Blind Scotch Violoncello Player.
A stout, hale-looking blind man, dressed very decently in coloured clothes, and scrupulously clean, gave me the following details:—
“I am one of the three blind Scotchmen who go about the streets in company, playing the violoncello, clarionet, and flute. We are really Highlanders, and can all speak Gaelic; but a good many London Highlanders are Irish. I have been thirty years in the streets of London; one of my mates has been forty years,—he’s sixty-nine;—the other has been thirty years. I became partially blind, through an inflammation, when I was fourteen, and was stone-blind when I was twenty-two. Before I was totally blind I came to London, travelling up with the help of my bagpipes, guided by a little boy. I settled in London, finding it a big place, where a man could do well at that time, and I took a turn every now and then into the country. I could make 14s. a-week, winter and summer through, thirty years ago, by playing in the streets; now I can’t make 6s. a-week, take winter and summer. I met my two mates, who are both blind men,—both came to England for the same reason as I did,—in my journeyings in London; and at last we agreed to go together,—that’s twenty years ago. We’ve been together, on and off, ever since. Sometimes, one of us will take a turn around the coast of Kent, and another round the coast of Devon; and then join again in London, or meet by accident. We have always agreed very well, and never fought. We,—I mean the street-blind,—tried to maintain a burying and sick-club of our own; but we were always too poor. We live in rooms. I don’t know one blind musician who lives in a lodging-house. I myself know a dozen blind men, now performing in the streets of London; these are not all exactly blind, but about as bad; the most are stone-blind. The blind musicians are chiefly married men. I don’t know one who lives with a woman unmarried. The loss of sight changes a man. He doesn’t think of women, and women don’t think of him. We are of a religious turn, too, generally. I am a Roman Catholic; but the other Scotch blind men here are Presbyterians. The Scotch in London are our good friends, because they give us a little sum altogether, perhaps; but the English working-people are our main support: it is by them we live, and I always found them kind and liberal,—the most liberal in the world as I know. Through Marylebone is our best round, and Saturday night our best time. We play all three together. ‘Johnny Cope’ is our best-liked tune. I think the blind Scotchmen don’t come to play in London now. I can remember many blind Scotch musicians, or pipers, in London: they are all dead now! The trade’s dead too,—it is so! When we thought of forming the blind club, there was never more than a dozen members. These were two basket-makers, one mat-maker, four violin-players, myself, and my two mates; which was the number when it dropped for want of funds; that’s now fifteen years ago. We were to pay 1s. a-month; and sick members were to have 5s. a-week, when they’d paid two years. Our other rules were the same as other clubs, I believe. The blind musicians now in London are we three; C——, a Jew, who plays the violin; R——, an Englishman, who plays the violin elegantly; W——, a harp player; T——, violin again; H——, violin (but he plays more in public-houses); R——, the flute; M——, bagpipes; C——, bagpipes; K——, violin: that’s all I know myself. There’s a good many blind who play at the sailors’ dances, Wapping and Deptford way. We seldom hire children to lead us in the streets; we have plenty of our own, generally—I have five! Our wives are generally women who have their eyesight; but some blind men,—I know one couple,—marry blind women.”