The company proceeded in their inspection.
“What have we there, Ned Hopkins?” said Mr. Seymour, as he pointed to a booth of larger dimensions than those which surrounded it.
“In that booth, ‘the Emperor of all the Conjurors’ will perform his wonderful art of ‘sleight-of-hand,’” replied Ned.--“Look at his card of invitation,” continued the wag--“☞ Walk in--walk in--ladies and gentlemen. Here are miracles in any quantity to be seen for two-pence, and believed in for nothing!!!”
“A lineal descendant of the Tragetour of the fourteenth century,” observed the vicar; “a class of artists who, with the assistance of dexterity of execution, and various kinds of machinery, deceived the eyes of the spectators, and produced such illusions as were usually supposed to be the effect of enchantment; on which account they were frequently ranked with magicians, sorcerers, and witches. They were greatly encouraged in the middle ages, and travelled in large companies, carrying with them such machinery as was necessary for the performance of their deceptions.”
“And what may be the etymology of tragetour?” asked Mr. Seymour.
“A late ingenious writer supposes it to be derived from trebuchet, or trap-door, of which he made frequent use during his performance.”
The company passed to the next booth.
“There,” said Ned, “will be exhibited vaulting, tumbling, jumping through hoops, balancing, grotesque dances by the clown, and dancing upon the tight-rope.”
“The tragetour rarely executed this part of the performance himself,” said the vicar, “but left it to some of his confederates.”
“And yet I should have thought it the most profitable department of the art,” observed the major; “for it was so patronised as to secure the reception of its professors into the houses of the nobility. In the reign of Edward II. a tumbler rode before the King, and so delighted his Majesty, that he rewarded him with a gratuity of twenty shillings, a very considerable sum in those days.”