The Victorian Marionette Theatre (Studies Theatre Hist & Culture)

Studies in Theatre Historyand Culture

The Victorian

Marionette

Theatre

John McCormick

000 FM (i-xviii)

8/4/04

9:57 AM

Page i

The Victorian MarionetteTheatre

000 FM (i-xviii)

8/4/04

9:57 AM

Page ii

Studies in Theatre History & Culture Edited by  

000 FM (i-xviii)

8/4/04

9:57 AM

Page iii

The Victorian Marionette Theatre John McCormick with Clodagh McCormick andJohn Phillips University of Iowa Press

 

000 FM (i-xviii)

8/4/04

9:57 AM

Page iv

University of Iowa Press, Iowa City  Copyright ©  by the University of Iowa Press All rights reserved Printed in the United States of America Design by Richard Hendel http://www.uiowa.edu/uiowapress No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher. All reasonable steps have been taken to contact copyright holders of material used in this book. The publisher would be pleased to make suitable arrangements with any whom it has not been possible to reach. A number of the illustrations are taken from archival photographs and are included because of their intrinsic interest, despite some problems of quality. In the diagrams, the lengths of the strings are reduced. There could be considerable variation in length, depending upon the height of the bridge on which the manipulator was standing. The University of Iowa Press is a member of Green Press Initiative and is committed to preserving natural resources. Printed on acid-free paper Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data McCormick, John, ‒. The Victorian marionette theatre / by John McCormick with Clodagh McCormick and John Phillips. p. cm.—(Studies in theatre history and culture) Includes bibliographical references and index.  --- (cloth),  --- (pbk.) . Puppet theater—Great Britain—History—th century. . Puppet theater—Great Britain—History—th century. . Marionettes— Great Britain—History—th century. . Marionettes—Great Britian—History—th century. I. McCormick, Clodagh. II. Phillips, John, –. III. Title. IV. Series. .  .'—dc   

 

       

 

 

 

 

 

000 FM (i-xviii)

8/4/04

9:57 AM

Page v

In memoriam John Phillips

000 FM (i-xviii)

8/4/04

9:57 AM

Page vi

000 FM (i-xviii)

8/4/04

9:57 AM

Page vii

Contents Preface ix Chapter  Contexts  Chapter  Proprietors and Practitioners  Chapter  Booths, Barns, and Music Halls  Chapter  Merely Players?  Chapter  The Anatomy of the Victorian Marionette  Chapter  Dramas, Pantomimes, and Screaming Farces  Chapter  Fantoccini and Variety  Chapter  Presenting the Show  Chapter  Apogee and After  Notes  Glossary  Bibliography  Index 

000 FM (i-xviii)

8/4/04

9:57 AM

Page viii

000 FM (i-xviii)

8/4/04

9:57 AM

Page ix

Preface The marionette was a significant, but today forgotten, part of the theatre and entertainment culture of Victorian Britain. Its greatest impact was in rural areas and provincial towns and cities. In London the immensely successful season of the Royal Marionettes in  and the large number of companies that later passed through the Crystal Palace, the Royal Aquarium, or the vast Agricultural Hall, Islington, ensured an awareness of the genre with the more middle-class metropolitan public. London was also visited from time to time by foreign troupes such as Maffey’s from France in the s and various Italian ones, including Brigaldi’s in  and Prandi’s and Colla’s in the s. Today people remember only the Punch and Judy shows and see these as the puppet shows of the Victorian age. The colossal success of glovepuppet Punch and the way in which he became a national icon made people forget about the marionette version of the character. Punch and Judy shows were shows of the streets and often attracted the attention of artists and illustrators. There is less visual evidence of the existence of the marionette shows, which generally happened indoors and were closer in form and presentation to the actors’ theatre of the day. In this book the term “marionette” is used to refer to a jointed figure operated from above by rods, wires, or strings (or by some combination of these). In the nineteenth century marionettes were often known as fantoccini, an Italian word introduced to Britain in the late eighteenth century. Henry Mayhew, in the early s, interviewed a street fantoccini performer, who declared: “The Fantoccini . . . is the proper title of the exhibition of dancing dolls, though it has lately been changed to that of ‘Marionettes,’ owing to the exhibition under that name at the Adelaide Gallery.”1 The Adelaide Gallery show was Brigaldi’s, but what is important about this statement is that it indicates the relative unfamiliarity of the term “marionette” in England in the first half of the nineteenth century and its general acceptance in the second half. Showpeople studiously avoided the term “puppet” because of its association with the street glove-puppet player, who was often perceived as no more than a busker. “Puppeteer” is a twentieth-century term.

000 FM (i-xviii)

x

8/4/04

9:57 AM

Page x

Preface

There is a historical thread which, represented as a graph, would show a huge growth in the period after  and a rapid slowing between  and . As in all popular art forms, development was slow and conservatism rampant. As in the modern soap opera, once a workable formula had evolved, it continued for a very long time indeed. Major technical developments occurred in the s, and English marionettes soon became the wonder of Europe. They could be seen from Moscow to Gibraltar and were widely imitated in France, Italy, Germany, and Turkey. Before the end of the century they had visited every continent. This book is a companion volume to Popular Puppet Theatre in Europe – (John McCormick and Bennie Pratasik, Cambridge, ), which attempted to examine its subject in a comparatist manner. This book proposes instead an in-depth study of the marionette theatre of Victorian Britain. I hope that it will dispose once and for all of the notion of the marionette theatre as a distraction for infants and the simple-minded and, in showing just how rich and diverse the Victorian puppet world really was, will serve as a reminder that it included much more than Punch and Judy. In the late s and s Gerald Morice collected material for a potential book, much of which found its way into articles and interviews in the World’s Fair. The illustrator H. W. Whanslaw wrote or coauthored a number of “how to do it books” in the s, s, and s. The Theatre Museum now possesses some of the Whanslaw scrapbooks as well as a large archive of Gerald Morice documents. Both Whanslaw and Morice were able to talk to showpeople who had been active in the Victorian era, and they had access to the rapidly disappearing artifacts, the puppets themselves. They collected an enormous amount of valuable information. The puppeteer Waldo Lanchester also helped rescue Victorian marionettes from oblivion, even purchasing the Barnard troupe (now, unfortunately, dispersed), but was not himself a writer. George Speaight, in his monumental and scholarly The History of the English Puppet Theatre (, with an updated edition in ), provided the first serious study of the subject. His scope was broad and invited further research on the nineteenth century. John Phillips, a senior lecturer at the University of North London, took up this challenge and worked with primary sources for many years, revealing the existence of a few hundred practitioners of marionette theatre during that period. He opened up an important area of research into families and contacted many of their descendants. Before his early

000 FM (i-xviii)

8/4/04

9:57 AM

Page xi

Preface

death in , he had already published a number of articles on the history of puppet theatre in Britain. The most important of these were devoted to D’Arc’s, a major, but forgotten, company whose travels ranged as far as China, and William J. Bullock’s Royal Marionettes. Phillips also produced a long article, “A Survey of Victorian Marionettists,” which, had he lived longer, would certainly have been expanded into a major study of the Victorian marionette theatre. At his death he generously passed all his research material to me, and that was the genesis of the present book. It may not be the book that he intended to write, but it is unquestionably inspired by his years of devotion to the nineteenthcentury marionette theatre and those who made it. This book is based on two major areas of research: John’s research on the showpeople, which involved close examination of newspaper advertisements, and my own on popular theatre in France and Britain in the nineteenth century. When working on Popular Puppet Theatre in Europe, I had already examined some of the same sources as John; but being aware of his research, I did not treat the British marionette theatre in depth. My own passion for puppets dates back to reading the Whanslaw books in the s and buying George Speaight’s book in . My professional and academic career has always been accompanied by practical work with puppets. This has been of great value to me in understanding and appreciating the aesthetic and expressive nature of the puppet as well as its social and cultural significance in a given historical context. Clodagh McCormick, who has a long practical experience of puppets, costume-making, and design combined with an interest in historical costume, has examined a couple of hundred surviving Victorian figures from the point of view of construction, movement, materials used, painting, and costume. Her diagrams are intended to assist the nonspecialist reader in the section dealing with the more technical aspects of the Victorian marionette. Two major sources of documentation are advertisements in the Era between the s and the First World War and articles in the World’s Fair during the first fifty years of this century. The Era had started as a sporting paper in the late s; but by the s it had also become associated with the entertainment industry, for which it became a major source of professional communication. Through its small advertisements, the Era provides a vast amount of information about the names

xi

000 FM (i-xviii)

xii

8/4/04

9:57 AM

Page xii

Preface

and whereabouts of companies who used it. Companies usually advertised when they were trying to recruit figure-workers (manipulators) or musicians. They would also advertise the sale of puppets (sometimes the signal of the end of a company’s active life) or even of a portable theatre or caravan. The Era was not used much to publicize shows, although a small number of proprietors of marionette shows did so. The World’s Fair, the showpeople’s paper, started at a period when many of the traveling theatres had ceased to operate or gone into cinema and when marionette performers were more likely to be found in variety theatres than on the fairground. As troupes ceased to function, and younger generations turned to other ways of earning a living, the World’s Fair was less important as a chronicle of who was performing where but remained immensely interesting for its columns of reminiscences, interviews with old puppeteers, and articles on old showpeople who had passed on. A major contributor was Harry Wilding, sometimes confused with the showman of the same name. Many of the articles were written by people who had experienced the life of the nineteenthcentury marionette theatre. Sometimes the events referred to had happened half a century earlier. Memory could play tricks, but what might be lacking in accuracy is fully compensated in authenticity, even if the later researcher is left to struggle with dates and facts and sort out impressions from so-called objective truth. Documents relating to puppet theatre are relatively thin on the ground. The programs of the music halls and variety theatres of the later decades of the century yield references to numerous companies or performers that appeared in the larger towns and cities. Many of these showpeople disappeared without trace, and a single reference may be the only clue to their existence. Many also had only the briefest professional involvement with marionettes. A small number of playbills survive, but very little by way of diaries, registers, and so forth. For this reason, one of the most significant documents is the memoirs of Richard Barnard, assembled by his grandson Ken Barnard and edited by George Speaight (The Life and Travels of Richard Barnard, Marionette Proprietor). Few families have been unable to provide complete family trees. The traveling life does not lend itself to the preservation of large numbers of apparently irrelevant documents, and baptismal records may do no more than indicate where the family was at that particular moment. The frequent recurrence of the same Christian names leads to further confusion. Showpeople often had permanent partnerships without any

000 FM (i-xviii)

8/4/04

9:57 AM

Page xiii

Preface

formal union, which can also make it more difficult to work out family relationships. In any case, the aim of this book is not to provide a directory of Victorian marionette companies and showpeople, but rather to help toward an understanding of the marionette theatre as a significant part of Victorian culture. While we have a reasonably good idea of the dramatic repertoire that the marionette companies performed, the number of surviving scripts used and marked for performance is very small indeed. The bulk of these are in the Clowes-Tiller collections of the Theatre Museum, London. They give some indication as to how a company might arrange or cut a script for marionette performance. Stage equipment is awkward to store and tends to be disposed of when no longer useful. Consequently, the amount to survive is negligible, and observations have to be based on the external comments that can be found or on the handful of backdrops (together with a few photographs) that do still exist. The main collections of marionettes to be studied are those of the Theatre Museum, London (Clowes-Tiller figures),2 the puppet collection of the Stadtmuseum of Munich (a group of English figures of slightly uncertain provenance), and the Clunn Lewis holding in the Musée de la Marionnette (Musée Gadagne) of Lyon. In addition it has been possible to work on the Desiree Delvaine collection of her family’s puppets (Delvaine’s Marionettes); the private collection of John Blundall; McCormick’s Marionettes (Ireland); John Bright (De Randel Marionettes), the marionettes of the Harlequin Puppet Theatre (Colwyn Bay); the collection of the Puppet Centre, London; the private collection of Ken Barnard; the collection of the Purves International Puppet Theatre, Scotland; that of the Lambert Puppet Theatre, Dublin; and a few figures still in the possession of the Holden family. An important U.S. resource is the Detroit Institute of Arts, where there are a number of marionettes either of direct British provenance or created by British puppeteers who moved to America. There are also figures, including those of Daniel Meader and Walter Deaves, which were directly based on the English marionettes with which they were familiar. The first three chapters examine the Victorian marionette theatre in the context of entertainment of the period, those who created and practiced it, and the venues in which they performed. The next three chapters treat the idea of the marionette as a surrogate actor in a miniaturized

xiii

000 FM (i-xviii)

xiv

8/4/04

9:57 AM

Page xiv

Preface

repertory company performing its own version of the pieces presented by its live counterparts. Since the marionette is not a live actor, and its performance and expressiveness are frequently affected by how it is made or operated, this aspect of the question is approached in a way that may help the nonspecialist develop a greater understanding of the puppet performer. Marionette showpeople have a long tradition of trick figures and variety acts, which often accompanied the dramatic repertoire and supplanted it in many cases. Consequently, a separate chapter is devoted to what were generally known as fantoccini. The picture is rounded off with an examination of aspects of staging, design, and music. The final chapter tries to see what happened to the marionette showpeople after .


A Note on Terminology First names or initials, when known, are used for those who worked with marionettes. In the case of a company, which often included more than one member of a family and sometimes continued over two or more generations, the practice of the period is followed, using only the surnames of the proprietors (e.g., Middleton’s, D’Arc’s, Holden’s) unless otherwise indicated. In the nineteenth century there was a greater degree of formality. Proprietors of shows were generally called “Mr.,” “Mrs.,” or “Professor,” and wives were generally known by their husband’s name (e.g., Mrs. Charles Webb). Within a company everyone worked exceedingly hard; but there was also a basic distribution of roles according to gender – even to the extent that male marionettes might be prepared for performance by men and female ones by women. The term “showman” is redolent of the nineteenth century but is here being treated as far as possible as non–gender specific. Awkward circumlocutions and neologisms are avoided because they detract from the sense of historical perspective. An essential part of the entertainment industry was the minstrel show, where ethnically Caucasian performers were made up to look ethnically African. The term “Negro” is used in this book in the context of such performances and should be read in that way. Before decimalization in the s, the British pound was divided into twenty shillings, each consisting of twelve pence. The symbols for these were “£,” “s,” and “d.”

000 FM (i-xviii)

8/4/04

9:57 AM

Page xv

Preface

Acknowledgments There are many people to be thanked for their help and cooperation. Geoff Felix, well known as a Punch and Judy “professor,” assisted John Phillips in the collection and recording of material and frequently provided useful advice during the writing of this book. Oliver Davies of the Royal College was of particular help concerning the music for the Victorian Theatre. Martin McGilp and Frank Bruce provided a lot of material about Scotland. Richard Bradshaw has been extremely helpful in connection with Charles Webb and the D’Arc company in Australia, as has Matthew Cohen for D’Arc’s travels in Indonesia. The late Paul Newman, a descendant of the Lawrence family, provided valuable information about the traveling families. The following individuals have also been very generous with their time and advice: Ken Barnard, John Blundall, John Bright, Harry Cullen, Ricky Deloro, Ann Featherstone, Douglas Hayward, Brian Holden, Barry McCormick, Colm McCormick, Richard McCormick, George Speaight, and Agnes Sullivan. I should like to thank all members of the staff in the museums and collections visited who have facilitated research on this project. I should especially like to thank Catherine Haill, who has a particular responsibility for the puppet collections of the Theatre Museum, London; Simone Blazy (Musée Historique de la Ville de Lyon); Florian Dering and Manfred Wegner (Stadtmuseum of Munich); Desiree Delvaine (Delvaine’s Marionettes); Iris Tunnicliff (Museum of Popular Entertainment, Whaplode Saint Catherine, Lincolnshire); the Puppet Centre, London; Malcolm Knight (Scottish Mask and Puppet Centre); the Stafford Arts and Museum Services (Shugborough); Vanessa Toulminn (National Fairground Archive, Sheffield); Eugene Lambert (Lambert Puppet Theatre, Dublin); Ian Purves (Purves International Puppet Theatre, Biggar, Scotland); Chris Somerville (Harlequin Puppet Theatre, Colwyn Bay); and John Bright. I should also like to thank Trinity College Dublin for grants, which have helped cover some of the research expenses.

xv

000 FM (i-xviii)

8/4/04

9:57 AM

Page xvi

000 FM (i-xviii)

8/4/04

9:57 AM

Page xvii

The Victorian MarionetteTheatre

000 FM (i-xviii)

8/4/04

9:57 AM

Page xviii

010 c1 (1-16)

8/4/04

10:23 AM

Page 1

Chapter 1 : Contexts
From Village Show to Fashionable Entertainment Who comes along the village way? With pipe and drum, in brave array While merry motley decks his cart And makes a show to lift the heart? The children know, they hear the drum, And from their playing corners come; Dick, Jack and Tom and little Nan All race to greet the puppet man! A kindly soul with nat’ral grace And well-proportioned form and face; Cravat and vest a little loud – He has to dress to please the crowd. From place to place he jogs along, Cheering the dullness of the throng. Lord of a gilded caravan, Who wouldn’t be a Puppet Man! A barn is reached, a bargain struck, The show unpacked, with hopes of luck No need of advertising wiles, The news has swiftly travelled miles, And ev’ryone who can will go To see the “Royal Puppet Show.” “The house is full, make ready Dan!” Exclaims the busy puppet man. This charming and nostalgic piece of doggerel written in  describes a sight now rapidly disappearing from the English rural scene, the itinerant marionette player.1 The showman in question was Thomas Clunn Lewis, an eccentric figure known to inhabitants of the countryside and

010 c1 (1-16)



8/4/04

10:23 AM

Page 2

Contexts

small towns in the southeast of England. Lewis, who was of Irish origin and a devout Roman Catholic, could drum up a list of “patrons” which ran from the actors Henry Ainley, Gordon Craig, Henry Irving, and Ellen Terry to G. K. Chesterton and George Bernard Shaw, not to mention Cardinals Herbert Vaughan and Henry Manning, Queen Mary, and the Duchess of Beaufort. As a child he remembered helping an old penny showman with his dolls (marionettes): “many a time [I] served mass in the morning and performed blood-curling dramas in the evening.” This led to his making a show of his own. His grandfather had taught him to play the harp and paint, and his first professional engagement was at the age of sixteen at the Philharmonic in Ramsgate, where he painted the scenery and played Pantaloon in the pantomime. At the age of nineteen he married his first wife, a singer and actress, and they managed to save enough money with their own show to buy a complete marionette fit-up that had belonged to the Middleton family.2 He toured this for about ten years, but then he disposed of the wood and canvas booth. Clunn Lewis continued to perform with a reduced company consisting of his second wife and an assistant. In his later years she was the marionettist, while he provided music on a harp. In  a special benefit performance was arranged for him in the Aeolian Hall, London. He died in .3 Gordon Craig (who saw Lewis when staying with his mother, the actress Ellen Terry) used his puppets as a point of reference in a discussion of the relationship between the puppet and the actor: No performer can be quite as versatile as a Puppet – for a Puppet can even change his head; can have three separate selves, and all these can, if needs be, appear on the scene at once. So then for England, Puppets would come as a blessing, coming in the nick of time to show the way once more to their old comrades the actors. So nothing is done to help the best actors to recover what is being lost to them month by month. They admit the loss of that important stronghold – their old versatility. They have admitted other losses – and they continue to retreat. Now the little puppet steps forward and offers to hold the whole line – and he can do it. And I want the Actor to realise that in the Puppet he has the dearest of old comrades and not a hated enemy, or a competitor.

010 c1 (1-16)

8/4/04

10:23 AM

Page 3

Contexts

. Clunn Lewis performance, early s. Musée Gadagne, Lyon.

And this too is where Mr. Clunn Lewis steps in: he is one of the links between actor and Puppet – even the smallest link in the longest chain should not be forgotten – should not be broken.4 The Clunn Lewis marionette show had previously belonged to the Middletons, arguably the most important family of marionette players in the nineteenth century. Among the celebrations of the coronation of Queen Victoria in  was a fair in Hyde Park, and the Middleton marionette company was one of the entertainments. The Hyde Park fair looks like a special version of the tented fairs that were common throughout Britain. The admission charges for the Middleton show were one shilling and sixpence (as opposed to a penny or two), an indication that the main clientele at this fair was middle-class. Marionette shows were one of the most ephemeral parts of Victorian theatre. They have left no buildings, very few printed bills or posters, and only a handful of actual puppets and scripts. Often perceived as entertainers of children and the unlettered or as purveyors of a somewhat inferior type of theatrical fare, the marionette showpeople in fact played for whatever audience they could find. One of the biggest Victorian marionette companies, Holden’s, declared boldly in its publicity that it had appeared before most of the crowned heads of Europe. The list included the Russian imperial family, the sultan of Turkey, the khedive of Egypt, the Austrian imperial family, an assortment of European kings and queens, and “the elite of every town visited by this



010 c1 (1-16)



8/4/04

10:23 AM

Page 4

Contexts

superior entertainment.” Such claims were a classic ploy to attract humbler audiences to see the sort of shows that they were told the great and powerful (and, by implication, discerning) thought worth attending.


The Reality of the Marionette The marionette landed itself right into the middle of the discussion about realism in the theatre. Heinrich von Kleist (in his  essay on the marionette) and the German Romantics had opened up the debate on the nature of the puppet actor, which, in time, led to Gordon Craig’s concept of the ideal actor. Proprietors of marionette shows constantly emphasized “realism” in their publicity and liked to pretend that their figures were almost lifesized. Quality was often equated with the ability to look lifelike. To understand the Victorian marionette theatre, we need to look at it in the overall context of notions of realism in nineteenth-century theatre. Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s “willing suspension of disbelief” is a useful starting point to help understand how audiences could accept as “real” what their basic intelligence told them was artificial and incredibly unrealistic. The issue is confused still further, however, by the delight that marionette proprietors took in introducing deliberately “realistic” elements from glass eyes to real water. The theatre reformer Adolph Appia (–) commented on how placing the three-dimensional flesh and blood actor in front of painted scenery highlighted the artificiality of theatre. This conflict did not arise on the marionette stage. The fact that the figure was made of wood or papier-mâché and painted placed it in immediate harmony with the scenic environment, and this consistency made its lifelikeness less questionable. Authenticity in itself was a crowd-puller in popular entertainments. Many fairground sideshows presented themselves as quasi-scientific establishments and exhibited supposed freaks of nature. When marionette proprietors of the nineteenth century made their regular boasts about the “reality” of their figures, they were following a long-established practice of traveling showpeople and charlatans. The later nineteenth century was obsessed with the presentation of material reality on the stage. Long before Naturalism became an artistic and aesthetic doctrine, the popular theatres had been pursuing it as one of their aims in a naïve attempt to blur the distinction between life

010 c1 (1-16)

8/4/04

10:23 AM

Page 5

Contexts

and the theatre. It was a challenge to present a “reality” on the stage that the audience would not question, and part of the audience’s pleasure came from recognition of the skill with which this illusion was produced. The sensation drama sought to imitate scenes from “real” life and amaze the spectators with the accuracy of these reconstructions. Perception changes, however, just as audiences do, and what was realistic in  was patently artificial by . Once the cinema became popular, the struggle was an unequal one. Realism had become the main yardstick by which marionette showpeople thought they should measure themselves, but the first point of reference was the live theatre and not life itself. In following the repertoire of the live theatre, the marionette theatre was generally operating according to dramaturgically outmoded conventions; but its target audiences were not primarily sophisticated metropolitan ones. From today’s perspective we may feel that an enormous amount of willing suspension of disbelief must have been required, but in the later nineteenth century this was not necessarily the case. What was important was the consistency of the fiction within its own conventions. Today anyone watching a puppet show where the manipulators are concealed, as they were in the nineteenth century, knows how difficult it is to be certain of the stature of the figures. Context, scale, and optical illusion all helped persuade audiences that they were watching life-sized figures. The belief that a puppet might have a life of its own goes well beyond the nineteenth-century English marionette theatre and relates to an audience’s desire to empathize even with what it knows to be a figure made out of inanimate materials. The greatest accolade for marionette showpeople was to be told that the figures could be mistaken for human beings, and some proprietors managed to persuade themselves that their figures had a life of their own. Viewed with any degree of objectivity, the dramatic marionette of the nineteenth century as an imitation actor emphasizes the absurdity of identifying the actor and the role, but the aspiration to be taken for a real actor meant that the marionette could also be viewed as an inferior actor. With the avant-garde movement, there was a return to an idea of showing rather than hiding the theatricality of the theatre. For some theatre theorists and artists, the puppet became the ideal theatrical figure in that it avoided the uncomfortable ambiguity of the live actor, who is simultaneously himself or herself and the role. The puppet’s very



010 c1 (1-16)



8/4/04

10:23 AM

Page 6

Contexts

unreality brought to the fore the gap between illusion and reality. In the s Maurice Maeterlinck wrote dramas for the ideal actor and called them plays for “puppets.” Gordon Craig, for all his love of puppets, disliked the idea of the marionette as a substitute actor in a type of drama for which he had very little time: The marionette appears to me to be the last echo of some noble and beautiful art of a past civilisation. But as with all art which has passed into fat or vulgar hands, the puppet has become a reproach. All puppets now are but low comedians. They imitate the comedians of the larger and fuller-blooded stage. They enter only to fall on their back. They drink only to reel, and make love only to raise a laugh. . . . Their bodies have lost grave grace, they have become stiff. Their eyes have lost that infinite subtlety of seeming to see; now they only stare.5


Marionettes and the Entertainment Industry Marionettes had a distinct place in the Victorian world and were woven into the texture of the theatrical entertainments of the period. They performed in many of the same places as live actors. In a limited number of cases they had permanent theatres which lasted for a number of years, but most marionette companies were traveling affairs. Their nomadic mode of existence led to a degree of social exclusion or marginalization. Marionette proprietors often preferred to emphasize a different profession, commonly that of musician. On the  census, the Tiller and Clowes families described themselves as “theatrical performers,” not puppeteers. Information from before  is slight; but we know that people expected to see marionettes at fairgrounds, and we have limited references to their appearances in halls and small theatres in larger towns. The occasional visit of a foreign company tended to attract attention from the upper social classes and therefore received newspaper coverage normally denied to the home-grown product. Marionette theatres had been a standard feature of the British fairground of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. For the traveling show, the annual fair was a time when numbers of people intent on

010 c1 (1-16)

8/4/04

10:23 AM

Page 7

Contexts

amusing themselves were grouped in one place. Most fairs were of short duration (one to three days), but it was possible to move from fair to fair. Owen’s Book of Fairs ( and ) was a calendar of the different fairs and was carried by many fairground entertainers. A part of any marionette troupe’s itinerary can often be surmised in terms of successive fairs. By the nineteenth century, fairs still provided a regular occasion for performance; but they were changing in nature, and some, such as Bartholomew Fair, had ended their natural life span. As towns grew, they lost part of their rural origin as cattle or animal markets, and a cattle market in a town center was considered undesirable and insalubrious. People no longer drove flocks of geese for miles to Nottingham to the Goose Fair on the first Thursday in October. In  the Nottingham Committee was involved in moving the sheep and cattle market out of the center of the town to a new site. Many fairs had been important occasions for commerce, but the rapid growth in the number of shops in towns removed a part of their original raison d’être. The balance between buying and selling and amusement changed as the nineteenth century advanced, and sideshows became the focus of the fair. One of the earliest entertainments to become a regular visitor to the Nottingham Goose Fair was Wombwell’s Menagerie (first recorded there in ), which was rapidly followed by other entertainments, including marionettes. In the s mechanical shows and rides began to displace many of the sideshows. Gas and then electricity gave the fair a brighter appearance at night, and everything became noisier. By the s the Nottingham Goose Fair was declining, and a large part of the marketplace was now occupied by P. Collins’s roundabouts and other mechanical rides, most notably his celebrated “Venetian Gondolas.” With a growing demand for novelty, marionette shows were beginning to seem a bit old-fashioned. On the  plan, the top end of the market was still occupied by what had become Bostock and Wombwell’s Royal No.  Menagerie, but little more than half of the remaining space was now given over to shows.6 These included several theatrical booths converted into biographs (as the early cinemas were called), including a pitch labeled “Lawrence’s Marionettes,” though it too may have been showing films. A nostalgic writer of  was already looking back at the former glories of this fair when “[boys] will recall the brilliant days



010 c1 (1-16)



8/4/04

10:23 AM

Page 8

Contexts

when Lawrence’s ‘legitimate’ actors proudly strutted for fitful hours in front of their booth, when exhibitions of waxworks and marionette shows were as common as blackberries.”7 The fairs were not only for the local population. With railways, people began to travel quite long distances to go to the fair. In  the Nottingham and Midland Counties Daily Express carried advertisements for cheap train excursions to the Hull October Fair.8 By the eighties there were also special trains from the mining districts running into Nottingham at fair time.9 Throughout the nineteenth century marionette theatres were taken for granted as a fairground spectacle and seldom rated any specific mention. They were often ranked and associated with other shows, including those of a scientific or quasi-scientific nature as well as the various “curiosities.” The use of popular science as a form of educational entertainment was widespread in the nineteenth century, and scientific displays were sometimes given in theatre buildings. In London William Bullock’s exhibitions at the Egyptian Hall, Reimer’s “Anatomical and Ethnological Museum” in Leicester Square, dioramas, cosmoramas, panoramas, magic lantern shows, and even illustrated lectures of travels attracted huge numbers of people. “Professor” Eugene Horman is a good example of a showman exploiting popular science. He was a magician in the s; but by  his “scientific display of natural magic” had been put together with Madame Ashington’s “worldrenowned troupe of marionettes,” and a year later we hear of “Professor Horman’s Italian marionettes.” In  he went to Ireland, where he remained for over a year. He visited Cork, Fermoy, and Thurles, and from January  until March or April he was at the Rotunda, Dublin. The puppets were accompanied by conjuring, but there is no indication that he worked the marionettes himself.10 By  he was advertising the show as Horman’s Ethescope Theatre and working in the Glasgow area.11 The advertisement suggests that he was now diversifying his activities and also indicates that he was running a second show. The “ethescope” was a form of ghost show based on the principles of Pepper’s Ghost. One of the first people to exploit Pepper’s Ghost as a fairground attraction was M. Gompertz, who bought the authorization to do so in .12 Gompertz’s show was known as a Spectroscope. By  Sylvester was showing his “ethoscope,” which, according to a contemporary critic, “combines all the properties of the phantoscope

010 c1 (1-16)

8/4/04

10:23 AM

Page 9

Contexts

and spectroscope, produces a great variety of spectres at the same time, mingling and dissolving in the most bewitching manner.” Henry Buxton, marionette proprietor, introduced a “spectrescope” for a brief period in , but it is not quite clear whether he combined it with marionettes or temporarily put them aside. Phantasmagorias, dissolving views, ghost shows, panoramas, and other such visual items were often included in the programs of nineteenth-century traveling marionette shows. The substitution of the moving-picture projector for the magic lantern was a natural step for showpeople who wished to indicate that they were up to date. With the advent of electric light, often provided by a generator incorporated into the decorated front, portable theatres had no difficulty in adding films to an existing program of marionette shows. In the period before cinema and mass entertainment, traveling marionette shows constituted a very significant part of available popular entertainment. The development of the industrial towns of the British Midlands created a new type of audience, in which the urban worker predominated. Changing work practices and more disposable income led to major developments in the entertainment industry and particularly favored the music hall. Leisure also created new and extended markets for traveling actors and marionette showpeople, and the music hall created opportunities for performances. Many marionette showpeople found such engagements preferable to hiring a hall for an evening or a week. As music halls graduated into variety theatres, with several grouped under the one management, marionette companies, like other acts, would pass from one theatre to another under the same management. As a consequence, their shows became shorter, brighter, more polished, and fast moving, but the dramatic and theatrical aspect of their work faded. The marionette number became so popular that numerous artistes added it to their acts, which probably accounts for the many new names that cropped up briefly in the s and s as marionette performers or proprietors. The fit-up showman and music hall artiste Harry Thompson, for example, had a “Negro minstrel” act but is recorded in  as also possessing a Punch and Judy show. By , when he and his company were filling the bill for the New Gaiety Palace of Varieties, Preston, Punch had been exchanged for a marionette show known as “The Levite’s Combination Pantomime Troupe.”13 Thompson was



010 c1 (1-16)



8/4/04

10:23 AM

Page 10

Contexts

probably typical of many showpeople who briefly used marionettes because they could be a popular act. A number of fit-ups began to emulate the music hall and diversify their activity into “combinations,” with marionettes reduced to being part of a variety show, which included live performers in songs, sketches, and a number of other acts. By the end of  music halls and theatres all over the country were showing films.14 When Queen Victoria died in , the infant bioscope industry was growing fast. Her death and funeral led to an avalanche of newsreel-type film, and the excitement generated by this sort of topical material outweighed that of most marionette dramas. The building of the Daily Bioscope in Bishopsgate, London, in  signaled the beginning of purpose-built cinemas. Randel Williams (who had a ghost show) was one of the first fairground showpeople to add film projection to his program, in . He was followed by a number of others; the already elaborate fronts of some traveling marionette shows were converted into bioscope entrances and equipped with brilliantly decorated organs. By  Harry Ashington was offering a “cinematograph” at the Horbury Wakes Fair (near Wakefield).15 He continued to combine film with theatre and marionettes when many proprietors had gone over entirely to cinema.16 Edwin Lawrence had converted his booth into a cinema in  and temporarily abandoned the marionettes. Within a few years, however, there were so many cinema shows that the clerk of the market at Nottingham Goose Fair, Mr. Radford, made the presentation of a marionette show a condition for obtaining a permit.17 In the early s the Lawrences, like many traveling showpeople, were experiencing economic difficulties. They eventually sold their marionette and cinematograph show to a Mrs. A. Holland in . She removed the organ, which formed part of the “massive carved and gilded front,” and installed it on her electric scenic railway. The proscenium arch, surmounted by a carved gold head and bust of Shakespeare, was adapted to fit Mrs. Holland’s moving-picture screen.18 The combination of film and marionettes was of relatively short duration. Traveling bioscopes and their organs gradually disappeared, as the fairgrounds became almost exclusively places for mechanical entertainments, swings, roundabouts, and other noisy sideshows; and halls devoted exclusively to the showing of moving pictures multiplied. What did remain sporadically until the s was the phenomenon of

010 c1 (1-16)

8/4/04

10:23 AM

Page 11

Contexts

the ciné-variety show in cinemas, where the film might be accompanied by live acts, which sometimes were marionettes.


Audiences Working out who actually saw marionette shows is at best a speculative business. Adult audiences attended traveling shows and music halls where marionettes were shown. A large proportion of most audiences was made up of adolescents. They were often noisy and not necessarily what the showpeople would desire, but their pennies made up a good share of his income. From the middle of the century showpeople discovered that there was a real market for entertainment for middle-class children. Charles Kean had persuaded people of the “educational” value of his Shakespeare productions, and some of the marionette showpeople followed a similar route. Performances specifically geared for a young audience were relatively rare until the s, but they did exist, particularly in private engagements. The shortage of fixed theatres and the comparative lack of documentation make audience analysis along social lines a difficult exercise to carry out. At best, with some reference to what we know in general about penny theatres or “gaffs,” we can probably say that audiences for these were young and poor and that gender balance depended on specific local circumstances.19 Portable theatres were certainly visited by a broader cross-section of society and usually had a price differential between the front seats and those behind. The difference was a form of social segregation, which spared the middle classes from having to sit next to their social inferiors as well as giving them a better view. In practice this was a way in which showpeople could extract a bit more money from the “better class of spectator.” In the s Kelsall’s traveling waxwork show had an interesting scale of charges based on social ranking: “Ladies and Gentlemen  shilling, Tradespeople d, Working classes, servants and children, d.”20 This type of classification, even if not expressed in this quaint way, may well have been applied to a number of traveling shows, including marionette ones (first seats, second seats, and children). The social composition of the audience was also affected by the place of performance. Portable theatres aimed at audiences of varying ages and social classes. Billy Purvis appeared at Jedburgh fair in



010 c1 (1-16)



8/4/04

10:23 AM

Page 12

Contexts

, charging twopence and threepence, but then, at the request of some of the local gentry, gave an extra three performances in the Assembly Room (where the prices were certainly higher).21 A Middleton bill of the s gives prices as one shilling and sixpence, indicating that the show is in a “commodious room.”22 This also suggests performances geared primarily to middle-class spectators. In both London and Dublin some of the halls and assembly rooms hired by marionette companies were frequented mainly by the middle classes – the Rotunda rooms in Dublin and St. James’s Hall, the Argyll rooms, and the Egyptian Hall in London. In a West End London music hall there would be a smarter public, while a very different one might be found in the East End or in one of the textile or mining towns of the Midlands. Private engagements were valued by showpeople, but here they were performing to audiences belonging almost entirely to one social stratum. Billy Purvis recorded an engagement with a Mr. Blackburn at Alnwick in the early s. The Howard family engaged a fantoccini performer for a Christmas party at Arundel Castle in . On  August  Ellen Terry noted in her diary: “Drove to Tenterden. Saw Clowes Marionettes.” In The Story of My Life (), she records how a private performance was organized: Henry [Irving] saw one of their playbills in a shop window, but found that the performances only took place in the evening. He found out the proprietor and asked him what the takings were on a good night. The man said £, I think. Henry asked him if he would give him a special show for that sum. He was delighted. Henry and I and my daughter Edy and Fussie sat in solemn state in the empty tent and watched the show, which was most ingenious and clever. Clowes’s Marionettes are still on the road, but ever since that “command” performance of Henry’s at Tenterden their bill has had two extra lines: Patronised by       .23


Marionettes, Waxworks, and Automata Since at least the seventeenth century puppets had simply been one of the means used by showpeople and mountebanks to attract a crowd or earn some money. They belong with rope-dancing and acrobatics, performing monkeys and bears, conjuring tricks and peepshows. In

010 c1 (1-16)

8/4/04

10:23 AM

Page 13

Contexts

many cases showpeople possessed more than one skill and could pass easily from one type of entertainment to another. A favorite fairground entertainment was the waxworks or wax cabinet: costumed wax figures, often life-sized, of well-known persons, whether real or fictitious. What is really interesting is the very close relationship between waxwork shows and marionette theatres. The idea of exhibiting artificial figures, whether animated or static and whether for edification or entertainment, was already common in the sixteenth century. The Salmon waxwork show began in late seventeenth century London, moving to Fleet Street in , and survived until the time of Charles Dickens. In the nineteenth century waxwork shows were everywhere – Dickens’s Mrs. Jarley, proprietor of a traveling waxworks show in The Old Curiosity Shop, was typical of many. Madame Tussaud traveled throughout the country for years before establishing herself in Baker Street in the early s. One of the bigger traveling waxworks of the later nineteenth century was Kelsall’s, with its “Crystal Palace Exhibition” of moving waxworks. When Kelsall’s visited Nottingham Goose Fair in , it boasted a show “[c]onsisting of upwards of  models in seven large carriages, pronounced by the public and the press, the largest and best travelling”; these included tableaux of Abraham offering up his son Isaac and Joseph interpreting “King Pharaoh’s Dream.”24 A stock folk figure of most waxwork shows of the eighteenth century was Mother Shipton, who also appeared as a marionette. Salmon had a mechanized figure of her, which kicked the unsuspecting spectator who stood on a trick board. A wax effigy of Mother Shipton could be found in Westminster Abbey, in a display known as the “play of the dead volks,” until these waxworks were removed in . A Mother Shipton, “the celebrated Yorkshire prophetess,” still figured in J. Ferguson’s waxworks at Bartholomew Fair in  (alongside likenesses of the murderer William Corder and his victim, Maria Marten).25 Some figure shows occupied a middle ground between automata and waxworks, as showpeople introduced clockwork mechanisms to give a semblance of life. The most celebrated figure of this sort was Madame Tussaud’s Sleeping Beauty, with her heaving breast. Showpeople liked to blur the distinction between puppets and automata. The Elizabethans often used the word “motion” for a puppet show; but this could also apply to a clockwork mechanism with figures, and the ambiguity was



010 c1 (1-16)



8/4/04

10:23 AM

Page 14

Contexts

further compounded by references to such mechanisms as “puppets.” The great eighteenth-century showman Flockton presented a bill at Bartholomew Fair in  that combined conjuring tricks, fantoccini, a miniature opera (presumably also with marionettes), and a complex piece of machinery described as a Mechanical Clock, which involved some  figures working at their trades.26 The Lawrence family had been fairground entertainers with portable theatres in the first half of the nineteenth century and may also have presented waxworks.27 In the early s Morris Lawrence had acquired a working model of an Australian gold mine, purportedly constructed in Melbourne and brought to England by a clergyman. The model had forty or fifty moving figures but was in bad repair. Lawrence himself may never have used it. One of his sidelines was an unlicensed firework “factory” in Plymouth, which blew up on  March , as it was preparing fireworks for a display to celebrate the marriage of the Prince of Wales and Princess Alexandra, killing Lawrence, two of his sons, and six other people.28 In  his son William Henry Lawrence put the model into working order and traveled the fairs with it. During these years he and his brothers Edwin and Albert combined this mechanical show with a marionette show. After his return from a visit to America with the Royal Marionettes in , “Lawrence’s Anglo-American Marionettes” developed into one of the largest touring fit-ups in Britain. Some nineteenth-century marionette shows called themselves “moving waxworks” in an attempt to capitalize on the vogue for such displays. In  the Middleton company advertised its show as “Royal Automatons” and described the figures as being made of wax.29 Some waxwork shows also added marionettes to the entertainment, but the term “moving waxworks” could be ambivalent. Springthorpe’s was among the better-known of the traveling waxwork shows in the first half of the century. The company is recorded in Edinburgh in June  and again in , when it performed in the Old Record Office at the top of Castle Street, Edinburgh.30 When it appeared on Glasgow Green in July , one of the pieces from the display of “mechanical composition figures” was a group of figures in the cavern scene from Sir Walter Scott’s Guy Mannering. It also included figures of “La belle Roxalana,” who played a variety of fashionable airs on chimes or bells, and a lively Italian brigand who could raise his head and fire his gun. The exhibition was completed by nonmoving figures of Walter Scott and the young

010 c1 (1-16)

8/4/04

10:23 AM

Page 15

Contexts

Queen Victoria.31 In the s Springthorpe’s offered “Waxwork Figures and Grand Cosmoramic Views” at , the Strand (London), and, in emulation of Madame Tussaud’s, had a Chamber of Horrors.32 In the late s Springthorpe’s combined waxworks with a concert. Much of the company’s traveling was in the north of England (notably Hull) and in Scotland (Aberdeen, Dundee), but it also visited Belfast (Victoria Hall) and Dublin. On Monday,  January , the company had a performance of a Promenade Concert in the basement hall underneath the Bell Street United Presbyterian Church, Dundee. A large crowd had gathered to fill the  seats, but the opening of the doors for the : P.M. show occasioned a rush of people down the icy steps to the basement. Someone slipped, and twenty people were killed in the resultant crush and pile-up. These were mostly boys and young workingmen, but a few girls (one aged eleven) also perished. Performances resumed a fortnight later.33 John Springthorpe had died a year before this tragedy, in February . Apparently he had been quite prosperous, but his family failed to make a success of the business.34 The addition of marionettes to the program was probably a desperate attempt to find an alternative attraction. Around  Lambert D’Arc, a Frenchman from Rheims, came to work for Springthorpe’s as a wax-modeler. In  Springthorpe’s advertised that “several new and interesting models by Mons. D’Arc have been added to the already beautiful collection.”35 By  he had his own waxwork exhibition in Cheltenham at St. George’s Hall. In October  he transferred this to Dublin. Then on  July  he announced: “for the first time – Mons. D’Arc’s Mechanical Automatical Figures.”36 Making marionettes was not perceived as vastly different from making waxworks; like Springthorpe’s, D’Arc may have felt that the moment was opportune to branch out. The success of his venture was considerable, and the long room of the Rotunda, Dublin, became a semipermanent marionette theatre for about five years. Springthorpe’s company was at the Victoria Hall, Belfast, from January to March , with a program of waxworks, cosmoramic views, and marionettes. By early March D’Arc was also there, at the Music Hall. It appears that he bought up most of the Springthorpe enterprise. It is not clear whether he did this out of charity, because he had formed an association with Springthorpe’s, or because he saw it as a good moment to eliminate possible competition. Whatever the case, a few weeks later he was advertising the sale of a fit-up that sounds



010 c1 (1-16)



8/4/04

10:23 AM

Page 16

Contexts

remarkably like the Springthorpe one, on the grounds that he found it difficult to manage two concerns. In July  D’Arc was selling parts of wax figures, “the remains of the late Springthorpe’s Waxwork Show.”37 In addition he was selling marionettes, scenery, and “tricks” from John Springthorpe’s company, while the widow Springthorpe and her family struggled on for the next few years with a depleted show. D’Arc was planning an American tour but ended by turning his attentions to Scotland. He had a season in Dundee, where the show ran from late July until October . In January , back at the Rotunda, Dublin, he was advertising for marionette workers for a season at the Queen’s Hall, Liverpool. The Liverpool season opened at the beginning of March, and the show ran for an amazingly successful five months. The lessee of the hall, W. J. Bullock, purchased the show in April and retitled it the “Royal Marionettes.” The sale had little effect on D’Arc’s activities. He had retained his waxworks and either already had made a duplicate marionette show with newer figures or else had a sufficient amount of material at hand, especially if he had absorbed the Springthorpe marionettes. The Rotunda remained his base in Ireland, and in April  he was advertising for a new company. In June he was presenting marionette performances of Cinderella in addition to the waxworks. He was also rebuilding his company, with a view to foreign touring, looking for “first class figure workers – who have no objection to going abroad – also a young man who understands to work the Shadow Figures cleverly.”38 The reference to shadow figures suggests a form of puppetry that may have been more widespread than surviving documents would suggest. Sam Baylis had been involved in this, and the street galanty shows were also quite common. In August  D’Arc paid a very successful visit to Chester with his waxwork exhibition but may well have included marionettes in the program. In December  the show was raided by the police in Manchester. It was offering waxworks and tableaux vivants.39 Tableaux vivants were a popular entertainment and were often only an excuse for a display of the scantily clad live female form. By  D’Arc was firmly established with his waxwork exhibition and marionettes in the Victoria Rooms, Cardiff, where a D’Arc presence remained until the s.

