The ‘bright particular star’ of the Amphitheatre, during the season of 1870, was the young lady known as Lulu, and who was recognized by frequenters of that popular place of entertainment as the agile and graceful child who had appeared, a few years previously, with her father, at the Alhambra and Cremorne, as ‘the flying Farinis,’ in a performance somewhat resembling that of the Brothers Hanlon and the child called ‘Little Bob.’ She was then supposed to be a boy, and much amusement was created after her appearance at the Amphitheatre as an avowed woman, by the recollection of her having, after descending from the lofty arrangement of trapezes and ladders on which she performed at the Alhambra, advanced to the footlights, and sang a song, each verse of which ended with the words, ‘Wait till I’m a man.’ The secret of her sex was at that time unknown even to the performers at the Alhambra, at least to the masculine portion, among whom the circumstance of her being accompanied by her mother, and performing the operations of the toilet in the ladies’ dressing-room, was a frequent subject of wonder and speculation.
There was a doubt also about the sex of the child who for a long time did a gymnastic performance at the London Pavilion, very similar to that given by Olmar at the Alhambra. The child was announced as ‘Little Corelli,’ and was generally supposed to be a boy; but I have since heard that it was a girl.
The performances of Azella and Pereira had not satiated the public appetite for the feats of female gymnasts, and the manager of the Amphitheatre secured in Lulu a star of the first magnitude. Her triple somersault is a feat in which she is still unrivalled; and though George Conquest has since achieved her wonderful vertical spring of twenty-five feet from the ring-fence, the means by which it is accomplished is still a mystery. Lulu was succeeded by the Brothers Rizar, as they now chose to be called, though they had gained immense applause a few years previously at the Alhambra as the Brothers Rizareli. The double trapeze of these clever gymnasts is perfectly unique, and must be seen to be believed.
The Amphitheatre did not continue without a competitor for the patronage of that portion of the public which delights in witnessing feats of equestrianism and gymnastics. Hengler’s circus, after being located for some time in Bristol, and afterwards in Dublin, settled down at the Palais Royal, in Argyle Street, and introduced to the metropolis all the Henglers and Powells, male and female, whose praises had been sounded by the provincial press all over the kingdom. The most noteworthy members of the company were Louise Hengler, an admirable horse-woman, who, like Adele Newsome, rides and leaps in a ‘cross country’ fashion, over hurdles and six-barred gates; James Lloyd, most experienced in his art, and one of the neatest, as well as of the boldest, of riders; John Milton Hengler, who danced on a tight-rope with a grace and skill which fully justified the warmth of the applause with which the performance was received; and Franks, the clown, who, before joining the Hengler troupe, had been the chief exponent of fun and humour attached to Newsome’s circus.
The circumstance of John M. Hengler dispensing with the balancing-pole in his performance was mentioned by some of the newspaper critics as if it was unique; but every frequenter of the London music-halls must have observed the same feature in the similar performance of a member of the clever Elliott family.
Scarcely had the lovers of circus entertainments had time to solve the problem of the possibilities of success for two amphitheatres in London when Astley’s was re-opened as a circus by the Sangers. Circus performances are necessarily so much alike that it is only by the production of a constant succession of novelties, as was done at the Holborn establishment, or by combining hippo-dramatic spectacles with the ring performances, as Ducrow and Batty did, that any distinctive character can be established. The Sangers followed the example of their predecessors, and preceded the acts in the arena by an equestrian drama of the kind which had been found attractive in the palmy days of Astley’s. The ring performances were good, but presented no novelty. Lavinia Sanger deserved her tribute of applause as a skilful rider, who gracefully leaped over banners and boldly dashed through ‘balloons;’ and her brother’s, or cousin’s, feat of riding, or rather driving, a number of horses at once, in emulation of Ducrow, was very creditably performed, but who has not seen similar feats as well performed in every circus he has entered? We should be sorry to miss them; but they should be the ‘padding’ of the programme, and not its staple.
I have often heard the question asked, ‘What can be done upon a horse which has not been done before?’ The question has been answered again and again by the equestrian feats of such masters or the art of equitation as Andrew Ducrow, Henry Adams, John Henry Cooke, Henry Welby Cooke, George Delavanti, James Robinson, and Alfred Bradbury. It is only by doing something which has never been done before, or by performing some feat in a very superior style to that of previous exhibitors, that a circus artiste can emerge from the ruck, whether he is a rider, a tumbler, a juggler, or a gymnast.
‘If you want to get your name up,’ I said, several years ago, to a young gymnast, ‘you must do something that has not been done before, and not be content with performing such feats as may be seen every night, in every music-hall in London.’
‘What can we do?’ he inquired.
‘Ay, “there’s the rub!” Only a gymnastic genius can answer the question. You may be sure that question was asked of themselves by Leotard, and Olmar, and Farini, and all the other fellows who have made their names famous, as the first performers of a skilful and daring feat. You know how they answered it, and what salaries they got. As in the story of Columbus and the egg, when a trick has once been done, there are many who can repeat it, but it is the first performer that gets the greatest fame and the highest salary.’