"I have just seen the man in black again!"
CHAPTER THREE
PEG WOFFINGTON
IRISH HEART CONJURER
A throng of people—barefoot peasants, modish idlers, tradesfolk, riffraff—stood in a Dublin courtyard one day in 1727, providing the much-admired "sea of upturned faces." All eyes were raised, all necks were back bent. Every one was looking aloft to where a taut wire was stretched between two post tops.
Along the wire walked a harlequin, taking mincing dance steps and balancing across his shoulders a pole from whose extremities dangled two huge baskets. To make the feat the more interesting by adding a spice of possible peril, announcement had been made that each basket contained a live child.
The chance of a triple tragedy in the event of a misstep made the tight-wire walk a right diverting spectacle, and thrilling withal, to the good folk of Dublin. But half way between the two extremity posts, still a new element of interest was added.
For, at that point, the top suddenly popped off one of the baskets, and a big-eyed, laughing face beamed down, over the edge, at the crowd. The face of a seven-year-old child—a girl. A roar of applause followed upon the youngster's unrehearsed appearance.
Thus did Peg Woffington, a queen of her century's actresses and consummate heart conjurer, make her professional debut.