020 c2 (17-45)

8/4/04

10:24 AM

Page 17

Chapter 2 : Proprietors & Practitioners
The Composition of Companies Like music masters, dancing masters, and singing teachers, proprietors of marionette shows in the nineteenth century commonly added the title “professor” to confer respectability to their calling, a tradition that has remained with Punch and Judy performers today. They usually came from the artisan classes and often had other specific trades, ranging from music to carpentry to glass-blowing. In the hierarchy of performers, the status of marionette showpeople was lower than that of actors, while street showpeople with mobile booths and a few variety figures virtually fell into the ranks of vagabonds. Because marionette showpeople traveled much of the time and often lived in caravans, they were sometimes perceived as gypsies. Most marionette showpeople retained links with the settled community from which they originated, and many had homes where they could spend time when not on the road. The nineteenth-century marionette company was based on the family. Some families had been involved in fairground entertainments for several generations; others drifted into the profession out of economic necessity. When showpeople died or ran into financial problems, the equipment might be sold and acquired by the proprietor of a sideshow, or even a nonpuppeteer, as a way of earning a living. Most companies had more than one member of the same family involved. Links between families and marriages of cousins were common. In  Richard Barnard married his cousin Elizabeth Jane Middleton, widow of Philip Clark (another marionette worker). The Holden and Lawrence families (both of whom had been traveling entertainers since at least the beginning of the nineteenth century) became linked by marriage when the brothers Thomas and James Holden married Sarah and Agnes Lawrence.

020 c2 (17-45)



8/4/04

10:24 AM

Page 18

Proprietors and Practitioners

Where the family itself did not suffice, hired help was brought in. It was not uncommon for a son or daughter to continue the business when a parent died or became too old. Sons and daughters of marionette showpeople had served an apprenticeship in the business and often set up on their own in the line of business they knew most about (sometimes helped out with the gift of a set of figures). The existence of more than one company bearing the same family name can cause confusion for the researcher. In  Middleton’s Marionette Establishment was listed as one of the attractions of the Nottingham Goose Fair; and in  “Mr Middleton begs to inform the Public that his Marionette Theatre is again at the fair. Crowded Houses.”1 This probably refers to the company of James Middleton but might also refer to that of his brother Charles. The two Holden troupes were constantly mixed up and often treated as just one. John Holden (at a peak of success in London in ) had shows at three separate venues daily, apparently with three separate companies. The various Tiller and Clowes companies not only were interrelated but were often in action in roughly the same area, which leads to a lot of confusion. In , according to Harriet Clowes, there were five Clowes and Tiller shows: Mrs. Ambrose Tiller Senior, Walter Tiller, Ambrose Tiller Junior (his brother), J. G. Clowes Junior (brother of Harriet), and Clowes and Sons (which included Harriet and her brothers).2 In many cases companies were carried on by widows or daughters who had married and changed their name. A Middleton of the early nineteenth century married a widow Frisby. We know that the Middletons were traveling theatre people, but it is possible that their marionette activities began as a result of this union and that the later claim that the “family” had been involved with marionettes since  was true, but through the Frisby line.3 Eliza Hunt, the long-lived matriarch of the various Tiller and Clowes companies, also belonged to an older traveling family (Cheadle) and may have brought her own marionettes with her when she married. Links with other forms of popular entertainment were also common. Many marionette performers are associated with circus families, including the Chipperfields, Fossetts, Duffys, Matthews, and Wilsons. The demarcation between marionettes and troupes of traveling actors could be fluid. Owners of booths readily switched from live actors to marionettes and vice versa, or combined the two. In the s James

020 c2 (17-45)

8/4/04

10:24 AM

Page 19

Proprietors and Practitioners

Middleton was running what was known as the Middleton Theatrical and Marionette Booth. According to Richard Barnard, it was quite common in the earlier nineteenth century for theatrical booths touring the fairs to be joined in the summer months by actors from the London theatres, while “in the winter months, the Puppet plays, the old style Fantoccinni [sic] were resorted to to get a living. Playing in Public Houses’ Skittle Alleys, and in the country places Barns etc., had to be fitted up for the entertainment to be given, no other place being then obtainable.”4

. Middleton and Frisby bill, s. George Speaight Collection.



020 c2 (17-45)



8/4/04

10:24 AM

Page 20

Proprietors and Practitioners


The First Half of the Nineteenth Century Information on marionette showpeople in the first half of the century is patchy, and much has to be conjectural. The Calver family was active by the s and was regarded as one of the major traveling shows, touring the circuit of manufacturing towns: Leeds, Sheffield, Huddersfield, Halifax, Wakefield, Manchester. Its proprietor, Edward Calver, was succeeded by his son Walter, who died in  at the age of thirty-six. The last mention of the show is in . One of the most colorful performers of the first half of the century was William J. Mumford, born around , probably in Bedfordshire. He appeared in the streets of London in the s, wearing a straw costume he had made. This was probably some sort of mummer’s costume, which would have seemed a little unusual in the capital. No doubt it attracted as much attention as his “dancing dolls.” His “Italian marionette exhibition” included such classic folk pieces as Valentine and Orson and The Children in the Wood. He moved to Glasgow, selling spirits (though his marionettes may have been the side-line). By  he had set up his “mechanical theatre” in the Saltmarket, where he performed until  or . Like other marionette showpeople he had problems with the licensee of the Theatre Royal, John Henry Alexander, who objected to all “irregular” theatres. He was also well known for his serious lectures on the evils of drink, which formed a part of the program but were often given in a state of inebriation.5 Billy Purvis’s memoirs provide a unique illustration of the daily life of a traveling marionette showman between the mid s and the s.6 These were written toward the end of a working life and largely from memory, but the constant use of dates suggests that he may have kept a diary to which he could refer. He ran away from home, near Edinburgh, to be an entertainer. Initially Purvis worked the fairs as a singer and dancer and also as a pugilist. He had no background with marionettes, but in  he met the fantoccini performer Grey in Preston, where they were both performing in a pleasure garden.7 When they met again in Newcastle, Purvis joined his show. After performances in that area, Grey vanished one day with his puppets, the takings, and a gold brooch and ring belonging to Purvis, who then made up his own set of fantoccini figures and appeared successfully at the October fairs and also at Newcastle Races in .8 With the end of the fair season

020 c2 (17-45)

8/4/04

10:24 AM

Page 21

Proprietors and Practitioners

Purvis put away his fantoccini for the winter and gave evening dancing classes. Purvis’s main circuit was the district between Newcastle, Edinburgh, and Glasgow. He showed his fantoccini at the March fair of  in Kelso and then moved on to Jedburgh Fair, where his success enabled him to rent the Assembly Rooms for four performances, well patronized by the local gentry.9 From Jedburgh he made his way to Edinburgh, via Musselburgh races. In  Purvis also appeared at Newcastle Races, which he followed with a circuit of the Northumberland fairs. In , in company with James Scott, manager of a portable theatre, he traveled to Glasgow by ship (using the Forth and Clyde canal). After brisk business in Glasgow, he toured Scotland, ending with a stay of “a month or six weeks” in Dundee and then returned to Newcastle by ship. At about this period Purvis decided to become proprietor of a “locomotive” or portable theatre and toured Northumberland with live actors and a dramatic program. In March  at Alnwick his actors mutinied, demanding their unpaid wages. He responded by sacking them all and continued a short while with fresh actors, before deciding to replace them with marionettes: I turned to my own resources and commenced multum in parvo by myself, I got up a complete set of theatrical performing figures that could not bother me with a strike, though they might have struck, no doubt. Cinderella, Homer and the Moor, Fair Rosamund, and Babes in the Wood were among the many. We spoke behind the scenes for the figures. Mr. Henry Wadforth was one of the assistant ventriloquists, and the little creatures went through their parts more perfectly than many of our living leading stars. Mr. James Laird was the violino primo of the establishment.10 There are fewer details of the itineraries of this period, but the new troupe appeared in Sunderland, Chester-le-Street, Durham, Bishop Auckland, and Darlington. Purvis mentions leaving a “pavillion” at Darlington because the cost of transporting it to Newcastle would be £. Back in Newcastle, he simply went to a timber merchant, bought materials, and built a new and smaller booth. In addition he gave shows in private houses, where he might offer either a conjuring show or a fantoccini one. After  business declined, and Purvis blamed this on the



020 c2 (17-45)



8/4/04

10:24 AM

Page 22

Proprietors and Practitioners

depression in trade at the time. He spent about five years in Scotland, briefly returning to live actors. In  he was still performing with his puppets; the next year he claimed to have made quite a lot of money, “with my threepence for whappers and twopence for trappers.”11 Billy Purvis’s last years were obviously difficult, and the publication of his memoirs was itself a partial attempt to keep financially afloat. By the time he died in , he had already become a semilegendary figure. Purvis was assisted for a time by Sam Baylis, who worked as scenepainter, “actor” (puppeteer), and musician. When Baylis set up on his own, around , Purvis gave him a few figures, informing him that they had been “the property of Seawood, the greatest figure-man of his day.” We have no record of Seawood, but it is possible that Baylis meant Samuel Seward, who created a marionette theatre in Cheltenham in .12 As well as marionettes Baylis presented “ombres vivants,” appearing with these in  in Manchester, Bolton, Belfast, Birmingham, Leeds, and Wilton’s Music Hall and the Royal Cosmotheca (London). The exact nature of this entertainment is not quite certain; his description of it as “a rational and harmless entertainment, having called forth considerable mechanical powers in their construction,” does not make matters much clearer.13 In September  he felt it necessary to remind people that he also had a marionette show in addition to his shadow performances: “S.B. has also other performances he would not object to do occasionally. The speaking figure on the knees which smokes a cigar and plays several tunes on a whistle and Galvanic and Electromagnetic Experiments, the dancing Automaton, and a first-rate Marionette Entertainment.”14 By  Baylis began to advertise his show as “Marionettes and Living Shadows.” In July  he completed a five-month engagement at the St. Leonard’s Hall, , Shoreditch, London, with shadows and a pantomime. He seems to have alternated longer engagements, when available, with short visits to smaller centers, which he probably organized himself. In , on a Yorkshire and Lancashire circuit, he visited Castleford, Harrogate, Pately Bridge, and Ripon, using available public rooms or halls but never stopping for more than three days.15 In April  he performed at the Lancaster “Exhibition of Arts, Manufactures etc.” In October he had a season of at least several weeks in Blackpool before moving on to an engagement at the Grand Infirmary Bazaar at

020 c2 (17-45)

8/4/04

10:24 AM

Page 23

Proprietors and Practitioners

the Corn Exchange, Preston. In April  he was performing at the Victoria Rooms, Doncaster, where he spent a number of weeks, with a short break in the middle. From early May until at least the second week of June he toured Lincolnshire, visiting Grantham, Sleaford, Spalding, and Boston. In August Baylis began a ten-week engagement at the Crystal Palace, Blackpool, which, he claimed, was visited by , people. In October he announced his “Fifth Annual Tour of England.”16 Baylis had a small family show and was clearly a gifted artist. From the s on he remained for long periods in Scarborough, where he had prolonged summer seasons. The last reference to “Sam Baylis’s Celebrated Marionettes” is in . There is another mention of Baylis’s marionettes in , but this may refer to his son Charles, who had his own company of “Italian” marionettes from , as distinct from his father’s “French” ones. Baylis’s foreign travels call for more investigation. He claimed in , possibly with some degree of exaggeration, to have performed in every country in Europe and America.17


Middleton’s, a Marionette Dynasty The Middleton family is central to any study of the nineteenthcentury marionette theatre and illustrates remarkably well the various relationships and connections of a major group involved in this activity. They toured mostly in the southeast of England (Kent and Sussex); but some of their descendants, notably Charles Webb and Richard Barnard, went much farther afield. The earliest document is a permit signed by the town clerk and the mayor of Dover on  February : We do hereby certify that the Bearer, to wit Jane Middleton, about the age of fifty whose deceased husband was a native and freeman of Dovor [sic], is a Woman of a good and respectable Character, and that her Performances in the Town have been uniformly conducted with Propriety and Decorum. . . . From her proper conduct and industrious Exertions to support herself and a Family of Five Children we have been induced to grant her this Certificate.18 A cutting from a newspaper of  mentions the imprisonment of a Mr. Middleton (probably James) for doing plays without a license and



020 c2 (17-45)



8/4/04

10:24 AM

Page 24

Proprietors and Practitioners

to the supposed detriment of the Theatre Royal. Sometimes the holder of the license for the local theatre could be very jealous of any infringement of the monopoly. The event was recorded in the form of a satirical poem about Punch being arrested by a “wooden-headed” local council. 19 A bill of  printed in Canterbury gives the company the title of “Middleton’s Royal Automaton Figures.” After the problems of a few years earlier, care is taken to announce that “Mr. M. assures the Public that his Exhibition is essentially different from Theatricals; the Characters of the Pieces here represented being supported throughout by MECHANICAL FIGURES ONLY, but still with the strictest resemblance to life.”20 As was common, the words “fantoccini” and “marionette” do not appear on the bill, though the content of the program, which includes a comic opera and some stock fantoccini acts such as four quadrille dancers, the “Magic (Grand) Turk” (who dismembers), and the Italian “Scaramouch,” makes it quite clear that this is a marionette show and not a display of automata. By the s two Middleton companies were active, headed by James Middleton and Charles Middleton, presumably the sons of Jane (Frisby) Middleton. James, who would have been a young man in the s, is probably the “Mr M.” mentioned in the  bill. A sister married an Irish actor called Terry and became involved in theatrical wardrobes. Family myth tried to make her the mother or grandmother of the great actress Ellen Terry, but that does not appear to be the case. Another brother, Henry, was the father of Henry James Middleton, who was married to Sarah Jane Holden (sister of Thomas Holden) and went to America in , probably as a part of the second Bullock company.21 In  he died of sunstroke. By  his sons Harry and George William had reformed a company called the Middleton Brothers. When Harry died in , George William, his mother, and his wife, Jenny, continued the show, which ceased only with his death in .22 James Middleton had a number of children, including Alfred, James II, Edwin, and William. By  the enterprise was known as Middleton Brothers’ “Royal and Original Marionettes” and traveled in the southeast of England.23 “Professor” A. (Alfred) Middleton, who also had a troupe of performing dogs, acted as manager. Alfred, Edwin, and James II found their way to America over the next few years and were proba-

020 c2 (17-45)

8/4/04

10:24 AM

Page 25

Proprietors and Practitioners

bly responsible for “The Original and Only Royal Marionettes,” which appeared in Philadelphia in .24 Middleton’s Marionettes are recorded in Margate in January , probably under the management of William; but by  the show had ceased to function and was stored in a decrepit state in Sittingbourne, Kent. William was then in poor health and put the equipment up for sale, indicating in the advertisement that he might be prepared to take on a “partner with a small capital.”25 The portable theatre, marionettes, wagons, stage, and scenery were bought by Thomas Clunn Lewis, who then employed William Middleton as a figure-worker and musician. William Middleton’s sister Lenorah was married to a musician, Richard Barnard, who died in . Their son, Richard Barnard, became one of the most important marionette proprietors of the last quarter of the century.26 At the age of thirteen, he joined his great-uncle Charles Middleton, with whom he traveled from the late autumn or winter of  through the summer of . This period is recorded in his Life and Travels, which, allowing for inaccuracies or lapses of memory, gives a great deal of information about Charles’s company and provides a rare and valuable account of the everyday life and traveling pattern of a marionette theatre around .27 Barnard joined the portable theatre in Chatham and went with it to Strood. As business was poor in the southeast, Middleton decided to make for Norwich Fair. They hired horses to take the two living caravans and four wagons of equipment to London. The wagons were then sent by rail to Norwich, while the caravans took a week to complete the journey, being slowed down by stops to hire horses and by appalling weather. Railways for freight transport coupled with improvements in roadmaking took some of the pain out of traveling. By this period more and more showpeople (circus, theatre, and marionette) were using four-wheel caravans. These well-equipped “living wagons” were usually more comfortable than the cheap lodgings available and became the homes of showpeople when they were on the road, if not all the time. The caravan was usually occupied by the proprietor’s family and replaced the more primitive wagon covered with heavy canvas. The construction of bigger and better ones became an important industry in itself. After Norwich Charles Middleton took his show to Great Yarmouth, Gorleston, Lowestoft, and other places in Norfolk and Suffolk. They performed in various small towns in Essex until they reached Colchester,



020 c2 (17-45)



8/4/04

10:24 AM

Page 26

Proprietors and Practitioners

where they remained for three or four weeks. At Malden Fair the booth was wrecked by a storm (doing £ worth of damage). During the three weeks it took to rebuild the booth, they performed in the Public Hall. The company reached Cambridge for the fair on Midsummer Green. According to Barnard, fairground performances lasted fifteen or twenty minutes, with twenty-five to thirty performances daily. Cambridge was followed by Framlington, Stowmarket, and Newmarket, after which they worked their way back to Kent. Business was slack until they reached Brighton, where they were able to remain for five months. They then moved westward to Portsmouth, stopping at Shoreham, Littlehampton, and Chichester. In Portsmouth they rented a site for four weeks but remained fifteen months, performing twice nightly, despite unsuccessful attempts by the nearby theatre to have them closed down for performing stage plays without a license. They stayed five months in Southampton. After a good initial week, illness hit various members of the company, and business deteriorated. After this they tried Lymington, Christchurch, and finally Poole, where Barnard left the company. Barnard’s cousin Charles Webb was a grandson of Charles Middleton. He was born circa  and grew up and worked in his grandfather’s company until , when Charles Middleton remarried. Middleton’s second wife was herself the proprietor of a theatrical booth, which she sold to a member of her company. Disagreements with the new Mrs. Middleton led to the departure of Charles Webb, his wife, Mary Ann Wiggins, and their young cousin, Richard Barnard. They all found work with Springthorpe’s, then in Liverpool. The show opened in Belfast and toured in Ireland and southwest England; but audiences were poor, and it had to close down early in . Most of Webb’s subsequent career was spent touring outside Britain. A daughter of Charles Middleton married William Case. The Cases were active in the s and traveled largely in the Midlands. They performed the popular plays of the day. The importance of the show can be gauged by an  advertisement for a band of five.28 The company was now called “Case’s Royal Champion Marionettes.” There are various references to them up to ; but, according to their cousin Richard Barnard, Mrs. Case and her son Walter were working for John Simms at Swansea in .29 This may point to the death of Case himself. An advertisement for the sale of the whole outfit, including a new booth, is followed by an indication that “[t]he Proprietor would receive a good

020 c2 (17-45)

8/4/04

10:24 AM

Page 27

Proprietors and Practitioners

energetic partner . . . with capital.”30 The energetic partner with capital may have been Frank Walton, since a W. (probably Walter) Case was manager of Walton’s Royal Marionettes. The outfit did not prosper. In  Walter Case was advertising for a job as worker or speaker, since “in consequence of another failure of Marionettes, I am thrown out of an engagement.”31 Walter Case and his wife were with Wilding’s in . Case joined his cousin Richard Barnard in , but it is not certain whether he remained with him consistently. The last we hear of Walter Case is an advertisement for employment as a figure-worker or stage manager in .


Clowes, Tiller, and Rural Touring Middleton’s company was only one of many traveling family groups. The last years of the century, despite a huge increase in the number of marionette showpeople, saw a decline in the number of fit-ups on the roads. One of the most significant groups to emerge in the second half of the century was the Clowes and Tiller company, most of whose touring was on the relatively small rural circuits of East Anglia and the southwest. Their combined activity originated with another marionette proprietor, John Simms. In the s Simms and his partner Edward Hunt had a major touring marionette theatre in the southwest of England and South Wales. Hunt, who belonged to a family of traveling showpeople and may have been the owner of the booth they used, was married to Eliza Cheadle; their daughter Betsy was married to a member of the Simms company, John Clowes. Clowes came from another well-established marionette show that followed a rural circuit in the Birmingham area. In May  the Simms booth was badly damaged by a storm. In the struggle to save it, Hunt was seriously injured and died a few days later. According to family legend, Eliza Hunt swore to her husband that she would never remarry. This story was used to justify why she subsequently became the common-law partner of Ambrose Tiller, a young carpenter from Southampton who had been with the company since about . Eliza Cheadle thus became the long-lived matriarch of both a Clowes and a Tiller line of marionette showpeople. By  Ambrose and Eliza were running their own show. Like many such enterprises, this had its vicissitudes. In  they were looking for work, although subsequently they had their own outfit again. Between



020 c2 (17-45)



8/4/04

10:24 AM

Page 28

Proprietors and Practitioners

 and  the names of Clowes and Tiller are linked as “Clowes and Tiller’s Marionettes.” An advertisement of  mentions only “Tiller’s Marionettes.” In  Walter, eldest son of Eliza and Ambrose, left his parents’ show and went briefly into partnership with J. G. Clowes Junior (his half-sister’s son). They called themselves “Clowes and Tiller’s Famous Marionettes.” The partnership lasted only a year. Walter then set up on his own, while a separate Clowes troupe traveled in the southeast of England. He called his show “Walter Tiller’s Famous Marionettes and Talented Concert Party,” presenting a mixed bill of marionette dramas, fantoccini or variety marionette numbers, and various musical and comic acts with live performers. His son Sid (Wilfrid Sidney) was particularly noted for his Big Boot dance. Their main area of activity was the West Country (Somerset, Devon, and Dorset). After the death of Ambrose I, around , Eliza continued the show, assisted by her daughter Lucy (Tiller), son-in-law Bert Bowden, and some of her Clowes grandchildren. It was known as “Mrs E. Tiller’s Marionettes and Bioscope.” Eliza Tiller continued until . Bert Bowden, who had managed the show since , was running it as “Bert Bowden’s Marionettes” in  but closed down in  for the duration of the war. Eliza Tiller herself died on  February  at the age of eighty-eight or eighty-nine in her living wagon in the yard of the Reindeer Inn at Lincoln.32 Eliza’s son Ambrose Tiller, who was also a musician (conductor and leading violinist at Boscombe Arcade, near Bournemouth) and a photographer specializing in picture postcards, left the family show about  and set up “Tiller’s Mechanical Mannikin Show and Theatre of Varieties.” In articles in the World’s Fair the term “mannikins” is constantly used when referring to his show and may have been a way of distinguishing it from his mother’s. In March  Ambrose Tiller departed on a tour of the West Country, visiting eighteen towns and villages in Devon and Dorset and giving an average of six to eight performances in each place. Then he gradually worked his way back to East Anglia; like his mother, he toured East Anglia and Lincolnshire, performing at fairs and setting up a booth in inn-yards. Ambrose Tiller kept diaries between  and , which have helped establish a picture of the life of a traveling marionette theatre during these years.33 Except for  and , Ambrose gave between

020 c2 (17-45)

8/4/04

10:24 AM

Page 29

Proprietors and Practitioners

 and  performances a year; the annual takings were usually between £ and £. Over fifteen years some , people saw the show. Audiences averaged about sixty persons per show. The average takings (with seats at s, d, and d) were £/s per show. This meant that Ambrose had a daily income of about s, out of which he paid all bills, food, hire of horses, extra artists, and men. That indicates what a tight budget a small family show had to run on. An added economic problem was the number of days when performances were canceled because of the weather or because the tilt (roof) had been blown off. The struggle to make a living is undoubtedly a reason why many puppet showpeople were seeking another profession by the early twentieth century.


Foreign Touring Foreign touring was not strictly a new phenomenon. We know that English puppeteers were traveling through Holland and Germany by the start of the seventeenth century. The most phenomenally successful tours of the nineteenth century were those of the Holden family. The first documents relating to Holden’s are for Bartholomew Fair around  and refer to Thomas Holden, a glassblower, who also presented marionettes and enjoyed a certain notoriety because of the glass wig that he sported. Glass-blowing was a common fairground attraction, and small animals and other figures of glass could be bought. Unfortunately, we know nothing of the marionettes; but it seems likely that Holden used glass-blowing as a good way of attracting an audience for the show inside.34 In the s John Holden, probably the son of Thomas, was a marionette proprietor and had moved northward to Yorkshire from Essex, where he had been based.35 The company became known as “Holden’s Champion Marionette Exhibition.” By  John Holden’s son, also John (“eldest of ”), was working with him as manager. Advertisements for personnel invite applicants to contact J. and J. Holden. At this period Holden’s and Middleton’s were probably very similar in terms of repertoire and image. A younger son, Thomas, worked with the company but had left the family business by  and gone to America as stage manager for Bullock’s Royal Marionettes. Upon returning to Britain, Thomas Holden did not rejoin the family troupe but looked for employment as



020 c2 (17-45)



8/4/04

10:24 AM

Page 30

Proprietors and Practitioners

a figure-worker. The main Holden troupe was probably not large enough to support too many family members, and there were already disagreements with John Junior. Thomas and his younger brother James, who later had a reputation as a particularly fine figure-worker, set up their own company early in .36 In April  T. Holden was performing with his “Queen’s Marionettes” at Hengler’s Circus, Glasgow.37 In late October of that year John Holden (Junior) announced a season at the London Pavilion, where he probably remained until mid January , when he transferred to the Royal Forrester’s Music Hall (Mile End). Thomas Holden also had his company in London, performing at the Cambridge Music Hall at roughly the same time.38 John Holden was back in Liverpool by early February, but Thomas remained in London, transferring to the Royal Holborn, where a final benefit performance was given on  March. The following winter both companies appeared again in London music halls. For the next fifteen years there seems to have been little communication between the two Holden troupes. The situation may have been exacerbated by the marriage of Thomas and James into the “rival” Lawrence family. Foreign tours were now perceived as profitable. Both companies worked extensively outside Britain, acquiring a high reputation in continental Europe. John traveled in France, Spain, Belgium, and Holland. Back in Liverpool at the end of , he indicated that he had not been there for thirteen years and that he had been out of England for eight. He subsequently referred to his “transfer to the continent.”39 Broadly speaking, John Holden was based in Europe (mainly France and Belgium) from the late s until the mid s. Outside Britain, Thomas Holden was the best-known Victorian marionette proprietor. His name became almost synonymous with English marionettes and supreme technical virtuosity. His show was a constant point of reference and managed to be credited with every novelty that appeared on the marionette stage. In – he was the main attraction at the Bolero Star Music Hall in Paris for fifteen months, launching a dazzling international career which ultimately led him as far as South America. Holden’s was widely imitated, and the name was used to boost publicity for other companies. The Schichtls, a German troupe that borrowed liberally from any available source, boasted that they had been on St. Pauli fairground in Hamburg when Holden’s company was there. In Turin the Lupi company of the Teatro Gianduja both com-

020 c2 (17-45)

8/4/04

10:24 AM

Page 31

Proprietors and Practitioners

peted with and imitated Holden’s when it had a season in that city in . In Istanbul, a city that Holden’s visited several times, a replica of the show was staged in  by a puppeteer called Emin Bey.40 John retired about  in easy circumstances. Thomas, having made a fortune, retired about the same time, leaving James to continue the show until , when he too retired from marionettes to become the lessee of the Empire Theatre, Harrogate.41 By the early s the great days of Holden’s company were receding into the past. Advertisements in the Era for  show them looking for engagements, an indication that they were no longer sought after as before. The years spent touring abroad may also mean that home audiences were less familiar with them.42 Both Holden companies discovered the art of publicity on the grand scale. John Holden took a whole column of a local newspaper to announce the coming of his “grand marionette exhibition and temple of fantoccini” to Nottingham Goose Fair in .43 His extensive and very public “row” with Lawrence’s in the pages of the Era in  centered on Lawrence’s bold claim to be the “Originators and Manufacturers of the principal Marionette Entertainments in England, Germany and America.”44 Insults were hurled: Lawrence’s was described as the “Fungi Fraternity,” while John Holden became the “Crusher” and “Fog Horn.” Readers became involved in a spectacular fight between two companies, both claiming to be the “greatest.” Holden’s companies (especially Thomas’s troupe) also made much of the originality of their show and warned people against imitators. They also made unprecedented use of the media and publicity to promote an image of smart and up-to-date shows aimed at more affluent spectators. Mae Holden (sister of John, Thomas, and James) married Jesse Jewell and also sometimes traded under the name of Holden. The JewellHoldens also traveled in Europe, performing in front of the Dutch royal family in . A bill for the Kurhaus, Scheveningen, for  August of that year shows them presenting the same repertoire as the other Holden companies and obviously trading on the name. When they appeared in Edinburgh in  under the name of Holden, John and James promptly published a letter in the Era, declaring that no Holden marionettes were performing in England or Scotland at that time, especially as a “sideshow.” The brothers did not feel that Madame Jewell’s show added to the Holden reputation. After this the company (advertising in Liverpool, Dublin, and London) retained the name Jewell and was sometimes



020 c2 (17-45)



8/4/04

10:24 AM

Page 32

Proprietors and Practitioners

advertised as “Madame Jewell’s French Marionettes.” The Jewells moved to the United States, probably in , and Jesse Jewell died in February . A note in the Era referred to him as “one of the finest marionette workers in the field.” A week later this was rectified by Harry Fanning, who pointed out that he was a proprietor not a worker and that the main manipulator was Madame Jewell.45 The first recorded marionette shows in America, with Punch, date from the s and are almost certainly English.46 By the middle of the nineteenth century companies were traveling to America more frequently. The most important American tour was that of William Bullock’s Royal Marionettes, who arrived hot from the success of a prolonged visit to London in September . The complicated saga of this tour has been well recorded by Paul McPharlin.47 In the end it involved not one but two troupes of some of Britain’s leading marionette performers touring the United States and resulted in a number of close imitations of the successful English show. Bullock’s Number  company included Charles Webb and his wife, Philip George Clark and his wife (Elizabeth Jane Middleton), Thomas Holden and his wife (Sarah Lawrence) and brother-in-law (William Henry Lawrence), and James Shaw. John E. McDonough and Hartley A. Earnshaw, the American managers/partners, lured away most of this team with higher wages. They tried to obtain control of the show and eventually built their own replica of it.48 The new company included the Webbs and Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Holden. They toured in San Francisco and a number of cities before moving on to Honolulu in December . By the time the ten-member company reached Australia in May , only the Webbs and a Miss Hughes were left of the original group. At the beginning of April  Bullock sent over his Number  company, which opened in Brooklyn. This time the company included Richard Barnard, who had missed the opportunity to go with Charles Webb the previous year. He left Liverpool on  March . Almost on arrival, he found himself plunged into the bad feeling between the breakaway group and the new company. Bullock’s new company consisted of a limited number of genuinely competent figure-workers and a motley assortment of assistants. Because of his experience, Barnard rapidly became the principal figure-worker of the company and worked for Bullock until . His salary was thirty-five shillings a week, about

020 c2 (17-45)

8/4/04

10:24 AM

Page 33

Proprietors and Practitioners

ten shillings above the usual rate for a figure-worker in England but low by American standards. With the development of steamboats in the mid-century, crossing the Atlantic (and other oceans) became much simpler, and railways allowed huge distances to be covered relatively easily. The expansion of the British Empire had created expatriate populations of administrators, soldiers, merchants, and others in far-flung parts of the globe. One consequence was the springing up of theatres and opera houses for the entertainment of these expatriates and their families. Theatre companies toured the colonies, and in their wake came marionette companies. When McDonough and Earnshaw reached Australia in , audiences had the experience of seeing an English show under American management. The Webbs left the company in Melbourne and set off for just under three months in New Zealand as a fantoccini act, part of Smith’s Combination. They left Auckland for Sydney on  March  and then appeared in May and June in Sydney and Melbourne with “The English and French Artists.” In Melbourne they joined up with another former member of the McDonough-Earnshaw company, Charles Trotter, to form “Webb and Trotter’s Royal Marionettes,” which presented a full-length program. In February  “Webb and Trotter’s” left for Sydney, performing at the exhibition from April to June, and then on to a second tour of New Zealand until the end of the year. In  they were in Melbourne and again at the Sydney Exhibition. On their way back to England in  they played in Singapore, Burma, Ceylon, India, Suez, Port Said, and Alexandria. They appeared at the Royal Oriental Theatre in Ceylon on  May.49 It has been suggested that Sri Lankan puppetry shows the influence of passing European marionette performers. If this is the case, that influence could have come from the Webbs. Back in England, the Webbs, with Trotter as stage manager, appeared in East Anglia (Cambridge and Norwich) in January as the Royal Australian and Indian Marionettes, still with a program based on the Bullock/McDonough and Earnshaw one. They then embarked on a northern European tour, visiting Germany, France, Belgium, Sweden, Norway, and Finland. At the beginning of  they were in St. Petersburg in Lent’s Museum and then continued to Moscow. At the end of  they returned to Australia, this time accompanied by Charles’s sister. Between March and May they appeared in Adelaide,



020 c2 (17-45)



8/4/04

10:24 AM

Page 34

Proprietors and Practitioners

Melbourne, and Sydney as a part of “Hudson’s New Surprise,” but Mrs. Jane Webb died on  April in Sydney. After a visit to Brisbane and surroundings, “Webb’s Royal Marionettes” set off for a third tour of New Zealand at the end of August. They remained there until February , when they visited Tasmania before returning to Melbourne in May. On  October  Charles Webb died at Probolingo, Java.50 Richard Bradshaw calls him “the most important Australian marionettist of the Victorian era.”51 Almost by chance the D’Arc company found their way to Africa, Australia, and East Asia. In , according to his son W. J. D’Arc, Lambert D’Arc received three offers to tour abroad, performing at the Paris Exhibition, in America, and in South Africa.52 He finally went to South Africa, with Arthur Bonamici as his manager. After a successful six weeks in Kimberley, they moved on to Tillis’s Circus, Cape Town, for another six weeks, then to Durban and Pietermaritzburg. It took them six weeks to reach Johannesburg with a team of bullocks. They played at the Theatre Royal there for four months and later visited Pretoria. South Africa was followed by India in , and “Mons D’Arc’s Fantoches Françaises” arrived in Sydney from Calcutta in . The group consisted of Lambert D’Arc and his six children (aged twentysix to twelve).53 They played at the Royal Standard Theatre, apparently to fairly small audiences, and then for a further month in Melbourne at the St. George’s Hall. After returning to Sydney, they toured Queensland and reached Cooktown in December. Just as a final transformation scene was being prepared there, fire broke out on stage. In the ensuing blaze D’Arc’s lost most of the figures and equipment (apparently  marionettes were destroyed). A few days later a benefit concert was organized; George D’Arc, the eldest son, was specially noted for his efforts in arranging the stage and his performance of a comic song. Lambert, who had remained in Sydney (possibly for reasons of health), arrived in Cooktown the day after the concert. The company remained there for six months to rebuild the show. In June they played for a week in Cooktown and then sailed for Thursday Island, where Lambert D’Arc died on  June. Led by his son George, the troupe continued its tour, performing in Java and in the Straits Settlements and then in Hong Kong, China, Japan, eastern Siberia, and India. Between May and July  it was performing in Japan, appearing in Kyoto and Tokyo. The company’s work was particularly appreciated by the Kikugoro family of

020 c2 (17-45)

8/4/04

10:24 AM

Page 35

Proprietors and Practitioners

Kabuki actors. D’Arc’s popularity was so great that Japanese actors tried to imitate the English marionettes in their own performances. Following subsequent visits a former manager for D’Arcs, Suekichi Matsune, set up a troupe of Western-style marionettes.54


Vicissitudes of a Showman’s Life Richard Barnard’s life and career help us understand the ups and downs associated with a small traveling show or showman. Barnard was ready to go wherever work or an engagement might take him. He ran his own show, worked for other proprietors, and traveled on small local circuits in Britain as well as in Europe, from Gibraltar to St. Petersburg. After his brief American experience with Bullock’s (which he left with money still owing to him), he joined Thomas Holden’s company in Brussels and toured Belgium, Holland, and Germany. Holden’s returned to London to play at the Royal Cambridge Music Hall in January  and then accepted an engagement with the impresario Van Lier of Amsterdam. Van Lier toured the Dutch fairs with two wooden booths (one for performances, the other sent ahead and erected in the next town to be visited). The Barnards’ first baby died in Hoorn; Barnard himself became sick and had to return to England. With the help of a small legacy (£) he built his first show. He was joined by Harry Wilding. A first performance was given at the Royal Aquarium, Westminster, but the venture proved short-lived. The Barnards were next employed by H. Montague and the Girards, who had acquired the remnants of the Springthorpe marionettes, which were put into working condition again. A small company was assembled, consisting of the Barnards, Mr. and Mrs. R. C. Donnelly, a limelight worker, a baggage man, and a pianist, and they set off for a disastrous tour of Belgium, followed by Douai, Arras, and Amiens. They moved on to Paris, appearing in a hall in the rue du Château d’Eau, and then at the Alcazar d’Hiver. After a good start, business deteriorated; their equipment was seized for debt and held for five weeks, and much of it was lost. Thomas Holden paid Barnard’s fare back to England. Performances were given in Kent, but poverty once more stared Barnard in the face. He was reduced to odd jobs and saw ten shillings from an aunt as riches. An eight-week engagement at the Brighton Aquarium, opening on Boxing Day, , led to an engagement at the



020 c2 (17-45)



8/4/04

10:24 AM

Page 36

Proprietors and Practitioners

Ambassadeurs on the Champs-Elysées in Paris. It was spoiled by very bad weather but did lead to one at the Folies-Bergère. There he signed contracts for Vienna and Bucharest. In Vienna Barnard’s company appeared at Danzer’s Orpheum. In Wiener Neustadt a performance was prevented by the manager of the local theatre, on the grounds that they had no permit. They also had to pay compensation to the owner of the hall where they had been going to perform. This tour was accompanied by a catalogue of problems, often allied to sharp practice. The winter of –, which was very severe, was spent in Rumania, where they performed in Bucharest, Galati, and Bârlad. Barnard again became ill, and his wife gave birth to a baby in appalling circumstances. They moved on to Jassy, where they discovered that their “manager” had no money. Barnard put together a full program with other artistes, however, and they played there for four or five weeks. A contract for a twelve-month visit to Russia was drawn up, but the murder of the czar prevented this. The plan was now to tour Austrian Poland, and they started with Czernowitz (Cernauti). There too, they were swindled by a dishonest manager, sporting a spurious aristocratic title. They lost a lot of money and were lucky to escape back to Vienna with their equipment. They performed in various halls in and around Vienna, but business was bad and xenophobia rife. Next came an engagement in Bratislava (Pressburg) and then in Berlin, where they remained a few weeks. After this they visited Wroclaw (Breslau), Dresden, Chemnitz, Danzig, and the fair at Leipzig (one of the major European fairs and a central point for many itinerant European marionette showpeople). From Leipzig they went to Hamburg and then to Munich, where they gave five or six performances a day in a museum and waxworks. In early  the company moved back to Paris (via Strasbourg). Barnard set off for an engagement in Bordeaux, having sent the children to England with his wife, who then returned to France. The Barnard troupe at this time consisted of four persons, including his cousin Walter Case (who was also a scenic artist and responsible for the limelight) and an assistant. Bordeaux was a successful engagement and was followed by a difficult journey to Seville, where they spent two months at the Cirque Cervantes, followed by brief visits to Cádiz and Córdoba. Barnard became ill again, possibly with smallpox. Small audiences and doctor’s bills exhausted their meager resources. Performances

020 c2 (17-45)

8/4/04

10:24 AM

Page 37

Proprietors and Practitioners

arranged for Malaga were canceled, because they coincided with a visit from Holden’s. They managed to negotiate a two-week engagement in Gibraltar, where another child was born in September. After recovering from this, they returned to England. Back in England, Barnard assembled some new scenery and took on two assistants and a pianist. This brought the strength of the troupe to six (including Barnard and his wife). They performed, without great success, in the southeast (Deptford, Woolwich, Bexley Heath, and Gravesend). In January , under the title of “R. Barnard’s Continental Fantoches Marionettes,” they were engaged at the Pavilion, Gravesend,55 but only for two weeks. By March, citing family illness as the reason, Barnard was looking for employment and was taken on by a company performing in Devon, where business was even worse. An offer to tour Holland led to fifteen days in Amsterdam and ten in Rotterdam, but then it was back to England. Barnard had to take a job as limelight worker in the theatre at Gravesend for the Christmas pantomime. Early in  the marionettes were taken out again and performed a little in Kent (Sittingbourne, Ashford, Canterbury), followed by Chatham, Gravesend, Deptford, and Woolwich. Having spent nearly all his savings, Barnard bought a portable theatre for £ and took it to Manchester, where the roof was blown off at the first pitch in Oldham. He was reduced to selling nonalcoholic drinks from a stall at fairs and markets. In  came an engagement of fifteen days in Rotterdam (which turned out to be a tour). He visited Dordrecht, Utrecht, Haarlem, Leiden, Arnheim, Deventer, and various other towns, traveling by canal, which was cheaper than the train. When the tour concluded at Rotterdam, Barnard became ill again but then set off for a fortnight in Antwerp and a month in Brussels. The next engagement was in Wroclaw, followed by Poznan and Inowroclaw. Next came a fortnight’s engagement with a variety show, playing in a wooden booth in Brunswick; a month later they had a two-month engagement in Leipzig (where another child was born but did not live very long). According to the Life and Travels, they spent a cold Christmas  in Budapest then two months in Vienna, after which they made their way to Berlin via Bohemia. In Berlin Kaufman’s Varieties (Königsplatz) engaged them for two months. After this came Kassel, Magdeburg, Stuttgart, and the St. Pauli Fair in Hamburg for Christmas. Barnard may be confusing



020 c2 (17-45)



8/4/04

10:24 AM

Page 38

Proprietors and Practitioners

dates here, since in February  he was advertising his “fifth” season at the Crystal Palace (Sydenham), and by May “Barnard’s renowned Crystal Palace Marionettes” were appearing at the Oxford Music Hall (London).56 For Barnard, getting on a boat to Holland or France or setting off for places as remote as Rumania, Vienna, or St. Petersburg did not necessarily seem much worse than visiting another part of England. Despite the problems, foreign engagements could be more profitable than performances in Britain. After  the chronology of The Life and Travels becomes sketchy; but there appear to have been more visits to Germany, Austria, and Bohemia, followed by a brief engagement of three weeks in London in a variety program at the Piccadilly Hall. Finally came the engagement in St. Petersburg, Russia, where they were employed for a three-month period in  at the Zoological Gardens (a pleasure garden with various entertainments of a theatrical nature which the director Ernst Rost had developed in ). Barnard’s number in a variety show lasted fifteen to twenty minutes. The troupe on this occasion consisted of Barnard, his stepdaughter and her son, and another “male relative.” The engagement was marred by Barnard’s ill-health, and money was lost. Another difficult period in England followed, although it included a few successful weeks at Barnard’s Variety Theatre in Chatham.57 The year – was particularly good. It was spent in Paris on the occasion of the Great Exhibition. Barnard’s had several engagements, commencing at the Eden Theatre (which had become a variety theatre) and then at the Montagnes Russes (where the main attraction was a Spanish bullfight), at Ollier’s establishment on the Boulevard, and at the Skating Rink. After Paris Barnard put together a full two-hour program for an engagement that unfortunately came to nothing. Finally he obtained one at the Westminster Aquarium, moving on to the Crystal Palace for Christmas to fulfill what he confusingly refers to as his “first” engagement there.58 In the early s the show was carried on by Barnard, his stepdaughter, and his cousin Walter Case. When Case left and the stepdaughter moved into a theatrical career, Barnard began to bring his own offspring into the show. He reverted to a variety slot of ten to twenty minutes. This final phase of his career made him into a well-known figure of the English halls. The troupe performed as “Barnard’s

020 c2 (17-45)

8/4/04

10:24 AM

Page 39

Proprietors and Practitioners

Marionettes,” “Barnard’s Fantoches Français and Marionettes,” “Barnard’s Mannikins,” “Barnard’s Comic Marionettes and Fantoches Français,” and “Barnard’s Original Royal Aquarium Marionettes.” When Barnard retired from active work for health reasons in , his sons Frederick, Julian, and Richard and his daughter Lenorah continued the show until , visiting the United States and Australia in  and South Africa in .


Impresarios and Managers

The entertainment industry took off in the s, and marionette shows or acts increasingly became a commodity. When W. J. Bullock bought the complete D’Arc show in , he was buying a show that had already proved itself in Dublin since  as an enterprise geared for the more middle-class spectators – it was in no way a fairground show. The production values were clearly much higher than those of the vast majority of shows. We have no clear indications of Bullock’s prior involvement with marionettes, but he had a very good idea of how to market a show. In  D’Arc had been thinking of taking his show to America.59 Instead he took it to Liverpool, where it opened at the end of March in the Queen’s Hall, of which Bullock was lessee.The enormous success of the show, played twice daily, led Bullock to purchase it in April. Before the show transferred to London in July, Bullock had already been approached about an American tour, which eventually took place in .60 The London season was pitched at the well-off urban audience and became the fashionable entertainment of the season. By producing a printed program and even a text (possibly rewritten by Bullock) the show was placed firmly in the same category as the fashionable theatres of the West End. In the s long-running plays led to the creation of road companies designed to profit from the success of a London show. In some cases two or even three companies might be sent out to tour the provinces. Bullock followed this example when he sent a company to America in , while continuing to present the same show in Britain. The troubles with the American managers arose because of the large sums of money involved. This was no struggling troupe of entertainers. Just as a market had been found in Dublin, Liverpool, and London, lucrative



020 c2 (17-45)



8/4/04

10:24 AM

Page 40

Proprietors and Practitioners

ones were found in the main cities of America. In the court case taken against Thomas Holden for breach of contract in America, Bullock claimed that in a month in America he had cleared a profit of £, and that in one day in Baltimore the takings had been £ (about the equivalent of a full year’s takings for many smaller touring companies in Britain).61 Such pickings meant that Bullock found it worth his while to assemble yet another company playing the same show and send it out in . Likewise, McDonough and Earnshaw were quite happy to make their own replica of the Bullock show once they failed to retain control of the puppets. When his two companies (or what was left of them) returned to Liverpool in July , Bullock had a single company of some twenty artistes, including the band. Unfortunately, he was never able to repeat his success; and by July  he had to let go some of the best members of his troupe.62 After this the company continued to tour Britain, always presenting a full-length show and using theatres and halls. Bullock died in . In its last years the company was reduced to being an act on the variety stage; the last specific reference to the “Royal Marionettes” is in Leeds in .63 In  the remains of the troupe, “ undressed figures height  inches. Dirt cheap,” were advertised for sale.64 Wycherley and Pettigrove was one of the major companies of the s but may have been more management than marionette players. Lack of any reference to them in the Era before  suggests that they may have been new to the marionette scene and joined it because of the obvious profits that the Holdens and Bullock had been able to make. The first mention of them in the Era refers to performances in Cheltenham in October  as the “Queen’s Marionettes, the property of Mr Henry Wycherley.” They visited Northampton in January , but by February the “sole proprietors and directors” were Sidney Cooper, Herbert (Henry?) Wycherley, and Britton Pettigrove.65 The name of the company changed to the “Imperial Marionettes,” and by  it had become Wycherley’s Imperial Marionettes. For the next few years it covered most of Britain. In  and  it was looking for manipulators for the “continent,” “Holland, Russia and uncivilised countries excepted.”66 The last we hear of the company is an advertisement for the sale of the whole outfit in , with an indication that the proprietor “has his hands full and will be shortly going abroad.”67

020 c2 (17-45)

8/4/04

10:24 AM

Page 41

Proprietors and Practitioners

Britton Pettigrove separated from his earlier partners and called his show “The New Grand National Marionettes.” Understandably, this title did not really stick, and he reverted to “Mr Pettigrove’s Marionettes.” By May  he was advertising for a “complete company consisting of Manipulators, Speakers, Singers, Pianists & limelight worker for the Continent.”68 This was his number two company. The tour took them at least as far as Copenhagen in April; but that same month Pettigrove dissolved a partnership with A. Bedford, which resulted in the sale of a large booth. Pettigrove reassembled a company. In September he was advertising for “workers and musicians” and setting up a fixed theatre in the Albert Palace, Battersea. This did not last very long. His son, who had obviously become a performer, was looking for employment with other companies. A bill of around , on a scale similar to the Holden bills, mentions the sole proprietor as Richard Pettigrove and a company including a Miss E. Pettigrove (wardrobe) and a Mr. T. Pettigrove (properties). At this period, the company visited Dublin repeatedly, generally appearing in the World’s Fair Music Hall. As the organizing of tours became a business in itself, a figure who became almost indispensable was the manager, whose duties included arranging bookings, especially in music halls, and negotiating foreign tours. J. H. Montague was managing Simms’s show in  and later had a brief spell of running his own company for an unsuccessful European tour. His name repeatedly crops up in connection with other troupes, including Thomas Holden’s and Barnard’s, and he clearly specialized in handling marionette companies.


