I was greatly cheered, the animals went through their performance with a gallant spirit, which only the noble lion can achieve ; and when I made my exit from the cage I was accorded the greatest ovation I ever recollect receiving. I had then to rush off to the theatre to attend to my^own performance. I was followed by the crowd, cheering me all the way, as excited as I ever saw the wild Africans. A t the theatre, on appearing on the stage, the people all stood up to cheer me, and I could not commence my performance for full ten minutes, and all through I was immensely applauded, and was evidently the lion of the lions. After the theatre was over I put all my things and the animals away right, and went on to the menagerie, to see how the lions were getting on. I found Signor Mieron, my manager, there, looking after the cash. They had counted E 2 244 FIFTY YEARS OF A SHOWMAN'S L I F E . up the checks and money, , perform him that night, which the stage-manager communicated to Mr. E. T. Smith, who came poste-haste to the theatre. I told him it was no use making a fool of myself and the animal too. Oh! if I did not appear I should ruin h i m ; if I only showed the animal people would be satisfied. I felt that I was in an awkward position, for I did not wish to injure Mr. Smith, nor did I want to injure myself. They had just opened the doors and the people were crowding in, and E. T. was stamping and raying about distracted, begging of me to save him. He said, " For G-od's sake, Yan, show the animal!" At last I gave in, saying, " I suppose I must try, it will show willingness; but I know it's a forlorn hope to expect him to do anything." I would not dress myself, not even wash myself, but appeared in the clothes I had been working in all day, for I thought if I made a fuss in dressing myself up, it would be assuming that I was going to do something grand, and I should only be a laughing-stock. E. T. wanted to cheer me up. " Have some brandy, Yan, it will put you in better spirits." " No, thanks, I feel silly enough already." The time arrived, I screwed up my nerves, the orchestra struck up, and I went on leading Master Hassan, prepared for the worst. Here was another difficulty, he had never practised to music ; anyhow I got him to do something, and finished with him throwing a somersault, and was awfully glad when I got from the stage. There was some party in the gallery who tried to get up a hissing ; I suppose it was some opposition come for the purpose, and if the performance had been better they would have hissed the more; but the best part of the house, I suppose, pitied me, for they gave us good applause. A friend of mine in the pit told me, a gentleman sitting behind him said, when some one was hissing, " The brutes, the animal is worth double the money to look at without doing anything." I went round to the saloon in front of the house ; I found HASSAN, THE GORILLA C H I E F . 295 a crowd of Jews jeering E. T. Smith about his wonderful performing gorilla at d£40 a night. I t appeared that he had told them all that he had engaged this extraordinary animal at J240 per night, and was telling them that they must not take him for a fool; he knew what the animal could do. H e said, " Yan, come and have a bottle of fiz." " Not I, I am too much disgusted; I told you how it would be." H e said, " Oh ! never mind, he did as well as I expected, he will be all right when he gets used to the place." I went to prepare to go home. I found a particular friend waiting in my dressing-room, who had evidently had some drink, and read me a nice lecture, saying, " You have made a nice exhibition of yourself to-night after all your training; if I was in your place, I should not go across that bridge tonight, I should throw myself over into the Thames, &c." " Oh! thank you, good night," and away we started off home. You can guess I did not sleep over well that night. Next morning (Sunday) I was up early, sent for a cab, and went to the theatre, and practised all day on the stage, as we had it all to ourselves, and got on much better. On the Monday I had the stage for a couple of hours, and a rehearsal with the band, and Master Hassan was more at home with himself; and at night he went through his performance all right. But now another obstacle is put forward, Mr. E. T. Smith came to me, saying,— " Eirst-class, Y a n ; but we shall be compelled to have the animal dressed. The editor of a high-class paper says, if he appears in his nude state to-morrow night, he shall report it as being an indecent exhibition. Well," he said, " see the costumier, he will soon concoct something to cover his nakedness." " But I don't believe he will have anything on him, for he has not yet been civilized to wear clothes." Anyhow I took his measurement, under the directions of the tailor, for a set of trunks, or short drawers, and Swiss braces, which were soon manufactured; and, with much difficulty, I got him dressed, and practised him, to see how he worked in them. They did not seem to set comfortably 296 FIFTY TEARS OF A SHOWMAN'S L I F E . upon him, or perhaps he did not sit easy in them. H e kept feeling and pulling at t