“Green’s dead, and all in the line’s dead, but me. The galantee show don’t answer, because magic lanterns are so cheap in the shops. When we started, magic lanterns wasn’t so common; but we can’t keep hold of a good thing in these times. It was a reg’lar thing for Christmas once—the galantee shows.
“I can make, in a holiday time, twenty shillings a-week; but that’s only at holiday times, and is just a mere casualty a few times a year.
“I do other jobs, when I can get ’em—at other times, I delivers bills, carries boards, and helps at funerals.”
The Chinese Shades.
“The proper name of my exhibition,” said a showman of this class to me, “is Lez Hombres, or the shades; that’s the proper name for it, for Baron Rothschild told me so when I performed before him. We calls it the Chinese galantee show. It was invented over there with the Chinese, and some travellers went over there and see them doing it, and they come over here and tell us about it. They didn’t do it as we do, you know. As for doing pieces, we lick them out of the field. Them only did the shadows, we do a piece with ’em.
“I should say, sir,—let me calculate—it is about twenty-six years since the ombres first come out. Reduce it if you like, but that’s the time. Thomas Paris was the first as come out with them. Then Jim Macklin, and Paul Herring the celebrated clown, and the best showman of Punch in the world for pantomime tricks—comic business, you know, but not for showing in a gentleman’s house—was the next that ever come out in the streets with the Chinese galantee show. I think it was his own ingenuity that first gave him the notion. It was thoughts of mind, you know,—you form the opinion in your own mind, you know, by taking it from the Chinese. They met a friend of theirs who had come from China, and he told him of the shadows. One word is as good as fifty, if it’s a little grammatical—sound judgment. When it first come out, he began with the scene called ‘Mr. Jobson the Cobbler,’ and that scene has continued to be popular to the present day, and the best scene out. He did it just equally the same as they do it now, in a Punch-and-Judy frame, with a piece of calico stretched in front, and a light behind to throw the shadows on the sheet.
“Paul Herring did excellent well with it—nothing less than 30s. or 2l. a-night. He didn’t stop long at it, because he is a stage clown, and had other business to attend to. I saw him the first time he performed. It was in the Waterloo-road, and the next night I were out with one of my own. I only require to see a thing once to be able to do it; but you must have ingenuity, or it’s no use whatsumdiver. Every one who had a Punch-and-Judy frame took to it; doing the regular business in the day and at night turning to the shadows. In less than a week there were two others out, and then Paul Herring cut it. He only done it for a lark. He was hard up for money and got it.
“I was the first that ever had a regular piece acted in his show. I believe there’s nobody else as did, but only them that’s copied me. They come and follow me, you understand, and copied me. I am the author of ‘Cobbler Jobson,’ and ‘Kitty biling the Pot, or the Woodchopper’s Frolic.’ There’s ‘Billy Button’s journey to Brentford on horseback, and his favorite servant, Jeremiah Stitchem, in want of a situation.’ I’m the author of that, too. It’s adapted from the equestrian piece brought out at Astley’s. I don’t know who composed ‘the Broken Bridge.’ It’s too far gone by to trace who the first author is, but it was adapted from the piece brought out formerly at Drury-lane Theatre. Old ancient gentlemen has told me so who saw it, when it was first brought out, and they’re old enough to be my grandfather. I’ve new revised it.
“We in general goes out about 7 o’clock, because we gets away from the noisy children—they place them to bed, and we gets respectable audiences. We choose our places for pitching: Leicester-square is a very good place, and so is Islington, but Regent-street is about the principal. There’s only two of us about now, for it’s dying away. When I’ve a mind to show I can show, and no mistake, for I’m better now than I was twenty years ago.
“‘Kitty biling the Pot, or the Woodchopper’s Frolic,’ is this. The shadow of the fireplace is seen with the fire alight, and the smoke is made to go up by mechanism. The woodchopper comes in very hungry and wants his supper. He calls his wife to ask if the leg of mutton is done. He speaks in a gruff voice. He says, ‘My wife is very lazy, and I don’t think my supper’s done. I’ve been chopping wood all the days of my life, and I want a bullock’s head and a sack of potatoes.’ The wife comes to him and speaks in a squeaking voice, and she tells him to go and chop some more wood, and in half-an-hour it will be ready. Exaunt. Then the wife calls the daughter Kitty, and tells her to see that the pot don’t boil over; and above all to be sure and see that the cat don’t steal the mutton out of the pot. Kitty says, ‘Yes, mother, I’ll take particular care that the mutton don’t steal the cat out of the pot.’ Cross-questions, you see—comic business. Then mother says, ‘Kitty, bring up the broom to sweep up the room,’ and Kitty replies, ‘Yes, mummy, I’ll bring up the room to sweep up the broom.’ Exaunt again. It’s regular stage business and cross-questions. She brings up the broom, and the cat’s introduced whilst she is sweeping. The cat goes Meaw! meaw! meaw! and Kitty gives it a crack with the broom. Then Kitty gets the bellows and blows up the fire. It’s a beautiful representation, for you see her working the bellows, and the fire get up, and the sparks fly up the chimney. She says, ‘If I don’t make haste the mutton will be sure to steal the cat out of the pot.’ She blows the fire right out, and says, ‘Why, the fire’s blowed the bellows out! but I don’t mind, I shall go and play at shuttlecock.’ Child like, you see. Then the cat comes in again, and says, Meaw! meaw! and then gets up and steals the mutton. You see her drag it out by the claw, and she burns herself and goes, spit! spit! Then the mother comes in and sees the fire out, and says, ‘Where my daughter? Here’s the fire out, and my husband’s coming home, and there isn’t a bit of mutton to eat!’ She calls ‘Kitty, Kitty!’ and when she comes, asks where she’s been. ‘I’ve been playing at shuttlecock.’ The mother asks, ‘Are you sure the cat hasn’t stolen the mutton.’ ‘Oh, no, no, mother,’ and exaunt again. Then the mother goes to the pot. She’s represented with a squint, so she has one eye up the chimney and another in the pot. She calls out, ‘Where’s the mutton? It must be down at the bottom, or it has boiled away.’ Then the child comes in and says, ‘Oh! mother, mother, here’s a great he-she-tom cat been and gone off with the mutton.’ Then the mother falls down, and calls out, ‘I shall faint, I shall faint! Oh! bring me a pail of gin.’ Then she revives, and goes and looks in the pot again. It’s regular stage business, and if it was only done on a large scale would be wonderful. Then comes the correction scene. Kitty comes to her, and her mother says, ‘Where have you been?’ and Kitty says, ‘Playing at shuttlecock, mummy;’ and then the mother says, ‘I’ll give you some shuttlecock with the gridiron,’ and exaunt, and comes back with the gridiron; and then you see her with the child on her knee correcting of her. Then the woodchopper comes in and wants his supper, after chopping wood all the days of his life. ‘Where’s supper?’ ‘Oh, a nasty big he-she-tom cat has been and stole the mutton out of the pot.’ ‘What?’ passionate directly, you see. Then she says, ‘You must put up with bread and cheese.’ He answers, ‘That don’t suit some people,’ and then comes a fight. Then Spring-heeled Jack is introduced, and he carries off the fireplace and pot and all. Exaunt. That’s the end of the piece, and a very good one it was. I took it from Paris, and improved on it. Paris had no workable figures. It was very inferior. He had no fire. It’s a dangerous concern the fire is, for it’s done with a little bit of the snuff of a candle, and if you don’t mind you go alight. It’s a beautiful performance.