Figure-Workers Many proprietors advertised in the Era was for “figure-workers.” The proprietor of a show was not necessarily a figure-worker. The Springthorpes, with their background in waxworks, did not have the skills to handle their figures. According to Barnard, one of the two Springthorpe sons acted as agent, while the other played the violin for the show, and one of the two daughters played the piano. An advertisement of October  shows the widow Springthorpe advertising for “two respectable people, who thoroughly understand how to work marionettes” and suggests that Mr. and Mrs. Henry Middleton might apply.



020 c2 (17-45)



8/4/04

10:24 AM

Page 42

Proprietors and Practitioners

The Middletons were probably not available; but the Donnellys were, and by November an advertisement for Belfast announces: “The figures are skilfully worked by Mr and Mrs Donnelly.”69 Lambert D’Arc, like the Springthorpes, was no figure-worker and had to employ people to do this. His enterprise in Dublin employed some of the leading figure-workers of the day. It also launched the Fanning family as puppet showpeople. James Fanning, a Dublin church organist, played the piano for D’Arc’s during seasons at the Rotunda. His children (including his son Daniel, born  September ) first sold programs and then were hired as figure-workers. When D’Arc sold his show to W. J. Bullock, the Fannings probably went with it. Over the next decade they maintained an association with Bullock’s show, were engaged several times, and rebuilt it after a fire at Altrincham in . When Bullock died in , his family tried to continue the company.70 In late  they were advertising for figure-workers; the two Fanning brothers, Daniel and Harry, joined them. The Fannings probably finished their association with Bullock’s in . Harry joined John Radford and Wilding for a time, and this was followed by a long engagement with the Jewell Holden company before he started his own company, which began as Harry Fanning’s and then became “DeMarion’s Royal Court Marionettes.” Most of the troupe were members of his family.71 The same was true of his brother Daniel, who called his company “Delvaine’s” to avoid confusion.72 The Wildings are a good example of showpeople who sometimes were proprietors and sometimes were simply employed for their skills with puppets. Like the Middletons, they claimed to have been traveling showpeople since the eighteenth century. Arthur Wilding (interviewed in ), however, thought that his grandfather was the first “exponent of the art.”73 The grandfather in question was Charles Wilding, born in London in  and listed in the  census as a marionette manipulator and proprietor. He was a Londoner born in the Tottenham Court Road, made his own figures, and at one period worked for the Grand Star Marionettes.74 The first specific references to his family troupe date from the s, and much of their activity was in the Birmingham area. An  advertisement in the Era shows Charles Wilding and his family looking for places as figure-workers. Three years later Charles had become a proprietor himself and was advertising for “a Lady and Gentleman Figure Worker to speak for Dramas etc.”75 The advertise-

020 c2 (17-45)

8/4/04

10:24 AM

Page 43

Proprietors and Practitioners

ment stresses that the terms must be low and mentions “building small.” As sometimes happens with tenting circuses today, all members of a company were expected to participate in the setting up of the stage or even the portable theatre when the company possessed one. In  the Wilding show was joined by Walter Case and his wife; but in  Charles Wilding was once more looking for work, having just finished an engagement with Bullock’s.76 Henry (Harry) James Wilding was born in Suffolk, at Plomesgate near Aldeburgh, in .77 At the age of seven he was apprenticed to Sylvester’s Circus in Ireland (perhaps a family connection) and by the age of fourteen had become an acrobat and bare-back rider, billed as “Mons. Hugo Sylvester, the boy wonder.”78 In  his father called him back home to the family show, but by  he was advertising for work in England or America. In  he received a letter from the “Imperial Marionettes Cooper, Wycherley and Pettigrove”: “We beg to offer you an engagement as figure-worker, cornet-player and to make yourself useful as usual for a period of six months from next Monday (th) at a weekly salary of thirty-five shillings.”79 Era advertisements of the s indicate about  shillings as a going wage for a figure-worker or musician. This suggests that Wilding was perceived as a valuable employee, although salaries were increasing during the s. In  Wycherley and Pettigrove offered him  shillings a week plus travel expenses for a tour of the continent as a manipulator and cornet player.80 This salary reflected the anticipated profitability of the tour as well as increased expenses. In June  there was another engagement with Wycherley’s, this time together with Mr. and Mrs. Fanning (his brother-in-law and sister), for £. a week. The salary covered the three of them as a team, with Harry as principal manipulator.81 Around this period Wycherley also offered him a contract at £. per week, another indication of the going rate for a good figure-worker. A letter from John Holden in Paris in November  shows that Harry had applied for a job with him; a note from Jesse Jewell in Newcastle upon Tyne a month later enclosed a pound for the journey and asked him to get there by the following Monday.82 It is unclear how long he remained with the Jewell Holden company, but he was involved in their  tour of Holland, which also took in Belgium, France, Germany, Switzerland, and Russia. By  he had his own company, “Harry Wilding’s Champion Marionettes.” This company toured the Black



020 c2 (17-45)



8/4/04

10:24 AM

Page 44

Proprietors and Practitioners

Country, generally stopping six to seven weeks in each town and playing a different piece each night. Wilding was also known for the number of benefit performances that he gave to help people who had been injured in accidents in the mines or ironworks. By  five of his six sons had enlisted, and the show ceased to function. Many proprietors of shows had either begun as figure-workers (without their own show) or been reduced to seeking employment at particularly difficult moments. The Donnellys are a good example of figure-workers who never had their own show for any length of time but passed from one engagement to another. Companies were constantly advertising for “figure-workers,” commonly in the form of a husband and wife team, and the names of desired applicants were often mentioned. Mr. and Mrs. R. C. Donnelly were in regular demand in the s and s. Donnelly claimed to have been working with marionettes since . In  he was the “machinist” and “director” of a marionette company appearing at the St. George’s Hall, Cheltenham.83 In August  Sam Baylis was encouraging him to join him, but by November Mr. and Mrs. Donnelly were advertising for a position. Two years later they were with Buxton’s in Reading but again advertising for work. In August  James Todd of Sunderland was also advertising for workers and invited the Donnellys to apply.84 In they teamed with the Webbs to look for work. In July  an engagement with Bullock’s came to an end. They appear to have been taken on again, since in April , once more advertising for work, they announced that they were concluding a three-year engagement with Bullock. In  they were trying to buy marionettes or get work as figure-workers, and Donnelly was also advertising for work in . Mrs. Donnelly, by then a widow, died on  December . A general conclusion that can be reached is that Victorian marionette companies, with a few exceptions, were constantly forming and reforming. Children of showpeople started as assistants then often sought employment elsewhere when they reached an age at which a realistic wage was required. Many a company survived partly by exploiting its own unpaid junior family members. When a family troupe became too big and could not support itself economically, it was common for sons or daughters to go to other companies if they wished to remain in the profession. Or an enterprising son might branch out on his own, as Thomas Holden did. Widows sometimes continued shows but generally

020 c2 (17-45)

8/4/04

10:24 AM

Page 45

Proprietors and Practitioners

sought a new partner to assist them. The proprietors were often showpeople first and marionette performers second. William Bullock brought the former D’Arc troupe to London in , employing no less than six Middletons or Middleton relations; when he sent his first company to America he hired a separate group to perform there. All this points to quite a large labor force of figure-workers, engaged by one troupe or another but frequently not recorded, since they were not the proprietors of the companies. Poor audiences, adverse weather, illness, and a host of other variables could change the fortunes of a company almost overnight. Proprietors who had been employing a number of assistants might suddenly find themselves seeking employment. For the really successful, the pickings were excellent; but for most, working with marionettes was a subsistence existence. Even so, steady work with a marionette company during this period could and did provide an income for many.



030 c3 (46-64)

8/4/04

10:24 AM

Page 46

Chapter 3 : Booths,Barns,andMusicHalls
Marionette Theatres The marionette theatre was perceived as a form of theatre; it took place in the same booths or halls as the companies of live actors; used stages, scenery, costumes; and performed the same plays, but did so with a company of wooden actors. Marionette showpeople belonged to a predominantly traveling profession. Most appeared at fairs, where they could find numbers of people out to enjoy themselves and ready to spend money. Some had portable theatres, but the majority made use of available halls, assembly rooms, or barns. Before the theatres act of  abolished the monopoly of the patent houses, marionettes were associated with lesser entertainments of a nondramatic nature and grouped among the activities permitted in the so-called minor theatres. The license for the grandiosely named Theatre Royal, Royal Opera House, Dublin, which opened in , allowed this minor theatre to perform a range of genres outside the “legitimate” repertoire: “Concerts, feats of horsemanship, fantoccini (marionettes), ballets, melodrama and operatic pieces.”1 Prior to the advent of the music hall, proprietors of marionette shows rarely used theatre buildings, simply renting whatever hall they could. This might depend on their pocket or on the readiness of the person in charge to lease the facility for this purpose. Assembly rooms and ballrooms were often used in country towns, while most larger towns had halls available for a variety of passing entertainments. Some became semipermanent marionette theatres for a season or even several years in succession. Sam Baylis ran long summer seasons at the Mechanics’ Hall (Scarborough) between  and . Lambert D’Arc occupied the Rotunda Rooms (Dublin) in a virtually full-time capacity between and . Charley James’s waxworks (also known as the World’s Fair) in an arcade off Henry Street (Dublin)

030 c3 (46-64)

8/4/04

10:24 AM

Page 47

Booths, Barns, and Music Halls

was an almost full-time marionette theatre, which G. B. Shaw recalled attending in his youth. Likewise, Carter’s waxworks in Belfast and Alfred J. Reynolds’s in Liverpool had this dual function. Reynolds’s opened in  in Bullock’s former theatre in Lime Street. Jennion’s marionettes appeared there, and Charlie Reynolds (son of the original proprietor) wrote scripts for their pantomimes. There were probably more full-time marionette theatres than surviving documentation would suggest. Samuel Seward opened his Sadler’s Wells House Fantoccini Exhibition in Cheltenham in .2 His family continued it after his death in ; the theatre and some of the equipment and puppets were eventually acquired in  by J. Rebecqui, who ran it until . Old Waxy’s show in Sunderland, known as the Marionette Theatre and situated by Anderson’s steps (“nearly opposite Church Street”), evolved out of a waxwork show and functioned from  to . Most of the information about this theatre comes from a cache of playbills that miraculously survived.3 Admission was one penny. “Old Waxy” may have been a James Todd, who advertised for figure-workers in .4 The brothers Brown had a theatre in Hull, which was a well-established part of juvenile life in the town by the s. It was situated behind a pub in Marlborough Terrace, and admission was a penny. To avoid any inconvenient promiscuity, sexual segregation was practiced – girls and younger children occupied the front four rows, which were known as the “pit,” while boys perched on steeply tiered planks, which were attached to beams bolted to the walls and formed the “gallery.” Mrs. Brown had a table at the side where she sold hot peas, baked potatoes, sweets, chocolate, and ginger pop. Pass-out checks were provided between the acts (probably to allow some of the audience to patronize the pub). By  the Browns’ theatre had been relocated in Osborne Street. The actual date when it finally closed down is uncertain.5 In  Calver’s, who performed both in theatres and halls and on the fairground, had a hall in Huddersfield converted into a theatre; but business was not good, and the venture did not last.6 In Glasgow J. Mumford’s “geggie” was a combination of semipermanent fairground booth and penny gaff. It was set up at the Saltmarket on the edge of Glasgow Green, a place of popular resort where the annual fair also occurred. This largely wooden structure had a “parade” balcony on the front to accommodate musicians. It opened in the early



030 c3 (46-64)



8/4/04

10:24 AM

Page 48

Booths, Barns, and Music Halls

s and continued as a theatre until the late s, when it became a Gospel Hall and subsequently a clothes market.7


Penny Gaffs Penny gaffs were small unofficial theatres. Most existed without a license and were frequently closed down by the authorities. They flourished in the East End of London from  onward and also existed in other cities. Some, like the early music halls, were extensions of drinking establishments. After they usually applied for a license for music and dancing. Holders of theatre licenses objected to what they regarded as unfair competition, which was aggravated by the fact that regular theatres could not serve alcohol. Licenses were sometimes refused because of the ambiguous status of gaffs and some music halls. Around  Mayhew’s “penny gaff clown” observed that the most expensive of the gaffs cost twopence and threepence and that London’s largest one, the Rotunda in the Blackfriars Road (which could hold a thousand “comfortably seated”), would give two performances an evening with admission at a penny, twopence, and threepence. Mayhew’s own visit to “one of the least offensive of the exhibitions” provides a valuable eyewitness account.8 He mentions how often a shop in London might be converted into a theatre (usually the shop itself provided the waiting room, with the “theatre” above or behind). On a Monday night (the most popular night for working people before the development of the weekend as a break) as many as six performances could take place, each with a few hundred spectators. Most of the audience consisted of “boys” and “girls” aged between eight and twenty. Mayhew commented on the showiness of the girls’ clothing and their generally immodest manner and speech. More interestingly, he also observed that over three-quarters of one audience consisted of women and girls, whereas he counted only eighteen “men.” The number of females may reflect how many girls worked from an early age in milliners’ shops or in factories. There was also much official concern about the number of prostitutes in such places (a concern later applied to the London music halls). The sort of audience the gaffs attracted was perceived as indulging in juvenile crime and prostitution. The gaffs were unashamedly places of popular entertainment, much frequented by youth. Sexual promiscuity was probably no worse than at a modern-day disco, but the Victorian middle classes perceived them as insalubrious

030 c3 (46-64)

8/4/04

10:24 AM

Page 49

Booths, Barns, and Music Halls

dens of iniquity whose entertainment was of poor quality and of no cultural value whatsoever. If we look at Victorian notions of respectability and the desire to combine culture with moral improvement, we can understand the mistrust of the gaffs, their audiences, and the entertainments offered. The limited documentation indicates that marionette showpeople used penny gaffs.9 Cardoni’s Fantoccini played in a house attached to a shop in the East End in the s. Admission was fourpence for the pit, which consisted of three rows of red stuffed seats, and twopence for the gallery, a “tier of bare benches rising to within a yard of the ceiling.”10 In  Peter Bianchi, who had held a license since , applied for a renewal of a license “for public music to be carried on at your petitioner’s well-known exhibition of wax-work and mechanism” at , Holywell Street, Shoreditch (London).11 This could be no more than an exhibition with moving waxworks or automata, but the word “mechanism” was also commonly used to make a marionette theatre sound more respectable. We have visual evidence that the Bianchi enterprise was presenting live entertainment with actors, even if the tiny stage seems more suited to puppets.12 Marionette shows often appeared in the context of other entertainments and activities. In  Mr. Benedict Zilbach, a Swiss who had originally come to England as a waiter in , acquired premises at  Whitechapel Road and  Baker’s Row. There he carried on a barber’s business on the second floor and had a photographic studio at the top of the house. In summer he manufactured mineral water, and during the winter he let a room for the exhibition of “living curiosities.” These could be anything from a “fat boy and a skeleton” to a marionette show. He provided gas heating and took half the receipts as rent (his wife collected the money). People were let in for a penny, and the room could hold between ten and twelve shillings’ worth (– people). “The shows generally commenced about eleven or twelve o’clock in the day, got slack in the afternoon, and lively towards six o’clock, running on then till eleven o’clock.”13 Establishments of this sort, frequently unlicensed, were probably quite common.


Marionettes and Music Halls The development of music halls and variety theatres provided an increasing number of potential venues for marionette performances.



030 c3 (46-64)



8/4/04

10:24 AM

Page 50

Booths, Barns, and Music Halls

Packed into the galleries of the music halls were audiences very little different from those that might frequent the gaffs. All popular entertainment in the nineteenth century attracted young people. In music halls, where the better seats were becoming relatively expensive, the vast galleries usually cost only twopence. Dave Russell has pointed to the large number of boys aged between fourteen and sixteen in the audiences of the Liverpool concert rooms in the s.14 These “boys” were in fact young working people. Worries were expressed about the moral dangers of young people visiting the halls. It was pointed out to the select Committee on Public Houses in –, however, that if young people were allowed to earn their living in mills and factories and made “premature men in that way” it was unjust to exclude them from an evening’s entertainment.15 Work done by Peter Bailey on the music hall reveals that the majority of the inhabitants of the galleries were under twenty, and many under fourteen. After , as music halls developed into variety theatres, they proved to be ideal venues for marionette performances. In some cases a marionette company might provide a full program, but it was more usual to present a - to -minute entertainment. Marionette stages were often adapted to the music-hall stage, with the whole fit-up designed to be pushed forward to follow an act or withdrawn quickly to make room for the next. H. Chester and Clarence Lee claimed that they could set up their stage in three minutes and clear in two when on a music-hall stage.16 In  Arthur Milton’s music-hall act had a fit-up which could be moved in two minutes within two feet of the back of the stage.17 In  Carl Howlett announced a -week provincial tour and pointed out to theatre managers that “my fit-up does not interfere with other artistes preparing their entries, as it is constructed so as it can be cleared away in one minute and a half and only occupies  ft  in of room.”18 In  he announced that his fit-up, an original and “novel apparatus” which would fit onto any music-hall stage, was patented.19 In the nineteenth century halls proliferated for philanthropic, scientific, and educational purposes. These were respectable places and tended to attract more middle-class patrons. In  the Brigaldi “Royal Marionettes” had occupied the long galleried room of the Adelaide Gallery in the Strand.20 Their repertoire, with its heavy emphasis on parody and satire, was aimed at a middle-class adult audience.

030 c3 (46-64)

8/4/04

10:25 AM

Page 51

Booths, Barns, and Music Halls

. Brigaldi’s Royal Marionettes. Illustrated London News,  January .

The Long Room of the Rotunda in Dublin (today’s Dublin Gate Theatre) was commonly used for panoramas as well as marionette shows and other types of recital and entertainment. This was probably the room used in the s by Professor Horman, and subsequently by D’Arc’s (–). It measured eighty feet by forty and cost £ a week to hire.21 When D’Arc’s brought a show to Liverpool in February , the Queen’s Hall was specially adapted for it. It played there from the beginning of March until the second half of July. W. J. Bullock (the new



030 c3 (46-64)



8/4/04

10:25 AM

Page 52

Booths, Barns, and Music Halls

owner) then transferred it to London, first to the St. James’s Great Hall, Piccadilly, where it remained until the end of October, and then to the Egyptian Hall, another venue associated with exhibitions and the recent Albert Smith illustrated lectures.22 Both halls had a distinctly middleclass clientele. Bullock boasted that the show was “witnessed daily by large and aristocratic audiences.” The publicity encouraged families to book their seats in advance at the box office. The show was advertised as “Grand Christmas Revels for the Juveniles” and as “The most Amusing and Chaste entertainment in the World”;23 audiences were also informed that the Egyptian Hall had been turned into “a perfect Juvenile Paradise.” The reviews make it quite clear that the show was much enjoyed not only by children, but also by older people. Marionettes had been made fashionable for a brief period in the capital, attracting an audience of middle- to upper-class children. The admission prices, ranging from one shilling to five shillings (children half price except in the gallery), indicate the social composition of the target audience, especially when we compare them with a penny or twopence for a gaff or the gallery of a provincial music hall.


Marionette Shows in Public Gardens and Exhibition Halls Public gardens were a feature of London life from the eighteenth century onward.24 In the s and s Vauxhall Gardens had regular marionette performances provided by Gyngell’s.25 In  a marionette theatre was specially built in Cremorne Gardens (King’s Road, London). It first housed the Brigaldi Royal Marionettes, and the Chester and Lee company may later have originated there.26 The structure, which survived until , when it was dismantled and sold, was a slightly bigger and more elegant version of the portable theatres of the different fairground circuits, as is clear from the following description: We follow the throng and find ourselves approaching a light and elegant structure, presenting an elevation something after the Italian School. The face is elegantly moulded in white and red entablatures, and the building is altogether of a chaste and elegant structure, presenting an elevation something after the Italian School. It consists of a solid front, with canvass roofing and sides – canvass at least between

030 c3 (46-64)

8/4/04

10:25 AM

Page 53

Booths, Barns, and Music Halls

the girders and beams – it is  feet long by forty-five feet wide and thirty-five feet high. This is the new theatre built expressly for the representation of the Marionettes which Mr. Simpson was the first to introduce to London at the Adelaide Gallery in January . It comprises a commodious stage, a roomy orchestra, handsome proscenium, private boxes, and all the appurtenances of a regular theatre, and it is calculated to seat comfortably  persons. This is the structure which Mr. Beachcroft, the district surveyor, sought to bring within the meaning of the Metropolitan Building Act, with reference to which proceedings were taken before Mr. Arnold, the magistrate, at Westminster. That gentleman, however, who is one of the most acute magistrates on the bench, visited the spot and judged for himself, and finding that it was not constructed of wood or stone, that it was removeable and that it would not rest in the freeholder upon the expiry of the lease, determined that it was not a building within the meaning of the Act, and that Mr. Beachcroft therefore had no control over it. Mr. Simpson has thus vindicated a principle, and we have no doubt that this elegant design will be pretty extensively imitated by the proprietors of similar establishments.27 The big exhibitions that marked the nineteenth century created a number of new centers of entertainment. The most famous of these was the Crystal Palace in London (). The program of the Crystal Palace for  February , for example, consisted of an organ performance at : P.M. “on the great Handel organ,” followed by the “Company’s Orchestral Band” in the Concert Room at : and “Bullock’s Royal Marionettes” in the Concert Room at :. The Alexandra Palace and the Agricultural Hall, Islington, known as the “Aggie,” also included marionettes as part of the concert program. Aquaria became centers of entertainment, with concerts and variety shows as well as fish tanks. Like the music halls, exhibition palaces and aquaria were run by managements who engaged marionette companies among the other acts. In the s W. K. Whatman and Jennion appeared at the Royal Aquarium, Brighton, while Richard Barnard performed at the Westminster Aquarium on at least two occasions in the s and s. Changing leisure patterns, including organized holidays and daytrips on the railways, led to the development of seaside resorts, which



030 c3 (46-64)



8/4/04

10:25 AM

Page 54

Booths, Barns, and Music Halls

created yet another context in which marionette showpeople could find audiences. Sam Baylis realized this when he chose Blackpool and Scarborough for his extended seasons. The seaside resorts of Victorian England had piers and promenades, which often included a pavilion used for entertainments. From the s onward, seaside entertainment was an essential feature of a holiday. Chester and Lee appeared at the Pier Pavilions of Worthing and Eastbourne in the summer of  and had a ten-week season on Wellington Pier, Yarmouth, in . There also exists a picture of their marionette stage set up, like a Punch and Judy booth, on the beach at Herne Bay, probably in the s. Their well-known skeleton is going through his act, with performances at , , , and  o’clock. A card on an easel on the stage says: “All seats free,” which indicates that by this date the company was paid by the local council to perform as a seaside attraction and did not have to collect “coppers” (pennies).


Portable Stages The Punch and Judy booth was a common sight in Victorian England. The simplest booths were carried around by showpeople or placed on a small handcart for transport from one pitch to another. A similar sight, and certainly quite common between the s and the s, was the street fantoccini show. This offered a variety program which included trick figures and may have been introduced by Italian showpeople. Mayhew’s fantoccini man was described as having “a large roomy show upon wheels, about four times as capacious as those used for the performance of Punch and Judy.”28 The Lano family originated in Milan with the street performer Enrico Lano. His son Alberto arrived in America in , but on his way he played in Austria, Spain, Portugal, and England with a stock of a dozen marionettes.29 It is therefore more than likely that his marionettes performed in the streets of London in the early s. Mumford likewise had a street fantoccini show in London in the s. Purvis’s compatriot Grey was another well-known figure at the time and was successful enough to be invited to perform at Covent Garden. In  Hone spoke of the presence of a fantoccini show in the street. And this was sketched by George Cruikshank. The proprietor was an individual called Candler. William Hone describes him as “a foreign-

030 c3 (46-64)

8/4/04

10:25 AM

Page 55

Booths, Barns, and Music Halls

looking personage”; he may well have been of Italian origin but have adapted his name or taken on an English one. Albert Candler, probably his son, was born in  and claimed to have assisted his father with street performances of fantoccini until , when he learned to play the Pandean (pan) pipes; but by  he had set up on his own as a Punch professor.30 Like the Punch and Judy show, the street fantoccini used a musician – Candler’s used a drum and panpipes (also called a “mouthorgan”). The assistant’s job was to carry and erect the booth and to serve as a bottler, collecting ha’pence at fairly frequent intervals. Both Mayhew and the German artist George Scharf regarded fantoccini performers as normal street entertainments, not requiring any particular explanation. Scharf left at least three sketches of street scenes with four different “Fantoccina” performers. One page from his sketchbook, dated , depicts a tall booth labeled “Fantasina” (an interesting anglicization of fantoccini) as well as a man with some sort of peepshow. It also shows two other men, one carrying a booth (which looks very similar to the Fantasina one but might be a Punch and Judy booth) and his companion with a drum hanging in front and a box of puppets slung over his back. Another sketch on the same sheet shows a Fantasina stage drawn by a donkey. The proscenium is framed by two levels of “stage boxes.” In front is a musician banging a drum and playing the panpipes. The sides and rear of the booth are draped in what Scharf notes to be a green curtain (Grey’s stage also had green curtains). A telltale bulge indicates that the performer was standing on the cart on which the booth was mounted and leaning over the back-cloth. The exact proportions are difficult to establish (Scharf himself has a note “here a little higher” at the top of the back of the booth). A more fully worked Scharf drawing, probably of the same period, depicts a performance in full swing, with a mixed but predominantly youthful audience and two figures on the stage, one identifiable as Harlequin and the other female. This stage also is mounted on wheels and appears to have a platform at the back for the operator. This stage is likewise flanked by two decorated shutter-like doors, which may have been a tidy way to close up the stage for traveling but also a way to focus attention on the stage itself and enhance visibility in a situation where there might be sunlight coming from behind the booth. A separate drawing shows a ballet dancer on a “fantasina” stage and conveniently provides the name of the showman, William Marler.



030 c3 (46-64)

8/4/04

10:25 AM

Page 56

. George Scharf, sketch of “Fantasina” stage, circa . G. Scharf drawings of London, vol. , p. , no. . By permission of the British Library.

030 c3 (46-64)

8/4/04

10:25 AM

Page 57

Booths, Barns, and Music Halls

Like Punch and Judy performers, street fantoccini showpeople could easily move the stage indoors for an engagement. Marionettes came to be perceived as an ideal (and morally safe) entertainment for children’s parties. An illustration of a marionette show at Arundel castle in  depicts an obvious fantoccini performance with a marionette horse.31 The context seems to be a party, possibly for local orphans, with a liberal sprinkling of nuns in attendance, together with members of the Howard family and their friends. The stage shown at Arundel is very similar to the one used on the sand by Chester and Lee. It is lower than those depicted by Scharf, and the whole fit-up is wider, indicating that it was intended for audiences that were mainly seated.


Portable Theatres The term “booth” can be applied to the stage of the peripatetic street fantoccini or the Punch and Judy show but can also mean a temporary or semipermanent structure occupied by various types of passing entertainment, notably at fair time. In addition, it can be used in the sense of a portable theatre. Sybil Rosenfeld, in her study of the London fairs in the eighteenth century, has noted the existence of both permanent booths used for drolls and puppet shows and booths erected for the duration of the fair. Semipermanent booths were on the decline in the nineteenth century, but portable theatres were relatively common and were equipped with seating and even heating. There was no real difference between a portable theatre for marionettes and one for other performances. An advertisement for the sale of Pettigrove’s booth in  indicates: “The above with slight alterations could be made to suit any Travelling Show.”32 The portable theatre was not a sine qua non of the traveling marionette show. Stages were frequently set up in halls or theatres, especially during the winter months, when bad weather could be a problem for a portable theatre. Many portable theatres were little more than tents with a painted façade. The engraving of the fair in Hyde Park in  shows Richardson’s, the major traveling theatre company of the time, in a large rectangular tent, with access on the long side. The other shows have simple ridge tents with an entrance at one end. Gyngell’s is one of these, and Middleton’s (unfortunately not identifiable) was another.



030 c3 (46-64)



8/4/04

10:25 AM

Page 58

Booths, Barns, and Music Halls

The simplest portable theatre was no more than a stage placed within a canvas enclosure to contain the paying customers and prevent the nonpaying ones from seeing the show. Billy Purvis refers to a booth without a roof used by a company of actors when he was at Jedburgh Fair in  (the weather was bad, but he was more fortunate: his booth possessed a canvas roof). Purvis is a very valuable source of information for different types of portable theatre in use in the first half of the century. He makes what may be the first reference to the idea of a caravan being incorporated into a booth: “I visited Muselburgh, fell in with Mr. Morell, an old show chep [sic], who lent me his caravan to exhibit my Fantoccini. By the assistance of wood and canvas I completed my booth, and pleased all the folk at the races.”33 The implication here seems to be that the caravan had a removable side, which exposed a stage front; the enclosure to contain the audience was simply built onto the caravan. Later in the same year he refers to an accident while traveling: “A sudden jolt pitched the stage on one side, and all the sleeping dwellers on its top into the miry grass. We were in bonny hobble; the ground was so soft that the wheels and part of the stage carriage sunk in the mud.”34 The stage was probably ready-mounted on a four-wheel cart, which served both for transport and to raise the stage itself. A painting by J. T. Lucas shows a traveling marionette performer with his stage front mounted on the back of a four-wheel carriage.35 Billy Purvis had a very large booth built toward the end of his career but also appeared in barns and private houses. On one occasion in  he recalled performing in a smithy, where he stretched his back-cloth across the chimney opening and stood inside. He mentions setting up at Glasgow Fair in  for some very successful performances. He arrived by ship from Newcastle and brought with him “my canvass, frontage and sundries.”36 At Glasgow he acquired timber for the booth. The canvas was probably for the tilt and the timber for the stage and seating. On leaving Scotland he sold the materials of the booth to a canvas weaver. By the s portable theatres were becoming more elaborate and solid affairs. Improved roads and above all the railway allowed quick and efficient transport of heavy loads. The plain tent made way for larger booths with wooden walls and raked seating. Charles Middleton kept the interior of his theatre warm by coke fires in winter. It was “lined throughout with green baize curtains and orna-

030 c3 (46-64)

8/4/04

10:25 AM

Page 59

Booths, Barns, and Music Halls

. Clowes and Sons booth. Postcard, circa . Author’s Collection.

mented with yellow fringes and cords.” The rafters and underside of the top were partially insulated with a red and white striped under-tilt.37 The interior of a booth might vary from a basic enclosed space to a reasonable degree of comfort. In  Walton’s booth (formerly Case’s) had seats in the boxes, pit, and gallery. There were gas fittings for lighting both inside the booth and on the outside. Like Middleton’s, the roof was lined with a red and white inside tilt. The number of spectators varied enormously. In  Walter Calver could boast that he had now erected a “large and commodious portable theatre” and that this “new Monster Portable Pavillion” could seat ,.38 Later he mentioned that he had reserved seats, a pit, and a “commodious” gallery. In  Charles Middleton had three different prices: front seats one shilling, second seats sixpence, gallery threepence. Most booths had some form of tiered seating or at least a raised area at the back. In  the gallery of Purvis’s theatre collapsed, fortunately without serious injuries.39 The gallery was occupied by a separate category of spectators, possibly standing, frequently overcrowded, and certainly noisy because of its predominantly youthful denizens. In most cases “gallery” meant no more than raked seating or a floor on a higher level, to distinguish it from the flat floored “pit.” Barnard mentions Charles



030 c3 (46-64)



8/4/04

10:25 AM

Page 60

Booths, Barns, and Music Halls

Middleton’s seating accommodation, going from six inches at the front to eight or nine feet at the top of the “gallery.”40 One of the best descriptions of the inside of a booth at the turn of the twentieth century is given by “Southdown” in an interview with Harry Wilding in : He had a commodious booth capable of seating some seven hundred persons. The inside of the building was comfortably equipped with raked seating and cosy inside lining, while all the rafters carried fancy scallops. At the stage end of the show gorgeous scenery formed a massive proscenium which extended from the roof of the booth to the top of the stage front, where the beautiful painted act drop was fixed with a row of footlights at the base. On one side of the stage was a big drum, while on the opposite side was a small pipe organ, these instruments, with the addition of a cornet, provided the orchestra.41 The show was illuminated with paraffin oil lamps, with three or four big ceiling lamps hanging from the ridge and one at either side of the stage. The heating apparatus used during the winter months consisted of some three or four big coke fires in various parts of the booth, which always had its floor sprinkled with clean sawdust. In this show it was possible to obtain two and a half hours’ entertainment for as little as a penny (the highest price was sixpence). There is no extant photograph of the interior of a booth, but very similar booths were used for both live performances and ghost shows. Weather was a constant problem for showpeople. First of all, bad weather could lead to thin or nonexistent audiences. More seriously, it could wreck booths, tearing off the canvas roof. In the winter of – Purvis’s booth, now described as a “pavilion,” was blown down at Morpeth. The steward of Lord Morpeth, Mr. Fenwick, helped him out. Purvis recorded the event in verse: Though my tilt was destroyed by the force of the gale, Good Fenwick relieve’d, as he pitied my tale; Though shutters, and scen’ry, and stage got a fall, The kindness of Fenwick recover’d them all.42 Fighting the weather could be a serious matter. Sometimes the men of the company would have to keep watch all night in the event of a storm and, if necessary, remove the canvas roof or tilt to prevent it from

030 c3 (46-64)

8/4/04

10:25 AM

Page 61

Booths, Barns, and Music Halls

. Professor Clarke’s Ghost Show, . National Fairground Archive, Sheffield.

being blown to shreds. Edward Hunt was killed in this way in , when a gust of wind came at the wrong moment and blew down a wooden panel which broke his back.43 The young Richard Barnard used to climb up onto the roof of Charles Middleton’s theatre to let loose any fittings that had to be released so that the tilt could be removed. On one occasion he had a lucky escape when the entire heavy, wet canvas was carried off with him on it.44 Showpeople who performed at fairs had a parade space in front of the theatre. Its origin was the platform used by mountebanks since the sixteenth century. Its function was to draw audiences, with music or some sort of performance, and persuade them to part with a coin or two to see the show inside. In the eighteenth century the parade space was often a balcony at first-floor level, as is shown in William Hogarth’s picture Southwark Fair (). By the nineteenth century this had been lowered to three to six feet above the ground and was directly accessed by steps. From the parade space the audience usually came directly into the rear of the auditorium, at the top of the tiered planks that provided the seating.45



030 c3 (46-64)



8/4/04

10:25 AM

Page 62

Booths, Barns, and Music Halls

Hogarth depicts the painted cloths that decorated the fronts of puppet theatres, often indicating something of the nature of the performance inside. John Nixon’s  watercolor of Bartholomew Fair shows the painted cloth raised above the front of Gyngell’s “Grand Medley” and designed to be visible from a distance.46 In  Billy Purvis visited Kilmarnock, where he specifically mentions having a beautiful front painted by Mr. Wardhaugh Nichol.47 As the nineteenth century progressed, the fronts of portable theatres offered plenty of opportunity for the decorative skills of painters. Cloths and painted panels continued to be used, sometimes with scenes from the shows performed; but there was a new emphasis on a more architectural façade, enhanced with decoration and gilding. Like the proscenium arch of the later Victorian theatre or the entrances to other types of fairground booths, the framed entrance became the focal point of the façade. In  Case’s Royal Champion Marionette Exhibition, then at Birmingham Fair, advertised for sale “a good front for marionette booth (painted by Mr. Green of Leicester) with profile coat of arms etc., for top, side-wings, opening out  feet with stage  feet x  feet and shuttering, poles and run-down, the whole forming a complete front.”48 The front sometimes became so important that the large fit-ups had it mounted on two wagons designed for that purpose. As with some circuses today, the wagons formed a grandiose frame for the intervening space, which was used for the entrance. In , when Case’s theatre was again put up for sale, it was advertised as being “ feet wide by  back,” with “Boxes, Pit and Gallery,” and was lit by gas. The whole outfit consisted of six wagons, of which “two forms a splendid front  feet wide (just new built by the late Mr Davison of Manchester).”49 When Britton Pettigrove disposed of his booth in , he mentioned in his advertisement two twelve-foot “panel waggons, beautifully fitted up inside with every requisite,” and indicated that “the Front opens out  feet, representing all Nations elaborately carved and gilt.”50 In  the Case fit-up was again for sale, this time as “Walton’s late Case’s.”51 The advertisement also mentions a “stage waggon” and gives the overall dimensions of the booth (which was “shuttered all round”) as sixty-seven feet by thirty-six feet. Pettigrove also mentioned a sixteenfoot “back waggon.” It is not clear exactly what this was. One is tempted to see this as a wagon equipped as a stage. The dimensions are certainly suitable in terms of both what we know about sizes of scenery and the

030 c3 (46-64)

8/4/04

10:25 AM

Page 63

Booths, Barns, and Music Halls

. Front of Lawrence’s Theatre, St. Giles’s Fair, Oxford, circa . National Fairground Archive, Sheffield.

overall width of the booth. Indeed this may have been a more sophisticated version of what Billy Purvis called his “stage carriage” in the s. Booths did vary in size, but sixty by thirty feet (slightly less than twenty meters by ten) seems to have been fairly standard. In  Clunn Lewis disposed of a former Middleton booth of those dimensions.52 The dimensions of a booth, and certainly the length of the frontage, could have economic implications for the company. The rate charged to stall-holders at the Nottingham Goose Fair of  was generally one shilling per linear foot of frontage and allowed for a depth of fifteen feet.53 Theatrical booths, with their greater depth, obviously had to negotiate a different rate. The exaggeratedly wide façades of some of the later booths both made them more visible and indicated that the show was important enough to pay for the bigger frontage.



030 c3 (46-64)



8/4/04

10:25 AM

Page 64

Booths, Barns, and Music Halls

There is no hard and fast distinction between companies that traveled with their own theatre and those that did not. In some cases the difference was purely seasonal. Apart from a very brief period, Barnard’s company never had a booth of their own. They traveled with their stage, scenery, and puppets and set up on available stages wherever they were. Middleton’s traveled with booths, as did Holden’s, but Thomas moved away from this aspect of the profession, preferring halls and theatres. His foreign touring was another reason not to use a booth. Companies performing in villages, visiting fairs, or performing in inn-yards were more likely to retain their portable theatres, as they were away from the main music-hall circuit. We know that Calver’s, Lawrence’s, and ClowesTiller’s were among the larger shows to use portable theatres. D’Arc’s, Bullock’s and Fanning’s (Delvaine’s) were never in that business; nor were the many companies that appeared in the s and s as acts for variety theatres or aquariums. One thing that seems fairly clear about the last quarter of the nineteenth century is that we see simultaneously the apogee of the portable theatre and its decline. Urban concentrations of population reduced the need to carry a theatre from village to village looking for audiences; and the fairs, with noise and machinery, were becoming less sympathetic places. Within a very few years around  the portable theatre was becoming a thing of the past and had taken on a sort of old-world aura. Those who continued with it were moving downward on the economic scale. Having said this, however, it is important to note that portable theatres did survive for a remarkably long time, with the last ones continuing in Ireland until the s.

040 c4 (65-82)

8/4/04

10:26 AM

Page 65

Chapter 4 : Merely Players?
The Suspension of Disbelief One of the most fascinating things about puppet theatre is the way in which audiences accept a material object that stands for a living being as if it were the living being itself.1 The live actor pretends to be the dramatic character he or she is representing but does not have to pretend to be alive. Where the actor is at one remove from the character represented, the puppet representing an actor in a part is at a further remove. Like the actor, it too has its own reality, but it is a very different sort of reality. The modern puppet makes less pretense of being an actor and exists more directly in terms of its role in the performance. The nineteenth-century theatre was heavily caught up in notions of realism and in the idea of trying to deceive the audience into a belief in the reality of what was being presented. The patent unreality of the glove puppet allowed it largely to escape this concern, but in the case of the marionette there was an extraordinary degree of ambivalence. The extent to which an audience will project life into a puppet has been studied.2 In many countries there are anecdotes about audiences attacking puppet villains, even attempting to shoot them. When Holden’s company visited Istanbul in , an Armenian photographer fell in love with their Cinderella and stole her.3 Puppeteers themselves have often exploited this tendency, and some have half believed that their puppets possessed a life of their own.4 Showpeople loved to propagate myths of this sort. The Chester and Lee company had a skeleton, which they claimed to have owned since the s and to have made perform before royalty at Balmoral. Additionally, they contended (and probably believed) that the figure became difficult to work whenever any danger threatened the family but became easy again after the danger had passed.5 Nineteenth-century marionette shows performed a range of plays in which the puppets were a visual support for the verbal presentation of the dramatic text. Once we have established and accepted the separation between the living voice of the hidden operator and the figure being operated, we are entering upon a convention that is not normally found

040 c4 (65-82)



8/4/04

10:26 AM

Page 66

Merely Players?

in actors’ theatre. The function of the nineteenth-century marionette was as much illustrative as dramatic, and this is where it really parts company from the living actor. Everything suggests that nineteenthcentury audiences were only too ready to empathize with the situations in which the puppets, as pseudo-humans, found themselves, without necessarily believing in them as real human beings. No doubt they did weep at the deaths of William in East Lynne or Jo in Bleak House and feel angry with the villains. The inherent sense of the mock heroic that is found with puppets performing drama for human actors, however, never quite disappears. The comic scenes, as Bertolt Brecht would discover later, restored a sense of objectivity and reminded audiences of the gap between real life and the wooden figures interpreting it.6 In the s Sergei Obraztsov noted that, when the puppet is placed in a human situation, it redefines that situation, either negating it or reinforcing it and filling it with a special humor.7 If we apply this statement to the dramatic repertoire of the nineteenth-century marionette theatre, we touch on one of the things that distinguished it from the live theatre, which it echoed and paralleled.


A Stock Company The majority of plays for the Victorian theatre ran to about a dozen characters, though casts could be inflated with an assortment of villagers, gypsies, sailors, servants, and so forth. In the stock companies the roles were distributed among a collection of actors, each with his or her own “line of business.” Dion Boucicault, the popular writer of melodramas, classified the different lines of business for live actors, which correspond closely to their marionette counterparts.8 Usually a company ran to at least four main male actors: leading man, juvenile man, “heavy” (who played the villains), and old man. The female strength was roughly the same. Some of these performers could be doubled. They were backed up by various “character” actors or actresses, “walking” ladies and gentlemen, and other “utilities.” Most important was the low comedian, who, of course, came into his own in the farce. A large company could have several actors in this line of business. The average Victorian marionette troupe had a corpus of figures used for the presentation of a wide range of stage plays and was the puppet equivalent of a stock company of actors. Stock figures were treated in

040 c4 (65-82)

8/4/04

10:26 AM

Page 67

Merely Players?

such a way that they could reappear in play after play. This meant that they usually had basic signifiers indicating age, sex, social status, or race, to which could be added some rather basic notions of character. Reconstruction of the composition of a Victorian marionette company can be partially based on our knowledge of the repertoire performed. Heavy cutting, taking into account the effective strengths of a company, was the norm in the live theatre. Live actors might sometimes double parts. A marionette company seldom included more than three or four performers behind the marionettes, who had to cover all the roles. Marionette showpeople simplified plots and numbers of characters to allow for a small manipulation team, with a limited number of voices. For the presentation of the solid dramatic repertoire of the nineteenth century, a score of puppets would have been sufficient. A repertoire of twenty-five plays did not mean that the company had to possess something in excess of  figures. We do hear of companies possessing  and  figures, but a claim to have a lot of puppets was also one of the ways in which a company signified its importance. Moreover, many of the figures mentioned would have been used for variety acts or as extras. Delvaine’s supposedly had about  figures, but many were abandoned when they ceased to be used or were destroyed when the company stopped performing in the s. The present Delvaine collection is about  figures. The Munich and Lyon collections contain between  and  figures each; when Speaight and Morice bought the Clowes-Tiller figures in the s, they acquired about  puppets, including the variety ones. Surviving collections of figures serve mainly to give us an idea of the company at the very moment that it ceased to exist. The following Clowes-Tiller list offered to Morice and Speaight is also interesting in that it indicates four of the last plays to be performed: Figures to suit any play Handsome gent Heavy man Farmer’s Boy Elderly lady Old woman Young Lady (Maria Marten with hair come away) Leading lady



040 c4 (65-82)



8/4/04

10:26 AM

Page 68

Merely Players?

Madame Eve (in East Lynne) Elderly gent Old man  odd men  children (Babes in the wood, etc) Angel Sailor Poor Jo, the crossing sweeper (from the Dickens story) Nigger  demons Giant.9 The remainder of the list consisted of harlequinade and trick or variety characters.