h e m ; and, when an opportunity occurred, he slyly nipped off some of the ornamental trimmings which the costumier had adorned them with, no doubt nattering himself that he would make Master Hassan look more smart and attractive. But Master Hassan evidently did not appreciate this sort of finery, and eventually it had all disappeared from its proper place, and was only to be found strewed about the stage; and, instead of a dress rehearsal, it finished with an undress, and the tailor had to be commissioned to make another with the least possible delay. At our next rehearsal I had to be more determined and use a little coercion, and we got on much better, and t h e dress only required to be retrimmed. At night he performed pretty well, but not equal to the previous night. The following day we had a good practice, and he was becoming more habituated to his dress, and at night he went through his performance all right, and some one kindly threw him an orange on the stage, which I picked up and put in my pocket. I placed it upon a table in the dressingroom. A lady came in, and said,— " O h , here is an orange." I said, " Yes, somebody threw it to the animal, but I shall not give it him." " Oh, I'll eat it, then." And dearly she paid for it. She told me the next day she thought she should have died; she had to have the doctor, who gave her an emetic. She was bad all night. The following morning the doctor called to see her, and said she certainly had had some poison, which no doubt h a d been put in the orange. If she had not taken the emetic, she would have been a corpse. I sent the following advertisement to the agony columns of the Daily Telegraph:— " Envy, Malice, or Jealousy ?—,£100 Eeward.—In consequence of the legitimate success of Hassan, ' The Gorilla Chief,' or Man Monkey, at Astley's, now under the direction HASSAN, THE GOEILLA C H I E F . 297 of the Leviathan Manager, Mr. E. T. Smith, some ill-disposed person attempted the life of the poor animal by throwing a poisoned orange to him at the finish of his performance; but as Mr. Yan Hare, his cautious protector, never allows Hassan to have anything but from his own hands, their atrocious intentions were defeated. The above Reward will be paid on conviction of the offender by Yan Hare, 64, Stafford Place, Buckingham Palace.'' This created an immense sensation, and I was inundated with letters of condolence from all parts, which greatly enhanced the popularity of the animal. I kept on practising him every day in his dress, and as he became used to it he performed all the better. I introduce a quotation from the Times, December 1869 :— " Astley's Theatre.—A huge G-orilla monkey dancing on the tight rope in the interval between the pieces, is the greatest achievement in animal learning on record, and shows that the encouragement of brute talent, which dates from the time of Philip Astley, still continues at the house that bears his name." This was when the Times was a sixpenny paper, and to condescend to notice a monkey was considered a great thing, for a line in the Times was thought to be sufficient to make either vocalist or actor a great artiste. Hassan improved nightly for the term of thirteen nights, for which my share amounted to £234 7s.; and I must give E. T. credit, for I do not believe I was wronged the price of a gallery seat, and moreover I received every farthing of my share. I repented very much that I had not taken E. T.'s advice, and opened at Astley's when he first wanted m e ; I should have made a small fortune. Although only a week before Christmas when we closed, the receipts were more than the first night I opened; and Mr. Smith would only have closed for Christmas-day ; but he was so pushed to get his pantomime ready in consequence of having that also at the Crystal Palace, which I had secured for him. And just to show what a shrewd fellow Smith was, I will give a brief narration of facts. 298 FIFTY TEARS OF A SHOWMAN'S LIFE. I arranged that he was to be paid £50 per day for finding the entire pantomime (with the exception of the orchestra), to be played every afternoon for one month certain. As the pantomime had to commence a week before Christmas at the C. P., Mr. E. T. Smith had all the properties, &c, made for it first, and delivered at the Palace, when he asked the Company and obtained an advance of .£500; and with this money he had to get his pantomime up for Astley's. I said, after that bit of diplomacy he would make a good Prime Minister. The pantomime at the C. P. was a great success, and ran eight weeks, and at the finish I said to E. T.,— " Well, you have received all your money, now pay me my commission of <£200." To which he replied in a very quiet way,— " Why, you thief, I have lost ,£500 by the thing, so you owe me <£300." So I never pressed him for i t ; but notwithstanding his great loss he was very glad to carry it on for five seasons more upon the same terms. Old Mr. Watling, the originator of Watling's celebrated Pimlico pork pies, and Mr. E. T. Smith, were great pals; and upon one occasion Smith wrote to Watling, addressing the letter thus :— " Bill Watling, Pork Pieman, Pimlico.,, To which he replied, addressing the letter :— "Ned Smith, ex-Policeman, Drury Lane Theatre." In fact Watling had become a very wealthy man (by his pork-pie speculation, in which he commenced in a very humble way), and assisted E. T. Smith in pecuniary matters, in which, at one time, they got so entangled in their affairs that they had to employ an accountant to put them straight. 