The Low Comedian Michael Booth has described the low comedian as one of the most important stock roles in the Victorian theatre: “the direct descendant of the Elizabethan clown,” who “often took the roles of countrymen, servants, street-sellers, nouveau-riche landowners and working-class eccentrics” and was “either energetically ludicrous or phlegmatically droll and the helpless victim of chance and misunderstanding.”10 In nearly all puppet traditions, from Indonesia to Italy, the comic figure has a central and usually subversive role. On the marionette stages of eighteenth-century Britain and Ireland Punch could erupt irreverently in the middle of the biblical Creation of the World or commit such anachronistic improprieties as placing his bum on the Queen of Sheba’s lap. His popularity with audiences was such that he could become identified with the leader of the troupe. A bill of  from the town of Youghal announces the arrival of “Mr William Punch” with his “company of artificial comedians.”11 The showman usually operated this figure and gave it his voice. Punch or the comic often served as an announcer but, more importantly, provided an opportunity for direct improvisation. Where the showman was especially garrulous, this puppet became a sort of stand-up comedian. Marionette Punch, unlike the glove-puppet Punch, may have lost his central position on the marionette stage in the nineteenth century, but he certainly did not disappear. When Bullock

040 c4 (65-82)

8/4/04

10:26 AM

Page 69

Merely Players?

had his season in London in , Punch was used to introduce the variety section of the bill. In the dramatic repertoire, Punch’s role devolved to the rustic clown. A Middleton bill of  mentions a character called “Old Darby,” who entertained the audience with “Droll sayings, Queer Doings, Whims, Wonders and Oddities.” “Darby” had become semiproverbial in the eighteenth century (often coupled with “Joan”), and the character may well have been a garrulous old man with plenty of wisecracks.12 The Clunn Lewis collection has a small figure certainly dating from the early nineteenth century. He is costumed as a rustic with the customary smock and a large felt hat and is the one figure in that particular collection with an opening mouth. This puppet could well be Middleton’s Old Darby.

. Rustic from Middleton troupe. Musée Gadagne, Lyon.



040 c4 (65-82)



8/4/04

10:26 AM

Page 70

Merely Players?

There is a strong physical similarity between the various rustic clown marionettes in Britain. By the end of the nineteenth century the predominant name is Tim Bobbin (we also hear of Tim and Bob), which led George Speaight to view him as the English popular puppet.13 The original Tim Bobbin was a folk poet in Lancashire, whose name went into popular mythology. He appears as a member of the cast in the melodrama based on the murder of Maria Marten and of course appears in marionette versions of that story. “Tim Bobbin’s show” visited Earington near Hull around . Brown’s Theatre in Hull had a comic figure called Timmy, who appeared in every show as the “hero.” In the concluding farce he was invariably the comic figure with the chief part. He also occasionally acted as a narrator or presenter. As late as  we hear of children (together with their fathers and grandfathers) enjoying a north of England marionette performance with “Tim Bobbins.”14 Generally this character was dressed as a yokel, but he could also appear in more appropriate costume for historical or nautical plays.15 In  Joe Randel Hodson claimed that his “Yorkshire Bob” had been in his family for generations and was some  years old. He also mentioned that Ashington’s, Lawrence’s, and Holding’s had a similar character. The Clowes-Tiller collection has a “farmer’s boy” who seems to fill this role, and Harry Wilding had a character known as “Tim the comic.” The Munich collection includes a strongly characterized rustic. From Donegal, Ireland, came a figure, abandoned by some company, that presents all the hallmarks of the character. The rustic clown appeared as the countryman of the melodrama. His earthy common sense had a hint of lost values for audiences composed of recent urban dwellers, while his ignorance of more sophisticated polite behavior could be both a source of comedy and a satirical comment on such behavior. In much of Europe a similar phenomenon can be observed in the creation of a host of new puppet figures from Sandrone and Girolamo to Guignol or Tchantchès. Punch with his funny archaic costume was a theatre figure, which may explain why he was increasingly relegated to the variety show. Other attempts to create new popular characters did occur in England but were short-lived. The celebrated cartoon character Ally Sloper transferred to the puppet stage. George Speaight mentioned an Ally Sloper show given at the Tottenham Club by a showman called Marshall in , and Harry Wilding’s also used the character. He briefly repre-

040 c4 (65-82)

8/4/04

10:26 AM

Page 71

Merely Players?

sented a more urban type, but no texts or routines involving him have been preserved.16


The Harlequinade Every Victorian company had a set of figures for the harlequinade. If audiences could recognize the stock figures of the dramatic troupe without much difficulty, it was even easier to recognize those of the harlequinade. Columbine (décolletée and short-skirted) was a cross between a soubrette and a ballet dancer. The athletic, balletic Harlequin (with his fitted diamond-patterned costume, often enhanced with braid and glitter, and a smooth black mask) was reminiscent of the masquerade rather than the Commedia dell’Arte.17 Clown evoked Joey Grimaldi, with his tufts of red hair, white face, red cheeks, and bright eyes, together with a white costume whose added flounces were edged with red braid.18 Pantaloon’s costume still retained something of the seventeenth century with its ruff, while his gray hair in tufts and pointed beard represented comic old age. He was there to be the butt of every joke and prank. These characters formed a separate part of the program with its own tradition and did not mix with the regular dramatic characters. Their distinctive theatre costumes, like Punch’s, remained the same from show to show. The marionette harlequinade followed the live theatre one quite closely. Grimaldi’s Clown had not really been a speaking role, however, whereas the marionette Clown was often eloquent. His eloquence was directed at Pantaloon, who was also a speaking part. Most of the fun of the harlequinade (such as chases and dealing with recalcitrant donkeys) was given to these two. Clown Joey was quite distinct from the rustic Clown in appearance and behavior. He had far more agility, and his performance was full of physical gags. Even if his outfit was a nineteenthcentury innovation, Clown Joey was basically a variant on a classic Commedia type – he was the clever “zanni.” The other nineteenth-century addition to the harlequinade was the policeman, who also became a standard figure of every troupe. Sir Robert Peel had created what could be regarded as the first modern police force (the “peelers”). From the s the “comic” policeman was a part of London theatre entertainment. He was rapidly absorbed into the Victorian harlequinade as an authority figure to be a subject of



040 c4 (65-82)



8/4/04

10:26 AM

Page 72

Merely Players?

. Harlequinade on the Barnard stage, Leeds, . Ken Barnard Collection.

amusement. He was instantly recognizable on the marionette stage, with his helmet, uniform, and heavy whiskers. He was the butt of jokes and suffered such indignities as having his bottom bitten by a dog or even being pulled in two (something impossible with a human actor). On occasion his head and limbs could be completely separated from his torso.19 Some policeman figures, notably one from the Jim Tiller collection and the Barnard one, were exceptionally tall, which no doubt provided a further physical gag. The policeman also joined the Punch and Judy show, just as Grimaldi’s Joey had a few years earlier.


Animals The nineteenth-century theatre had a passion for live animals on the stage. Horses starred in the countless equestrian dramas at Astley’s Amphitheatre in London, while the immensely popular melodrama The Forest of Bondy depended on a trained dog. Almost every variety of fauna was also represented by actors in papier-mâché carapaces in such extravaganzas as Boucicault’s Babil and Bijou (). The live animals

040 c4 (65-82)

8/4/04

10:26 AM

Page 73

Merely Players?

could be classified as “actors,” while the cardboard ones came close to a form of puppetry – artificial shapes animated by live performers. Unlike the puppet stage today, the nineteenth-century marionette stage was following the actors’ theatre in its use of animals. A marionette animal in a marionette show is actually less incongruous, however, than a live animal on the stage of a theatre with living actors. A puppet animal, even if made of papier-mâché or wood, did not carry with it the overtones of the papier-mâché animals, where audiences could not forget the human actor inside. From frogs and crocodiles to horses, bulls, ostriches, robins, elephants, and dragons, the Victorian marionette theatre boasted a wide range of animals. The majority appeared in variety and trick acts or in the spectacular scenes of pantomimes. Very few of these figures have survived. Our knowledge of them depends mainly on illustrated posters and the occasional script or newspaper reference. Only a few animals were used in the Victorian marionette theatre with any distinct dramatic function; and, unlike today’s puppet theatre, even fewer were given human characteristics. The Bullock pantomime of Little Red Riding Hood had a lively speaking jackdaw, much loved by the juvenile audience members. The wolf was a metamorphosis of the wicked duke and probably stood upright and behaved like a human performer. No doubt it resembled Holden’s Beast in Beauty and the Beast, which evoked a human actor in a shaggy coat with an animal head and ferocious jaws. We have no record concerning Dick Whittington’s cat, but it too may well have been an acting role. Dick Turpin’s horse, central to the equestrian drama based on Harrison Ainsworth’s story, was a functional utility more than a character in its own right. The JewellHolden pantomime of Bluebeard involved an elephant drawing the main character’s chariot, but this was little more than a spectacular scenic effect.20 Bluebeard also included an undersea scene with associated creatures of the deep, including mermaids. The donkey of the harlequinade was coupled with the clown. The combination of comic figure and recalcitrant mount is a stock joke of traditional European puppetry and can be found, for example, in Germanic versions of Faust, where Hanswurst finds himself riding a very awkward goat. The uncontrollable donkey cart was a forerunner of the uncontrollable motor-car, so often found in circuses (and also adapted to the marionette stage). Bullock’s had Pete and Barney, a pair



040 c4 (65-82)



8/4/04

10:26 AM

Page 74

Merely Players?

of donkeys, as well as a maverick bull (literally in a china shop), while Thomas Holden had a dog that grabbed the policeman’s tunic in its teeth and bit the seat of his pants.


Acting Most actors and playwrights of the eighteenth and early nineteenth century followed the convention of presenting types of a fairly generalized nature rather than individualized characters. Eighteenth-century acting was based on a series of carefully coded gestures, body positions, movements, and facial expressions used to denote different emotions; there was a strong belief that the external appearance of the face and head could give information about the character of the person. The seventeenth-century French painter Charles Le Brun had been used as a point of reference for actors because of his attempts to codify facial expressions; Johann Caspar Lavater’s Essays on Physiognomy, published at the end of the eighteenth century, developed this idea.21 Actors strove to turn their faces into masks presenting the various characteristic expressions. Marionette carvers were content with simpler emotions, which corresponded to the basic theatrical types; their aim was to produce heads that were instantly recognizable to audiences. Unlike the mobile human face, however, a marionette face with a fixed expression usually had to be adapted to a wide range of emotions. In the absence of mobile features, the Victorian marionette used a shorthand of gesture, where head and body posture and hand gesture took on the greatest significance. Marionette performance has much in common with acting with a mask, which compensates in a similar way for the absence of facial expression. Two obvious examples are the head bowed to indicate depression and raised to indicate pride. In  Alfred Jarry, an advocate of the use of the mask in actor’s theatre in France, took the puppet Guignol as an example and suggested that a wide range of expressions and emotions could be derived from six different head angles.22 Many puppeteers have discovered how the puppet can use light not just as illumination but as a means of suggesting mobility of facial expression. This is achieved by using the light to make the contours of the face throw shadows that will modify with changes of position. In most Victorian marionette theatres, as in the live theatre, the primary function of lighting was illumination. This was usually rudimentary,

040 c4 (65-82)

8/4/04

10:26 AM

Page 75

Merely Players?

and the showpeople probably did not even think of using it to assist theatrical expression. Those who saw Thomas Holden’s performances at the Bolero Star in – were convinced that the eyes, lips, and even facial muscles moved.23 This may be no more than a tribute to his manipulation skills, but it does also suggest that he had some idea as to how to use the lighting to make the features of his dolls appear to be mobile. The direction in which a puppet looks is every bit as important as the direction in which the live actor looks. For the Victorian marionettist, the movement of the head and the direction of the gaze could give an audience a sense of focus and lend support to the text. Deliberately turning away and averting the gaze from another character could also be a dramatic signifier, while looking directly at the audience could have a startlingly strong effect, best kept for the soliloquy or the frame-breaking behavior of the comic. Our idea of marionette acting in the nineteenth century is at best hypothetical and cannot be re-created from eyewitness accounts. References to marionette performance, if they mention the acting at all, generally speak of the extent that the viewer was persuaded for a moment that these were live actors. The live actor provided the yardstick by which marionette showpeople measured their own performances. With the exception of the comic figure, who might appear in a variety of roles while remaining only too recognizable, the puppet could be perceived not as a more or less realistic actor but as a representation of the role itself. Audiences accepted the “reality” of the marionette (just as we accept the reality of strip cartoon figures today) and did not feel any particular need to question it. Once they had done this, they could enter into the reality of the fiction that the puppet was performing. The very real limitations of the marionette and its specifically puppetlike movements were not really an issue. A puppet’s walk is a puppet’s walk, and audiences recognize it as such, however much they may admire its approximation to the walk of a “real” human being when the figure is well constructed and the manipulator is skillful. Despite a limited range of potential expressive movement, the Victorian marionette could be remarkably convincing. This was a period when many live actors relied on a restricted range of conventionalized gestures and tended to line themselves up close to the footlights. Without doubt the more wooden acting of some provincial barnstormers cannot



040 c4 (65-82)



8/4/04

10:26 AM

Page 76

Merely Players?

have seemed so remote from the puppet theatre. The marionette that was speaking drew attention to itself by moving, while the others remained relatively still. Motion of the head usually indicated speech; by focusing their attention on this movement, audiences could instantly associate the unseen voice with the moving figure. Arm movements (reminiscent of the pump-handle movements of some actors) were also used to reinforce speech. Two of the actor’s most expressive elements, the hands and the facial features, were fixed and unchangeable in the case of the marionette. In the rather rhetorical style of acting, popular before David Garrick introduced a more “naturalistic” one, much attention was drawn to the expressive possibilities of the hand alone.24 A limited number of fixed hand positions can be given extraordinary variety when supported by arm gestures, a point that was not lost on marionette showpeople. The Victorian dramatic marionette had neither wrist joints nor articulated hands. The three main forms taken by marionette hands are flat open hands, half-open hands with the thumb brought into alignment with the index finger and the fingers either straight or curved, and closed hands. The flat hand is the least expressive and in many cases may have been produced by a maker less aware of the dramatic potential of the hand. The closed hand was designed to hold a prop (often a stick or sword) but could also suggest the clenched fist. In some cases a pin through the thumb and index finger of the half-open hand could also create an enclosed space between thumb and index into which a prop could be stuffed. A partially closed hand with a pointing index finger is less common but allows for a range of strong demonstrative gestures, such as a finger toward the sky to call on providence or toward another character to accuse or denounce. As a rule, female characters have both hands in the half-open position, partly, no doubt, because they were less frequently involved in fights and did not need to handle weapons (a reminder of the less than active role of women in most plays of the period). Conventions of course varied from one company to another. The open curved hand combined with the closed one is typical of the ClowesTiller figures, while the Munich and Lyon ones include a number with both hands in the curved position as well as some interesting variants produced by more skilled carvers. An examination of the carving of hands can also help group certain figures according to stylistic features

040 c4 (65-82)

8/4/04

10:26 AM

Page 77

Merely Players?

and even show how figures from different sources may originally have been in the same troupe or been produced by the same makers.


Marionettes and Acting Theory In the eighteenth century various manuals on the art of acting began to appear. Their target was the amateur actor as much as the professional. Behind such manuals lay the belief that specific emotions could be portrayed on the stage by the adoption of certain techniques. Thomas Sheridan and Aaron Hill focused their attention on the speech of the actor. The notion of pantomime acting also took a firm hold and led to the elaboration of a less formal acting style, with simple clear and expressive gestures that owed little to the previously more rhetorical style based on ancient classical models. David Garrick, as an actor, demonstrated just how important attitude and gesture could be. In – Johann Jakob Engel published his Ideen zu einer Mimik. In  this was translated into French with the title Idées sur le geste et l’action théâtrale. Henry Siddons, son of the celebrated British actress Sarah Siddons, adapted this for the contemporary British stage as Practical Illustrations of Rhetorical Gesture and Action (). The work of Engel and Siddons was a landmark as a serious attempt to examine the gestural codes of the theatre, noting how they were produced, how they might be classified, and how they were received by the audience. Siddons’s volume is well illustrated, even if most of the gestures and attitudes depicted have become faintly ridiculous to us today. Until the middle of the nineteenth century an actor’s skill was measured less by the overall interpretation of the part than by the ability to portray certain emotions at specific moments. Audience reaction to this was more like reaction today when the skill of the ballet dancer or the opera singer at a specific moment of the performance may be applauded. Young actors of the nineteenth century saw part of their training as consisting of learning the tricks of their elders. Siddons was ahead of his time and anticipated Konstantin Stanislavsky in his dislike of “false acting” and his belief that acting must come from within. His only reference to puppets is when he refers to “false acting,” and “puppetlike” is not a term of admiration. Siddons distinguishes between “picturesque” acting (more concerned with the sculptural beauty of the attitude and gesture) and



040 c4 (65-82)



8/4/04

10:26 AM

Page 78

Merely Players?

“expressive” acting (more concerned with conveying meaning). He comes down heavily in favor of the latter. Siddons was thinking in terms of the legitimate drama. The expressive style was also endemic to both pantomime and the melodrama, forms of theatre that did not meet with his approval. The expressive acting of the marionette stage was probably closer to pantomime and melodrama than to the legitimate theatre. Siddons’s book provides an excellent idea of expressive attitudes. To take an example, his description of the portrayal of the drunkard on the stage shows what an audience of the time might read as a drunken state: All his senses seem absorbed in the desire which consumes him. His haggard eyes come out of his head; his steps are wide and straggling; his body with his stretched out neck bent forwards; his hands tightly clasp the cup, or are stretched out with eagerness to seize it: his respiration is rapid and uneven; and, in the case of his springing forwards to lay hold of the glass, his mouth is open, and his dry tongue appears through his lips, eagerly lapping the liquor on the surface of the vessel which contains it. 25 Temperance melodramas often found their way to the puppet stage. One popular piece was W. W. Pratt’s Ten Nights in a Bar Room, Drink; or, Father Dear Father, Come Home (). While we might have to imagine the peculiar expression of the eyes and the tongue hanging out, much of the rest of what Siddons describes could easily be communicated by a marionette. In particular one might note the leaning-forward position indicative of desire, which he elsewhere contrasts with bending backward away from a threat or something that is not desired. Siddons distinguishes between straightforward functional gestures (which denote such basic things as entering, exiting, sitting, striking another character) and ones which give information about the emotional state of a character.26 He looks particularly at the significance of the various arm and hand gestures and observes how the extension of the right arm and hand can denote protection, reproof, command, admonition, and invitation.27 He also notes that scorn and contempt can be indicated by an angry downward gesture of the open hand, pointing toward the feet of the interlocutor. Boasting, triumph, or an exultant expression of joy can all be expressed by putting out the raised hand and shaking it “as it were into a shout.”28 For gestures of admiration and sublimity, Siddons says, “the whole figure of the man becomes straight:

i. Stock figures for drama (Clowes-Tiller). John Phillips Collection, now in the Theatre Museum, London.

ii. Papier-mâché heads with glass eyes: (top top left left) Punch head with moving mouth (Delvaine), Desiree Delvaine Collection; (top top right right) Dancer (Clunn Lewis), Musée Gadagne, Lyon; (bottom) Older man (D’Arc), Puppet Centre Trust Collection.

iii. Wooden heads with carved hair: (top top left left) Early nineteenth-century male, Stadtmuseum, Munich; (top top right right) Sailor head: Chorus Tommy (De Randel), John Bright Collection; (bottom) “Swell” (Clowes-Tiller). John Phillips Collection, now in the Theatre Museum, London.

iv. Mother Shipton (Middleton). Musée Gadagne, Lyon.

v. Grand Turk (Barnard): (top top left left) Full figure; (top top right right) Halfway, showing five small heads; (bottom) Complete transformation. Purves International Puppet Theatre Museum, Biggar.

vi. (left) left) Gypsy dancer (James Holden), Holden Family Collection left (right) right) Lottie Collins (Barnard), Purves International Puppet right Theatre Museum, Biggar.

vii. Thomas and James Holden bill with harlequinade scenes. Musée Gadagne, Lyon.

viii. Barnard backcloth (cut down from original size): Chinese Street. Purves International Puppet Theatre Museum, Biggar.

040 c4 (65-82)

8/4/04

10:26 AM

Page 79

Merely Players?

nevertheless, the feet, the hands, and the traits of the visage are in repose; or if one hand is in movement, it is not held forth as in simple admiration, but lifted upwards.”29 He then goes on: “To throw up the hands to heaven is an expression of admiration, amazement, and astonishment, used by those who flatter and excessively praise. This expression always appears at some unexpected accident, and is used by painters to express amazement.”30 Remarkably similar attitudes were recorded by producers of prints of actors in their best-known roles. Sheets of characters for toy theatres produced by John Kirby Green, John Redington, the Skelt family, William West, and others also provided a simplified rendition of the live theatre, with figures in expressive attitudes. Tempting as the idea is, nothing suggests that toy theatre sheets should themselves be seen as a source of acting styles for the marionette stage. They do provide yet another indication of the norms of stage practice that the marionette proprietors were also striving to emulate. The first point of reference for the marionette proprietors was the live theatre, whether as witnessed in a major metropolitan house or as performed in a portable booth by Richardson’s or others. Some of the marionette showpeople had themselves been involved in performance as live actors or in companies where puppets and live acting ran side by side. For them the puppet was often little more than an actor made of wood. In performance it had to convince as a role but not as a human being, and the presentational style of pantomime and melodrama was exactly the style it could best use. The cheap acting editions of plays (used both by the portable theatres and by the marionette showpeople) often carried an engraving of a key dramatic scene depicting attitudes and gestures that immediately conveyed meaning. The Illustrated London News, which began to appear in the s, carried reviews illustrated with scenes from plays with actors in visually expressive postures. Further graphic suggestions could also be found in the engraved plates of cheap editions of the novels from which much nineteenth-century theatre was derived. Quite apart from what might or might not be currently observed in the live theatre, the performances of the traditional marionette showpeople also depended on what was handed down by previous practitioners. Many marionette showpeople may seldom have set foot in a live theatre – or at best seen only performances by traveling players in portable theatres. Effectively



040 c4 (65-82)



8/4/04

10:26 AM

Page 80

Merely Players?

this would have increased the gulf between what they were doing and the current practice in mainstream metropolitan theatre. Parallels between the marionette theatre and the live one are fascinating. An inexpensive acting manual produced by John Dicks around  (designed mainly but not exclusively for amateurs) was in the same collection as many of the play-texts which marionette proprietors used. Whether they studied it or not is of relatively little importance. What is important is that it lays out some of the most commonly accepted conventions of the later nineteenth century. It is also interesting in that it warns against the widespread tendency to imitate wellknown actors and suggests that the performer should look closely at the part.31 This principle, however desirable, would seem to be at variance with the practice of most marionette showpeople. There are, however, many practical tips that could be seized upon. Pages – outline the “methods of expressing the various passions, emotions &c.” The writer analyzes a series of emotions in terms of gesture, attitude, voice, and facial expression. Once we allow for the physical limitations of the marionette, we are left with a simplified and codified set of gestures and attitudes that are easy to imitate and could be directly applied to the acting of marionette drama. Despite a warning against learning a system of feelings by rule, the author presents what he calls “an analytical review of the effect of various emotions on the human frame.” If we look at this list, omitting all reference to facial expression and gestures requiring articulated hands, we are still left with a useful codification of gesture, attitude, and voice that could be applied to the marionette stage: Joy, when sudden and violent, is expressed by clapping of hands . . . the voice rises from time to time to very high tones. Tranquility or apathy. Appears by . . . general repose of the body and limbs, without the exertion of any one muscle . . . Mirth, or laughter, . . . shakes and convulses the whole frame, and, appearing to give some pain, occasions holding the sides. Grief, sudden and violent, expresses itself by beating the head or forehead, tearing the hair, and catching the breath, as if choking; also by screaming, weeping, stamping, lifting the eyes from time to time to heaven, and hurrying backwards and forwards. This is a passion which admits, like many others, of a

040 c4 (65-82)

8/4/04

10:26 AM

Page 81

Merely Players?

great deal of stage trick; but which, if not well contrived, and equally as well executed, frequently fails of the desired effect. Melancholy or fixed grief is gloomy, sedentary, motionless . . . the eyes are cast down . . . and weeping, accompanied by a total inattention to everything that passes. The words are dragged out rather than spoken; the accent weak and interrupted, sighs breaking into the middle of sentences and words. Despair . . . bends the eyebrows downward . . . the head is flung down upon the breast; the arms are bent at the elbows, the fist clenched hard; and the whole body strained and violently agitated; groans expressive of inward torture, accompanying the words appertaining to his grief; the words are also uttered with a sullen eager bitterness, and the tone of his voice is often loud and furious. When despair is supposed to drive the actor to distraction and self-murder, it can seldom be overacted. Fear . . . draws back the elbows parallel with the sides, lifts up the open hand (the fingers together) to the height of the breast, so that the palms face the dreadful object, as shields opposed to it; one foot is drawn back behind the other, so that the body seems shrinking from danger, and putting itself in a posture for fight; the heart beats violently. The breath is fetched quick and short, and the whole body is thrown into a general tremor. Fear is also displayed, frequently by a sudden start, and in ladies by a violent shriek, which produces fainting; the voice is weak and trembling. Hope, . . . bends the body a little forward, the feet equal, spreads the arms, with the hands open, as to receive the object of its longings; the tone of the voice is eager and uneven, inclining to that of joy, but curbed by a degree of doubt and anxiety. The last item on his list is Death, which “is exhibited by violent distortion, groaning, gasping for breath, stretching the body, raising it, and then letting it fall.” He then adds that “dying in a chair, as often practised in some characters, is very unnatural, and has little or no effect.” Despite the shift toward a more visual mode of perception in theatre, the vocal element was still regarded as primordial. Old Stager (the author of the Dicks manual) declared: “Elocution is to acting what speech is to thought.”32 Audiences still went to hear a play as much as



040 c4 (65-82)



8/4/04

10:26 AM

Page 82

Merely Players?

to see one, and this was certainly true of the dramatic offerings of the marionette theatre. Deprived of the niceties of facial expression, the marionette theatre was heavily dependent on the modulations of the voices provided by the operators, each of whom might also have to speak for three or four different characters in one drama, providing distinct voices. The role of the voice in the nineteenth-century marionette theatre cannot be emphasized enough, since it is very often one of the biggest dividers between the “traditional” approach to the marionette and the modern one. The naturalist theatre and cinema dragged audience perception toward a form of realism with which the marionette theatre could not hope to compete. As they moved into the twentieth century, marionettes began to lose the need to look real. Popular audiences may have deserted them for the cinema, but the gain was a fuller acceptance of the puppet in its own right and not as a surrogate actor. At about the same time that Gordon Craig was writing his essay on the “Actor and the Übermarionette,” Clunn Lewis received a letter from George Bernard Shaw, who wrote: “A good puppet show ought to be attached to every school of acting as an object lesson. – The cinematograph, which is said to be killing the dolls, is much more natural, and the result is that it has comparatively little effect on the imagination, but I shall not be surprised if in the long run it revives the puppet show instead of killing it, for it can never take its place.”33

050 c5 (83-108)

8/4/04

10:27 AM

Page 83

Chapter5 :The Anatomy of the Victorian Marionette
The Makers The marionette actor, like its human counterpart, has a number of physical characteristics, which in turn affect its expressiveness. Wood and cloth may replace flesh and blood, but the moment it enters on a stage it is alive. The nineteenth-century British marionette was both a piece of folk art and a functional object. It lacked the folkloristic significance of the Sicilian pupi, but it could have aesthetic qualities, which sometimes make it a collector’s item today. Individual carvers had their own styles, and the dressmaking and embellishment of costumes often revealed a sophisticated sense of color and design. In any one company the figures could come from a variety of sources. Some troupes made most of their own figures, while others inherited them or acquired them from professional makers or from other showpeople. Companies developed organically, and brand-new figures could be juxtaposed with ones fifty or more years old. With time, figures themselves could change a great deal. Limbs were often replaced, heads moved from one figure to another; repainting was a regular occurrence. Certain companies included highly competent makers, but even they might occasionally buy figures or turn to commercial makers for hands or heads. Figures from different collections can show similarities in construction, which is also a reminder of the extent to which puppets might pass from one company to another. A close examination of the surviving figures reveals not only interrelated families of puppeteers but also stylistically related families of puppets. James Shaw, stage manager for D’Arc’s and later with Bullock’s, claimed that he had been employed to make a second set of figures for W. J. Bullock for the Royal Marionettes for the  tour to America.1

050 c5 (83-108)



8/4/04

10:27 AM

Page 84

The Anatomy of the Victorian Marionette

In the midst of all the litigation, McDonough and Earnshaw commissioned their own figures in America, probably from Henry Lawrence. Later Lawrence said that McDonough had paid him “double the price that he would have to pay others in order that he might have the genuine article.”2 Lawrence also provided figures for Thomas Holden, who, having returned from America, was setting up his own show and preparing a German tour. He may have made the marionettes used by Holden at the Cambridge Music Hall, London, in January , including those for Beauty and the Beast and the harlequinade and also two figures dancing on a tightrope, a pole-balancer, and a dancing skeleton.3 In November  Lawrence’s announced: “We have just forwarded to Mr. Thomas Holden Four Model (or Muddle) Marionette Minstrels, Five Chairs, Two Fiddles and One Banjo!”4 An advertisement of  implied, or intended to imply, some form of partnership, stating: “The Marionettes and Tricks Manufactured by H. Lawrence are exhibited by Mr Holden and the Brothers Lawrence.”5 At that particular moment, Lawrence’s company was in Portsmouth, while Thomas Holden was happily packing audiences into the Royal Cambridge Music Hall in London. It looks as if he was trying to draw additional publicity from the association. The Clowes family had a reputation for carving skills.6 The first Tiller company may have used figures made by John Clowes.7 A comparatively large number of Clowes figures survive. There is a stylistic similarity between most of the figures that suggests that they may all be the work of members of the same group. The Clowes-Tiller puppets now in the Theatre Museum, London, show the hand of at least four different carvers. Many of the heads appear to be by the same carver; but two other carvers are also recognizable, one because of the attention given to the carving of ears, and the other because of the rather flat noses and deeply excavated nostrils. Some of the Clowes-Tiller variety figures, notably a pair of stilt-walking clowns, show stylistic differences and may well have been bought in. D’Arc’s, with a background in waxworks, was an example of a company that included both makers and modelers. The Fannings almost certainly learned their techniques from them. They rebuilt the Bullock show in , and Harry Fanning also claimed that he had made figures for the Jewell-Holden show: “I myself made three parts of the present show figures, tricks etc. and can prove the same if disputed.”8

050 c5 (83-108)

8/4/04

10:27 AM

Page 85

The Anatomy of the Victorian Marionette

Richard Barnard made most of his figures himself. The sheer boldness of the carving and the elements of individual character detail indicate one-off pieces made by an artist. In Paris in  Barnard made up three acrobats whose heads are sufficiently different in style to indicate that they were purchased. There is a degree of uniformity about some of the hands and feet of figures in the Munich collection which suggests that they may have been batch-produced and supplied by a professional maker. Some of the shoes are exceptionally neat, with heels, squared toes, and even some creases. The style of carving of the heads is reminiscent of work being produced in the north of Italy and reminds us that commercially made figures were made by a craftspeople whose carving skills could be greatly superior to those of the puppeteer. Bonini of Turin, founded , was mainly a maker of puppets for domestic use but also supplied such important companies as Lupi of Turin and Colla of Milan. It also exported figures as well as individual parts (such as heads) and props, and some of these were almost certainly bought by British clients.9 The demand created by the expansion of marionette activity after  led to the establishment of firms of puppet-makers or suppliers. Le Mare’s, well-known for ventriloquist dolls, was established in  and sold marionettes in three sizes:  inches ( cm),  inches ( cm), and  inches ( cm).10 Heads for the smaller figures cost s d, and the larger ones s d (moving mouths were s d extra). The standard range cost £, s, and s, according to size, and included: “Clown, Policeman, Sailor, Irishman, Nigger Dance, Milkmaid, Scaramouch, Cure etc. Slightly more elaborate figures, such as the Chair Performer, Ball Juggler, Old Woman and her Children, Dissected Policeman [sic] and others cost  shillings,  shillings and  shillings according to size.” The catalogue lists some of the more important clients, which included Barnum and Bailey and Robert Houdin, but also Holden and Madam Jewell as well as De Vere’s. DeVere’s, established in , had a branch at  rue Saulnier, Paris (near the Folies-Bergère) and later on the rue de Trévise. In a letter of  to the French showman Emile Pitou, C. de Vere indicated that they were makers for the main English and American showpeople and listed Jennion, Wickley (Wycherley?), Bullock, Tray, Morley, and Holden among their clients.11 He also mentioned making figures for Gallici, who



050 c5 (83-108)



8/4/04

10:27 AM

Page 86

The Anatomy of the Victorian Marionette

provided figures for some French companies. Their elaborate catalogue (running to  pages) covered puppets, ventriloquist’s figures, and a huge variety of stage props, conjuring tricks, magic lanterns, and so forth. A short version indicates that they made “Fantoches à la Holden” approximately  cm high. They could provide special figures with moving fingers and smoking puppets. Their main list included rope-dancers, a pole juggler (tranka), a ball juggler, a wheel balancer, a drinking clown on stilts, an acrobatic clown, Mère Gigogne (old woman) and her numerous family, a pair of Chinese dancers, street singers, a dancing dislocating skeleton, Loïe Fuller, the Grand Turk, a “Negro” jig dancer, a “Negro” big boot dancer, and a “Negro” orchestra (of any number). De Vere’s standard range of figures had papier-mâché heads, but for a special price they could provide figures with hardwood heads, painted, with enamel eyes, richly dressed, complete with tights, wigs, and shoes as well as controls, and ready for immediate use. They also sold complete marionette stages and transformation scenes for pantomimes and apotheoses with lit-up fountains and so forth. John Till, who went to America with the Bullock company in , remained there, worked for a time with Middleton’s, and subsequently set up on his own, both as a performer and as a maker of marionettes for sale. He dealt in variety figures but also groups of the main characters for four popular pantomimes.


Size There is evidence that marionettes in the eighteenth century could sometimes be life-sized.12 We can probably ignore the many nineteenthcentury puffs making this claim. Showpeople were perfectly aware that a puppet on a stage with other objects in scale (or even slightly smaller) can appear larger than it actually is. The Middleton Mother Shipton measures  cm. The largest other surviving figures are Grand Turks and extending figures. The Barnard Grand Turk is nearly . m tall, and their Scaramouche is of a similar height – but both are trick figures. At the other end of the scale, Speaight suggests that Grey’s figures were only  inches high; and for them the stage need have been no bigger than a Punch and Judy one. This seems very small but could correspond to a set of figures originally intended for domestic performances.

050 c5 (83-108)

8/4/04

10:27 AM

Page 87

The Anatomy of the Victorian Marionette

Many late-eighteenth-century Venetian marionettes designed for private use were no more than  cm high. This was also true of the figures used in the Patagonian Theatre of Dublin and London in the s.13 The print of Candler’s Fantoccini suggests that his figures were about  cm ( inches) high. Smaller figures would have been easier for street fantoccini performers to transport, though the George Scharf drawings do not suggest that they were that diminutive. Most marionettes come in one of two size ranges: – cm (– inches) and – cm (– inches). It was quite common for the dramatic figures to be in the latter range (Clowes-Tiller, for example), while most variety ones were smaller. Clunn Lewis had a set of dramatic figures, almost certainly old Middleton ones, measuring between  and  cm.14 If they can be seen as representative of a traveling troupe of the mid-century, the implication would be that the dramatic marionettes in the earlier part of the century were smaller than those of the later years. This would be borne out by some of the Munich figures. The larger fit-ups and the improved travel and transport facilities after  may have encouraged the use of larger figures.


The Head Carved wood and papier-mâché were the main materials used for heads. The first demanded carving skills, the second modeling skills. Wood is a more durable material than papier-mâché, especially when stored under damp conditions, which may account for the comparatively higher survival rate of figures with wooden heads. Carving could range from simple whittling with a penknife to a high degree of artistry with chisels. Less well-carved heads tend to have a rather flat profile, with eyes as bulges without any indication of lids or else simply painted onto the area scooped out on either side of the nose. The proportions of the head and face were not always very well observed. A low forehead could be used deliberately to indicate lower social status (a high one was meant to look aristocratic) but was generally no more than rather naïve carving. Some carvers would split the head and hollow out the middle to reduce weight. The Clowes-Tiller and Barnard figures are designed to have a direct dramatic impact. The individual styles are very distinct from one



050 c5 (83-108)



8/4/04

10:27 AM

Page 88

The Anatomy of the Victorian Marionette

another. Neither is unrealistic, but realism is clearly not the primary concern. Clowes-Tiller heads are divided into broad types, whereas the Barnard heads verge on caricature, with a high degree of observation of different individuals. The latter also have more pronounced relief than most other contemporary heads. Above all they are unashamedly puppet heads. One group of the Munich heads is far more realistic. They have neither the element of caricature nor the same folk quality. They are superbly finished and very beautiful, and in terms of scale and finish they are similar to the few surviving Holden figures. A small number of heads in Lyon, including one unpainted one, look as if they may come from the same source. Modeled heads were executed in papier-mâché and sometimes finished with wax. It is unlikely that they were ever made solely of wax, though this was sometimes stated, probably because wax was expensive and this was a way of enhancing the prestige of the show. The term “papier-mâché” can be loosely applied to mean a laminate of paper built up inside a mold or directly on top of a model. More correctly, it means a mix of macerated damp paper, glue-size, and a base such as whiting, all well pounded together and reduced to a paste or composition. Most nineteenth-century theatres had workshops for the making of papiermâché scenic elements, props, and the very large false heads used in pantomimes and extravaganzas. Occasionally puppeteers modeled heads directly in solid papier-mâché or else worked it up on top of a wooden core. Most, however, preferred to make a laminate. Papier-mâché was used by Brigaldi’s, by D’Arc’s, Bullock’s, and Delvaine’s, and by Chester and Lee. The Jim Tiller figures include a number with papier-mâché heads, which may have been acquired from the remnants of the Bullock troupe in . Some of the Joe Hodson figures have papier-mâché heads, as do about half of the Clunn Lewis ones.15 According to the catalogue, De Vere’s supplied puppets with either papier-mâché or carved heads (depending on cost and requirements). Cheaper dolls were often made of wax over composition,16 and papier-mâché was used as a base for waxwork figures. Mayhew’s dollmaker in letter  of his articles for the Morning Chronicle written in  said: “I make the composition heads for the dolls – nothing else. They are made of papier-mâché (paper mashed, he called it). After they go out of my hands to the doll-makers, they are waxed. First, they are done over in ‘flake’ light (flesh colour), and then dipped in wax. I

050 c5 (83-108)

8/4/04

10:27 AM

Page 89

 a. “Negro” minstrel carved by Richard Barnard. Ken Barnard Collection.  b. “Negro” head. Stadtmuseum, Munich.

050 c5 (83-108)



8/4/04

10:27 AM

Page 90

The Anatomy of the Victorian Marionette

make a mould from a wax model, and in it work the paper – a peculiar kind of sugar paper.”17 This was very similar to the technique employed by D’Arc’s. As waxmodelers, D’Arc’s would have been used to working from molds. Molds can be kept and used again and again. This probably explains how, in , the company was able to sell a complete set of puppets to Bullock but be in action again within a few months. When William D’Arc was interviewed by Gerald Morice in , he informed him that all the heads of his music-hall stars were in papier-mâché.18 Marionette heads were generally large in proportion to the rest of the body. This was not just a matter of naïve folk art but a conscious decision. In  De Vere’s wrote a slightly indignant letter to the French showman Emile Pitou, explaining: “In England, where we are famous for our ‘fantoches,’ we deliberately make the head and hands bigger in comparison to the rest of the body, so as to give a sense of distance and perspective.”19 The head carries the personality of the puppet, and for the dramatic repertoire the head was about one-sixth the overall height of the figure, as opposed to the more anatomically correct one-eighth. This is the general case for the Clowes-Tiller dramatic figures, though a few, like the acrobats, have slightly smaller heads (about one-seventh). The most important puppets were the comic ones that addressed the audience directly, and these tended to have the largest heads. The Middleton Mother Shipton, the Clowes-Tiller Tim Bobbin, and Hodson’s Yorkshire Bob are all cases of a marionette whose head is about one-fifth of the total height. Holden’s moved toward proportionately smaller heads. This may have been part of an attempt to deceive the eye and give audiences the feeling that they might be watching real living people. The same is true of some of the Munich heads. The carved or modeled head was coated first with a layer of gesso, which provided a smooth and light-colored surface for the painting. Marionette heads were commonly painted with water-based paints and sometimes with some form of tempera, but oil paints were also used. A varnish or even a thin coat of wax or encaustic provided a slightly shiny finish. In most cases a restricted palette was used (red, white, black, or brown). Attention was drawn to the center of the face by red lips, the painting of the eyes, and sometimes two red dots in the nostrils.

050 c5 (83-108)

8/4/04

10:27 AM

Page 91

The Anatomy of the Victorian Marionette

The painting of the marionettes followed the conventions of stage makeup, translating the powder, rouge, or greasepaint into water or oil-based paint. There were conventions in stage makeup, which recommended the use of “Ruddy Rouge” for country characters, low comedians, and seamen. More upper-class characters, in contrast, had much paler faces. For “Indians, Mulattoes etc.” there was a brown paste known as “Mongolian,” which Samuel French sold before its replacement by greasepaint. The increase in lumens provided by electric stage-lighting after  called for more color on the human face. Leichner had already introduced greasepaints in the late s, and by the s they had become the standard theatrical makeup.20 The Clowes-Tiller figures reflect conventions of makeup, both from the earlier period and from the greasepaint era. Figures dating from before the s, provided they had not been repainted, were generally given a pale creamy-colored base coat. The ivory complexion that these figures display today may, in fact, be a degraded white oil-based pigment which has darkened and yellowed with time. Faces painted around  have much pinker complexions. Another convention, adapted from stage makeup, was the addition of dark lines, which can look a little odd but in fact are an approximation to the heavy lake liner that was required for wrinkles and furrows. Some puppet heads show considerable subtlety and delicacy in the painting, notably some of the Munich group. Most, however, were painted and repainted many times to retain freshness. The repainting was often crude, a touch-up job done by someone with very little skill.


Eyes The puppet’s eyes are the most important focus of attention. With modern puppets they are often enormous, and even in the nineteenth century they were proportionately large in what were already slightly oversized heads. Whanslaw, worried by the apparently “staring” eyes of many Victorian marionettes, missed the point that the puppet’s eyes can vastly reinforce gesture and expression. The simplest figures rely on paint alone to create the eye, but often there is a raised eyeball. Some of the Munich figures and some Clunn Lewis ones have very carefully carved eyelids with a slight ridge above the upper lid that throws an extra shadow.



050 c5 (83-108)



8/4/04

10:27 AM

Page 92

The Anatomy of the Victorian Marionette

The eye was painted as an oval white shape. Some figures have rather schematic outlining of the eyes (with a dark line on the top and bottom), whereas others, probably following portrait painting, outline the upper lid more heavily than the lower one. Some puppeteers drew in simplified eyelashes all around the eye. Such painting was little more than a piece of stylized primitivism, and the eyes looked as if they had been button-holed. From a slight distance, however, the stage effect of this was to make the eye less sharply defined and produce a sfumato effect. In the center of the eye was a black dot representing both pupil and iris. A rather dead and staring effect was avoided by highlighting this with a fleck of white paint. This practice, often found in eighteenthcentury portrait painting, gave life to the eye. It was much used by the Clowes-Tiller companies. The position of the fleck could be used to hint at looking upward, downward, or to one side, an effect that could be reinforced by the positioning of the pupil on the eyeball. Another technique was to paint a series of lighter streaks around the black dot to give the impression of an iris. This also helped avoid fixity and, with the movement of the head, could suggest that the eyes themselves were moving. Some of the Munich and Clunn Lewis heads have a hole in the center of the pupil, which creates a zone of shadow and gives a greater sense of life when the head moves. Red dots in the corners of the eyes were commonly employed in actors’ stage makeup. In the age of oil and gas lighting this gave extra life to the eye. If the head turned and the eye was partly thrown into shadow, the red highlight could also serve as a means of ensuring that the audience’s focus remained on it. Imitation of stage makeup probably explains how this idea found its way to the marionette stage. It is a technique employed in eighteenth-century portrait painting, however, and is also found in some eighteenth-century dolls.21 Glass eyes were used by a number of companies, but not necessarily with any degree of consistency. For example, two almost identical Christy Minstrel figures in the Clowes-Tiller group are distinguished by the fact that one has glass eyes and the other merely painted ones. Earlier glass eyes (often manufactured in Birmingham) were white with a black pupil and iris. Around  they became more realistic. They were usually almond shaped, with a blue or brown iris and a black pupil.22 After  most glass eyes for doll-making were imported from Germany. Glass eyes occur most frequently in papier-mâché heads

050 c5 (83-108)

8/4/04

10:27 AM

Page 93

The Anatomy of the Victorian Marionette

(Clunn Lewis and Delvaine), where they are easiest to insert, but we also find a number in carved wooden heads.


Mouths Mouths were shaped and painted red. Rustics might have open mouths with a couple of teeth showing, but generally the mouth was closed. Some of the Munich figures, surviving Holden ones, and Clunn Lewis ones have holes in the corners of the mouth as well as the eyes. This assists the play of light and shadow and, helped by head movements, can give an impression that the lips are moving. Very few dramatic figures had moving mouths. These were used mainly for characters who had to communicate with the audience directly. The Brigaldi troupe was seen as remarkable because of the number of figures with opening mouths. They became more common toward  for marionette versions of music-hall stars. The mechanics of an opening mouth were simple. The jaw was on a pivot with a counterweight that held it shut. Most commonly a wire or piece of strong string was attached to this; the other end emerged through a hole in the top of the head, where it ended in a loop to which a control string could be attached.


Hair and Wigs Puppet hair could be carved, molded, painted, or “real.” In some cases the hairstyle can help us date a puppet. For example, hairstyles of one group of figures in the Munich collection place them in the first half of the nineteenth century. Certain carving conventions were used for the representation of hair, most notably the punching of holes all over to suggest curly hair (quite common with ethnically African figures). The haircut could be evoked simply by the general shaping, but sometimes considerable attention was given to careful representation of the hair itself, complete with waves and curls. Male figures generally had short haircuts with carved and painted hair. By the later nineteenth century female figures were almost always provided with wigs. Many older figures ended up with wigs placed on top of carved hair. Some of the Munich figures have professionally made wigs using real hair, and the Clunn Lewis collection also



050 c5 (83-108)



8/4/04

10:27 AM

Page 94

The Anatomy of the Victorian Marionette

includes a few wigs with wig-makers’ labels: Clarkson of the Strand in London and G. H. Fox of Covent Garden. Cheaper alternatives were theatrical crêpe hair, horsehair glued on, or even rabbit skin or some form of astrakhan (as in the case of the Barnard minstrel figures). After  the popularity of wigs for doll-making opened up another readily available source. Wigs could be changed frequently, and marionette heads sometimes resemble pincushions with numerous holes made by tacks. As wigs took over from painted or carved hair, heads began to be made with round or even flattened tops to which wigs could be attached. Facial hair (beards, moustaches, sideburns) was nearly always carved, modeled, or painted. Only exceptionally was real hair used. The facial hair indicates the age or social status of the character. For nautical plays a sailor might be given extensive sideburns, whereas Pantaloon would be unrecognizable without his neat triangular white beard, coupled with his three tufts of hair. A heavy beard could indicate the leading man. Very often these styles are an indication of the period of the figure, but that can be fairly approximate. Acrobats and some older figures favored the Napoleon III moustache and goatee for a long time. Nearer the turn of the century, the smooth-shaven masher or swell sported a neat black moustache, which generally looked as if the points were well waxed.


The Body It is very difficult to date marionettes on the basis of materials used. Costume is not a reliable guide. Traditional principles of construction can persist for a long time, and most older figures have been altered. Those with a longer body, a slender waist, and more pronounced hips are most probably among the older ones and may reflect the elongated body of eighteenth-century dolls. Some of the Munich figures, despite replacement arms and legs, show these characteristics and may date back to at least the beginning of the nineteenth century. The standard figure used for dramatic work in the nineteenth century had a body consisting of two pieces of wood (shoulder yoke and hip piece) linked by a tube of cloth or sometimes wash-leather. This could be shaped and might be stuffed, generally with wood shavings, though rags and straw were also used.23 Victorian dramatic marionettes were

050 c5 (83-108)

8/4/04

10:27 AM

Page 95

The Anatomy of the Victorian Marionette

remarkably light for their size, which was often achieved by keeping the amount of wood to a minimum. In much of Europe a one-piece wooden trunk was usual. North Italian figures sometimes had a joint at the waist, and this may be the source of the English two-part body, which was comparatively light and flexible. A standard two-part body had an upper section shaped roughly as a shoulder yoke. Most bodies were unisex; but dancers had low-cut costumes, and where there was a need to display a fuller form the shoulder piece was carved to include the bosom. Another piece of wood generally sufficed for the pelvis, from which the legs were hung. Some companies preferred a heavier piece of wood that allowed the hips and bottom to be more carefully shaped.24 This may have been for appearance but could also have improved the balance of the figure.25 To reduce weight, many makers used the smallest amount of wood compatible with the construction of the figure, and in some cases shoulder and pelvis pieces were hollowed out. A small number of figures have survived where the only wood employed is a shoulder piece inserted into a stuffed and sewn torso onto which the legs are sewn. There are several such figures in the De Randel collection, one from an unknown source in Dublin (Lambert Puppet Theatre), and four in Munich. Sheila Jackson has two such figures dating from the early nineteenth century and part of an entire troupe constructed in this way. It is hard to tell how much this is an alternate, and possibly older, form of construction and how much it is a technique taken over from doll-making.26 A characteristic of D’Arc and Delvaine figures is a spring linking the hips and shoulder piece. A few of the Jim Tiller figures also have this type of body.27 The springs used were quite stout, forming a firm but flexible backbone. In some cases two parallel springs were used to the same effect. Delvaine’s continued to use this type of construction until the s.28 It is conceivable that this spring comes from the waxwork tradition rather than the marionette theatre. A spring can help a figure remain upright when not supported by strings.29 The neck and shoulders were linked with interlocking wire staples. Sometimes the head simply sat on top of the shoulders, but often the neck joint was sunk into a hollow which concealed it.30 Some of the Munich figures have distinctive and carefully shaped shoulder yokes, where the hollow to take the neck is over  cm deep and is traversed



050 c5 (83-108)

8/4/04

10:27 AM

Page 96

. (Garland) dancer, early nineteenth century, with padded body and legs sewn on. Sheila Jackson Collection.

050 c5 (83-108)

8/4/04

10:27 AM

Page 97

The Anatomy of the Victorian Marionette

from back to front by a stout piece of wire onto which the staple at the base of the neck is threaded. This method of attaching the head is unusual in Britain, but it does allow for heads to be changed with relative ease.


The Limbs English marionettes had joints at the shoulder, elbow, hip, knee, and often ankle. Tenon and mortise joints were usually restricted to knees (and ankles), which could be visible and where unidirectional movement was important. Visible limbs (usually forearms and calves) were well shaped, but there was little attempt to make the nonvisible parts of the body resemble human anatomy – what mattered was the movement. Like the figures of the Bunraku theatre, the average Victorian marionette was an articulated mechanism onto which a costume could be placed; it could then move in a way which evoked human motion. An Italian view of Holden’s figures was that they were completely limp and could collapse into a little heap of limbs and rags.31 It was this very lack of a rigid structure that gave them their magic. The upper arms usually consisted of a tube of cotton, which was sometimes stuffed or had a piece of wood slipped in to give rigidity. This was tacked onto the shoulder yoke, producing a joint that could move in any direction. The hand and forearm were carved in a single piece that could vary in length – sometimes it consisted of no more than a hand and wrist. Children and dancers could have complete arms carved in a single piece, incorporating a nonjointed elbow. A little girl in the Munich collection has one-piece arms which disappear under two little puffed sleeves, where they are linked directly to the shoulder. Acrobats were virtually the only figures to be provided with wrist joints. It was usual to tack the cotton tube of the upper arm to the forearm (sometimes it was turned back to produce a clean finish). If the carved forearm was very short, there might be some padding between this and the elbow seam. The elbow joint was created by a line of stitching. Some puppeteers made a little pocket here by using two lines of stitching and inserting a small piece of wood or a pad to give a more precise elbow movement and ensure that the arm moved at the correct angle. Where the upper arm was stuffed, a line of stitching was made both above and below the stuffing to help keep the shape and avoid bending



050 c5 (83-108)



8/4/04

10:27 AM

Page 98

The Anatomy of the Victorian Marionette

in the wrong place. Less frequently showpeople used a two-part wooden arm with an elbow joint. They employed a variety of joints, including a staple with a pin through it, a mortise joint, or a simple butt joint, which eliminated the need for any carpentry skills, was strong, and could work very efficiently. Legs were hung from the pelvis, frequently by means of a cloth joint, which was tacked directly onto the underside. Sometimes the front of the pelvis was cut away, and the legs were fixed on there. The use of a cloth hip joint is almost a hallmark of British marionettes. It can look crude but is remarkably effective. The cloth could bridge a gap of as much as  cm between the pelvis and the top of the thigh and thus allow for exceptionally free movement. A similar joint could occasionally be found in the eighteenth century in Italy, but it was generally restricted to Commedia dell’Arte figures, which had to be more flexible than the ordinary dramatic ones. It is just possible that this was the source of the English cloth joint. An alternative joint, found occasionally with the Clowes-Tiller and De Randel figures, is the leg hanging from a wire staple on the underside of the pelvis by means of a leather or canvas loop. A number of the Munich figures have a reversed version of this, with a staple in the top of the thigh, with a loop of cotton or leather running through it and tacked onto the pelvis. Elsewhere in Europe the hip was often a wooden joint, with tongues from the tops of the legs going into slots in the pelvis and held in place with pins. Another popular European joint was a T-shaped pelvis, with the legs hanging directly on a wire, which passes through the shaft of the T. These joints do not offer the same flexibility of movement and are comparatively rare in Britain. The thigh was generally a solid piece of wood, often tapered into a wedge at the top. Like the forearm, the thigh could be foreshortened and linked by a tube of cotton (sometimes stuffed) to the pelvis. This was how Delvaine’s reduced the weight of the upper legs.32 The larger Clunn Lewis figures, in contrast, maintained their comparative lightness by the extensive use of papier-mâché for limbs. The knee-joint was one that needed special attention if the figure was to work well. This and the neck could be the only points where two wooden elements had to articulate directly with one another. For the standard knee joint, the upper leg was hollowed out behind the knee; a tongue of wood, prolonging the shaped lower leg, was inserted into this hollow and made to pivot on a wire put through the joint. Clowes-Tiller’s

050 c5 (83-108)

8/4/04

10:28 AM

Page 99

. a. Male figure, first half of nineteenth century (Munich). b. Young man (Clowes-Tiller). c. “Negro” (Barnard). d. Unfinished figure, first half of twentieth century (Delvaine). Drawn by Clodagh McCormick.

050 c5 (83-108)



8/4/04

10:28 AM

Page 100

The Anatomy of the Victorian Marionette

sometimes used a reverse version of this joint, with the end of the thigh entering a hollow behind the shaped knee. A number of the Munich figures have butt joints held together with wire, but we also find metal staples held in place in a slot by a pin.33 Ankle joints were favored by many companies. A common joint consists of a small piece of sheet metal or else a staple, which pivots in a slot. A feature of D’Arc’s and Delvaine’s is a fairly thick piece of leather used instead of the piece of metal or staple. The Munich ankle joints are predominantly wooden mortise ones with a tongue of wood entering into a foot, but some of them are wire butt joints, like the knees and elbows.34


Animals As in much of Europe, larger marionette animals were nearly always two-dimensional, sometimes with relief on the side that faced the audience. The idea of a flat figure makes perfect sense once we realize that a fully three-dimensional horse, if made in scale to accompany an -cm marionette, could be large, heavy, and extremely awkward to handle, pack, or transport. Whanslaw illustrates a large flat cow that belonged to a William Clowes and was probably used for the pantomime of Jack and the Beanstalk.35 He describes it as a framework covered with hide, with a solid head and legs. The overall length was about  cm. He also mentions that the Clowes troupe had some racehorses and jockeys as flat cutouts about  cm long. In addition it had a flat cut-out elephant. The standard horse figure was a simple silhouette with the head and body cut out in wood and front and rear legs hanging on a pivot. This required no more than two strings (rump and nape) to operate, which meant that there was nothing to get in the way of a marionette mounted on its back. An extra string was used if the head and neck were also on a pivot, allowing some valuable tossing of the head. Harness and a leather saddle completed the animal. Many of these mounts were onesided, so that they could cross the stage in one direction only; but a few were treated in the same way on the reverse, which allowed them to go in the opposite direction. Provided that they remained sideways to the audience, they could look very convincing; a rocking of the control could evoke the idea of a galloping or prancing animal.

050 c5 (83-108)

8/4/04

10:28 AM

Page 101

The Anatomy of the Victorian Marionette


Perches and Crutches The mechanical means of operating a marionette vary across the world, from a bunch of strings held in the hand to a metal or wooden rod implanted in the head. The ordinary European marionette of the eighteenth century was operated by a stout head rod, often combined with a couple of strings or wires to the hands. William Hogarth depicted marionettes on various occasions. His satirical  engraving Enthusiasm Delineated depicts a preacher, dressed as Harlequin, holding two puppets, with others hung around the pulpit. The print shows hand strings and rod controls to the head but no leg strings.36 As time went by, different ways of holding an increasing number of strings or wires were devised. The top of the head rod developed a bar or other attachments to which these could be attached, and this control became known by showpeople as a “perch” or “crutch.” Until relatively late in the nineteenth century, the head rod remained in use for dramatic figures. It was either embedded directly in the head or hooked onto a staple in the top of the skull. A small number of figures with very solid head rods, or traces of them, can be found among the Joe Hodson (De Randel’s) figures. The Middleton Mother Shipton has a rod firmly fixed into the head, and the skeleton has a rod hooked onto a staple.37 If we are to judge by surviving figures, a staple in the head, combined with a lighter wire, was the preferred method in Britain until the s. It is quite possible that there was a progression from the rigid rod to a wire and that this wire, in turn, made way for a single head string. As long as a dramatic repertoire was the main activity of the company, the incentive to use an all-string figure was not great. When Thomas Holden embarked on his European tours in the late s, he presented a repertoire of pantomimes and variety, and the dramatic figures were not what the dazzled foreign audiences would have seen. Legend often has it that Thomas Holden “invented” the all-string marionette. There is no evidence to support this. Everything points to two distinct traditions in nineteenth-century Britain, the dramatic and the fantoccini. Fantoccini were associated principally with ingeniously worked trick figures and dancers, many of which were introduced by Italian showpeople in the late eighteenth or early nineteenth century. The all-string trick marionette was certainly



050 c5 (83-108)



8/4/04

10:28 AM

Page 102

The Anatomy of the Victorian Marionette

known in Italy, and it is likely that one of the specialities of the fantoccini was precisely that they were operated entirely by strings and did not require the cumbersome head rod that would have impeded many of their routines.38 Mayhew’s fantoccini man mentioned that he had a figure of a hornpipe-dancing sailor, which also took its hat off. He stressed that when he had finished performing he “took good care to whip it into a bag, so they should not see how I arranged the

. Middleton skeleton with head rod detached. Musée Gadagne, Lyon.

050 c5 (83-108)

8/4/04

10:28 AM

Page 103

The Anatomy of the Victorian Marionette

strings, for they were very backwards in their knowledge.”39 His emphasis on the strings suggests that they were part of the “secret” of what he was doing. Brigaldi’s, when appearing in London in the s, may have led the way for the all-string dramatic marionette. One critic commented on the lightness of the figures and the fact that they seemed to “float.”40 This could support a hypothesis that they were operated either entirely by strings or with only a light head wire. It is quite conceivable that Bullock’s company owed part of their success in London in , and subsequently in America, to the fact that they too were using all-string figures. By the time the Colla Company of Milan visited London for a season at Hengler’s circus in , the head rod or wire was perceived as a thing of the past. The Era reviewer complained that though the Colla figures were very cleverly worked, “the visibility of the central cord or wire, by which they were principally hung, somewhat impaired the illusion.”41 One of the Holden “innovations” may have been the replacement of the wire or string to the top of the head by two thinner strings, attached to the ears, though this too may have been done by D’Arc’s.42 This development opened the way for the modern marionette. Once the head rod had gone, the strings were attached to a horizontal bar or bars. Ernest Maindron commented on the fact that Thomas Holden’s marionettes were suspended from a horizontal bar, to which the numerous strings by which they were operated were fixed without getting tangled.43 Undoubtedly there was a mystique about Holden manipulation, but nothing suggests that they had special controls. Part of the secret of Thomas Holden’s success may have been an awareness of basic mechanics combined with a readiness to use more than one manipulator for a single figure. This could allow for a greater number of control bars but could only have worked if there was exceptionally fine coordination between the manipulators. A single bar was an adequate crutch for most figures. It was used extensively by the Middletons. Most of the Clunn Lewis figures have a single bar, and some Barnard figures are also operated this way. This allowed for one performer to operate two figures at the same time. When there was a second bar, its main function was to take leg strings. Trick figures usually required a second bar and sometimes more. Some companies continued to use the horizontal bar control until well into the



050 c5 (83-108)

8/4/04

10:28 AM

Page 104

. Jim Tiller using horizontal two-bar control, s. Archival photo. Museum of Popular Entertainment.

. Selection of controls. Drawn by Clodagh McCormick.

050 c5 (83-108)

8/4/04

10:28 AM

Page 105

The Anatomy of the Victorian Marionette

twentieth century.44 In America, George Middleton, son of Harry, did so until his death in .45 The single seven-string bar of the Clunn Lewis figures corresponded to current practice for dramatic figures. When there was a separate legbar, it often had a leather tab or wire loop in the center, allowing it to be slipped over a wire hook in the middle of the other bar when not in use. In this case the main bar normally carried only five strings. The bars were about  cm long, with notches around which the strings were tied.46 The points to which strings were attached might be changed according to the practice of the individual puppeteer. Consequently, many control bars also show traces of points where strings were attached at some stage; but a control bar with ten possible points of attachment does not necessarily indicate that ten strings were ever attached to it at one time. Many figures (including the Delvaine ones, some of the Clunn Lewis, D’Arc, and Barnard ones, and a group in Munich) have a main control bar in the form of a T.47 The T-bar may have begun as a head rod with a cross bar to take the hand and, if necessary, leg strings. With the disappearance of the head rod, a lesser projection (giving a T shape to the control) could prove valuable as a point to which a string might be attached.


Slangs and Slanging “Slang” was a cant term for a traveling show; but for the marionette performer the word “slangs” meant the strings, while the verb “slang” could be used for operating marionettes. As long as even a comparatively lightweight wire to the center of the crown of the head remained, the expressive potential of the puppet was limited. Once this had given way to two strings, attached at the ears, the dynamics of the puppet’s movement also changed. The older rod had allowed for strong and vigorous movement that was impossible with a suspending wire or strings. With head strings came an additional string attached to a staple placed midway between the shoulder blades. This was the speaking string. If tightened, it allowed the tension to be taken off the head strings and introduced a new type of head movement to accompany speech. The Tillers developed a system with strings attached to a small staple in the forehead and to one in the back of the head. The head could be rocked



050 c5 (83-108)



8/4/04

10:28 AM

Page 106

The Anatomy of the Victorian Marionette

backward and forward. The speaking string for dramatic figures was placed in the center of the five- (or seven-) string main bar. If this was a T-bar, it was tied to the end of the tail; a tilting of the bar meant that it could be tightened without an extra finger to pull the string, which allowed the head to drop forward. Shoulder strings, taking much of the weight of the figure and thus allowing for even greater freedom of head movement, probably did not come into use before the twentieth century. A bum-string was used by variety figures to provide an additional point of support for certain more acrobatic postures. This was unusual with dramatic figures before the introduction of shoulder strings. As more and more showpeople produced miniature versions of music-hall artistes, bowing became important, and this string came to be thought of as the bowing string. Methods of attaching strings to the figure also vary. Older figures can provide evidence of several positions for attaching the same string. Hand strings were usually attached to small staples, most commonly placed at the wrist in a way that allowed the hand to be held with the palm at a right angle to the ground. There are often extra small staples, however, probably designed for holding props or to allow for more specific movements or gestures. In some cases strings are directly attached around the wrists of the puppet. Additional holes are sometimes drilled in hands, to allow strings to run through and guide the hand in a particular direction. Staples appear in odd parts of the anatomy, often to allow for the passage of a string to permit a very specific gesture or the handling of a particular prop. We might note, for example, a staple in the mouth of a figure that needs to drink. As puppet costumes sometimes had to be changed on a daily basis, it is likely that the strings were attached to the crutch by a knot which could slide or be easily undone (slip-knot, clove hitch), since this would make it a simple matter to detach the strings. Strings tied directly around the wrists might have been removable in a similar way. Knee strings were sometimes attached by a bent pin to a staple or a small loop of thread or cotton at the knee, and their passage through garments could be facilitated by a well button-holed orifice.


Figure-Working When Brigaldi’s Royal Marionettes made their first appearance in London, there were some comments that they did not always remain

050 c5 (83-108)

8/4/04

10:28 AM

Page 107

The Anatomy of the Victorian Marionette

on the ground. Within a short time, however, the manipulation seems to have improved vastly; the Times could report that “they no longer wave timidly in the air, as when they first appeared, but they plant their feet firmly on the stage, as if aware of the stability of their position.”48 “Floating” (failing to keep the feet on the ground) is often seen as a mark of bad manipulation. To some extent this is true, but this view is colored by the assumption that marionettes are miniature actors and must move exactly like live human beings. Dramatic marionettes, once more emulating the live stage, moved with increasing naturalism in the later years of the nineteenth century. A review of D’Arc’s indicates this tendency: The figures are very cleverly worked, and they have this superiority over their Italian rivals – they actually walk, whereas many of their Italian rivals simply “float” off the stage without flexing their knee joints. Occasionally, it is true, Mons. D’Arc’s marionettes indulge in a kind of prancing gait, not quite in accordance with the character they represent; but these eccentricities are rare, and, on the whole, the Fantoches carry themselves, if we may use the expression, appropriately and with propriety.49 The attitude to fantoccini was different. H. W. Whanslaw commented: “In many of the old troupes of Fantoccini it was almost a tradition to swing the puppet onto the stage with a prodigious sweep, so that it appeared to fly through the air, scarcely touching the stage until it landed in the midst of the action.”50 The dramatic marionette existed in a theatrical context, and in relation to other figures, whereas the fantoccini figure was itself the central focus. Fantoccini acts did not need to walk onto the stage – in some cases their stringing did not even allow for that. They needed to be discovered in situ at the rise of the curtain or to be moved on as rapidly as possible. The street fantoccini booths of the earlier part of the century had very little wing-space, and showpeople may have had to drop their figures directly onto the stage. We are looking at two different traditions: one perpetuating a style of theatre executed by jointed figures, the other a type of trick performance designed to astonish and amaze. It is quite likely that the fantoccini techniques developed in an unprecedented way in Britain and that the dramatic figures followed suit a bit later as fantoccini



050 c5 (83-108)



8/4/04

10:28 AM

Page 108

The Anatomy of the Victorian Marionette

principles of stringing became the norm. The old rod marionettes of the dramatic repertoire may have begun to look very staid. The allstring control may have been perceived as a huge leap forward in terms of the realistic and expressive possibilities of the figure. The live theatre was moving increasingly toward realism, and it is hardly surprising if the marionette theatre was dragged along in its wake.

060 c6 (109-139)

8/4/04

10:29 AM

Page 109

Chapter 6 : Dramas, Pantomimes, & Screaming Farces
Repertory Theatre in Miniature The curtain’s up, the play begins, The villain plots, the maiden sins, Then, to the cruel wooden knife, The paste-board victim yields her life. The scene is changed. In castle walls The ghost the wicked Duke appalls, Pours all his crimes upon his head And, with a trident, strikes him – dead!1 Until the early twentieth century companies traveling on the back roads and in small towns and communities provided rural people with one of the limited available opportunities for seeing plays. Today the average puppet company seldom has more than three or four pieces in its repertoire at any one moment. In the nineteenth century traveling marionette shows often changed the program nightly to encourage audiences to return more than once. The majority of the plays performed were established pieces whose titles were familiar, even if their authors’ names were not. Some would have been performed by live actors in local theatres or on portable stages; others simply evoked a well-known individual, event, or crime, and a known name was in itself a form of publicity. Many were rather out-of-date by metropolitan standards. George Speaight established a list of ninety-nine plays performed by the Sunderland theatre between  and . Three of these he classified as folktales, eleven as based on eighteenth-century plays. Of the rest, three were from the early s, four from  to , twenty-two from the s, sixteen from the s, six from the s, six from the s, and three from the s. One of the last three was Dion Boucicault’s immensely popular Colleen Bawn, which

060 c6 (109-139)



8/4/04

10:29 AM

Page 110

Dramas, Pantomimes, and Screaming Farces

shows how a marionette theatre could seize the opportunity to stage a very popular new piece. Victorian theatre audiences expected a full evening’s entertainment. This would involve at least a drama and a pantomime or afterpiece. In addition there might be some concert items, such as a musical interlude, and audiences were seldom in a theatre for less than three hours. The marionette shows followed a similar pattern. A collection of trick acts, however, was an integral part of the program. What was interesting about this part of the bill is that it was something that belonged specifically to the marionette theatre and had been common practice in most of Europe since the later eighteenth century. A Middleton bill of the s begins with the tragedy of Arden of Faversham, with an epilogue spoken by Miss Middleton and then a comic song by Master Middleton. Next comes “the laughable interlude of the Sheep Stealer,” then the comic song “Lunnun (London) Is the Devil” by Master J. Middleton, and the four-year-old Miss E. Middleton in her favorite song in the character of a sailor boy. The evening was rounded off with the “Merry Man’s Festival,” which would have contained a string of the obligatory trick and variety acts.2 The standard program of the later Victorian marionette theatre lasted about two hours, combining a collection of variety acts, minstrels, and a drama. When “Professor” Horman visited Cork in  he was offering The Babes in the Wood, a “representation à la Christys,” “The Chinese Fair,” and a Pantomime.3 In the s Simms’s marionette program started with a drama, comedy, or farce. Part two was Christy Minstrels; part three, fantoccini; and part four, a pantomime (Bluebeard in this case).4 They advertised a nightly change of program, but this may have applied only to the first part. When Ellen Terry visited the Clowes marionettes in , the program began with a drama, The Robbers of Bohemia, followed by a series of variety acts, “The Italian Fantoccini.” Next was a concert-party act, the “Star Christy Minstrels,” then the pantomime of Bluebeard, and finally a “Harlequinade and the Grand Transformation Scene.”5 At the end of the century Wilding’s was still offering variety acts, a main piece (either a drama or pantomime), and a “screaming farce.” According to Richard Barnard, Charles Middleton’s repertoire included Black Ey’d Susan, My Poll and My Partner Joe, The Floating Beacon, The Waterman, The Charcoal Burner, The Hunter of the Alps,

060 c6 (109-139)

8/4/04

10:29 AM

Page 111

Dramas, Pantomimes, and Screaming Farces

The Miller and His Men, The Brigand Chief, The Mistletoe Bough, The Babes in the Wood, Uncle Tom’s Cabin, The Wife of Seven Husbands, The Miser and Three Thieves, Maria Marten or the Murder in the Red Barn, Alonzo the Brave, Sweeney Todd, Jack Sheppard, and Robin Roughhead, besides several pantomimes and comic scenes.6 By the s, however, Charles Middleton was already finding that two houses a night did not really allow for a full performance of a drama and that when the bill also included fantoccini or variety acts and “Negro” minstrels there was room only for a curtailed drama or a farce. Clunn Lewis, in an interview of , looked back to the dramatic repertoire at the beginning of his career. In the s, he says, “the nobility and gentry knew of the shows, for we always gave good plays.”7 His most popular show was Maria Marten or the Murder in the Red Barn (“I’ve played that hundreds of times”). He also regularly played Robin Roughhead, The Padlock, Black Ey’d Susan, and Arden of Faversham. In the earlier part of his career as a showman, Clunn Lewis claimed to have a repertoire of some seventy plays in his head (later he revised this to a more conservative thirty or forty), which he claimed were the “real” marionette plays and had never been published. He declared: “Many a time have I extemporised a play, reading up a new plot in the afternoon and trusting to my mother with the puppets in the evening. But those days are over now, and I keep for the most part to the old scenes, while my niece and her little son and a young ‘serio’ who has joined us help with the ‘varieties.’” 8 In  Joe Hodson mentioned that he possessed a lot of old playbooks which had belonged to his father and grandfather (and therefore probably went back to the s at least).9 These were acting editions produced by the publishers Dicks and Lacy and appear to have included The Wood Demon, Rob the Gardener, Charles Peace, and Robin Roughhead. With Dicks Standard Plays, which cost only one penny each, British marionette showpeople of the nineteenth century had easy access to very cheap acting editions. Most companies presented more or less heavily cut versions of acting editions, adapted to suit the personnel of the troupe, possibly the figures, and, above all, the duration that was required. A number of Clowes-Tiller scripts still survive.10 Most are acting editions marked for performance, plays heavily adapted with manuscript sequences summarizing large chunks of the action. Cutting the texts meant that most



060 c6 (109-139)



8/4/04

10:29 AM

Page 112

Dramas, Pantomimes, and Screaming Farces

scenes were reduced to two or three characters, which lessened confusion when one performer was responsible for several parts. The more formulaic aspects of melodrama writing were emphasized, with similar scenes appearing in play after play. This probably helped performers who might not always have known the text word for word. A number of notebooks with complete scripts, parts of scripts, or short sequences of dialogue also survive. They are often written in pencil, tightly spaced, and clearly of little use during a performance. They were probably used when a play was performed after some lapse of time and the performers needed to refamiliarize themselves with it. Scripts were memorized in the portable actors’ theatres, and the same was usually true of the marionette theatre.11 Some scripts are marked for individual performers with indications such as a dot, a cross, or a dash. The playbook for East Lynne, like many of the Clowes-Tiller scripts, was designed for the performer who, according to the markings, played the roles of Barbara, Joyce, Isabel (alias Madame Vine), and William. A further notebook is marked only with cues for Miss Cornelia. If we compare this script with some others in the same collection, we find that the scripts are commonly marked for three speakers, suggesting that the manipulation strength of the Tiller company at the turn of the twentieth century was three people.


The Folk Repertoire By the time of Victoria, the folk repertoire was rapidly disappearing. Mother Shipton lurked around as a folk figure but no longer had a dramatic context. Some pieces with a folk origin reemerged as pantomimes, notably Dick Whittington, Beauty and the Beast, and Jack the Giant Killer. Valentine and Orson was still being performed in Sunderland around . Only one folk piece had real significance in the Victorian marionette theatre: The Children [Babes] in the Woodwas almost as basic to the British and Irish repertoire as Genoveva was to the Germanic one. The story of The Children in the Wood was recorded in a popular ballad of  and published in chapbook form in . Powell and Stretch performed it at their marionette theatres in London and Dublin in the first half of the eighteenth century. Thomas Morton’s comic opera version, with music by Samuel Arnold, was performed at the Theatre Royal, Haymarket, in . The Babes in the Wood had become a Victorian pan-

060 c6 (109-139)

8/4/04

10:29 AM

Page 113

Dramas, Pantomimes, and Screaming Farces

. Joe Hodson and his wife in front of their stage. Scene from the Babes in the Wood with Yorkshire Bob, circa . John Bright Collection.

tomime by the s and was one of the more popular subjects from the s on. On the marionette stage it remained a folk drama. It was in Grey’s fantoccini repertoire in the s and in the Sunderland repertoire in the s. It remained in the repertoire of traveling marionette companies longer than any other piece. Bullock took it over from D’Arc’s in . His publicity at the Queen’s Hall described it as “the popular drama” “with superb scenic and choral effects.” In Ireland it was still being performed in the s, while in England Joe Hodson brought it into the s, using Victorian figures.12 Fragmentary scripts in notebooks associated with the Tillers and Harry Wilding indicate that marionette showpeople were familiar with Morton’s text.13 Names of some of Morton’s characters are used. Sir Roland is the evil brother, Sir Rowland, Josephine is the female servant, and the ruffian engaged for the murder of the children is Oliver. The name of Gabriel (a drunken servant in Morton’s play), however, is given to Walter, the loyal servant and protector of the children. Despite the



060 c6 (109-139)



8/4/04

10:29 AM

Page 114

Dramas, Pantomimes, and Screaming Farces

names, these marionette versions are closer to the ballad than to Morton and Arnold’s happy-end comic opera. They retain the death of the parents and the death of the children.14 One fragment of act I presents the deathbed scene of the father, with the children coming in for a last blessing, while their uncle kneels by the bed and grieves.15 In the second act Gabriel tells Josephine that he has overheard the uncle talking to the rascal about getting rid of the children. There is a comic scene in which he proposes to her, and she makes him go on his knees to do it properly. Returning to the serious plot, Roland instructs Gabriel to destroy the children and then discusses the matter with Oliver. At the end of the act, Sir Roland sends the children off for their “walk” in the forest. The rather incomplete script for act II allows for a brief soliloquy by the children now abandoned in the forest. When they die, an angel appears and reminds us that they are now to live “in realms of eternal bliss.” A second notebook contains some isolated speeches, most notably one for the dying mother in act I and for the uncle in act II. The mother’s deathbed speech mentions wealth and the fact that the uncle will inherit it in the event of the children’s death. The context of the speech makes it clear that the children and the uncle are present. As she dies the mother sings: Arise, sweet babes, arise. Come to your morning sacrifice. Your heavenly father Waits for thee Arise sweet babes and come to heaven with me. This is followed by a tear-jerking singing of “Home Sweet Home.” The ballad and some marionette productions contain a climactic scene in which the robins cover the bodies of the two children with leaves. This detail, combined with “a brilliant apotheosis,” was much in evidence in John Holden’s production, which was being performed in the early s under the title The Fairy of the Golden Cloud. In Faversham, Kent, an unsavory case of adultery and murder occurred in . The subsequent trial resulted in a number of hangings.16 The events became a part of folk memory and eventually led to Arden of Faversham, an anonymous play on the subject published in . The subject was performed in curtailed versions in the actors’ booths of the eighteenth-century fairs as a droll and also found its way

060 c6 (109-139)

8/4/04

10:29 AM

Page 115

Dramas, Pantomimes, and Screaming Farces

to the marionette stage. It is probable that puppeteers used an old and unpublished text, passed down through companies. In  a Faversham newspaper reported that “Mr Henry Collyer with his puppet show has acted ARDIN for several Nights with great Applause being perform’d after a curious manner”; in  another company with “German [sic] marionettes” was touring Kent and performing Arden.17 Because of their own Kentish associations, Middleton’s and later Clunn Lewis frequently performed Arden of Faversham. In the eighteenth century George Lillo reduced the sixteenth-century play to three acts. Dicks published a five-act version of his text, and this would seem to be the version most used by Victorian marionette companies. Lillo sharpened the character of Mosby as a calculating and melodramatic villain. He turned the adulterous wife into a victim, drawn along by the action into which her fault has led her, and also introduced some powerful dramatic scenes between Alice and her husband, Arden. He retained the comic murderer Black Will, and no doubt marionette versions of the piece allowed this character to develop ad libitum.


The Theatrical Repertoire There was close correspondence between the marionette repertoires and those for the portable theatres. The gothic melodrama (with its brigands and underground prisons, vigorous fight scenes, fires, and explosions) held its own. Isaac Pocock’s The Miller and His Men () was in the repertoires of Calver, Bullock, Middleton, and Wilding and was probably performed by a number of other companies.18 The supernatural paraphernalia of ghosts and vampires remained popular. M. G. Lewis’s The Castle Spectre () was still played in Sunderland in the s, as was William T. Moncrieff’s The Vampire (). The nautical melodrama, which had been very popular in the earlier nineteenth century, remained in the marionette repertoire long after such plays had dropped out of fashion. Nautical themes had been popularized by Isaac Bickerstaff’s comic opera Thomas and Sally (). The piece had passed into the repertoire of the Patagonian (Marionette) Theatre in the s. It was a precursor of one of the most popular nautical melodramas of the nineteenth century, Douglas Jerrold’s Black Ey’d Susan (), which was performed by many marionette companies and lasted into the twentieth century.19 My Poll and My Partner



060 c6 (109-139)



8/4/04

10:29 AM

Page 116

Dramas, Pantomimes, and Screaming Farces

Joe () was another popular nautical drama included in the marionette repertoire, while Luke the Labourer, with its more rural setting, also has the British Tar as its hero. T. P. Cooke, the great stage interpreter of the British Tar, starred in these plays. His fame contributed to the popularity of naval pieces on the marionette stage. In Edward Fitzball’s The Floating Beacon (), still being performed around , he played Jack Junk, who, with the crew of a British naval sloop, rescues the young hero and his persecuted mother from a beacon just off the Norwegian coast. This beacon is the equivalent of the brigand’s cave and the lair of two thoroughly gothic convicts, Ormoloff and Angerstoff. J. C. Cross’s Blackbeard the Pirate (), based on the redoubtable early-eighteenth-century pirate Edward Teach, was also set on board ship. It involved a captured Turkish princess and a Turkish prince come to rescue her, but also a grand naval encounter between sailors and pirates. Among the more popular fantastic pieces was the Arabian Nights–inspired Bottle Imp, by Richard Brinsley Peake, originally staged at the Royal Lyceum in .20 Speaight found The Bottle Imp in both the Brigaldi and the Sunderland repertoires. It may have been in Mumford’s repertoire,21 and D’Arc’s certainly had a figure that could have played the main role. Like Faust, the owner of the bottle containing the “Imp” possesses a “servant” who will perform magic for him, but the final owner of the bottle will belong to the devil. It is therefore important to get rid of the bottle as quickly as possible, but each time it must change hands for a lower price than before. The play is a nonstop excuse for scenic effects and pyrotechnics and was enormously popular for that reason. The imp himself usually appeared in a puff of smoke, wearing a “tightly-fitting skin dress, of a sea green, horns on the head, and demon’s face, from the wrists to the hips a wide-spreading wing, extending or folding at pleasure.”22 Clunn Lewis had an anecdote about The Bottle Imp: As for stories of the road and of the show, I should hardly know where to begin – and certainly not where to end. They would fill a book. One amusing little experience that comes into my mind happened in a Sussex village. We were playing “The Bottle Imp,” and a patron, well primed with beer, took a front seat and went to sleep. He was

060 c6 (109-139)

8/4/04

10:29 AM

Page 117

Dramas, Pantomimes, and Screaming Farces

suddenly awakened, however, by our fine display of sheet lightning, not to mention tin-tray thunder and strong smell of sulphur – we always believed in “red fire” in those days. Straightway “The Bottle Imp” flew out of the trap, and the awakened sleeper caught sight of the marionette demon. Never shall I forget seeing him scramble over the seats, and nearly break his neck down the steps. He thought his time had come.23 The stage portrayal of upper-class opulence, particularly if there was a shady underside to it, was a source of endless fascination to popular audiences. Many of the dramas of high life originated as prose narratives. Dion Boucicault’s The Corsican Brothers () was based on an Alexandre Dumas story and partly set in Parisian high society. Its vendetta plot offers two exciting duel scenes, a female victim caught up in the exceptionally nasty snares of a society villain, a scene of a carnival fancy-dress ball at the Paris opera, and a ghost scene (accompanied by one of the best-known pieces of theatre music of the century). Part of the fascination of the plot came from the theatrical exploitation of the idea of telepathy between identical twins. Plots of novels needed to be vastly simplified for the stage, and the theatrically effective moments survived. This tendency is very clear in the case of Charles Dickens’s Bleak House. There were at least eight stage adaptations, quite apart from the marionette ones. It generally appears under the title of Poor Jo(e), the Crossing Sweeper. D’Arc’s brought it to London in , when appearing at the Agricultural Hall, Islington: The first part of the programme is a version in three acts of Bleak House, which is subtitled Poor Jo. The main lines of the story are strictly adhered to. We have the scene at the inquest, with the examination of Jo, Lady Dedlock’s visit to the churchyard, and her disclosure to Esther Summerson of their relationship, and finally the deathbed of Jo in the arms of Mr. Snagsby, who, like Inspector Buckett, is visibly affected by the touching scene. . . . The figure representing Jo was especially well manipulated, and his gestures in the death scene were admirably natural. Inspector Buckett, Mr. Snagsby, and Tulkinghorn were also easily recognisable, and Lady Dedlock moved with dignity and grace whilst she was on stage. The scenes were neatly painted and quickly changed.24



060 c6 (109-139)



8/4/04

10:29 AM

Page 118

Dramas, Pantomimes, and Screaming Farces

Ambrose Tiller used the Dicks text of Poor Joe (no. ). The marked prompt copy shows extensive cuts. The drama is built mainly around the pathos of Joe’s situation and his death. This handling of a dramatic plot, which already represented a drastic reduction of the original novel, shows how the marionette theatre could transform the entire sense of the original novel and bring a comparatively minor character to center stage. The Lady Dedlock/Esther Summerson plot is so heavily cut as to be barely comprehensible, leaving Lady Dedlock as little more than a “woman with a past.” The characters of Esther, Guppy, Chadband, and Smallweed disappear altogether. We are left with Sir Leicester Hortense, Bucket, Snagsby, and, of course, Tulkinghorn, who is in possession of Lady Dedlock’s secret. The death of Joe provides a stock scene on which to hang the play. Similar situations are exploited for theatrical effect with William in East Lynne, Eva in Uncle Tom’s Cabin, and Little Nell in The Old Curiosity Shop (not to mention the two orphans of The Babes in the Wood). Mrs. Henry Wood’s novel East Lynne () had its tear-jerking moments as well as inviting sympathetic consideration of the “fallen” woman. It reached the portable actors’ fit-ups and marionette theatres in a number of versions, many of them not even printed. Such adaptations were not uncommon and consisted of whole passages of dialogue lifted directly from the novel and tacked onto a plot that linked the chosen episodes. The Tillers used a text from the Dicks collection, which they duly shortened and simplified. Act III ended with the death of Willie, who has not recognized his mother in Madame Vine. The fourth act was reduced to little more than the death of Isabel herself. This adaptation of East Lynne omitted most of the first half of the novel, which was rather incoherently alluded to. It started with the elopement of Lady Isabel and then focused on her return as governess to her own children under the name of Madame Vine. The whodunit element, which dragged readers along, was lost almost entirely, and audiences were informed almost incidentally that Francis Levison was a murderer as well as a seducer. The Hare plot and family, with the exception of Barbara, were omitted. Mrs. Mary Elizabeth Braddon’s  novel Lady Audley’s Secret reached the stage of the St. James’s Theatre in . In this case the woman with a past is a consummate villainess, who believes that she has successfully murdered her first husband. Clowes and Sons even went

060 c6 (109-139)

8/4/04

10:29 AM

Page 119

Dramas, Pantomimes, and Screaming Farces

so far as to decorate the parade space of their booth with a scene showing Lady Audley pushing her first husband into the well. W. H. Murray’s Obi; or, Three-Fingered Jack (), where the dominant figure is a black slave looking for a diabolical revenge, is a scary play. It certainly indicts some of the evils of slavery but presents a central character who has become a monster. Obi’s horrendous behavior, including the harking back to “pagan” religion, reinforced stereotypical associations of blackness and moral depravity. Obiwas in the Sunderland marionette repertoire and continued into the twentieth century in the repertoires of some portable actors’ theatres. One of the most popular novels to deal with slavery was Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin, which spawned a number of stage versions, including Edward Fitzball’s (). With a white not a black villain, it was altogether a more comfortable work than Obi and in tune with the antislavery feelings of the time. This too was in the Sunderland repertoire by the early s and was later performed by Barnard’s, Wilding’s, and Tiller’s. The Tiller text is contained in an exercise book and is made up partly of manuscript and partly of pasted-in extracts from a printed text. The first act revolves around the escape of George Shelby and then that of Eliza and her child, aided by uncle Tom. It concludes with the spectacular scene in which Eliza crosses the wintry river filled with ice floes (accompanied by a spectacular burst of theatrical green fire), while the foiled villain, Legree, stands on the bank and curses: “Tarnation seize the girl she ’as foiled us and ’as escaped.” Act II mainly concerns the dying Eva; the pathos of her death is offset by the comedy provided by the black servant Topsy. Act III begins with the auction of the late St. Clare’s slaves. Among them are Emmeline and Tom, who are bought by Legree. When Emmeline refuses to have intercourse with him, he orders Tom to flog her. Tom refuses and is himself taken off to be flogged by two other slaves. Emmeline escapes through the window of a barn; when Legree discovers this, he whips Tom. George reappears and attempts to arrest Legree for cruelty. Legree tries to shoot George but is himself shot by Marks. At this point we return to the printed text and the death of Tom in George’s arms. In a final apotheosis, Eva appears in a milk-white dress and stretches her hands in benediction over the kneeling figures of St. Clare and Tom to the accompaniment of “expressive music.” The number of figures on the stage at any one time is relatively small, and



060 c6 (109-139)



8/4/04

10:29 AM

Page 120

Dramas, Pantomimes, and Screaming Farces

this version of the play could be handled by three or possibly even two puppeteers. When H. Milner adapted Harrison Ainsworth’s ghoulish gothic novel Rookwood for Astley’s in , he picked up on the alternate title, Dick Turpin, Highwayman; having provided the story with an equine heroine, he called it Turpin’s Ride to York; or, Bonny Black Bess. The historical character of Dick Turpin is woven into the original novel to lend a sense of authenticity. The drama focuses on book , in which he leads the famous chase to York, while the rest of the story sinks into the background. We enjoy Turpin’s pranks as he tricks people out of money; and the episode of his leap over a tinker’s cart full of carrots is retained, if only to allow for a spectacular leap on stage. The drama also provides at least two spectacular scenes: a topographical view of York Minster as Turpin concludes his ride and a tableau of a burning barn, which includes a grand stage conflagration (not to be found in the novel). The marionette version of the play was staged by Wilding’s, Tiller’s, and the Browns. Dick Turpin was a criminal who was glamorized and elevated to the status of a social brigand. This also happened to the eighteenth century thief Jack Sheppard, who managed to escape from Newgate four times before being hanged at Tyburn in  in the presence of , spectators. He reached the stage in November , in John Thurmond’s pantomime Harlequin Shepherd. Young and good-looking, he enjoyed popular admiration; and his misdeeds became a subject for broadsheets. Harrison Ainsworth devoted a novel to him. J. B. Buckstone adapted this for the theatre in , and in the s (if not earlier) Sheppard became a hero of the marionette stage, with Middleton’s and Wilding’s. From Arden of Faversham to Jack Sheppard, real-life crimes attracted the popular imagination. Often they were made into ballads which could be sold as broadsheets. A number of eighteenth-century chapbooks were based on robbers and murderers and the retribution meted out to them. All this became part of the common stock of popular mythology and transferred readily to the more popular theatres, especially the fairground drolls. The nineteenth century became progressively more and more interested in criminality and the criminal underworld, as evidenced by the novels of Charles Dickens and Eugène Sue. Countless melodramas terminated with a court scene where the “truth” was ultimately revealed and wickedness punished. In a society that was often

060 c6 (109-139)

8/4/04

10:29 AM

Page 121

Dramas, Pantomimes, and Screaming Farces

far from just or equitable, the theatre provided a satisfying fantasy world of natural justice. As newspapers became more widespread, they took over from broadsheets; people were hungry for detailed accounts of crimes and trials. One of the most sensational crimes of the nineteenth century was the murder of Maria Marten by William Corder at Polestead, Essex, in . It was widely reported in the newspapers of the time, and a full account of the trial was subsequently published. The events took an immediate grip on the popular imagination; even a month before the trial two versions of the story had been staged at Polstead fair.25 Joe Hodson claimed in  that Maria Marten had been performed by his grandfather, who was in Essex at the time of the Polestead murder and immediately turned this tragic fait divers into a drama with Tim Bobbin as the comic figure. This is perfectly plausible, but it may be no more than a good case of myth-making. Clunn Lewis, one of the last showpeople to present Maria Marten, said that the son of the unfortunate Maria came to see him performing the drama and did not turn a hair, while Richard Barnard had a similar story that Charles Middleton was requested not to perform the play in Colchester in the late s because a relative of Corder lived there. The social difference between William Corder and Maria, the death of their child, Corder’s luring of Maria to the Red Barn in man’s attire, attempting to shoot her then battering her to death and burying her there, and the subsequent discovery of the badly decomposed corpse (recognized by clothing and two missing teeth) were already the sort of material that made for popular interest. The revelation of the murder through Maria’s mother’s dream, the final tracking down of Corder (married and running a girls’ school), and his trial and subsequent punishment were the material out of which myth is constructed. For most people this was reality imitating fiction – and it also carried with it the dire warning to any young woman who might be foolish enough to become infatuated with a man of a higher social class and allow herself to be seduced. Dion Boucicault’s Colleen Bawn is based on very similar true-life events. His heroine, Eily, escapes drowning in the famous water cave scene, however, and ends up as a respectable married woman. The Colleen Bawn, first staged in New York in , entered the D’Arc marionette repertoire in . By  John Holden (Senior) had staged his own



060 c6 (109-139)