299 CHAPTEE XXIII. HASSAN'S ENGAGEMENTS. I HAD several offers of engagement for " The Gorilla Chief " from managers, but all of them said that my terms were too h i g h ; to which I gave the same answer as the Elder Earren (surnamed Cock Salmon), " I f you want salmon, you must pay salmon price." So I said, " Well, we will go on practising for a few months longer, and perhaps we shall command more." I went on quietly as before, day after day, and the animal improved daily, both in stature and his performance. A little after Easter, Howes' great American Circus was announced to be at Croydon for one day only. Not having met him for some years, I made up my mind to take a day's pleasure, and go and see his show; so I made every preparation, gave Master Hassan an extra good breakfast, leaving him safe and comfortable, as I thought, having locked the door of his den, also the outer door of the building where I kept him, in the garden; and away I started to get to Croydon in time to see the Circus procession parade the town. I stopped to see the afternoon show. They wanted me to stay to dine, and wait to see the night show; but I felt anxious to get back to attend to my pupil, and so left without further ceremony. Anyhow, it was beginning to be dark when I arrived home. The first thing I went to look after the animal. W h e n I opened the door Master Hassan came to welcome me, grinning and laughing all over his face. I could not help laughing myself; but if I had met him in any other place but where I left him, I certainly should not have known it was my G-orilla, but should have taken it for a very extraordinary animal, the like of which I had never 300 FIFTY TEAES OF A SHOWMAN'S L I F E . before seen. H e had found a packet of plaster of Paris, which he had rubbed all over his face and head, also a jar with some black paint, and another with red paint, which he had used in turns in such an artistic manner, it was really a capital make up for a circus clown. B u t you can guess I did not laugh when I got inside, for he evidently had not wasted all his time upon ornamenting himself. However, the first thing was to see how he had got out of his den. I found that he had torn some iron bars from the woodwork by main force; but then I was puzzled to know how he had got so far away, for I had locked his chain to the iron ring inside his den to make him all the more safe, because he had learnt the knack of unfastening i t ; I found the chain and collar inside. Finding he could not get the chain loosened, he had turned his attention to his collar, and succeeded in unbuckling it. I then took stock of the wreck of his other amusements, for the floor was strewed all over with the debris of his wanton destruction. H e had emptied a hamper containing about five dozen turkey's eggs, which I had had in the previous day, by throwing i t on the floor. How many he had eaten I could not tell, b u t there were very few left whole. H e had emptied a sack of sawdust, also a bag of white sand, and a large bottle of cod-liver oil; also a packet of flower of brimstone. This altogether, I thought, was a very nice m i x t u r e ; and, to crown all, he had found my whips, which I kept on a shelf, and broke and bitten every one of them into small bits, so that I could not chastise him if I wanted, for he would not take a bit of notice of a stick. I sat down and cried. Master Hassan did not fraternize with me in my grief, b u t laughed, evidently believing t h a t he had done a clever performance. At last I set to work and cleaned up the waste, picking out anything worth saving, Master Hassan sitting quietly looking on, no doubt thinking me very foolish in troubling myself so much about it. I put him to bed, fastened his collar so that I thought he would not be able to loose it. The bars I could not repair, but I fastened the shutter so that he could not get out, a n d left him without giving him his supper or anything. HASSAN'S ENGAGEMENTS. 301 The following morning I found him minus his collar. I got the carpenter to repair his den. I went on with my practising as usual. If I put his collar on he intrepidly unbuckled it before me, so I went straight away and ordered a collar to be made with a lock buckle on it, so that no one could unbuckle it without the key. As I was returning home, I suddenly bethought myself that on the day I went to Croydon wishing to take only money enough for my expenses, I just twisted three sovereigns in a piece of paper and placed it on the shelf in the corner. I strode away home as fast as my legs would let me. I went straight to the place to look for it, but found it was gone. I looked about, but could find no signs of it, not even the bit of paper it was wrapped in. I went to the dust-bin, took all the sawdust, egg-shells,