8/4/04

10:29 AM

Page 122

Dramas, Pantomimes, and Screaming Farces

highly successful marionette version in Liverpool “in a style as regards scenic effect and the manipulation of the automata surpassing anything they have hitherto produced. The Cave Scene is a work of art.”26 The locale in which a crime took place was so heavily charged with associations that it became an actor and not just a background. The very sight of the shop of Sweeney Todd, the demon barber of Fleet Street, was designed to send a frisson down the spine. The true story of the barber who tips his customers into the cellar, where they are murdered and turned into meat pies to be sold by his neighbour, Mrs. Lovett, had become part of popular mythology. Marionette performances were probably based on the text of George Dibdin Pitt’s Sweeney Todd, the Barber of Fleet Street: or, the String of Pearls ().27 Walter Tiller and Harry Wilding were both performing the piece at the end of the nineteenth century. Their version probably omitted the rather complex subplot (and extra characters) that Pitt added to the story. Todd’s assistant, Tobias, forced to serve him because of a threat of blackmail, and the cheerful street-boy, Jarvis, who rescues him, would almost certainly have been retained in the marionette versions of the piece. Tobias is another variant of poor Joe, whereas the comic, and streetwise, Jarvis is effectively the young popular hero. The play offers three major scenes. The first is Todd’s shop, complete with a chair on a pivoting trap which has an empty chair mounted on the reverse (an opportunity for an interesting piece of stage machinery). The Bakehouse, described as “a gloomy cellar of vast extent and sepulchral appearance,” is instantly recognized as a variant of the prison scene of the gothic melodrama. It is made all the more sinister because “a fitful glare issues from the various low-arched entrances in which a large oven is placed” – a reminder of the culinary fate awaiting the barber’s victims. The final scene is the classic courtroom. Henry Arthur Jones’s The Silver King () was a popular drama about a man framed for a murder of which he is innocent. He is sentenced for this but manages to escape (thanks to a train crash), go to America, return wealthy, save his wife and children from the villain, and eventually confront and deal with the latter, who, of course, is the real murderer. Two texts of this long and complicated five-act play are among the Clowes-Tiller scripts. Both are in manuscript form. One is incomplete but retains the five-act structure.28 The second script is in three acts and labeled “condensed version for marionettes.” This text

060 c6 (109-139)

8/4/04

10:29 AM

Page 123

Dramas, Pantomimes, and Screaming Farces

is heavily cut but also contains extensive pieces of linking text to cover the cuts. The lengthy first scene of the original passes rapidly, and a brief rewritten scene two leaves little more than the drunken Denver’s loudly expressed threat to kill Ware. The latter is robbed and murdered a couple of scenes later by the “Spider” (Skinner) and his associates Coombes and Corbett. Denver is onstage for this but has been chloroformed, which leads to his own belief that he must have committed the murder. The subsequent action is cut, and two years pass. Nelly, Denver’s wife, and her children are now living in poverty in a cottage on the estate which the Spider has purchased on the proceeds of crime. He has discovered their identity and plans to evict them in the snow (Wilfred, the boy, is ill and possibly dying). Denver, now white-haired, reappears, having made his fortune and become the “Silver King.”29 The act concludes with recognition by his family and the payment of the rent. The third act is devoted to retribution. Denver disguises himself as an elderly halfwit and gets work with the criminals (the marionette version cuts most of the preparation of the situation). Denver, wearing an “old coat, slough [sic] hat,” arrives in the old kitchen where the criminals meet. When they begin to quarrel among themselves, Skinner threatens to kill Corbett, who retorts: “Yes, the same way you murdered Geoffrey Ware” (thus indicating clearly to Denver that he was not the murderer). A further interest of the manuscript is a sketch of the scene showing the relative positions of the characters. The scene has a divided stage (inside and outside). At the end of it Denver goes stage right and shuts the door behind him, exclaiming: “Caught like rats in a trap!” Inside there is a chair, center, with Coombes, a table, and then another chair with “Spider,” right, and down right is Corbett. Such production notes, like the costume changes of Denver, are exceptionally rare in the manuscript of a marionette text. When Denver appears in the final scene, dressed once more as the Silver King, Spider sends for a detective, who unexpectedly puts the handcuffs on him, since Coombes and Corbett have turned queen’s evidence. It was common practice for companies to make fairly free adaptations of known and existing plays. Occasionally the puppeteers also cobbled together their own plays, borrowing effective scenes and plot elements from this repertoire.30 Crippen; or, Tracked by Wireless, which featured on the Wilding bills, was written by one of Harry Wilding’s sons.31 Despite Wilding’s own initial skepticism, it proved one of the



060 c6 (109-139)



8/4/04

10:29 AM

Page 124

Dramas, Pantomimes, and Screaming Farces

more successful pieces in the repertoire, no doubt because of its topical and gruesome subject coupled with the use of wireless to find a criminal. Among the Clowes-Tiller texts is a manuscript of The Factory Girl of Manchester, which is a puppeteer’s compilation of several existing pieces rather than a completely original play in itself. This manuscript tells us a great deal about the working methods of the traveling puppeteer. The major source is John Walker’s machine-wrecking play The Factory Lad (Surrey Theatre, ). This contains the name of the villain, Westwood, and a very similar name for the male lead, Will Rushton (as opposed to Rushworth), the former good worker, now poacher and outcast. Walker’s play has a very simple plot and no female interest apart from the desperate wife and daughters of one of the redundant weavers. Two key scenes are provided by Walker: the final court scene, in which Will shoots the factory owner, Westwood, and the burning of the factory. From J. T. Haines’s The Factory Boy (first performed in  and printed in Dicks) comes the theme of the factory worker falsely accused of theft because of evidence planted on him by the factory owner.32 Tiller’s (or whoever cobbled the piece together) introduced a central female figure threatened with abduction and worse, who provides the title for the play. In The Factory Girl of Manchester Will Rushworth returns from prison on a ticket-of-leave after eight years, just in time to save his sister Rose from abduction by Westwood. When Walter, Rose’s boyfriend and obstacle to Westwood’s designs, is framed for arson and about to be convicted, Will rushes into the courtroom. He stabs Westwood, avenging at the same time the deaths of his wife and daughter who died in poverty while he was in prison. Comic relief is provided by the rustic Bob, muddle-headed and of great integrity. He argues with Westwood in act I and in the second scene returns to the stage drunk and delivers a monologue before Westwood enters and attempts to assault Rose.33 Just before the burning of the mill, Bob has a long scene as a comic night watchman. He sees Will knock Westwood down and hears him say to his recumbent opponent: “I’ll owe you as much mercy as you did my wife and child when they were in your power.” As if commenting on this, Bob as night-watchman then turns a dramatic situation into a comic one, as we hear him offstage calling: “All’s well All’s well All’s well.” He sets off for the courthouse, declaring that he will be “principal wickedness” (witness) to prove the innocence of

060 c6 (109-139)

8/4/04

10:29 AM

Page 125

Dramas, Pantomimes, and Screaming Farces

Walter. In the final courtroom scene like that of Boucicault’s Shaun the Post in Arrah na Pogue (), he subverts the dignity of the court, but he is too confused to win. He has some of the longer speeches and, as the stock comic figure, would certainly have had freedom to improvise too. Even at the end, after Will stabs Westwood and announces that now “the convict can die on the scaffold happy,” Bob has the last word as watchman. His voice in the background can be heard repeating “All’s well.” The script of the Factory Girl has a number of directions, which help us envisage how it would have been staged. For the destruction of the mill the “biz” (business) at the side (offstage) indicates “cracking wood and red fire.” When Will announces his plan to burn the mill – “this night’s work shall make the proud Factory master and the convict even” – a stage direction indicates that he laughs and then “forms picture centre” for the final tableau of the act. Act II, which shows the exterior of the mill, starts with a crowd scene and “biz” indicating “workpeople wishing goodnight.” A change of scene from before a fire or explosion to after that event was popular on the Victorian stage. In this play the fire scene is followed by a scene at the ruins of the mill. The final scene is a “Full police court set,” with indications of the positioning of characters and elements of furniture: “Witness box left prisoner box Right Counsel at table L. centre dise [sic: dais] Arlington (Walter) prisoner R Westwood witness Left.” The reduction of the speaking parts to a limited number of roles allows even the final scene to be managed by a small number of manipulators. On the marionette stage characters not directly involved in the action at a given moment are frequently suspended, to free the manipulators’ hands. In the earlier parts of the play there are never more than three speaking characters on stage; and even in the court scene the focus of attention is always on groups of two or three characters. The others can simply be left to hang in the background until the moment when they may be more centrally involved.


Pantomimes Marionette companies often used the terms “pantomime” and “harlequinade” as if they were synonymous. The confusion stems from the history of pantomime itself. In a classical sense it meant a dumbshow, or acting without words, but in the eighteenth century it coalesced with



060 c6 (109-139)



8/4/04

10:29 AM

Page 126

Dramas, Pantomimes, and Screaming Farces

a genre performed at the minor theatres in France and involving characters of the Commedia dell’Arte. In the fairground theatres of Paris these performances often carried an element parodying the productions of the Comédie Française or the Opera. In England in the early eighteenth century a group of Commedia dell’Arte characters was grafted onto a more serious subject as a form of comic relief. The almost invariable subject was the love of Harlequin and Columbine and the efforts made by Pantaloon (the elderly father, guardian, or suitor of Columbine) to retrieve her. The pursuit of Harlequin and Columbine gradually extended to a dozen or more scenes, enlivened by the capacity of Harlequin’s bat to work magical transformations. In the latter part of the eighteenth century the “Clown,” already a stock role of the English theatre as a rustic simpleton, found his way into the harlequinade but was not very much developed in dramatic terms. At the beginning of the nineteenth century Joey Grimaldi began to perform the roles of Clown and Punch in pantomimes. He made the Clown the center of attention in Charles Dibdin’s Harlequin and Mother Goose at Covent Garden in . His clown was transformed from the oafish rustic into a highly athletic, gluttonous, and clever figure, whose main aim seemed to be to play tricks on other people. In many ways his Clown seems to have taken on the characteristics of Punch. The Grimaldi clown rapidly became a marionette character. By  Middleton’s had a version of Mother Goose in the repertoire as Mother Goose; or, The Golden Egg.34 The eighteenth-century repertoire had been full of Harlequin pieces, but these gradually disappeared from the theatre and marionette repertoires. In the s a late survival was still in the Sunderland marionette repertoire, playing the pantomimes of Harlequin O’Donoghue; or, The White Horse of Killarney and Harlequin Little Tom Tucker. Generally, Harlequin faded as a character and ended as little more than a decorative dancing figure, while his magic bat lost its transformative power, which was now vested in the wand of the fairy queen. After Grimaldi, the harlequinade element of pantomime receded, and the main story came to the fore, developing into the full-scale Victorian pantomime. The harlequinade itself was no longer central to the action but became an appendage at the end, which then gradually disappeared in the early twentieth century. By the end of the nineteenth century some theatres hired a harlequinade group just for this purpose. In the marionette the-

060 c6 (109-139)

8/4/04

10:29 AM

Page 127

Dramas, Pantomimes, and Screaming Farces

atre the situation was rather different. The longest surviving element of the pantomime was the harlequinade, with Clown as the dominant figure, while the dramatic fairy-story plot became ever more vestigial. What we think of today as the “Victorian” pantomime, with its harlequinade, visual tricks, and transformations, was firmly in place on the marionette stage by the middle of the nineteenth century. Victorian pantomimes were drawn from a variety of sources from folktales to the Arabian Nights and gradually came to replace any other form of dramatic element with many companies. Puppet pantomimes were not necessarily restricted to the Christmas season but could appear at any time of year. In the s Wilding’s, one of the largest portable marionette theatres, advertised six pantomimes in the repertoire: Little Red Riding Hood, Beauty and the Beast, Blue Beard, Robinson Crusoe, Cinderella, and Dick Whittington and His Cat. During the years in Dublin (–), D’Arc’s played Blue Beard, Beauty and the Beast, The Forty Thieves (Ali Baba), Aladdin, Little Red Riding Hood, Cinderella, and the popular Irish piece O’Donoghue; or, The White Horse of Killarney. Simms had been presenting Blue Beard and Sinbad at least as early as , while his Christmas pantomime of – was Jack and the Beanstalk.35 Chester and Lee were advertising Mother Goose in  and four years later claimed to have twelve pantomimes in their repertoire. George Colman and Michael Kelly’s immensely popular “Turkish” opera Blue Beard had entered the marionette repertoire by , when J. Rebecqui staged it with his “fantoccini.”36 A hundred years later Bluebeard had become a favorite pantomime subject, and this serial killer of wives still appeared as a Turk. The Clowes-Tiller scripts include Red Riding Hood, Jack and the Beanstalk, and Sinbad the Sailor. The plot, written in comic doggerel, usually has only the most tenuous relationship to the original tale; the dénouement is provided by the arrival of the good fairy, who dishes out rewards and retribution and transforms the characters as appropriate. Sinbad becomes Harlequin; the Princess Badora, Columbine; her father, the King, becomes Clown; and the more sinister Davy Jones, who causes shipwrecks, is awarded the role of the inevitably ridiculous and ridiculed Pantaloon. In Red Riding Hood it is the Wolf (alias evil Duke Ravensburg) who gets this part. The Victorian theatre had a special line in large



060 c6 (109-139)



8/4/04

10:29 AM

Page 128

Dramas, Pantomimes, and Screaming Farces

papier-mâché heads, and the pantomime characters of Clown and Pantaloon usually emerged out of these. The lead characters or lovers slipped off their top garments to reveal the costumes of Harlequin and Columbine underneath. On the marionette stage, instead of using masks, it was usual for a separate set of figures to replace those of the fairy-tale main plot. For Christmas, , John Holden’s Marionettes were in Liverpool, presenting “in the evenings a Pantomime of Blue Beard, with Twenty Wives and Twenty-one Babies.”37 The show was promoted as the funniest in the town; but five years later, in , the emphasis was on its spectacular nature: This is certainly one of the most greatest productions ever introduced upon a music-hall stage, every detail being carried out so closely to imitate nature that the keenest eye cannot reconcile the action of the performers with the mechanism. The opening scene, one of submarine life, in which the monsters and mites of the mighty deep are seen; the grand procession of Blue Beard and his Retinue; the arrival of Blue Beard’s chariot – one blaze of grandeur.38 This may even have been the prototype of the underwater ballet sequences so popular with twentieth-century marionette theatres. The same scene appeared in the program of James Holden, and Delvaine’s also had an underwater scene, viewed through gauzes. Jack and the Beanstalk and Dick Whittington are examples of folk material that was adapted for the marionette stage and became pantomimes.39 Dick Whittington (together with his cat) found his way into the repertoire of the drolls and puppet shows of the fairs in the seventeenth century. Samuel Pepys saw a puppet version in : “it was pretty to see; and how the idle throng do work upon people that see it, and even myself too.”40 The most complete account of Jack and the Beanstalk as a marionette pantomime is that of Louis de Moranges, who describes Thomas Holden’s production: The giant, who is a sort of ogre, kidnaps a little princess. Her lover comes to the giant’s home, rather like our Tom Thumb, and, disguised as a pilgrim, offers himself up to the terrible appetite of Giant Blunderbore, the ogre in question. Just as the giant hopes to devour

060 c6 (109-139)

8/4/04

10:29 AM

Page 129

Dramas, Pantomimes, and Screaming Farces

the pilgrim, Jack and the little princess, helped by the giant’s servant, escape through the window. The furious giant rushes after the fugitives, and as in a simple French “féerie” draws his sword against Jack. The little princess’s little lover has a strong arm. He runs the giant through and stretches him on the ground like a rabbit. The peasants arrive and dance a saraband. But Blunderbore opens one eye. “Oh, what if I were to dance too” he says, although he is dead, and he joins the dancers. Then the fairy arrives and turns the characters into Harlequin, Clown, Columbine and the other characters, after which there follows a comic pantomime which, as you can imagine, has nothing to do with Jack the Giant-Killer.41 Beauty and the Beast had become a popular fairy extravaganza following J. R. Planché’s version staged at Covent Garden in . It first appeared in the D’Arc and Holden repertoires in . John Holden’s played it through the s; and when Thomas had his season at the Cambridge Music Hall in , he also presented it as a pantomime. The first scene turned Planché’s “bower of roses” peopled by fairies into a dark scene with demons, more evocative of a prologue to Faust. The reviewer comments on the performance being “like one carried on by real miniature beings,” but then moves on to the harlequinade, some of the tricks, including the dancing skeleton, and the transformation scene.42 Moranges gives a fuller account of Thomas Holden’s Beauty and the Beast. For someone unfamiliar with the Victorian pantomime and bewildered by its treatment of the original story-line, Beauty and the Beast (in twenty-four scenes, including spectacular transformations) must have seemed strange: “Beauty is a princess who lives in a palace. The Beast is a sort of bear who lives nearby. The Beast wishes to abduct Beauty and comes and declares his love to her. Beauty protests. Her grotesque squire is chased off by the Beast, and just as something terrible is going to happen . . . the play stops. Nothing else happens and Beauty and the Beast makes room for Pantaloon and the others.”43 Beauty and the Beast was also presented by the Jewell-Holden’s company in Holland at the Kurhaus, Scheveningen, in . The program includes a full synopsis of the piece.44 The first scene is completely different from the outdated first scene of Planché’s work, with its then topical reference to British foreign policy and the situation of the declining



060 c6 (109-139)



8/4/04

10:29 AM

Page 130

Dramas, Pantomimes, and Screaming Farces

Ottoman Empire. A “bottom of the sea” scene, probably capitalizing on the success of such a scene in Blue Beard, provides a reason for the transformation of the Prince. In the absence of a surviving script, we can only assume from the synopsis that the action was loosely based on Planché’s script until scene . The harlequinade occupied the remaining scenes, leading up to the final apotheosis: Scene  Bottom of the sea Busy at their work. The Prince, wandering there, becomes transformed to a Beast – The curse laid on him and its conditions. Scene  Pump’s Folly, Brixton. Arrival of the good ship “Polly.” Departure of Mr Pump and his faithful “John Quill.” Scene  Forest in the snow. Mishap to the travellers. Scene  Fairy home to the Beast. Arrival of the travellers. Unfortunate resolution to pluck the rose. Appearance of the Beast. Despatch of his mission to Pump’s home – the heartbroken travellers return homewards. Scene  The Beast’s Palace. Arrival, dismay, explanation – The Curse removed – Instantaneous appearance of the Fairy Queen who transforms the characters – Arrival of Clown, Pantaloon, Harlequin and Columbine – the fun grows fast and laughter reigns supreme. Scene  Street in London. Scene  Mysterious photographic studio of Boscage (Paris). Scene  Crystal Palace, Sydenham, England. Scene  Spectre. Bed chamber – The Haunted Chateau. Scene  Broadway, New York. . . . Gorgeous apotheosis and transformation scene – Enchanted abode of the Good Fairy in the Glittering cave of coral – Appearance of Neptune in his chariot drawn by the Golden Horses of the Sun – Venus and the Naiads of the Silver Stream – the leaping cascade of bubbling waters. The whole illuminated by Electric light of different colours and introducing a Real Waterfall. The scenery and decorations by the most eminent artists in Europe. Little Red Riding Hood had been a pantomime subject at the Adelphi in  and at Covent Garden in  (under the title Harlequin and Little Red Riding Hood); by the s it had become one of the most frequently performed stories of the pantomime repertoire. Once the

060 c6 (109-139)

8/4/04

10:29 AM

Page 131

Dramas, Pantomimes, and Screaming Farces

trappings of the pantomime are stripped away, there is the ever-popular melodrama theme of virtue under threat, this time from the ambiguous figure of the Duke/Wolf. Little Red Riding Hood was presented by D’Arc’s from at least . Bullock sold a full text as part of the program when the show appeared at the St. James’s Hall in London and subsequently in America.45 On the occasion of the – tour of Australia and New Zealand, McDonough and Earnshaw sold a text which they indicated had been written expressly for the Royal Marionettes by Silas S. Steel.46 With some minor modifications, the text seems to be substantially the one used by Bullock. Little Red Riding Hood is written in appalling doggerel. The plot and motivation are of the sketchiest. The human characters are Little Red Riding Hood, her mother (Monica), and her grandmother (Dorothy), Ravensburg (a wicked baron, later the wolf), Poggidorf (a foppish courtier), and Hyacinth (a son of King Carnation, disguised as a shepherd). Fairies and pygmies are grouped under their queen, Amaryllis, and four gnomes under their king, Hobblegobblewitz. Most popular was a “wonderful” talking Jackdaw. Scene  is in the cave of the gnomes (the stock cavern scene) and opens with a chorus allowing for some topical allusion: We’re the board of Brokers Where Speculators come. In a brief exposition Hobblegobblewitz reveals that Ravensburg is in his debt and hints that if the money can’t be found he might accept: some fair innocent to make me good, and set me free [we never learn from what], like fair Red Riding Hood. Ravensburg then arrives, exchanges some awful puns with Hobblegobblewitz, and asks for a wolf-skin so that he can hunt down Red Riding Hood (and palm off the grandmother on the gnome). We then move from the gnomes’ cave to the fairy grotto. Amaryllis is aware of the dangers facing Red Riding Hood and also that Prince Hyacinth is wandering around dressed as a shepherd. He ends the scene with a sentimental number based on the song “If Ever I Cease to Love.” The words of this lyric (in the McDonough and Earnshaw version) reflect the passage of the Royal Marionettes to America:



060 c6 (109-139)



8/4/04

10:29 AM

Page 132

Dramas, Pantomimes, and Screaming Farces

May Erie Railway Bonds always fail to pay the “spons,” If ever I cease to love. May I for Lager beer, Feel thirsty for a year, If ever I cease to love. The six “belles” of the fairy court – Rosebud, Mignonette, Violet, Apple Blossom, Peach Bloom, and Sweet Briar – together with the Queen’s two “lieutenants” – Lily Leaf and Flower Bell – perform a ballet entrée to the Chilperic Quadrilles of Hervé (Florimond Rongé). After these two prologue scenes, we move to grandmother’s cottage in the wood, where Monica and Dorothy are together. Dorothy’s conservatism comes out in a topical complaint about people enjoying a holiday: Monica: All work and no play makes Jack dull, says the song. Dorothy: They’ll want all play and no work ere long. They’re always clamouring for some improvement. They’re agitating now for the eight hours movement!47 Later the Duke arrives and is about to force entry to the cottage, but Amaryllis casts a spell which obliges the Duke and Poggidorf to do a comic song and dance routine until she releases them. In the fourth scene (a forest in winter) the fearful Red Riding Hood is accosted by the Duke, now in the form of a wolf, who persuades her to trust him. Once she has gone, Poggidorf is startled to find that the wolf is the Duke. Then Hobblegobblewitz arrives to warn the Duke that his time is running out; a chorus of pygmies concludes the scene, singing “Pop Goes Your Rifle and All Will Be Well.” Old Dorothy, in her cottage, sings a little song (“How I Love You, Ridy Darling”) and then falls asleep. Amaryllis appears with the Jackdaw, who is left to protect Red Riding Hood and calls for the police. He also has an amusing scene with the Wolf, as the latter disguises himself and gets into bed for the classic scene, which ends: Red Riding Hood: You can’t be granny! Wolf: No I’m not your granny. Come, time’s up. Red Riding Hood: Oh spare me. Wolf: No: entreaties scorning, I’ll drag you down.

060 c6 (109-139)

8/4/04

10:29 AM

Page 133

Dramas, Pantomimes, and Screaming Farces

Red Riding Hood: Hark! The clock is giving warning. Wolf: (Wolf is shot) It’s just struck One. Oh, my! I’ve got my gruel. Hobblegobblewitz: Now, wicked Duke, you’re ruined, and no more will do ill. Wolf: O, spare me! Spare me! Amaryllis and the pygmies arrive for a final chorus to celebrate shooting the wolf and freeing Red Riding Hood. In the “Grand Fairy scene” Hobblegobblewitz is turned into “laughter moving, mischiefmaking Clown,” the Duke into Pantaloon, Hyacinth into Harlequin, and Red Riding Hood into Columbine. A brief note indicates: “The Harlequinade commences.” This is then followed by the obligatory “Grand Transformation Scene,” about which the script also gives no details. The implication here is that everyone knows more or less what a harlequinade is: since there is little real plot, there is no point in giving a synopsis. The reviewer of the Era, however, provides an excellent firsthand description of Bullock’s harlequinade as presented in London in : The great climax of delight is attained in the Harlequinade managed with a completeness which cannot be believed by those who have not seen the show. Not only do Clown and Pantaloon go through their old gambols, knock one another about, steal sausages, mount upon steam engines, ride fiery dragons and rob innocent maidens of an important portion of their costume, but there are tricks introduced that would do credit to any Christmas pantomime. There is a bull in the pantomime who tosses the Clown and bounds after him through the window of a china shop, who is a perfect masterpiece. This bull ought to be seen and cannot fail to be admired. He is a splendid bull and his determined opposition to the Clown makes the house scream with delight. Hardly less meritorious is the donkey, harnessed to a costermonger’s drag, who becomes restive, upsets everybody and culminates the fun with a delightful smash. The way in which the donkey refuses to be coaxed, and runs his head obstinately against a wall is supreme fun.48 Harlequin and Columbine would have been involved in this scene as the objects of pursuit, but they are not even mentioned by the reviewer and are certainly no longer the center of attention.



060 c6 (109-139)



8/4/04

10:29 AM

Page 134

Dramas, Pantomimes, and Screaming Farces

Moranges gave an entertaining description of Thomas and James Holden’s pantomime as presented in Paris in . The numerous scenes of the harlequinade forming part of Beauty and the Beast were dominated by the antics of “a sort of Polonius dressed in red” (Pantaloon) and “a clown with a white face with bright scarlet marks”: By smashing up shop displays, throwing hams over buildings, upsetting the tea-pot and pouring boiling tea over the hostess of the inn, teasing and infuriating horses, mules, and dogs, Polonius and Clown reduce everyone and everything to total chaos. The only thing that can call a halt to their unruly behaviour is the appearance of Death or a Policeman, of which they are equally afraid and which put them to flight like frightened rabbits. Then, introduced by some dreamy or jolly music, Columbine appears, together with her lover Harlequin. She is blonde, pretty and dressed in a short skirt which shows off her strong dancer’s legs. He is in silver with a pink bow. Both express the ecstasies of happy love in a dance, after which they fly away like two birds leaving room for the two “tyrants of nature.” At a certain point Polonius and Clown have committed so many crimes that the Constable decides to arrest them. With one hand he grabs Polonius and with the other Clown. Each of them pulls away as hard as he can in an attempt to escape, and all three roll, run and leap from one side of the stage to the other until the traction becomes too strong and the policeman tears in half, vertically, leaving his two bleeding halves in the hands of the two crazy characters.49 At this dramatically inconclusive point, the curtain simply falls, only to rise again for a dazzling series of “apotheoses” or transformation scenes. An illustrated bill for Holden’s gives a graphic impression of the fastmoving slapstick of the harlequinade. A central scene depicts a runaway donkey cart, driven by Clown. Pantaloon is falling off, and the policeman receives a hoof in the eye. Various other episodes showing Clown and Pantaloon are also depicted, but Harlequin and Columbine are reduced to two small balletic figures. Barnards’ Harlequinade was distinguished by the following piece of business: At the end of this act an anchor came swinging across the stage and caught the pantaloon by the seat swinging him to and fro until he disappeared above the stage much to the joy of the clown.

060 c6 (109-139)

8/4/04

10:29 AM

Page 135

Dramas, Pantomimes, and Screaming Farces

But his turn came next. After a while the clown fell from a great height, indicated by increasing noise, on to the middle of the stage. While he was writhing about and feeling sorry for himself the distant gurgling commenced again and in due course the pantaloon fell on top of him. The scene for this act was the old harlequinade scene – grocer’s shop with eggs and butcher’s with sausages.50 Sydney Race, in his diary, describes a routine used by Lawrence’s at Nottingham Goose Fair in : The usual bother took place and clown and pantaloon got into hot water with the policeman. One scene was a capital view of the Crystal Palace before which was what appeared to be a garden seat. Clown and Pantaloon sat on this, and then it opens out to a large bird of which they take possession, one at each end, and then this rises with them, right out of sight. Two or three seconds out, the two figures drop on the ground with a great flap and the illusion was perfect. After these was the usual business with the baker’s shop and the donkey and cart and a big bull tossed the two villains right through a house top.51 Harlequinades became virtually interchangeable and could be used for any variety of pantomimes or even presented as a number of their own. What was important was a good chase, a number of outrageous situations, and plenty of slapstick comedy. The stage policeman became an important element of the pantomime chase and was probably a distant ancestor of the Keystone cops. Two fantoccini routines shown by Mayhew’s man found a home in the harlequinade. The first was a sketch of the clown Grimaldi, “who does tumbling and posturing, and a comic dance, and so forth, such as trying to catch a butterfly.”52 The other is “a country man who can’t get his donkey to go, and it kicks him and throws him off and all manner of comic antics, after Billy Button’s style.”53 As more and more companies began to perform in music halls and variety theatres, a new emphasis was placed on quick and slick action, slapstick comedy, tricks, and transformations. The pantomimes were reduced to a very brief version of the fairy tale, followed by the harlequinade and a final transformation scene which provided a grand visual finale. Holden’s, Barnard’s, and others, touring non-English-speaking



060 c6 (109-139)



8/4/04

10:29 AM

Page 136

Dramas, Pantomimes, and Screaming Farces

countries, offered the usual variety show of fantoccini and then the harlequinade part of the pantomime, sometimes accompanied by an abbreviated version of the main plot or at least its more spectacular moments.


Farce Enough of gloom the show affords, A screaming farce now takes the boards, Spectators rock and shriek with glee The antics of the clown to see. Two larkish rogues, as strong as bears, In twain a portly Bobby tears; The law will yet their fate decide, Another Bobby’s found inside. The dolls all nat’ral laws defy With tricks no humans dare to try. In plays the puppets might do well, But farce is where the dolls excel. The play is done, the yokel strides To bed to rest his aching sides And roundly swears, whate’er his span, He’ll ne’er forget the Puppet Man.54 The sequences of Clown, Pantaloon, and the Policeman in the harlequinade are pure slapstick farce, with one visual gag following another in a helter-skelter chase. Once speech had been given to the previously silent pantomime characters of Clown and Pantaloon, the harlequinade had become a farce in fancy dress. It would seem that this was the one element of the program that audiences could never tire of. Clunn Lewis, when interviewed in , regretted the disappearance of the serious dramatic repertoire. He bemoaned the fact that the “modern audience wants humour” and added that “the squib in the donkey’s tail goes down better than blood.”55 He was really reflecting a complete change in the way that marionette theatre was perceived: it could no longer be seen as an alternative way of presenting the mainstream theatrical repertoire. Farce has always been an element of puppet theatre. Following the practice of the live theatre of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, many marionette programs included a short farce. Unfortunately, it is

060 c6 (109-139)

8/4/04

10:29 AM

Page 137

Dramas, Pantomimes, and Screaming Farces

more difficult to write with any certainty about the farces performed on the marionette stage than about any other element of the repertoire. They ranged from known popular pieces to semi-improvised sketches, and the way in which they were played was probably far more important than the text itself. Wilding’s bills listed all the dramas and pantomimes performed, but the announcement that these would be followed by a “screaming farce” left the actual content of the latter up to the audience’s imagination (or at least its theatre-going habits). George Speaight picked up about twenty titles of comedies and farces performed by marionettes in the nineteenth century. The completeness or otherwise of his list is not at issue, but what is surprising is how few titles are actually recorded. Over half the titles on Speaight’s list are from the Sunderland repertoire, where bills carefully noted the titles of both the main play and afterpiece, a practice that was less common elsewhere. Among the more popular farces dating back to the eighteenth century are Isaac Bickerstaff’s comic opera The Padlock (), J. T. Allingham’s Fortune’s Frolic (Robin Roughhead), and The Cobbler of Preston. C. Bullock’s Cobbler of Preston () is a reworking of the idea of the tinker Christopher Sly of The Taming of the Shrew. His behavior when socially elevated for a brief period gives rise to considerable comedy based on the idea of social disparities and offers a major comic role for the cobbler (and an almost equally amusing one for his wife, a sort of Judy to his Punch). Robin Roughhead works on similar social incongruities, when the good-hearted Robin, the ploughman, suddenly becomes heir to a fortune. This play, also known as Fortune’s Frolic, was originally staged in . Its subtitle is The Ploughman Turned Lord. Like The Cobbler of Preston, it offers a virtuoso role for a comic performer and was popular in various marionette repertoires, including Old Waxy’s in the s and John Holden Senior’s in , when it was described as a “comic extravaganza.” It is referred to in  in a statement put out by Thomas Holden and others to indicate that they were now working for McDonough and Earnshaw’s Marionettes, when they would be presenting “for the first time in America Thomas Holden’s great performance of Robin Rough Head, originally performed by him in London for  nights.”56 The play would later find its way into the Lawrence and the Tiller and Clowes repertoires.



060 c6 (109-139)



8/4/04

10:29 AM

Page 138

Dramas, Pantomimes, and Screaming Farces

. Clunn Lewis performing a farce, circa . Archival photo. Musée Gadagne, Lyon.

One conclusion we may be able to draw is that audiences loved to see the same comic scenes and situations repeated ad infinitum and had no objection to laughing at a favorite farce again and again. In the drama the plot element was much more important, and audiences therefore required a greater turnover of programs. A farce was usually a short piece built around a single comic situation and one or more comic characters. For audiences to enjoy it, the verbal wit (and the way in which it was delivered) was clearly of utmost importance. Very few titles of farces survive. Some notion of what Wilding meant by a “screaming farce,” however, may be gleaned from a manuscript of his found among the Clowes-Tiller scripts. It is called The Football Match and is based on mistaken identity. A certain Peter Pimple (comedy role) comes to a village to be the guardian of a May Merry Drew. When he arrives on the day of the village football match, Stripes (light comedy), the captain of the team, mistakes him for the

060 c6 (109-139)

8/4/04

10:29 AM

Page 139

Dramas, Pantomimes, and Screaming Farces

referee. Peter knows nothing of football, and this gives rise to a series of comic misunderstandings and puns, such as “fowl” and “foul.” Harry (a walking gent.) is in love with May but needs her guardian’s permission to marry her. In the final scene Peter reappears in rags, pursued by the mob, having been a dismal failure as a referee. He hides under the table and is saved by Harry on condition that he gives his consent to the marriage plus an annual ten-guinea cup to the football team. Clunn Lewis had a farce, There He Goes, which he seems to have played ad nauseam. This also figured in the Clowes-Tiller repertoire. No script survives, but there is a brief description of Lewis’s performance around : “The ‘legitimate’ included a farce, There he goes; or, The Landlord outwitted, in which there was song and dance by Currycomb, the ostler, the landlord’s daughter, and a villainous nondescript person with a fearful knife. Incidentally, it unfolded a delicate little romance between a long black-haired gentleman of lowly birth and the publican’s daughter.”57 Short slapstick sketches were also often performed. Pierce Egan’s novel London by Night () features in the Tiller and Wilding repertoires as a play. Its popular heroes, Tom and Jerry, frequently appeared in short farcical sketches, including one in which they manage to tip a watchman’s box over on top of him. The comic rustic (Tim Bobbin, Yorkshire Bob, or whoever) could also introduce a note of farce into the most blood-curdling melodrama, and this is precisely what he does in Maria Marten. Since the seventeenth century, as we have already seen with Punch, the comic figure has been a force to be reckoned with on the marionette stage. However serious the main theme of the play, farce was always waiting just around the corner and ready to erupt.



070 c7 (140-185)

8/4/04

10:30 AM

Page 140

Chapter 7 : Fantoccini &Variety
Trick Puppets Every marionette showman in Britain possessed a set of trick or specialized figures. How these worked was always one of the great “secrets” of the trade. Purvis learned his trade by “spying” on Grey, and Mayhew’s fantoccini man emphasized the need to conceal what he was doing. When on a music-hall stage Barnard’s and Holden’s both hung a curtain behind their fit-ups to prevent stagehands or other unauthorized persons from spying on them. The similarity of the different trick acts from one company to another indicates just how ready showpeople were to cash in on anything that worked. It was standard practice for a fairground act to claim that it was the “only” one of its sort. Street fantoccini performers presented a selection of clever numbers, while the traveling marionette companies made trick figures into a section of the evening’s entertainment. A program repeated ten or more times a day on the fairground or a number among other numbers in the music hall was more suited to variety acts than to a dramatic piece. In the live theatre the term “nondescript” was used in the early part of the century for monsters or fantastic creatures in the pantomime. Puppets able to perform trick acts impossible for a human being were loosely covered by the same term. Clunn Lewis applied it to a character with an extending neck (more generally known as Scaramouche), while Mayhew’s fantoccini man used it for one who juggles with his head. Whanslaw indicates that the word might mean any sort of weirdlooking figure, even without trick action, and that it could cover extending and contracting dolls, disjointing skeletons and clowns, and “other strange and wonderful puppets.”1 By the end of the nineteenth century some showpeople referred to “utilities” as “nondescripts.”

070 c7 (140-185)

8/4/04

10:30 AM

Page 141

Fantoccini and Variety

Italian companies visiting Britain in the later eighteenth century introduced the term “fantoccini” to describe puppets operated by rods and strings. It was initially applied to trick and variety figures but then extended to mean marionettes in general.2 The stringing of fantoccini was one of the secrets of their success, but this had to be taken in conjunction with the construction and articulation of the figure. Most trick figures had one or two special strings designed to produce a particular effect. The physical principles were not that complicated, but there was some variation from one puppeteer to another. When John Holden visited Ghent, people remembered his “fantoches” (fantoccini) and his “metamorphoses” or transformation figures.3 One trick that is found in several repertoires is a box that opens out to become a dragon spewing fire, produced by sparklers placed behind its nostrils. In Munich there is a box ( cm long) which unfolds to produce the head, neck, tail, and wings of a dragon ( cm long). Jim Tiller had a similar dragon and remembered a routine where the box began as a box of Yarmouth bloaters loaded onto a donkey cart. With the arrival of the devil (and the release of a spring), the box became a dragon.4


The Magnetic Skeleton In Britain one of the most popular variety acts has always been the disjointing or “magnetic” skeleton. It probably originated as the death figure common to most European puppet traditions and may have had a dramatic role initially. The Clunn Lewis figures include a skeleton, but this is not a trick figure. When Parsloe presented his “Grand Medley of Entertainments” at Southwark Fair in , he offered, in addition to a dramatic piece, a “Variety of Dancing and Tumbling between the acts; particularly, a surprising figure of a moving skeleton which dances a jigg [sic] upon the stage, and in the middle of his dance falls all to pieces, bone from bone, joint from joint, all parts of his body separate from one another; and, in the twinkling of an eye up in his proper proportion, and dances as in the beginning.”5 Candler had a dancing skeleton, and Mayhew’s man had a pair of them. Hone describes the Candler routine:



070 c7 (140-185)



8/4/04

10:30 AM

Page 142

Fantoccini and Variety

The music played solemnly, and the puppet skeleton came slowly through a trap door in the floor of the stage; its under jaw chattered against the upper, it threw up its arms mournfully, till it was fairly above ground, and then commenced a “grave” dance. On a sudden its head dropped off, the limbs separated from the trunk in a moment, and the head moved about the floor, chattering, until it resumed its place together with the limbs, and in an instant danced as before; its efforts appeared gradually to decline, and at last it sank into a sitting posture, and remained still. Then it held down its skull, elevated its arms, let them fall on the ground several times dolorously; fell to pieces again; again the head moved about the stage and chattered; again it resumed its place, the limbs reunited, and the figure danced till the head fell off with a gasp; the limbs flew still further apart; all was quiet; the head made one move only towards the body, fell sideways, and the whole re-descended to a dirge-like tune.6 “Magnetic” skeletons separate at the neck, shoulders, and pelvis. Arms and legs are linked by strings attached to the forearm and to the thigh. This allows an arm and a leg to be operated as a unit, with a control string attached to the wrist. Some puppeteers managed with two control bars; others used three, and possibly a second manipulator. Both Delvaine skeletons work with two bars. One bar operates the arms and legs. The other bar has two pairs of strings that run through the shoulders and pelvis, holding the limbs in place, while another pair of strings supports the figure from the shoulders. The shoulder strings pass through staples on either side of the skull, which can slide up and down on these. If they are pulled tight, the tension on the strings holding arms and legs in place is eased, and the limbs are released to dance separately. Where a company used three bars, the third bar was given over to the run through strings that hold the limbs to the body. A string attached to the top of the skull allows it to be pulled up and separated from the body. When the skull is lowered onto the spine, the jaw pivots open, and a small movement of the head can make it clack open and shut. The main bar for the Smith and Harry McCormick skeletons is a Tbar. Tilting this can also relax the tension on the strings that hold the figure together. This type of control probably represents a fairly late evolution, however.

070 c7 (140-185)

8/4/04

10:30 AM

Page 143

Fantoccini and Variety

. “Magnetic”skeleton (ClowesTiller). Drawn by Clodagh McCormick.

The total number of strings for a skeleton is normally ten or eleven, though Chester and Lee claimed that theirs had no less than seventeen. This is probably an attempt to make the act sound more complicated. The disjointing clown or policeman had the same basic construction and stringing as the skeleton. When Grey presented his fantoccini in New York in , one of the acts was “the old soldier who disengages from his body the whole of his limbs.”7


Mother Shipton The English folk character of Mother Shipton first appeared on the live stage in the late seventeenth century, and by  Martin Powell



070 c7 (140-185)



8/4/04

10:30 AM

Page 144

Fantoccini and Variety

was announcing a marionette performance of Mother Shipton, and the Downfall of Cardinal Wolsey.8 By the nineteenth century she had lost her dramatic context and become a solo act as a comic old woman who smoked a pipe and told fortunes. The Middleton bills of the early s mention her among other acts as “The Yorkshire Hag, who will light and smoke her pipe.”9 Mother Shipton existed in many nineteenthcentury marionette companies. Her physical appearance was extremely like that of Punch’s Judy as well as of such pantomime dame figures as Mother Goose and Dame Crump.10 In the later nineteenth century Mother Shipton was conflated with a character very popular in France, La Mère Gigogne. This folk figure first appeared on stage in the seventeenth century and later transferred, as a trick figure, to the puppet stage. She produces a quantity of little puppets from her skirts, and each of these proceeds to perform a dance of its own. One source suggests that La Mère Gigogne could produce as many as  offspring.11 The first specific reference to such a character in Britain seems to be Mayhew’s fantoccini man, who had a character called Judy Callaghan who produced six small figures from her pockets, “and she knocks them about.” In November  Chester and Lee appearing on Jersey advertised “Mother Shipton, and her numerous retinue of little ones. Costume Old English.”12 In  an article on “Some peculiar entertainments” contained an illustration of the Richard Barnard figure surrounded by some of her progeny, captioned as “The old witch and her satellites.”13 Her seventeenth-century costume, complete with tall black hat, by that time evoked a witch rather than a given historical period. On American posters in the s, Holden’s depicted Mother Shipton as an old woman, rather like the Barnard figure, performing a sprightly dance, surrounded by her progeny, some of whom are emerging from her clothes.14 The Delvaine old woman is provided with knickers and a short petticoat with lace frills, combined with black silk stockings. This suggests that the routine included a very saucy cancan dance. The figures produced usually represented different Commedia characters or variety acts. Richard Barnard’s old woman was photographed with six small figures (all adult) – a dancing Columbine, a Punch, a sailor, a clown, an acrobatic figure, and a big-boot dancer – whereas there are twelve on the Holden bill. These are Punch, Dog Toby, and possibly Judy; two lively and rather Dickensian figures (who

070 c7 (140-185)

8/4/04

10:30 AM

Page 145

Fantoccini and Variety . Mrs. Clunn Lewis demonstrating Middleton Mother Shipton, circa . Musée Gadagne, Lyon.

. Punch from Holden “Mother Shipton.”  cm. Holden Family Collection.

could be Tom and Jerry from Pierce Egan’s novel); a ballerina (perhaps Columbine) and a male figure in a short jacket brandishing a pair of scissors (who looks rather like Harlequin); a Grimaldi-type Clown emerging from one apron pocket and a “Negro” Minstrel with a banjo from the other; a one-legged soldier brandishing a crutch and a sailor;



070 c7 (140-185)



8/4/04

10:30 AM

Page 146

Fantoccini and Variety

and a flat-hatted gentleman wearing a waistcoat and knee-breeches, possibly a plantation-owner. Most of the small figures have only one or two strings to the head. The Delvaine clown has a small T-bar control and is strung to perform a dance of his own. The Holden figures may also have been more fully strung (and handled by several manipulators). “Producer” figures such as the old woman may have been introduced to England with the Italian fantoccini players of the later eighteenth century. There is a strong Commedia dell’Arte tradition of the hermaphroditic Pulcinella and his numerous offspring. The Borromeo collection of northern Italy includes a Pulcinella out of whose costume a number of little Pulcinelli spring. The Italian fantoccini in the Great Room, Panton Street, London, in  showed the Turk, with his wife in a basket.15 Whanslaw mentions a milkmaid carrying a yoke with two buckets, out of which small figures emerge. In the s McCormick’s Marionettes still had a character known as Basket Biddy, who carried a basket on her back, out of which children appeared.


The Grand Turk

In  the Italian fantoccini had caused amazement with a puppet whose arms, legs, head, and body came apart to form six smaller figures, who danced a cotillion. The additional figures were carefully packed inside the body and could be released by the pulling of a string.16 In England this puppet took the form of a Turk. The turban and full sleeves and breeches offered a good means of concealing other figures.17 The Turk was deeply ingrained in the British popular imagination, as a ferocious bogeyman. He was found in mummers’ plays and Morris dances and as a stage figure since the seventeenth century. The celebrated Jackson’s in  had an “enchanted Turk.” Middleton’s company had a “magic Turk” by . In  they described him as a “Magic Sultan” who transformed into a grotesque group of fairies. Grove’s “animated diorama” which appeared at the Rotundo, Dublin, in  or  included in the bill “a pleasing performance of magical automatons. The nec plus ultra posture master and the astonishing magic turk.”18 In this case “magical automatons” can certainly be read as “marionettes.” Mayhew’s fantoccini man had two versions of the “enchanted Turk.” The first had arms and legs that became two boys and two girls, while

070 c7 (140-185)

8/4/04

10:30 AM

Page 147

Fantoccini and Variety

. Construction and stringing of Grand Turk. Drawn by Clodagh McCormick.

the head turned into a clergyman and the body into an old lady. His other version converted the Turk into “a parson in the pulpit, and a clerk under him, and a lot of little charity children, with a form to sit on.” There was perhaps an added element of humor in the idea of “converting” the Muslim Turk into a clergyman. Middleton’s advertisement of  gives a fuller idea of the routine, describing the “excellent figure of Mahomet the Turk, which after dancing a short time, the limbs fall off and become perfect figures; the head is divided into two, and formed Somebody and Nobody.”19 An unusual John Bull figure in the Delvaine troupe dates from . He struts up and down on the deck of a British warship and then, in an



070 c7 (140-185)



8/4/04

10:30 AM

Page 148

Fantoccini and Variety

explosion of patriotic fervor, breaks down into no less than a dozen sailors of the British navy. The presentation of the Turk in this guise echoes the prevailing mood of jingoism of the time, which often found expression in music hall and variety theatre.20 The Turk could be quite a large figure. The Barnard one is nearly . m high. The sleeves and breeches are gathered at the top with a series of rings, which are hooked onto the trunk at the hips and shoulders. A jerk of a string unhooks the rings and allows each part of the costume to fall down, revealing a head, and thus the four limbs become four little characters with skirts. The turban falls down, hiding the face and revealing another head inside the folds. The body then opens out to reveal a head previously concealed in the chest. To allow the costume to fall open easily and reveal the reverse side, each part (breeches, sleeve, and body covering) was cut with an open seam at the back, rather like an apron, and some small lead weights were inserted into the hem. Once jerked loose, this provided an almost instant transformation. A simpler metamorphosis based on the same principles was the celebrated balloonist Madame Sophie Blanchard, who met an untimely end in . This act is found across Europe, often in the form of a flat metal figure whose skirt flaps up to reveal a balloon on the reverse side, while leaving the basket with figures hanging below it. In the marionette act the lady appears: then her sleeves, like those of the Grand Turk, become two small figures, while her skirts are hauled up to become a hot-air balloon, leaving the little basket hanging down, into which the two small figures climb as the balloon flies away. No examples of this trick figure seem to have survived in Britain, but it was one of the acts presented by Mayhew’s fantoccini performer, who emphasized that he did it with round not flat figures.


Extending Figures Extending figures are among the oldest trick puppets. In Britain in the s they became known as “cures,” after a popular American entertainer, J. H. Stead, who performed a song called “The Perfect Cure,” which was accompanied by a lively dance, jumping up and down, that accompanied the chorus.21 Because of its rhythm, this song or at least its chorus was adapted to extending and contracting puppets. The words of the song tell the sad story of a young man jilted by his girl

070 c7 (140-185)

8/4/04

10:30 AM

Page 149

Fantoccini and Variety

. Cure. Stadtmuseum, Munich.

friend and then charged with the paternity of his rival’s offspring. Clunn Lewis listed music for this act as a cure, which suggests that the tune had become traditional for the act. Lewis’s cure is a very large figure with an exceptionally fearsome face, which makes one wonder whether it may have originated in a pantomime as a giant who could shrink or a dwarf who could grow. The earlier term for a cure had



070 c7 (140-185)



8/4/04

10:30 AM

Page 150

Fantoccini and Variety

sometimes been a “giant-dwarf.” Puppet cures often came in pairs. The Clowes-Tiller figures include two clown cures dressed in red and white striped outfits like that worn by Stead. A similar one in Munich has an opening mouth and may have given the full Stead performance. At a late date a Clowes troupe dressed two cures as Pierrots, while Delvaine’s had three extending guardsmen (later redressed as sailors). The basic technical principle for extending figures was a body consisting of a light-weight pelvis and shoulders (sometimes a disk of wood, sometimes a small hoop of cane or metal), with an additional disk or hoop at chest level. This is covered with a costume, and run-through strings allow the whole to be drawn together or expanded by the contrary pull of head strings or a head rod. The arms and legs are often of a similar construction. Generally two but sometimes three control bars were used, so that when one was raised above the other the figures contracted. The trick could also be performed with a single T-bar. A pair of Holden cures sketched by Emile Pitou in  show the shoulders and hips connected by a long spring. This may have been speculation on his part. The highly elongated cures of Holden’s may simply have had a larger number of disks than was usual concealed within the costume. The Pitou sketch does give a hint of a routine. He also shows a string attached to the bottom, which allows for some very strange movements, virtually turning the figures into quadrupeds. From the sketch it appears that their routine included a frog.


Scaramouche An omnipresent variant of the cure is Scaramouche, with his extending neck, emerging out of his body and sometimes surmounted by several heads. The Commedia dell’Arte figure of Scaramouche had been on the English puppet stage since at least the early eighteenth century, but his nineteenth-century marionette incarnation had little in common with either his dramatic function or his physical appearance.22 Scaramouche was already a live character in the British harlequinades by the end of the seventeenth century, appearing in James Miles’s booth in Bartholomew Fair in  in “a new entertainment between a Scaramouch, a Harlequin and a Pulcinello, in Imitation of Bilking a Reckoning.” He was certainly well established as a puppet character by , when he appeared in Stretch’s show in Dublin.23 In his satirical

070 c7 (140-185)

8/4/04

10:30 AM

Page 151

Fantoccini and Variety

engraving A Just View of the British Stage () Hogarth included the marionette figures of Punch, Harlequin, and Scaramouche being handled by greedy theatre managers. He shows the Commedia figure of Scaramouche dressed in black and wearing a large beret, the costume worn by Tiberio Fiorelli as Scaramouche. Scaramuzzia had often been the foil to Pulcinella in Naples, and this may explain how he became part of the Punch and Judy show. In England, in the course of the eighteenth century, he dropped out of the group of harlequinade characters and abandoned the Fiorelli costume for the brightly colored costume of the buffoon. By the early nineteenth century, outside the Punch and Judy show, the Punch-Scaramouche duo had been replaced by the Clown-Pantaloon one. As he lost currency on the live stage, Scaramouche’s name was entirely associated with a trick puppet. One of the earliest references to Scaramouche in this form is in a New York bill of  for a Mr. Grant’s show.24 He is announced as one of the “Prussian Fanticina”: “A Curious ITALIAN SCARAMOUCH will dance a Fandango, and put himself into twenty different shapes, being one of the greatest Curiosities ever presented to an American audience.” The major feature of the nineteenth-century Scaramouche is the ability to conceal his head within his body and then to produce it at the right moment, at the end of a disproportionately long neck. In early  a show at the Spectaculum of the Chatham Museum, New York, included “an Italian Scaramouch who puts his body into a variety of wonderful postures, and at the same time swallows his own head.”25 A Cruikshank illustration in Hone’s Every-Day Book depicts this figure on Candler’s stage. Hone simply refers to him as a clown but then describes the routine: “Enter a clown without a head, who danced till his head came from between his shoulders to the wonder of the children, and, almost to their alarm, was elevated on a neck the full length of his body, which it thrust out ever and anon; after presenting greater contortions than the human figure could possibly represent, the curtain fell the third time.”26 An  Middleton bill mentions “The Italian Scaramouch,” adding that the “agility and drollery of the Figure must be witnessed to be believed.”27 Speaight mentions a Middleton bill of , where we learn that the “Scaramouch” was “with no head and afterwards all head,” while Mayhew’s fantoccini man in  speaks of “Italian Scaramouch



070 c7 (140-185)

8/4/04

10:30 AM

. Scaramouche (Clunn Lewis). Musée Gadagne, Lyon.

Page 152

070 c7 (140-185)

8/4/04

10:31 AM

Page 153

Fantoccini and Variety

. a. Stringing of Cure (Harry McCormick). b. Stringing of Scaramouche (Smith). Drawn by Clodagh McCormick.

(he’s the old style). This one has a long neck and it shoots up to the top of the theatre. This is the original trick and a very good one.”28 By the latter part of the century Scaramouche had often acquired a series of heads. A Clunn Lewis figure has two heads, a Tiller one three, and the Barnard Scaramouche four.29 In all cases the heads emerge out of the body as the neck extends.30 Sometimes they are carefully packed; sometimes they fit inside each other like Russian matrioshka dolls. In



070 c7 (140-185)



8/4/04

10:31 AM

Page 154

Fantoccini and Variety

America, Daniel Meader had a three-headed Scaramouche, which surprised audiences by producing an additional head out of its stomach.31 The Scaramouche always created much amusement by its initially headless dance. Once the head(s) had emerged fully, the tightening of a bumstring could turn it into a particularly ridiculous long-necked quadruped.


Circus Acts The streets and fairs of the eighteenth century were full of acrobats of different types. Many acrobats obtained work in the nineteenthcentury circus, and their acts became a point of reference for the marionette troupes of the second half of that century. Circus acts fall under two main headings: ground acts and slack-rope (later tightrope) ones. Ground acts include most jugglers, contortionists, and tumblers. Rope dancing (funambulism) had been extremely popular in the eighteenth century, and performers on the rope or wire were to be found regularly in the nineteenth-century circus. A third category was introduced in , based on the trapeze performances of Jules Léotard and others. Emile Pitou, on a visit to Paris and the north of France in , saw a Holden company. He observed the figures closely and sketched eleven acts: a strong man; the “American” rope, where the artiste swings from a slack rope and has strings attached to his heels to allow him to stand on his hands on it; the trapeze, where the artiste has strings to both hands and heels and can remove one hand from the bar; a chair-balancer, with strings to both hands and heels; a tight-wire walker, with broken rings on his feet, which can be drawn along the wire by strings; a flying trapeze act with strings to the hands and to the heel; a tumbler going through a paper-covered hoop (the circle of the metal frame is incomplete at the top to allow passage of strings); a wooden man on the top of a post which rises from under the stage; a contortionist shown in three positions; and two men performing handstands on a fixed bar (strings to the hands and feet). Audiences were amazed as the diminutive figures went through the complicated routines and easily forgot that the skills required of the manipulator of a marionette acrobat are very different from those required of a live acrobat. Pitou’s sketches are immensely valuable. Holden was very secretive about backstage; but, as Bil Baird has pointed out, “there isn’t much anyone can hide from an intelligent and curious puppeteer in the audi-

070 c7 (140-185)

8/4/04

10:31 AM

Page 155

Fantoccini and Variety

ence.”32 Pitou’s speculative representation of the controls is plausible, but not for English marionettes. What his puppeteer’s eye detected were the tensions and directions in which the strings were pulled during performance and, consequently, the points where strings were attached to the figure. What comes over again and again where the Holden figures are concerned is the idea of a single puppet having more than one manipulator. Even if the stringing of the individual marionettes is relatively simple, the coordination of a group of operators to make the act work was very considerable.


Contortionists, Chair-Balancers, and Trapeze Acts The general term for a contortionist in the eighteenth century was a “posture master.” The most celebrated posture master of the century was the little Polander (from Poland), who flourished on the British stage between about  and . He was often designated “The Famous Ballance Master.” One print shows thirty of his “surprising performances.”33 One of his most celebrated acts was to climb to the top of a ladder then bend backward over the top rung and descend head-first, weaving in and out of the rungs. We learn that: “so much famed for his surprising Agility, [he] will Perform ground and Lofty Tumbling with many curious Attitudes in Posturing. He also Performs the ITALIAN Table, and Chair Tricks, to a Wonder; And is allowed by all Judges to exceed in the VENITIAN Performances.”34 Chair balancing was popular with marionettes and a common act with street fantoccini performers. Candler had “a jolly-looking puppet” who “performed the tricks of a tumbler and posture-master with a hoop.” Mayhew’s performer had “the Polander, who balances a pole and two chairs, and stands on his head and jumps over his pole; he dresses like a Spaniard.”35 Acrobat bodies were sometimes made in three or even four wooden sections, held in place by tapes or by the unpadded cloth tube of the trunk. Such a body allowed an acrobat to do the “crab” or bend right back and put his legs over his shoulders. H. W. Whanslaw drew a diagram of a contortionist, as a devil.36 The arms of the figure are in two sections, both wood, and the wrists have joints which permit the placing of the flat hands on the ground.



070 c7 (140-185)



8/4/04

10:31 AM

Page 156

Fantoccini and Variety

. Acrobat/contortionist (Delvaine’s). Archival photo. Desiree Delvaine Collection.

Wooden upper arms are not common among Victorian marionettes and often point to a contortionist, chair-balancer, or trapeze artiste. Slightly curved or cupped hands, sometimes with a hole for a runthrough string, can also indicate a puppet that has to handle a bar or pole, though this is also a feature of a juggler. A feature of contortionists, and sometimes of chair-balancers and trapeze artists, is a pivot shoul-

070 c7 (140-185)

8/4/04

10:31 AM

Page 157

Fantoccini and Variety

. Sailor swinging on slack-rope (Delvaine’s). Archival photo. Desiree Delvaine Collection.

der joint, where both arms are hung on a wire running through the shoulders. This permits only backward or forward movement and is usually reinforced by a firm elbow joint, also designed for unidirectional movement. The only trapeze figures that can be identified with certainty are ones that continued to be used by Delvaine’s.37 At least one of the Munich figures, however, may have been a trapeze artiste. Unfortunately, none of the paraphernalia for aerial acts has survived. Trapeze bars were probably no more than bars  to  cm long, suspended by a cord at each end. The ordinary trapeze routine was fairly simple. The figure jumps up to a hanging bar from which it can swing, and the action is enhanced by the use of strings to the back of the calf. The same figure can also swing from a slack-rope. The Pitou sketches show an artiste hanging by one hand from a trapeze bar, with his legs horizontal to the ground, while a second one is flying from one bar to another. Elsewhere in Europe we can also find figures who swing from bars, sometimes dropping one hand, often drawing their feet up to the bar as well, and then hanging by them as they continue to swing.



070 c7 (140-185)

8/4/04

10:31 AM

Page 158

. a. Holden routines, after sketches by Emile Pitou, . b. Chinese contortionist (Clunn Lewis). c. “Negro” acrobat/chair-balancer (Munich). d. Sailor in figure  (Delvaine). Drawn by Clodagh McCormick.

070 c7 (140-185)

8/4/04

10:31 AM

Page 159

Fantoccini and Variety

Nicholas Nelson and J. J. Hayes present a stringing for such a figure, with the foot strings running through the trapeze bar. The Pitou sketch is our only documented evidence of a figure swinging from one bar to another through the air. With more than one manipulator, this is quite possible, though Léotard’s celebrated midair somersault is less likely. The Pitou sketches show that the Holden troupe he saw was unusually well provided with acrobat figures, and this could support the hypothesis that the Munich figures, no less than eight of which have acrobat bodies, originated with a Holden company.


Jugglers and Balancers Marionette jugglers and balancing acts demanded a totally different set of techniques from the live acts they simulated, and the skill of the puppeteer lay in making audiences believe that the figure was really performing the act. The names of noteworthy live performers were often borrowed for their marionette doubles. Around  the celebrated Indian juggler Ramo Samee visited London, and his name was appropriated for fantoccini jugglers. In the s the Jesson Brothers’ Royal Marionettes (who had enjoyed the distinction of performing at Windsor Castle on the occasion of the wedding of the Duke of York in ) were still offering “Ramo Samee – the great Indian juggler.”38 As Samee himself was forgotten, companies often referred to the juggler as “Indian” or even “Italian.” The routine involved throwing balls into the air and bouncing them onto the toes or the head. Mayhew’s fantoccini man gives us a hint of the routine as executed by a puppet Ramo Samee. This figure “chucks the balls about under his feet and under his arms, and catches them on the back of his head, the same as Ramo Samee did.”39 The marionette juggler usually had two balls (Barnard’s had three) with holes through them, which allowed them to slide up and down the hand strings. An additional string through one ball continued to a toe. By slackening the hand string and putting tension into the foot string, the ball could be transferred from the hand to the toe. In a similar way, a string attached to the top of the head allowed a ball to be thrown in the air and caught on the head. A string could be attached to the heel of the foot which did not catch the ball, so that this leg could be raised and the puppet could balance on one foot. A juggler could be operated with three bars: one for support, one for the hands, and one for strings to the



070 c7 (140-185)



8/4/04

10:31 AM

Page 160

Fantoccini and Variety

. Chinese juggler (Clunn Lewis). Archival photo. Musée Gadagne, Lyon.

head or toes. An illustration of a possible stringing for this is to be found in Nelson and Hayes.40 Most performers, including Clunn Lewis, managed to do the act with two bars. His Chinese juggler balanced balls on each foot, and he could also perform the splits. A variant of the juggler was a dissecting clown, who could also juggle. The limbs and head separated from the trunk, and the balls were juggled only in the hands.41 A curious character who could “chuck his head from one hand to another” is also mentioned by Mayhew’s fantoccini man.42 He could be seen as yet another variant of the combination of juggler and (partially) disintegrating figure. A popular act was the wheel-balancer, although there is little documentation on this. One nineteenth-century figure survives in the De Randel collection. He retains his wheel and was still in use in the , but unfortunately no description of the possible routine has survived. A staple in the upper lip suggests that part of the act was to balance the wheel on the tilted-back head. Special stringing for this act includes a

070 c7 (140-185)

8/4/04

10:32 AM

Page 161

Fantoccini and Variety

staple on the head and also at least one on a foot for the balancing act itself. Much more widespread was the stilt-walking clown, who combined supposed “skill” with a complete comedy routine. Stilt dancing was a popular act in early-nineteenth-century Britain and became a circus favourite. An act described as a “Clown balancing a bottle,” which was in the Middleton repertoire in , may have included stilts. Almost invariably there is a bottle in the right hand, with a special string to draw it up to the mouth. This string passes through a small staple in the upper lip or else through the mouth and out the top of the head. Another string

. Chinese juggler (Clunn Lewis) showing stringing. Drawn by Clodagh McCormick.



070 c7 (140-185)



8/4/04

10:32 AM

Page 162

Fantoccini and Variety

to the base of the bottle allows it to be tipped up in a realistic manner. The lurching stilt-walker could be extremely funny, since the stilts exaggerated the staggering movement. A heel string, when used, allowed him to stand on one leg. The comic effect was often reinforced by using a pair of stilt-walkers. The Holdens developed a routine in which the stilt-walker picked up his bottle from the ground while on stilts and, like a juggler, threw it from hand to hand. Emile Pitou made a highly detailed sketch of a Holden stilt-walker in . His drawing of the control is almost certainly conjectural and owes more to controls in use in the north of France, but the stringing details are invaluable and help understand how the routine was performed.43 One detail worth noting is a staple in the neck of the bottle (which was weighted at the bottom), since this allowed it to travel along a string running through the two hands, as it was thrown from one to the other. Pitou omits the hand support strings that would, in fact, be needed to make this act possible. Some stilt-walkers, including the Holden one and two Tiller ones, have moving jaws. The act often included a number of verbal gags and a comic drunken song. Pole balancing was an act where performers lay on their backs, chucked the poles they were carrying into the air, caught them on their feet, and proceeded to juggle with them. Because of the upside-down position, these performers were also called “antipodeans.” The act became known as the “Tranka Hispaniola” in , when an American, Derious, introduced a sort of stool with a support for the hips.44 “Tranka” (or “trinca”) was the name for the stool, and the Spanish association lurked around for a long time. The marionette act probably dates from the mid s. The pole itself was striped like a barber’s pole, to enhance the optical effect of the movement. The stringing principles are similar to those of the juggler, but each foot is equipped with two strings. One string runs through a hole toward the end of the pole, the other to a hole nearer the center. This allows the feet to move on the pole and for it to be tossed from one foot to the other.45 In some cases, the stool (which gave the name to the act) was dispensed with, and the puppet simply stood and juggled with the pole. Once the “Polander” had been well and truly forgotten, popular etymology associated his name with the pole-balancer, and sometimes this modulated into “Pole Andrew.”46 To confuse matters, the tightrope per-

070 c7 (140-185)

8/4/04

10:32 AM

Page 163

Fantoccini and Variety

former was also sometimes referred to as the “Polander,” because of his balancing pole. In  John Holden was advertising “Polandric exercises” as part of his program. What these were is still a little unsure, but they may relate back to the type of acts performed by the original “Polander.” Rope acts had been very popular throughout the eighteenth century. These were generally performed on the slack-rope; but in the s Astley’s in Paris had introduced a taut brass wire, while in the s the more modern more supple tightrope became the norm. With the possible exception of Madame Saqui, the most famous ropewalker of the nineteenth century was Charles Blondin, who made his celebrated crossing of the Niagara Falls in  and performed high under the roof of the Crystal Palace in . He created his own costume of bright pink tights, with a red satin doublet decorated with sequins, together with garters and a copper helmet. The act and the outfit or an approximation of it, without the helmet, was taken over by many marionette companies. He used a long balancing pole, and this too was carried by marionette Blondins. Double acts that included a “Madame Blondin” became popular in marionette shows. Thomas Holden presented a tightrope act with a pair of artistes for his first London season in . He claimed to have been on very friendly terms with Blondin, having met him both on the continent and in England. He had worked for a time with Fossett’s Circus in the s, which had helped him in the creation of the Blondin figure. “I knew all the tricks that a tightrope artist should do and under my manipulation it was a natural and successful performance and a great asset to my repertoire.”47 Our understanding of the mechanics of the Holden tightrope walker is greatly enhanced by two documents relating to Emile Pitou. The first is the page of sketches of Holden circus acts in , and the second is some communication in the s with De Vere’s, from whom he had acquired a tightrope walker “à la Holden,” which he was having some difficulties in working. The page of the  notebook includes quite a complex diagram for a tightrope performer. It requires a degree of reinterpreting. At a first glance, the sketch contains an unnecessary number of operators’ hands, some of which have been sketched in pencil, and others overdrawn more heavily. Clearly Pitou was guessing at different possibilities for controls that he never actually saw. A bar with two



070 c7 (140-185)

8/4/04

10:32 AM

Page 164

. Stilt-walker (James Holden), early twentieth century. Archival photo. George Speaight Collection.

070 c7 (140-185)

8/4/04

10:32 AM

Page 165

. Holden Stilt-walker after Emile Pitou sketch of . English controls substituted for those drawn by Pitou. Smith stilt-walker control shown upper right for comparison. Drawn by Clodagh McCormick.

070 c7 (140-185)

8/4/04

10:32 AM

Page 166

. Tranka (Tiller). Museum of Popular Entertainment, now in the Theatre Museum, London.

070 c7 (140-185)

8/4/04

10:33 AM

Page 167

. Stringing of Tranka (Tiller). Drawn by Clodagh McCormick.

070 c7 (140-185)

8/4/04

10:33 AM

Page 168

. Blondin (Clowes-Tiller). John Phillips Collection, now in the Theatre Museum, London.

. Conjectural drawing of operation of tightrope walker based on Pitou sketches of  and subsequent indications provided by De Vere’s. Drawn by Clodagh McCormick.

070 c7 (140-185)

8/4/04

10:33 AM

Page 169

Fantoccini and Variety

strings supports the head, and a further string for the back is shown. A second bar has strings to the back of the calves. Two other bars are equipped respectively with strings to the knees and strings to the ends of the balancing pole. The Holden figure kept its feet firmly on the bar or rope, and Pitou tried to work out this mechanism, without coming to a definite conclusion. What we can deduce from the sketch is that the Holden Blondin required three manipulators, where most other companies used two. The real secret was the use of under-stage strings to maintain tension and stop the figure from wobbling off the rope. The mechanics of working such a figure were made clear to Pitou in De Vere’s letter a few years later. De Vere wrote to him explaining, in rather poor French, both how to operate the puppet and also the routine that could be followed. At the beginning of the act the performer is discovered sitting on a velvet-covered bench at the back of the stage. A string attached to the left foot goes over the rope to the right, while one attached to the right foot goes over the rope to the left. These are held by an assistant under the stage during the rope-walking part of the act; once this is over, the assistant cuts the strings under the stage so that the figure can jump down and walk freely off the stage.48 The secret lay in the tension between the over-stage manipulator pulling upward on a string attached to the foot and the under-stage one pulling downward. A photograph of the German marionette showman Franz August Schichtl’s Blondin circa  shows this type of control in action.49 Pitou also noted two other Holden acts using an under-stage manipulator to pull against the other(s). These are a tap dancer, where understage strings were used to help produce very precise and sharp movement, and a comic pantomime scene of a dog biting a policeman’s bottom. In the latter case a string attached to the policeman’s stomach is depicted as being pulled from under the stage to produce a counterpull to the string attached to the bottom (and operated from above).


Singing, Dancing, and Sketches Every marionette program included an element of singing, dancing, and comedy. Part of the delight of the marionette dancer is its ability to defy gravity and to demonstrate a capacity to do things that the human performer cannot. A jig had been part of theatrical entertainments in Elizabethan times and persisted in the drolls and other fairground shows



070 c7 (140-185)



8/4/04

10:33 AM

Page 170

Fantoccini and Variety

of the eighteenth century. Jigging dolls are one of the oldest forms of puppets, and marionettes are ideal for almost any lively dance. In  Bullock included in his program two Irish characters, Pat and Biddy, who dance a “rale Irish Jig.” Figures for this act cannot be identified with any degree of certainty in any British collections. The Detroit collection does have a pair of figures made by Daniel Meader, however, who worked with McDonough and Earnshaw when they tried to recreate the Bullock program, on which he subsequently based his own show. The stage Irishman was a stock type of the British stage, and Irishness itself was little more than a local form of the ethnically exotic. The same applied to the Mayhew showman’s Scotsman who danced a Highland fling.50 In  Clunn Lewis had a countryman who danced a jig. A more vigorous dance was executed by the Tichborne Claimant, who appeared in D’Arc’s show in Liverpool in March  with a comic song and performed the supposedly Australian “Wagga breakdown” (presumably some sort of break-dance with an Australian flavor).51 The sailor’s hornpipe was a popular and patriotic stage dance in the latter part of the eighteenth century and inevitably transferred to the marionette stage. Candler had a puppet sailor who danced a hornpipe. One of the first marionettes to be made by Billy Purvis when he created his own show was a sailor, Ben Block. Mayhew’s fantoccini man opened his show with a female hornpipe dancer, and later in the performance a sailor danced a hornpipe and concluded the act by taking off his hat. One of the Munich figures, dressed as a sailor, has heel strings and small staples near the top of the back of the thighs, which indicate the possibility of extra kicking to the side or crossing the legs in a dance step. The McDonough and Earnshaw program for Australia in  included “Jack’s the Lad, with a hornpipe.” The tune used was probably a piece known as “The College Hornpipe” to which, according to W. Chappell, an old sailor’s song called “Jack the Lad” was sung.52 This was certainly one of the tunes traditionally associated with hornpipes danced by Victorian marionettes. Sets of dancers appear throughout Europe. These are usually mounted on a single control, and in most cases they are smaller than the other figures. Generally they performed a folk dance or reel, though some companies converted them into groups for a corps de ballet. Mayhew’s fantoccini man managed four female dancers on his own.

070 c7 (140-185)

8/4/04

10:33 AM

Page 171

Fantoccini and Variety

. Clunn Lewis stage with two pairs of quadrille dancers, circa . Archival photo. Musée Gadagne, Lyon.

They were, he said, two feet high and danced a polka. At evening parties (when he had an engagement) he claimed he could keep them going for twenty minutes. A set of quadrille dancers exists among the Clunn Lewis figures, and Harry McCormick was using a group, known variously as the “four Miss Adams” and the “four Miss O’Reillys.” An interesting construction feature is that they have no legs but, rather like the Japanese Bunraku, have a bag that reaches from the waist to the knees under the long skirt.53 The figures moved and bobbed, and the skirts did the rest. There was no complex control. They were simply mounted in pairs on horizontal bars, with strings to the head and arms. Mayhew’s man mentions long skirts covered in spangles. It is likely that his dancers were also bobbing female figures, able to link hands but not requiring any leg controls. Ballet was another form of theatrical entertainment that the marionette stage readily imitated. Marionette ballet dancers often had shaped legs without knee joints, so that they could go on their points and take balletic attitudes. The arms were sometimes carved in a single



070 c7 (140-185)

8/4/04

10:33 AM

Page 172

. Pair of quadrille dancers (Harry McCormick). Drawn by Clodagh McCormick.

070 c7 (140-185)

8/4/04

10:34 AM

Page 173

Fantoccini and Variety

. Ballerinas (James Holden). Archival photo. George Speaight Collection.

piece with a bend at the elbow. Mayhew’s fantoccini man specifically mentions a flower girl dressed as a fairy in a white skirt “with naked carved arms, nice modelled, and the legs just the same; and the trunks come above the knee, the same as them ballet girls. She shows all the opera attitudes.”54 Scharf illustrates a figure remarkably like this in one of his sketches of a “fantasina” stage. Two dancer figures belonging to Ambrose Tiller II (one based on his wife, Sarah Chipperfield) had legs without a knee joint, which allowed for certain attitudes that required very straight legs. Barnard’s Columbine had one-piece arms that incorporated the elbow. The James Holden company included two ballerinas with nonjointed arms but also possessed a beautiful and fully jointed gypsy dancer figure, who would have danced more freely and not depended on balletic poses. To conceal her knee joints she is wearing white jersey stockings. Clunn Lewis’s ballerina was strung so that she could lift her skirts. The tightening of a special string that ran through a staple in the left



070 c7 (140-185)



8/4/04

10:34 AM

Page 174

Fantoccini and Variety

hand drew the hand to the skirt and lifted it. The Holden Gipsy, with a hole through her left hand, could do the same, as could a dancer of the Barnard theatre, who represents Lottie Collins, famous as the interpreter of the song “Ta Ra Ra Boom De Ay.” Her dance, with its display of petticoats and suspendered legs, was very daring in  and was probably one of the things that a member of the London Borough Council found “shocking and indecent” in the Barnard performance.55 Stage chinoiserie had been fashionable since the eighteenth century, with Garrick’s Chinese Festival at Drury Lane in  and the subsequent production of Arthur Murphy’s Orphan of China. Nineteenth-century visits by Chinese and Japanese acrobats meant that a number of variety figures came to be depicted as “Oriental.” Barnard and Clunn Lewis both had Chinese jugglers, and the latter also had a contortionist with Asian features. Chinese bell dancers were another popular act, which probably originated in Britain and found its way into nearly every company by the second half of the nineteenth century. In all probability this act began as a piece of chinoiserie performed by live dancers, perhaps as early as the eighteenth century. One of the earliest examples of music for such a dance is Thomas Valentine’s “A Chinese Bell Dance – composed and arranged as a familiar Rondo for the pianoforte,” which dates at least from the s.56 Bell-dancers came in pairs or even threes. De Vere’s sold them, and some of the ones found in France look very much as if they were commercially made and perhaps from this source. Daniel Meader’s belldancers were made in imitation of Bullock’s show. Bullock wrote his own “Chinese song and chorus” for his three bell-ringers, Chang, Bang, and Pang. Unfortunately, we have only the words and not the music. Bell-dancers were specially constructed, with arms and legs designed to move laterally, rather like a Jumping Jack. A similar movement was used in Italy for ballet dancers’ legs in the later nineteenth century, since it allowed for certain specific ballet steps and positions. In many cases the bell-dancers’ arms and legs were in a single piece. The legs were designed for this particular dance and not for walking, and the effect was extremely comic. The wrist was linked to the knee so that when the arm was lifted the leg also rose. This particular technique of stringing economizes on the number of strings and produces a distinctive movement. It can be found in the Grimaldi Clown, Scaramouche, and skeletons.

070 c7 (140-185)

8/4/04

10:34 AM

Page 175

. Chinese belldancer (ClowesTiller). John Phillips Collection, now in the Theatre Museum, London.

. Chinese bell-dancer (Clowes-Tiller). Drawn by Clodagh McCormick.

070 c7 (140-185)



8/4/04

10:34 AM

Page 176

Fantoccini and Variety


Chorus Tommy Fiddle-playing marionettes may have first appeared in Britain in the s with visiting Italian companies. From a technical point of view the fiddler was not very complicated. He had a small staple placed in the side of the neck or on the shoulder to allow the fiddle to be drawn up by a string running through it, while the right hand was equipped

. Chorus Tommy (Clowes-Tiller). Drawn by Clodagh McCormick.

070 c7 (140-185)

8/4/04

10:34 AM

Page 177

Fantoccini and Variety

with a bow, with a special string to the tip. In some cases the two strings to the right hand and the bow tip were provided with a bar of their own. One of the Munich figures, which probably dates to the first half of the nineteenth century, would have had a head rod with a bar for strings attached to it that would take the four strings required for the left and right hands, the bow tip, and the end of the violin. An additional bar may have been used for the leg strings. Street entertainers were often physically impaired. Incapacity stirred charity and offered some protection from a police force inclined to treat buskers as beggars.57 Candler had his fantoccini version of a well-known black street entertainer called Billy Waters, who had a wooden leg, played the fiddle, and danced. As people forgot Billy Waters, the act remained, but the character became a British Tar. The disabled naval veteran was a not uncommon sight in the streets of larger towns of Victorian Britain. A cruel cartoon in the Judy of  July  shows two sailors, one on crutches with two peg-legs and the other with only a stump of a left arm, bawling their heads off. A caption reads “Why didn’t they lose their voices instead?”58 In the music halls hardship was often exploited for primarily sentimental and commercial reasons, and songs dealing with it should not be read too literally.59 Piling up a catalogue of disasters was used for comic effect. “Chorus Tommy” involves two elderly and inebriated vagrants, Tommy and Sal, who perform a popular song called “Oh, Cruel Were My Parients.”60 Sal, the old woman, sings the lugubrious ballad; Tommy, her deaf partner, who has lost a leg and an eye in a naval encounter, plays the fiddle and joins in the cheery chorus when she reminds him with a shout of “Chorus Tommy,” after which they dance a comic jig. “Chorus Tommy” found its way into virtually every marionette repertoire and even existed in glove-puppet form. The older Edward Calver was so well known for this act that he was nicknamed “Chorus Tommy”; when his show was being set up, people would say, “Chorus Tommy has coom again; Chorus Tommy is on’t fairground, lads.” The charm of the performance, according to the Reverend Thomas Horne (chaplain of the Showmen’s Guild) was the way in which the couple sang the ballad. Calver managed both the voice of the old woman for the verses and the voice of her partner for the chorus. At the end of each verse she shouted at her partner the words “Chorus Tommy”: at this cue from the old woman, the old man, with a presto accompaniment of the



070 c7 (140-185)

8/4/04

10:34 AM

Page 178

. Woman with mobile mouth, first half of nineteenth century. Probably used as Sal. Puppet Centre Trust.

070 c7 (140-185)

8/4/04

10:34 AM

Page 179

Fantoccini and Variety

fiddle and a shuffle of his leg stump, began to yell the chorus in a thunderous roar that set the audience going, and again and again the chorus would ring out.61 The first verse of the song, which was popular in the repertoire of comic singers, runs as follows: Oh! Cruel were my parients, as tore my love from me, And cruel was the press-gang, who took him off to sea, And cruel was the little boat, as row’d him from the Strand, And cruel was the great big ship as sail’d him from the Land, Singing too rol loo rol loo rol loo rol too rol loo rol loo Jig. After another six verses of disasters, Sal concludes: Then Ladies all take warning, by my true love and me, Tho’ cruel fate should cross you remember constancy, Like me you’ll be rewarded and have your heart’s delight, With fiddling in the morning, and a drop of Gin at Night, Singing too rol loo rol loo rol loo rol too rol loo rol loo. Jig. In a surviving version known to have been used by the Tillers, the original words of the song have been simplified, and the absurd tale of woes has been reduced from eight verses to two, interspersed with “patter”:62 Mary: Ladys and Gentlmen I will sing to you a song Its but a little ditty, and I’ll not detain you long Its all about my Husband as you can plainly see He lost his right leg and his eye When going out to sea Patter Mary: You did loose your sight of eye in Battle Didn’t you Tommy. Tommy: Ah, that I did Mary. I have only got one light left now. Mary: Never mind My Darling I love just the same. Chouros Tommy.



070 c7 (140-185)

8/4/04

10:34 AM

Page 180

. “Oh, Cruel Were My Parients.” Sheet music cover. Author’s Collection.

070 c7 (140-185)

8/4/04

10:34 AM

Page 181

Fantoccini and Variety

Chouros Turly lury lido Turly lur lay Turly lury lido Turly lur lay Lurly lur lido Turly lur lay Turly lur lido Turly lur lay Mary: My love he plays the Fiddle through every street in town And I sing at his elbow as we wander up and down We spend our lives in Harmony we very seldom fight Unless he takes Grogg on bord and I take gin at night. Patter Tommy: Ah you like your drop of gin at Night don’t you Mary Chouros Tommy


Minstrels and Pierrots In Victorian concerts the performers sat on a stage in a semicircle, without any specific scenery or costume, and got up to perform their various numbers. From the American minstrel show came the idea of a concert-party performed by a group of black-faced performers. A very popular group in America was the Virginia Serenaders. Edwin Deaves had introduced an act with marionettes into performances by the Virginia Serenaders in , which probably involved marionette versions of the minstrels. The manager Edwin P. Christy cashed in on the success of the Virginia Serenaders, forming a group under his own name in . Subsequent entertainments of this type tended to be known as Christy Minstrels. In the early s Mayhew recorded the presence of “negro serenaders” in the streets of London.63 They claimed to have been active since the mid-s and consisted of groups of four to seven black-faced entertainers who sang a variety of songs, such as “Old Mr Coon,” “The Buffalo Gals,” and “O, Susannah,” as well as playing the bones and the banjo. Brigaldi’s Royal Marionettes added “Ethiopian Serenaders” to their program in London in April : Among the achievements of the puppets, whose agility has now reached such a point that wood and wire begin fairly to rival bone and muscle, none is more creditable than their imitation of those



070 c7 (140-185)



8/4/04

10:34 AM

Page 182

Fantoccini and Variety

veteran “lions,” the Ethiopian Serenaders, which they attempted for the first time last night. Not only are the figures made up to the exact resemblance of Messrs Pell and Co, not only are the movements of their human predecessors followed with mechanical accuracy, but the sentiment and humour of the prototypes has been caught and reproduced to the utmost nicety of feeling. That dogged manner in which the “bones” used to wait for his inspirations, and his frenzy of delight when those inspirations actually came, are represented as effectually in the puppet as they appeared in the real man.64 In February  D’Arc’s had “Christy’s Minstrels with their Funny Jokes, Songs and Dances.”65 During his season at the St. James’s Hall, Picadilly, in the summer of , Bullock devoted a section of his program to “the Great Troupe of Christy Minstrels, the funniest Niggers in the world.” He even added two figures, one of them a comic violinist. When he presented his troupe at the Crystal Palace in February  the minstrels formed the first part of the program, with an overture, a comic song (“Laughing Nigger”), a song (“Belle Mahone”), a plantation song and dance (“The Poor Old Nigger,” old Snowball), and a “Plantation Walk Round” performed by the troupe. From the program published by McDonough and Earnshaw’s in Australia and based on the Bullock show, the minstrel numbers are “The Mulligan Guard, We’ll all skedaddle, The Old Nigger, and Lottie Lee also Silver Threads among the gold, Good old friends.” These two lists give a fairly good idea of the musical side of the average marionette minstrel show. According to a program for the Real Politeama of Naples in , Thomas Holden’s traveled with an act on the program that went by the name of “Grande Concerto di Negri del Congo,” which consisted of two ladies and three gentlemen. Marionette minstrel acts generally involved up to half a dozen figures, but the number could fluctuate. Remembering Barnard’s in the s, one of Waldo Lanchester’s correspondents wrote: You mentioned Niggers in “Notes and News.” There were four of these, two male and two female and they sat in a crescent formation on the stage cracking jokes, asking conundrums and singing The Old Folks at Home and Poor Old Jim. I think they had bones and tambourines. Their nigger voices I can hear in my imagination now and one of their conundrums. One of them men asked “can you tell me

070 c7 (140-185)

8/4/04

10:34 AM

Page 183

Fantoccini and Variety

why a good wife is like ivy?” “No I can’t tell you etc.” “Well, a good wife is like ivy because the greater the ruin the closer she clings.” The other then said “Now I will ask you a conundrum – Why is a bad wife like ivy?” “Give it up. Why is a bad wife like ivy?” “Because the closer she clings, the greater the ruin.”66 Virtually every British troupe had its “Negro” minstrels, who occupied a full section of the program. Holden posters feature minstrels, and the Clowes and Sons booth had an illustration of the minstrels on the façade. At a late stage the act evolved into a plantation scene, which contextualized it and freed the puppets from the staid drawing-room setting that was common for concert parties. When Clunn Lewis was offering his rather rundown show in , the minstrel part of the bill was reduced to a single figure who performed to “coon jazz.”67 Delvaine’s had a much loved puppet called Alabama, supposedly one of their oldest, who performed a big boot dance. The Smith troupe had a bones player. One of the figures produced by Holden’s Old Woman was also a bones player, which may suggest something about the popularity of the music and dancing of the minstrel program. In most companies, opening mouths were used for sketches with singing, such as “Chorus Tommy,” and the popular marionette Christy Minstrels. We do not know whether Lambert D’Arc’s original Christy Minstrel act of  had opening mouths, but a set of figures which were used in  when he opened his show in Cardiff most certainly did. A photograph in the Lanchester scrapbooks, taken in the s, shows seven minstrel figures, all with opening mouths. In a century fascinated by alterity, when almost every nationality appeared on the stage, the minstrels had a distinct exotic quality, with their unfamiliar and heavily rhythmic music, songs, and dances. The black-faced puppet was neither more nor less than a puppet with a black face, but it represented a white performer with a face coated in a mixture of burnt cork and turpentine.68 The ambivalence was even more patent here than in the case of the actor in a dramatic role. In  the seaside Pierrot show concert party came into existence in Bray, Co. Wicklow, Ireland, and its success rapidly eclipsed the blackface minstrels.69 Instead of black faces, all the performers now had white faces and dressed in Pierrot costumes. The Pierrot show arrived a little



070 c7 (140-185)



8/4/04

10:35 AM

Page 184

Fantoccini and Variety

. D’Arc’s Marionette Empire of Stars, circa . Includes May Henderson, George Lashwood, Bijou and Bella, T. E. Dunville, Marie Lloyd, Fanny Fields, Harry Lauder, R.G. Knowles, Vesta Tilley, Little Tich, and possibly George Robey. By permission of the British Library.

too late for the marionette theatre and never had the same appeal as the minstrel show. Pierrot figures did multiply, however. In  a Chester and Lee advertisement baldly stated “we do not work niggers,” probably an indication that the minstrel concert had been dropped from the program.70 Barnard’s incorporated a couple of Pierrots in the pantomime. Holden’s had a pantomime, The Sprightly Sprites of the Demon’s Cave, in which two speaking Pierrots replace Clown and Pantaloon as central figures of the harlequinade: For the funny business two Pierrots known as Tommy and Jemmy are chiefly responsible, and the way in which these figures are worked is quite marvellous. They steal joints from a butcher’s shop, chop off the proprietor’s head, play larks with a baby in charge of a careless nursemaid, and indulge in mischievous pranks in a photographic studio and a Parisian restaurant, while much laughter is caused by an artful dog that slily pilfers all the articles that Tommy and Jemmy take unlawful possession of.71 Through the last quarter of the century, marionette shows were moving closer to the variety stage. In their last years, Bullock’s announced

070 c7 (140-185)

8/4/04

10:35 AM

Page 185

Fantoccini and Variety

both Christy Minstrels and “The Amazing and Comic Variety Artistes.” The traditional acts were probably there, but the special announcements are for “Mr Grace, the All-England Eleven Cricketer, in the National Song of the game, ‘The Cricketeers,’” and Sinbad Jack in “The Death of Nelson.”72 Topicality was becoming more and more important, and marionette programs featured well-known entertainers performing the songs for which they were celebrated. W. and E. D’Arc specialized in a line-up of stars of the British music hall for their show. As replicas of live performers (especially vocalists) proliferated, many of the older acts and trick puppets fell by the wayside. By the time they ceased to function in , McCormick’s Marionettes were presenting audiences at Butlin’s holiday camp with a marionette Gracie Fields, Gary Glitter, a Scotsman in a kilt (who probably went through some of the Harry Lauder repertoire), and a recycled nineteenth-century female figure who now appeared as Elton John.



080 c8 (186-209)

8/4/04

10:36 AM

Page 186

Chapter 8 : Presenting the Show
The Stage Front Victorian reviewers gave scant attention to minor theatres and even less to marionette shows. For this reason, the detailed press coverage of the Brigaldi Royal Marionettes in  and of Bullock’s performances in London in  is invaluable. Louis de Moranges’s pamphlet about Holden in Paris in  (Thomas Holden et ses fantoches) also helps us form an impression of what a performance was really like. The occasional bill or poster provides information that allows us to reconstruct something of the order of the performance. Bullock, emulating the more up-market live theatres, used a much fuller printed program at the Queen’s Hall in Liverpool and for subsequent London appearances of his company.1 Full-color illustrated posters were used by many theatres in the late nineteenth century, and this practice was adopted by a few marionette proprietors, notably Britton Pettigrove and the Holdens. Marionette acts also featured on the lengthy bills printed for the variety theatres. Live theatre was the constant point of reference. When Britton Pettigrove established his “New Grand National Marionettes” in  he boldly informed prospective audiences: “This show will be absolutely the largest as regards Figures, Stage and Scenery ever exhibited to the Public. The Machinery, Stage and Scenic effects, Dresses etc. are equal to those of a first class theatre.”2 Complete marionette stages were placed upon the stages of variety theatres, whose large and ornate proscenium arches required additional scaling down to the proportions of the puppet. James Holden took this a step further, sometimes using live performers at the front of the stage with marionette ones farther back, creating a sense of deep perspective,

080 c8 (186-209)

8/4/04

10:36 AM

Page 187

. Pettigrove bill. Theatre Museum, London, V & A Picture Library.

080 c8 (186-209)



8/4/04

10:36 AM

Page 188

Presenting the Show

since the realistic marionettes were barely distinguishable from the live performers. The focal point of the Victorian theatre was the elaborate proscenium arch, which, with its gilding and stucco work, became more and more like a picture frame. When Billy Purvis, after trouble with his live actors, turned to wooden actors for his dramatic repertoire, his new stage was “modelled after the old theatre of Newcastle.”3 Delvaine’s stage was flanked by boxes inhabited by “audience” members who themselves were a part of the show and with an orchestra of a dozen or so puppet musicians in front.4 These were not marionettes but were worked by rods from the side.5 The Victorian marionette performance took place on a stage that had its own elaborate front. When this was placed on the stage of a theatre, it continued the framing of the proscenium arch, drawing the eye farther and farther in. Delvaine’s company used a special cut cloth with painted drapes, which was dropped in front of their own stage. This had the practical function of masking the top and sides, but also scaled down the much larger proscenium arch of the theatre where they were performing. Their  fit-up had a twenty-foot-high painted front, which was flown into place behind the tabs, while the stage was pushed forward on casters and then screwed down to the floor. Some proscenium arches received highly elaborate decorative treatment, with painting, gilding, and relief work. When Wycherley’s Original Imperial Marionettes were put up for sale in  as a going concern, the advertisement mentioned a “Handsome Carved Wood Proscenium, Heavily gilded, Carved by Alfred Bedford  ft wide and  ft high, opening  ft by  / ft.”6 Richard Barnard’s front was in papier-mâché and decorated in cream and gold, but later this was replaced by velvet drapes.7 Surviving photographs of his fit-up on the stage of the Grand Theatre, Leeds, in  show a late Victorian framing, complete with generous swags of drapery. In  Chester and Lee began to announce their “elegant crimson plush proscenium and draperies of the same.”8 This was in keeping with the development of plush and velvet in the live theatre of the time, but it also indicates a move away from the painted stage fronts of an earlier period. The elaborate solid fronts may have remained with the portable theatres but were possibly too cumbersome for use on the music-hall stage. A Victorian theatre commonly had a proscenium opening some thirty feet wide and twenty-five high, but this was scaled down by wings and

080 c8 (186-209)

8/4/04

10:36 AM

Page 189

Presenting the Show

. Delvaine stage front, still in use in the s. Archival photo. Desiree Delvaine Collection.

borders. The height of the front border had to be sufficient to allow for sightlines from the upper galleries. The gallery inhabitants saw the front part of the stage, where most of the action happened, but borders produced sightlines that prevented them from seeing more than the bottom of the backcloth. For the inhabitants of the stalls the effect was reversed, and the stage space seemed disproportionately high. The marionette stage was generally wider than it was high, but it did not have the enormous depth of many actors’ theatres or the same range of sightlines. Like the live theatre, the marionette stage drew the eye in with a series of framing devices in the form of borders and wings. When placed on a real stage, the marionette stage front had to reconcile the vertical lines of the frame in which it was placed with its own more horizontal reality. To allow room for manipulators on a bridge above the puppets, the stage opening was seldom more than twice the height of the figures, whereas in actors’ theatre, outside the gaffs and booths, it was rarely less than three times the height of the actor. The relationship of the marionette figure to the scenic space usually leaves us with an impression that the marionette is larger than it really is. That is because of the relative sizes of properties (which are scaled



080 c8 (186-209)



8/4/04

10:36 AM

Page 190

Presenting the Show

. Barnard stage, with Richard Barnard, showing painted act-drop. Leeds, . Archival photo. Ken Barnard Collection.

down) and because the puppet fills up a disproportionately large amount of the stage picture. This is partly a question of optical illusion but also relates to the real dimensions of the stage. Brown’s little theatre in Hull had a proscenium opening measuring  by  feet ( m  by  m ), but a border lowered this to  feet ( m ). The marionettes were also relatively small, measuring between  and  cm. It is very easy for us to think of live actors on a large proscenium-arch stage. Many stages, however, were not that vast. Mayhew mentions visiting a penny gaff where the “stage” was about  feet square and “could admit of no scenic embellishment.”9 In other words, in smaller theatres, and especially the portable ones, the live performer might be magnified every bit as much as the marionette. Since many marionette showpeople presented a mixed bill or “combination,” audiences had to get used to oversized human performers on a small stage followed by marionette actors appearing within the same overall frame.

080 c8 (186-209)

8/4/04

10:36 AM

Page 191

Presenting the Show

The average booth was close to  m (circa  feet) wide, and the stage front inserted into this measured  to  m. The remaining space at either side was closed off with screens or curtains. Richard Barnard’s stage opening was  feet wide and  high.10 An advertisement of  gives a good idea of the dimensions of a fairly average portable marionette stage: “Marionette Exhibition for sale, suitable for booth or small halls. Twelve feet high and fourteen feet wide. Very portable. Scenery. Side Wings, Borders and everything else quite complete.”11 Where live actors had a predisposition to line up as close to the footlights as possible, marionettes lined up in front of the backcloth, and the area in which they operated was defined by the length of arm stretch of the figure-workers. In most theatres there was only a single bridge, positioned behind the backcloth. In a limited number of cases there was a second one, positioned directly behind the proscenium, from which the operators (backs to the audience) worked the figures. A third bridge was used only with a very deep stage. Harry Wilding remembered his proscenium as feet wide and feet deep, which might suggest a threebridge fit-up.12 There are a few references to swing bridges, but clearly they were not in common use. Split in the middle and working on some sort of cantilever principle, the swing bridge allowed a figure to move from the very back to the front of a deep stage without the strings or wires encountering any obstacle. Leon Pierre remembered Barnard’s using such a stage: “The stage had three bridges from which the operators worked, the one nearest to the curtain being worked backwards, marionettes facing the audience under the bridge. One bridge was a swing bridge so that, not only did the puppet move across the stage, but the operator moved too.”13 The only photograph of backstage at Barnard’s dates from  and shows a single bridge on what looks like a rather rickety touring fit-up. The operators are standing on a bridge which is high enough for a cut cloth to be placed in front of it to allow for a deep scene; but the bridge itself, as was generally the case, is only a little above the tops of the heads of the figures. The area under the bridge was known as the “discovery” space. Although figures could not be worked there, a tableau could be set up; it did provide a means of extending the depth of the stage in more spectacular scenes and producing a greater sense of perspective, distancing the marionettes a little from the painted perspective of the backdrop.



080 c8 (186-209)



8/4/04

10:36 AM

Page 192

Presenting the Show

. Backstage view of Barnard’s. Royal Magazine, . George Speaight Collection.


Scenery The scenery was one of the attractions of the Victorian marionette show. In  Wycherley’s advertisement described a fairly standard set of stock scenery for a traveling fit-up: “Scenes, Wings, Borders. . . . Two Entire Pantomimes, Harlequinade and Transformation (with Real Water Cascade), Act Drop, Large Damask curtain.”14 Scenery is hard to store and often left in outhouses, where it suffers from damp and vermin. As a result, no large collections of scenery have survived in Britain or Ireland. In  Waldo Lanchester acquired eight scenes that had been painted for the Barnard theatre: “) Marble palace scene back cloth and cut cloth, highlighted with tinsel; ) Restaurant scene; ) Chinese street; ) Palace of the dragons; ) Oak corridor; ) The Crystal Palace; ) Under the sea (gauze transparent cloth with tinsel; and ) Circus interior scene.”15 In  Henri Renaud, from whom Lanchester had bought the

080 c8 (186-209)

8/4/04

10:36 AM

Page 193

Presenting the Show

. Barnard stage with harlequinade scene, showing use of cut cloth. Leeds, . Archival photo. Ken Barnard Collection.

material, had offered only six scenes to Lanchester but seemed to be working from a hazy memory. He mentioned that he had some other scenes, including a toyshop and a couple of act-drops, but that these had been ruined by being left out in the rain. Some backcloths have survived from the Tiller and Clowes companies and are now in the Theatre Museum. The Delvaine company also kept some scenery, but this is all twentieth century, and much of it in a simplified style more evocative of  than of Victorian scenepainting. In  Sam Baylis was trying to dispose of a marionette stage and scenery. The material included five drops measuring  by  feet.16 This suggests a comparatively high stage and bridge. Marionette backcloths were wider than they were high. The few surviving Barnard backcloths measure  feet by  feet  inches.17 The exact date of these cannot be established, but they are probably from the s or s. A photograph of the Barnard theatre harlequinade, taken at the Grand Theatre, Leeds, in , shows a stage opening scaled down by a series of borders. Three sets of wings lead the eye in toward the backcloth



080 c8 (186-209)



8/4/04

10:36 AM

Page 194

Presenting the Show

and diminish the spectator’s awareness of the real size of the puppets. In the best traditions of nineteenth-century scene-painting, the coloring of the distance is lighter and hazier, thus giving an even greater sense of depth. In one of the scenes the discovery space was used for added depth and framed by a cut cloth, which depicted a London street with a railway bridge, over which a train is passing.


Transformation Scenes The fullest resources of the scene-painter went into the transformation scene. Audiences were amazed by the way in which a whole scene seemed to melt away or be transformed literally in front of their eyes. This effect was part of the stock in trade of the operatic stage but by the later eighteenth century had become common in pantomimes and harlequinades. At its simplest the transformation scene depended on a series of gauzes lit from the back. Each had a curtain behind it, which blocked its transparency until the appropriate moment. Victorian theatre made the grand transformation scene a sine qua non of pantomimes and extravaganzas. The scene-painter William Beverley was so famous for his transformation scenes that he was sometimes perceived as having invented the genre.18 In the last decades of the century, the big transformation scene was a must, and at Drury Lane the cost of such a scene could be well over a thousand pounds.19 All the major later Victorian marionette companies possessed at least one transformation scene. Water (generally in the form of fountains and cascades, designed to catch light and sparkle) was a fundamental element in most of the grand transformations. In  Glennie’s Anglo American Marionettes boasted: “The Stage is no ordinary platform but consists of every mechanical requisite for spectacular display being replete with star traps, Real Water, Fountains and waterfall of the most novel description and newest designs elaborately carried out.”20 In an interview with the -year-old Harry Wilding in , Gerald Morice led the discussion to the transformation scene: We discussed the transformation scenes which were almost indispensable to touring shows of the period. The transformation was extraordinary, six changes with gauzes and all cut work. When it came to the last scene, the gauze went up and there was a waterfall com-

080 c8 (186-209)

8/4/04

10:36 AM

Page 195

Presenting the Show

ing down. It used to take seven minutes to work the transformation scene. A man in Birmingham by the name of Stone, and another one Tom Hall, used to paint the transformation scenes and there was also a London artist, a Mr. Rogers, who worked for the Duke’s Theatre which stood in Holborn. They would charge up to £, for there was much labour attached to the job.21 For the Nottingham Goose Fair of  (in October), John Holden advertised his “grand Christmas Pantomime”: “The Coral Cave in the Haunted Isle! – Grand Fairy Ballet! – The Beautiful Diamond car drawn by Birds of Paradise! – Descent of the Lotus Bowers! – The Palace of Precious Stones in the Valley of the Humming Birds! – The leaping cascade of Bubbling Waters! – Eminently Magnificent Transformation Scene, and Brilliant Finale.”22 In  Radford, Chappell, and Dugard were offering a Grand Comic Pantomime terminating each evening with a fairy ballet and transformation scene.23 In  Britton Pettigrove declared that his show was modeled on the spectacular actors’ theatre and included an elaborate transformation scene.24 In  D’Arc’s Marionettes had a two-week season at the Irish Exhibition at Olympia. The final item of the program was a pantomime of Bluebeard, which was followed by a harlequinade and transformation scene: “‘The Fairy’s Dell and the Home of the Silver Swan’ concluded the pantomime; and, with lotus bowers, a glade in fairy land, embellished with golden lattices and jewels, stalactite grottoes, ‘dazzling corruscations,’ and the fairy queens in their chariot drawn by silver swans, a very pretty and striking effect was produced.”25 In November  James Holden received particular praise for his transformation scene: “A very beautiful transformation scene is the concluding item in Mr. Holden’s repertoire. We get an idyllic picture of some of nature’s most entertaining glories; rocks shimmering with the golden rays of the sun, rivulets flashing forth their magnificence as they wind through a glade made picturesque by variegated leaves and bushes and shrubs and overhanging branches. Altogether a delightful representation of rugged grandeur.”26 In  Walter Tiller’s Marionettes and Varieties presented a scene called “The Ruler of the Seas,” executed by Sid Tiller. The delighted audience gave it three encores.27 Advertisements for disposal of the material of a marionette company often list a “transformation scene” without any specification as to what



080 c8 (186-209)



8/4/04

10:36 AM

Page 196

Presenting the Show

it might be. This implies that prospective buyers knew exactly what they might be getting. So important was the transformation scene that it could become an item on its own, completely divorced from any sort of dramatic context. In the s James Holden, on a program for a performance in Vienna in the Blumen-Säle of the Gartenbau Gesellschaft, concluded his variety bill with a “Grand transformation and closing apotheosis” in twelve scenes.


Scene-Painters Scene-painters were in heavy demand for marionette shows. When members of the company did not have the requisite skills, the proprietors turned to outside professionals. When Bullock’s advertised for “a good scene painter” in , it was by no means alone.28 Sam Baylis came to marionettes via his work as a scene-painter. He mentions painting a sea-scene for Thorne’s portable theatre before joining Purvis in , when one of his first jobs was to paint a new front. He worked for Purvis in this capacity on several occasions before starting his own show.29 In  he temporarily suspended his marionette activities to paint the scenery and decorations of his brother’s New Grand Concert Hall, the Colosseum Music Hall, Stockwell Place, Glasgow.30 Another scene-painter who worked for Purvis was Wardhaugh Nichol, who painted his booth fronts and later “got up a few scenes” when Purvis set up his theatre for live actors.31 In  Purvis gave a benefit performance for Nichol, at Hexham. For this occasion Nichol “got up some beautiful dioramic scenery with moving figures; among the rest was a splendid view of the Rialto, with the ‘Bridge of Sighs,’ and the waters of the Adriatic. Gondolas passing and repassing, spectators on the quay and bridges, carriages and so forth.”32 This sounds like some sort of optical show or teatrum mundi. In  Walter Calver, performing at the Leeds Fair, drew attention to his “new Sensational Pantomime, with new tricks and Scenery, painted by Mr. Ben Whitley, showing the New Infirmary of Leeds, and other local streets and buildings; also the Market Place, Hull, and the Statue of King William the Third.”33 Apart from giving us the name of the scene-painter, this advertisement is interesting for its emphasis on the representation of local topography, a practice common in harlequinades and melodramas such as The Streets of London.

080 c8 (186-209)

8/4/04

10:36 AM

Page 197

Presenting the Show

Other scene-painters whose names have survived include W. M’Culloch, who was with Glennie’s in , and Signor Berlerie, who is mentioned in . When Arthur Milton set up his theatre in , he had new scenery painted by Mr. W. Corbould of London.34 “Corbould” is probably Carbold, scene-painter of the People’s Palace in Peckham, who painted “entirely new scenery” for Chester and Lee in .35 Thomas Rogers created new scenery for John Holden when his “Mammoth Mannikins” appeared at the London Pavilion and the Forresters’ Hall in January . He produced a grand transformation scene entitled “Home of Undine under the Sea.” With a great deal of noisy publicity, Britton Pettigrove announced his new fit-up in , declaring that the “splendid scenery” was by Messrs. Alex Hart and Sons, Parry White, and Moon.36 Barnard’s backcloth of the Crystal Palace was painted by Hart, while the Marble Palace and accompanying cut cloth were the work of Hart and Francis Bull.37


Lighting Painters were in the habit of painting light and shadow on the backcloths; but the stages also required illumination, which was generally provided by a row of footlights, initially oil and later gas. Where the depth of stage from proscenium arch to backdrop was about . m the footlights sufficed for most performances. One of the great effects of eighteenth- and nineteenth-century staging was to have an archway or cut cloth upstage and to position bright lights behind this. On the marionette stage, no doubt, extra lights could sometimes be found at the sides of the discovery space or deeper scene. It has already been suggested that Holden’s company achieved some effects by making the fullest use of the play of light on the faces of the puppets. They took great pains to reduce the visibility of the strings by a combination of the designs of the background against which the puppets appeared and the way in which they handled the lighting. When Wycherley’s company advertised their theatre for sale in , they specified: “Fit up and all requisite Wood and Gas Works etc. Everything thoroughly complete and ready to open with at a moment – Also Limelight Apparatus, Two Lenses, Boxes, Jets, Gas Bags and Pressure Boards.”38 Limelight, focused through lenses, provided the first spotlights in the nineteenth-century theatre. It was a means of obtaining very intense



080 c8 (186-209)



8/4/04

10:36 AM

Page 198

Presenting the Show

light and producing striking theatrical effects. The brightly lit stage was an added attraction in itself and felt to be worth advertising. If we are to judge by frequent advertisements for a “limelight man,” limelight was a crucial element of the marionette theatre, most notably of the grand transformation scenes. Limelight was used in the theatres from the s onward to produce a very strong beam of light. It could be difficult and dangerous to use, since it involved applying pressure to bags of hydrogen and oxygen, mixing the gases which were ignited, and passing the resultant flame over a cylinder of lime.39 When Richard Barnard visited Spain, he brought with him a cousin: “to stay with the show and keep the scenery in order. He being a scenic artist. He brought with him several articles for use, and chemicals for making Lime Light, coloured fire etc. used in our transformation scene.”40 Electric lighting was probably used for the first time at the Princess’s Theatre, London, as a floodlight for the pantomime of Bluff King Hal in .41 The carbon arc lamp was developed as a spotlight, rather like limelight, but initially less reliable. Electricity was also used for special effects of light rather than for illumination. Electricity did not come into full use for stage lighting until the s but, in the following years, rapidly replaced gas. Ever since the Renaissance, light had been used in theatre to arouse a sense of wonder in the spectator. Transformation scenes, with their gauzes, aimed at this effect, and lighting was a major component. Limelight was extremely important, but by the end of the century the bigger marionette shows had switched to electricity. The traveling ones had their own generators. Accidents with lights were a major hazard of every aspect of nineteenth-century theatre, and the proximity of naked flames and flammable materials created an omnipresent risk on the marionette stage. Barnard had grave worries in Spain when his cousin, who had a penchant for alcohol, neglected the limelight equipment. Barnard found the gas-bags leaking and had to improvise new ones out of goat-skins. He persuaded some of the men in the theatre to sit on the boards that pressurized the gas, a horrendously dangerous operation, since any naked flame could lead to an explosion. The Bullock show was destroyed by fire in , and the D’Arc’s show was lost when stage lighting set fire to scenery in Australia in . Harry Wilding claimed to have had his show burned down no less than three times through accidents such as knocking over lamps, while Chester and Lee lost much of their equipment in fires on two separate occasions.42

080 c8 (186-209)

8/4/04

10:36 AM

Page 199

Presenting the Show


Costume Victorian marionettes had extensive wardrobes, and the costumes were one of the attractions of the show. Nobody expected to see the same figures in the same costumes day after day. The figures we find in museums today are like refugees, with only the clothes on their backs (if that).43 To understand the scale of the wardrobes of Victorian marionettes, we have to look at the enormous collections of puppet costumes that survive in some continental collections. A rich wardrobe gave status to a marionette company. During a visit to a town, companies expected many spectators to see several shows. Changes of costume provided variety and helped a company get by on a relatively limited number of figures. Richard Barnard, referring to the period he spent with his great-uncle Charles, mentions spending two or three hours each day preparing as many as fifteen figures and changing the costumes of the male figures (an interesting relic of division of labor). Costume provided information of a general nature but was rarely designed for a single production, as it would be today. According to Barnard, Charles Middleton’s costumes were stored in chests divided into compartments, each one of which contained garments of a particular type or style.44 The rustic or simpleton was usually identifiable by his cotton smock, trousers tied below the knees, and a felt hat; the leading juvenile woman by light floral cotton or muslin, as opposed to the young “lady,” who would be more likely to wear lace-trimmed silk or satin. The “swell” or “masher” was dressed with conspicuous cheap elegance. Older figures of the poorer classes (as they usually were) had bald heads and waistcoats for men and white hair with mob caps and aprons for women. Gentlemen of the upper classes tended to have black frock coats, whether they were heavies or leading men or even juvenile leads. Broadly, costumes fell into two categories: historical and modern. “Historical” generally meant the late sixteenth or seventeenth century. It also spread over into the fantasy costumes for pantomime. A range of variety figures retained some form of seventeenth-century costume, with doublet, trunk-hose, and neck ruff.45 Most puppet acrobats were dressed in this way, with a little bolero waistcoat. Only the bolero and the emphasis on shiny silks and bright sequins and paillettes made them any different from a vague notion of historical costume. This was the classic costume of circus acrobats until quite late in the nineteenth century. Trunk-hose were perceived as more modest than tights, which



080 c8 (186-209)



8/4/04

10:36 AM

Page 200

Presenting the Show

developed slowly (Léotard gave his own name to his costume). From a practical point of view, it was easier to make a convincing marionette dressed in the classic manner. As the dramatic repertoires dwindled, the need for costume changes also disappeared. The stock roles remained and could be adapted to a range of similar dramas, but the delight in creating extensive wardrobes and using these as a way of differentiating between roles played on successive nights had disappeared. By the early s many companies were reduced to a handful of dramatic pieces – Arden of Faversham, Maria Marten, The Babes in the Wood, and a few pantomimes. The puppet became less and less a stock actor, capable of playing any part. Reduced to a single role, a puppet was directly identifiable with that role. Once regular costume changing ceased, costumes were often sewn on or attached more permanently. At an earlier period they had been made in a way that facilitated easy changing and allowed them to be washed or valeted from time to time. Female costumes were frequently in two parts. The skirt had a deep slit down the back and was usually held up by a drawstring. This drawstring ran through a cotton waistband. Men’s trousers were attached in the same way. The cotton waistband was quite a common dress-making technique among the poorer classes in the nineteenth century, to prevent too much bunching of heavy fabric at the waist. The more complex tailoring procedures of gores, pleats, or darts were also used to shape puppet costumes, and a flat waistband fastened at the back with a hook and eye (or, less frequently, a button) was employed. Sleeve ends or breeches were occasionally fastened with buttons, but a common form of fastening was a simple pin. Where strings had to go through a skirt or trouser leg, the hole through which they passed was sometimes reinforced by careful buttonhole stitching. Shirts and bodices might have buttons on the front, but the actual opening was down the back. The back was completely open, so that the garment did not have to pass over the head and could be fastened by hooks and metal eyes or loops of cotton. Fabrics were usually light, although one can find amazingly heavy blue serge (often used for policemen) and red flannel. Cottons and cambrics were much used, while variety figures, historical ones, and upperclass women wore a range of silks, satins, and velvets. Extra relief was given by gathering and ruching and the use of braid edgings and lace trimmings. Ric-rac braid and petersham ribbon were often used to out-

080 c8 (186-209)

8/4/04

10:36 AM

Page 201

Presenting the Show

line edges and to create designs and patterns. Further highlighting was produced by embroidery, metallic fringing, and lines of sequins. This decoration corresponded to Victorian fashion and also to the theatre costumes of the days before electricity, which tended to be strong in color; sequins, glass paillettes, beads, and metallic braids picked up light and drew the eye. The variety figures and the characters of the harlequinade had costumes that were identified with the puppet’s function in the program. This was the case with Harlequin’s lozenged costume, which often had the pattern outlined with strips of braid or sequins. Columbine became a short-skirted ballerina, more recognizable by context than by any specific signifiers. Pantaloon remained distinguished by a doublet and hose reminiscent of the early Jacobean period. Clown wore a vaguely seventeenth-century outfit devised by Joe Grimaldi, with rows of flounces sewn onto his white breeches and sleeves and edged in red braid. Costumes were generally made by the female members of the company. Charles Middleton was fortunate in that his sister, Mrs. Terry, had been involved with theatrical wardrobes earlier. Many costumes showed a high degree of skill in the dress-making; there was a strong awareness that these were theatre costumes and that the movement of the figure was all important. Shirts were often finely made with cartridge pleating, and many garments were carefully lined. This helped the hang and gave body to flimsy fabrics. Fine needlework was also in evidence in female underwear; petticoats were often carefully shaped both to help the hang of the skirts and to facilitate movement. Men’s sleeves were cut in two shaped pieces, as is normal in tailoring, while the breeches were relatively full and generally had a shaped crotch. There was no fly, and the back-fastening was concealed by the coat or upper garment. Recycled elements of human clothing (which already had tucking, pleating, and lace trimming) were often employed. Stockings were worn by both male and female characters and were usually made from cutdown silk, cotton, or wool ones. They covered the lower leg from the ankle to the knee; but in the case of acrobats or historical costume, they were extended upward to give an effect of tights. English marionettes rarely had leather shoes. A shaped and painted wooden foot is most common. Where boots were required, waxed cotton leggings were attached to the lower leg. Dancers and acrobats often wore silk or velvet pumps.



080 c8 (186-209)



8/4/04

10:36 AM

Page 202

Presenting the Show


Marionette Theatres and Musicians Just as every actors’ theatre had its orchestra, a marionette show was unthinkable without music. The size of the band in a Victorian theatre could range from a full orchestra to “a single cornet and fiddle or a wheezy harmonium when luck ran out.”46 In the s Jerome K. Jerome, as a fit-up actor, recalled visiting towns where a piano would be hired to represent the orchestra.47 The same was true of the marionette theatres. A picture of a fantoccini performance for children at Arundel Castle in  shows a single musician playing a concertina, but quite large bands also existed. Street musicians of the nineteenth century played a wide variety of instruments. A satirical plate in the Judy of  July  depicts players of the tambourine, banjo, bagpipes, drums, cornets, flute, violin, accordion, glass tubes, the inevitable barrel organ, and a harp.48 The harp was common in the streets and occasionally found its way into the band of a marionette show. In  G. Noakes’s Marionettes advertised for “a Fiddle and a Harp player (Double handed preferred),” adding, “Glad to hear from old friends. Will Mr. Clements write in.”49 Clunn Lewis was celebrated for his use of a harp to collect an audience for his marionette show. His small team included William Middleton, who played the cornet and dulcimer. The Era carried as many advertisements for musicians as for figureworkers. Versatility was desirable. In  Simms advertised for “a good Euphonium worker” and also for “a young man to speak and work figures and to be generally useful.”50 To this he added the requirement that “both must be used to building,” a reminder of the need to help with the erection and dismantling of the booth. Richard Barnard’s father, the shoemaker Richard Barnard, had joined James Middleton’s booth as a musician and subsequently become a cornet-player for Sanger and Powell’s Circus. His son recalled what might be expected of a musician, especially a member of the family: My Grandfather having a large family of sons and daughters, used to vary the performance by some of the young ones, giving comic songs, duets besides some very clever performing troop etc. between the Marionette turns this class of Variety proving very popular. My uncles and aunts, had been tutored in singing, dancing, and music,

080 c8 (186-209)

8/4/04

10:36 AM

Page 203

Presenting the Show

the four brothers Alfred, James, Edwin and William, formed their own small brass band, for parading etc. Whilst for the music inside, for the performance each of them was expert with the Dulcimer, Violin etc. When either of them was not required behind the scenes they would each take their place in the Orchestra to play, for the play’s singing etc.51 Barnard also mentions employing a “lady singer” on one occasion and refers to Springthorpe’s employing “actors and singers to speak and sing for the pantomime.”52 There are many references to the songs for Holden’s shows. All of this suggests that, where the showpeople’s family did not suffice, it was common practice to hire singers as well as musicians. In  William Case was looking for a band of five.53 In July he specified a brass band and offered a salary of thirty shillings to the leader, whose job, like his counterpart in the actors’ theatre, was to select and arrange the music. In a small band the leader both played an instrument and conducted. Other musicians would receive a salary of twentyfive shillings. Case also offered rail expenses for any musician needing to travel over twelve miles and, as added inducement, assured prospective applicants that the show never remained less than a week in any one place.


The Brass Band and the Pianoforte The big development in popular music in nineteenth-century Britain was the brass band, which evolved in the s out of earlier wind bands.54 Brass bands flourished in Nottinghamshire, Derbyshire, Lancashire, West Yorkshire, Durham, and Northumberland – areas principally dominated by the coalfields and the textile industry. Outside London, these same areas saw both the development and flowering of the music hall and also some of the most concentrated marionette activity after . One of the features that distinguish the British marionette theatres from other European marionette theatres is the extensive use of the brass band. By the s an average brass band would consist of ten to twelve members. This might amount to five cornets, one horn, one baritone, one euphonium, one trombone, one piccolo, and one drum.55 By



080 c8 (186-209)



8/4/04

10:36 AM

Page 204

Presenting the Show

the s the cornet, together with the trombone, had become the basis of the British brass band.56 Most marionette companies could boast three to five musicians, while an exceptionally large one, such as Holden’s, might manage the full complement. In  John Holden Junior was looking for two musicians and a harmonium player, and a year later he was in search of a euphonium player.57 The bombardon, also in frequent demand, was the E flat bass. In  (John) Holden’s Champion Marionette Theatre, describing itself as “[t]he largest and best travelling,” advertised for a “solo cornet player to complete band of eight.”58 In the absence of a band, a solo instrument (often a violin or pianoforte) might be used to provide both incidental music and entr’acte pieces. By the s and s the piano, which carried connotations of respectability, was losing its somewhat exclusive status and had already made inroads into the homes of the weavers of Yorkshire and Lancashire, beginning to displace the more popular melodeon and concertina as a parlor instrument.59 For a marionette company a piano was a useful and versatile instrument.60 The pianist was known as the “jogger” or “joggerohmy.” In  Richard Barnard joined the Cassidy Company, which consisted of “three or four workers and a pianist,” whose name was Henri Page.61 In  Thomas Holden was advertising for a “First-class Pianist, as Musical Director. Must be able to use a baton.”62 In  we find him preparing a French tour and looking for a brass band of ten musicians, plus a pianist, which suggests that the piano was the basis for much of the incidental music. In a picture of the Tiller booth in  Harriet Clowes identified the various members of the company (mostly family).63 On the parade balcony was Arthur Bartholomew (the pianist), then her two brothers, Edward Clowes (with a cornet) and John Clowes (with a tenor horn). The fourth figure was Bert Bowden, depicted holding a slide trombone. She commented on their musical skills. After the company ceased to function, Edward Clowes became bandmaster for the British Legion Band in Littlehampton.


Mechanical Music

The Illustrated London News of  December  illustrates one of the first large street organs to appear in London. It was a “stratar-

080 c8 (186-209)

8/4/04

10:36 AM

Page 205

Presenting the Show

monica” made by Louis Gavioli of Modena, and its repertoire appears to have included airs from Rossini and Bellini.64 Part of the interest of this organ is the group of figures (musicians) on it. In the last quarter of the nineteenth century it became quite common for organs to appear in fairgrounds. At first they were not associated with any one sideshow but used simply to draw attention to the fair. Some marionette showpeople then acquired their own as a form of outside music. In  Pettigrove’s announced the sale of a booth, including “[a] large new Powerful Organ, by Enoff and Mukel.”65 In the last years of the nineteenth century the Testo family troupe was noted for its organ. An eyewitness of a performance in Durham in the s said: “Testo’s show was a two-wagon front with the organ enclosed level with the right side living wagon. The trumpets were there all right but in place of the whistles under the trumpets stood a row of glass bottles all filled to different depths with coloured liquids. On these bottles at the front were mechanical hammers, more of the piano hammer pattern, which played automatically onto these bottles. The effect of the sound was similar to the dulcimer.”66 A picture of the interior of Colonel Clark’s Ghost Show, circa , shows an organ being used for inside music.67 It is quite likely that the organ may have been used in a similar fashion by some marionette proprietors. In the twentieth century the gramophone was used for “inside” music, especially as troupes dwindled and could not really afford to pay musicians. It also allowed the audience to hear the recorded voice of the live artiste coming out of the mouth of the marionette.


Inside and Outside Music The terms “inside” and “outside” music appear with considerable frequency in advertisements. Outside music attracted attention and served for publicity; inside music accompanied the show. Mayhew’s description of a penny gaff near Smithfield around  mentions a “theatre” with a band outside to draw custom, while inside there was an old grand piano and a violinist.68 Cardoni’s marionette show appears to have had an “orchestra” that consisted of an old man who played the piano and a young one who played the fiddle.69 A drawing of Mumford’s theatre or “geggie” by D. Small depicts three rather depressed outside musicians playing brass instruments. The brass band was



080 c8 (186-209)



8/4/04

10:36 AM

Page 206

Presenting the Show

ideal for outside business. In , when Case advertised for musicians for “inside business,” he was looking for strings – a bass and a violin.70 The drum and trumpet had been the oldest means of attracting attention to a fairground show. A brass band offered new possibilities, and its potential as a crowd-puller was exploited by fairground showpeople. Wombwell’s menagerie, celebrated for its band, entered Nottingham for the Goose Fair in , “preceded by an open light wagon, containing an excellent brass band, which played several enlightening pieces.”71 Likewise, Kelsall’s waxworks in the s was fronted by a brass band. The bigger marionette showpeople were not slow in following this lead. Charles Middleton in the s kept a light cart on which a band of five or six musicians could parade through the streets, with a man throwing out handbills.72 Norwich Fair in  coincided with the local assizes in the castle; as a result of the proximity to the fairground, showpeople were forbidden to use brass bands, drums, or organs.73 Advertisements in the Era often look for “two-handed” or “doublehanded” musicians. This meant musicians able to play two instruments, one of which was generally brass. When Holden’s company advertised for a solo cornet/violinist they were looking for the main instruments for both outside and inside music combined in a single “doublehanded” performer.74 In  they advertised for a “Solo Cornet and E Flat Tenor, the latter to combine with violin.”75 For a tour in France in , John Holden was in search of a “Leader, Solo Cornet, Tenor, Horn, Euphonium, First Trombone and Double Drummer.” He noted a preference for “Double Handed and steady men” (the last being a reference to sobriety).76 The emphasis on what was effectively outside music suggests that he must have used his brass band to accompany the show. For the numbers of a variety and circus show, accompanied by a lively pantomime, the musical needs were not exactly those of a tearjerking melodrama.


Theatre Music and the Marionette Stage Music was a quintessential part of theatrical entertainment in the nineteenth century. In addition to overtures and pieces between the acts, it accompanied much of the performance, especially in the case of pantomimes and melodramas. Every theatre had an orchestra; as David

080 c8 (186-209)

8/4/04

10:36 AM

Page 207

Presenting the Show

Mayer has pointed out: “Whenever theatrical managements could afford the services of a composer-conductor and a theatre orchestra for him to conduct, melodrama was scored and elaborately orchestrated, and the score was carefully integrated with the text and with dramatic action during performance.”77 Percy Fitzgerald in The World behind the Scenes talks about the use of music to “reflect the dramatic passion of the situation” and observes how an obscure orchestra leader can devise “a truly dramatic ‘leit motive.’”78 By the s the very extensive use of music had ceased in the serious drama of the London stage (but continued in the provinces and with traveling theatres – not to mention marionette ones). Prior to this it had been common for any long speech of particular interest to be accompanied by music, and for certain characters to make their entrance to a specific melody. A classic example is the ghost melody in The Corsican Brothers (), but Henry Irving was still using music in this way many years later. Mayer has shown the expressive variations that could be made using a limited number of musical themes: “In the melodramatic score these themes are stated, repeated, quoted on these occasions for reasons of sentiment, subliminal association with other actions or characters, or for deliberate irony or mockery, transposed in major and minor keys, varied in tempi and volume, and above all, performed in various combinations by strings, woodwinds, brasses and percussions to give to the play colour and variety and bold or subtle shifts in mood.”79 There were composers who wrote specially for the theatre, such as Henry Bishop, whose work included the score of Black Ey’d Susan, or Michael Connolly, who provided a score for The Silver King. In most cases, however, the conductor of the band selected and adapted pieces of music as appropriate and distributed the parts to the musicians. In the later years of the century Henry Sprake composed music for fourteen of the twenty-five melodramas written or partially written by George R. Sims, but his official function was as conductor for the Royal Adelphi theatre. His job, as Mayer points out, included “auditioning and engaging musicians, conducting musical rehearsals, composing and orchestrating incidental music for any Adelphi piece lacking music, engaging and supervising the music copyists who produced duplicate band-parts, and conducting one or two performances nightly.”80 In a scaled-down way, this is exactly what the leader of the band for a marionette theatre would do.



080 c8 (186-209)



8/4/04

10:36 AM

Page 208

Presenting the Show

We can only guess at the possible score for a nineteenth-century marionette production; even this would have differed from one company to another, depending upon who was organizing the music and what the band consisted of. Full scores exist for only a handful of melodramas. In any case, theatre music is subject to fashion. Even if music existed for a given play, this does not necessarily mean that it was always played or that a drama of the s performed in the s would have had its original music. The Duncombe edition of Jerrold’s Black Ey’d Susan makes no mention of Bishop’s original score but simply has a note: “The music throughout this piece is chiefly selections from Dibdin’s Naval Airs.” We do know of pieces of music associated with particular plays that were part of the marionette repertoire, but that does not tell us how (or if) that music was used or what additional music might be introduced to underscore entrances and exits and create atmosphere. Since at least the eighteenth century, theatre music has tended to incorporate airs that were already familiar to audiences. The Beggar’s Opera and its many imitations showed how well-known tunes could be provided with new words or fitted into a new theatrical context. Bullock’s Little Red Riding Hood did precisely this.81 By the later nineteenth century, companies such as Carl Rosa’s had popularized opera, and many operatic airs found their way into local pantomimes.82 Audiences became familiar with them without necessarily knowing from whence they came. When we consider the extent to which the marionette theatres followed the repertoires of the actors’ theatres and realize that they too had their own orchestras, we can fairly safely assume that virtually all music that had percolated down to the popular theatrical repertoire would also have been used in the marionette theatres. The bulk of nineteenth-century theatre music (in the form of band parts written out for individual musicians) has disappeared, often a victim of theatre fires but also probably carried off by musicians or left in a corner until it was eventually cleared out. We may also have to allow for the fact that many musicians played by ear and may not have used sheet music at all. Piano arrangements are the most common way for theatre music to survive. Davidson’s Musical Treasury offered, for example, “vocal and instrumental pieces founded on Uncle Tom,” and these may well have

080 c8 (186-209)

8/4/04

10:36 AM

Page 209

Presenting the Show

been used at key moments of the many marionette performances of this popular piece. They included “The Slave Auction” (Henry Russell), “The Slave Mother,” “Eva’s Song of the World to Come,” “Uncle Tom’s Lament for the Old Folks at Home” (“New song and chorus with the Music of Christy’s celebrated Negro Melody, ‘The Old Folks at Home’”), “The Slave Ship” (Henry Russell), “Little Topsy Polka and the Topsy Turvy Polka,” “Uncle Tom Waltz and Galop,” “Uncle Tom’s Quadrille” (“containing all the Newest and Best Negro Melodies”), and “The Uncle Tom March.” All of these could be purchased for d except “The Slave Ship,” which cost d; or the whole lot could be bought in a volume with a lithographic frontispiece for s d. Another Davidson publication was the “Ghost Melody” from The Corsican Brothers. By the end of the century it was possible to hire music for popular plays. Samuel French, as late as , published a list of “Music on Hire” in the Alphabetical Catalogue of the Principal Plays.83 A piano score cost s, while “Full Orchestration” cost s. These included a number of melodramas, together with an indication of the number of band-parts. In this list were Black Ey’d Susan (), The Colleen Bawn (), The Corsican Brothers (), Lost in London (), Luke the Labourer (), and The Miller and His Men (). All of these plays were performed on the marionette stage, and the ample evidence of direct use of Dicks and later French’s plays as basic texts suggests that the showpeople might also have obtained their music from the same source. James Glover in the s mentions music directors traveling with a book of “agits,” a sort of vade mecum that contained a variety of short pieces designed to create the atmosphere for specific situations.84 As late as  an advertisement in Samuel French’s catalogue of music for hire mentions “Incidental music suitable for Lively Rise of Curtain, Entrance of Characters etc., Hurry, Combat, Apparitions, Pathetic situations, Martial, etc., etc.” Some of the most important pieces of music were known as “segue” pieces. Their function was to link scenes and cover scene changes or to introduce a scene by giving it a specific emotional coloring.85 Where the musicians of the marionette theatre did not simply improvise, such books of “agits” may well have proved useful.



090 c9 (210-224)

8/4/04

10:37 AM

Page 210

Chapter 9 : Apogee & After
The End of a Tradition? These were the old and palmy days Of simple joys and homely ways. The crowd had never learned to roam To plays in flick’ring monochrome, And little boys had never seen The “penny dreadful” on the screen. Lord of a worn-out caravan, You’re quite forgotten, Puppet Man! But, no! Shall it be said that we Have let our childhood mem’ries flee, And do not love the hand that gives The touch by which the puppet lives? Then let our heartiest applause Make innovators wisely pause Ere they old English pleasures ban; We love you still, old Puppet Man! Clunn Lewis blamed the cinema for dwindling audiences in the s. The last verses of the sentimental poem with which this book began reflect changing times. Marionette activity in Britain had peaked in the s, but this was followed by a surprisingly rapid decline. A changing society meant that many of the older ways of doing things were becoming difficult. The First World War certainly had its impact, but it is easy to overstate its significance. Many were already dropping out of the profession for purely economic reasons. The mobilization of younger men halted the activities of some companies. “Clowes and Sons Excelsior Marionettes” ceased to function in , when the sons (Ted and Bert) and the assistant enlisted. Ted died during this period; after the war, Bert simply had stalls at fairs.

090 c9 (210-224)

8/4/04

10:37 AM

Page 211

Apogee and After

The low spending power of many people and the Depression years of the s militated against the larger shows, and companies were generally reduced to husband and wife teams. Variety programs predominated, but something of the dramatic repertoire persisted. As late as the winter of  a correspondent for the World’s Fair recorded seeing a show in a packed hall in Brigmanor, with a queue waiting for the next performance. The admission charge was still children one penny, adults twopence. The bill included two pieces obviously from the older repertoire, The Haunted Inn and The Woodcutter’s Daughter, and the children “shouted warnings to Tim Bobbins.”1 The association between marionettes and the music hall has already been commented on. The chronological parallel is also striking. Toward , as the music hall was developing into variety theatre, large outfits such as Holden’s performed on music hall stages rather than in regular theatres. Because of this perception of marionettes as a music-hall number, many artistes took up puppets between  and , only to abandon them as they became a less profitable way of earning a living. The chains of mammoth variety theatres established by Oswald Stoll and others heralded the end of the music hall itself, while cinema also began to offer competition as a form of popular entertainment. By the s people were already looking back nostalgically to the great days of the music hall. During these years, old puppeteers were being interviewed as representatives of a disappearing world, and the puppets themselves were being rescued by a small number of enthusiasts. In the s Waldo Lanchester acquired the material of the Barnard and Chester and Lee troupes,2 H. W. Whanslaw had his collection of Clowes figures, which he used as models for technical illustrations of “old-time marionettes” in his books. During the Second World War George Speaight and Gerald Morice acquired some fifty figures from Mrs. Lucy Bowden (née Tiller). Speaight subsequently set to work to restore the figures, and they were put back into use for a program in Battersea Park during the Festival of Britain in .3 Sheila Jackson, author of a  book on puppets, recalled in a recent interview how her family had acquired (around ) a complete troupe of some fifty figures, probably dating from before . These were found in a pub in Stoke-on-Trent where they had been abandoned by a company years before and were in terrible condition. Today only two of these figures survive, and we know nothing whatsoever about



090 c9 (210-224)



8/4/04

10:37 AM

Page 212

Apogee and After

the troupe. This is true of most of the surviving Victorian marionettes. Odd figures turn up in auctions or antique shops but are usually devoid of any context. The collection of Victorian marionettes that poses the greatest enigma is the Munich one. Their Englishness is attested by details of construction and the presence of characters who, collectively, point to an English troupe. They range from the early part of the nineteenth century to quite late and show the hand of a variety of makers. Certain very specific details or stylistic features link them to figures in other collections. Some of the costumes are probably original; others point to redressing by the subsequent owner(s). Many are misleadingly equipped with a German type of vertical control from around the s.4 The acquisitions catalogue shows that they were bought from a dealer (Stolpers) in Amsterdam in , but there is no further information as to their provenance. Our hypothesis is that these figures came from the troupe of John Holden, who gave up business in  and advertised his puppets for sale in Brussels that year. He is known to have visited Ghent in , , and finally . There was an enormous amount of puppet activity in Belgium at the time, and the acquisition of a group of puppets of this quality would have been a godsend to one of the many troupes. Among the marionettes is a Pierrot who looks quite unlike any English Pierrot but remarkably like the Pierke of Ghent.5 The association of Pierke with Ghent leads to speculation that the acquirer of the figures could have been J. De Doncker, who operated there and was known to have used marionettes controlled by strings at a time when the head rod was the norm in Belgium.6 This might also explain how the figures eventually fell into the hands of a Dutch dealer.


Continuation We cannot conveniently cut off the Victorian marionette tradition with the death of the queen or the First World War. Its limits are less a chronological matter than a way of doing things. Ambrose Tiller’s “Excelsior Marionettes” was continued by his widow, Eliza, who added the showing of films around  and traveled in East Anglia under the title of (Mrs E.) “Tiller’s Marionettes and Bioscope.” By  Walter Tiller described his show as “Walter Tiller’s Marionettes and Bioscope”

090 c9 (210-224)

8/4/04

10:37 AM

Page 213

Apogee and After

and then as “Tiller’s Electric Pictures and Marionettes.” Shortly after his death, the show (which had been continued by his widow and son Sid as “Walter Tiller’s Electric Palace of Varieties”) was destroyed by a storm at Broadclyst, Devon, in December . Performances ceased when Sid joined the army; but upon demobilization in , he restarted the show and continued to perform mostly in the West Country until the s.7 The younger Ambrose Tiller’s show had become “Ambrose Tiller’s Mannikins and Bioscope” by January . In  three of his sons went into the war, and the company ceased to function. An additional reason for this pause in activity, and one that affected other traveling companies, was the limitation on the fuel that they needed for the traction engines that pulled their caravans and heavy trailers of equipment. With the end of the war the Tillers’ bioscope began again, but it is not clear whether the marionettes were revived. Ambrose and his sons acquired a site in Long Sutton, where they pitched their booth. In  they built the Alexandra picture house there. Ambrose II played both violin and cornet, and his sons were also musicians. Having played for the marionettes, they now provided a four-man band to accompany the silent movies.8 The Alexandra was sold in .9 When interviewed, the octogenarian James Tiller (one of the sons) maintained that the cinema kept up a mixed program and that marionette performances continued to be given between the films, which were the major part of the bill.10 For a brief period in the s Jim Tiller returned to the family marionettes, which he refurbished and put back into use.11 In  he presented two seasons at Great Yarmouth, with a production of Coppelia, in which he used both his grandfather’s figures and ones of his own making.12 In his later years he found work painting and gilding fairground organs and attractions and also cut music for organs. Between  and  the World’s Fair mentions only a few companies besides Tiller’s. This suggests that there were not too many other traveling shows. The economic situation had become so bad that in  Tiller’s warned other travelers to avoid Warsop Vale, near Shirebrook; on a Monday they took s d, on Tuesday s d, and on Wednesday had to cancel the show.13 For a time D’Arc’s maintained a sort of double existence between the Far East and Wales. While the rest of the family were away on their



090 c9 (210-224)



8/4/04

10:37 AM

Page 214

Apogee and After

extended tour, Lambert’s wife, Anne, continued the waxworks and marionette shows at the Victoria Rooms, Mary Street, Cardiff. After Lambert’s death, it was known as Madame D’Arc’s, and she managed it until  (she died in  at the age of ninety). George and his wife returned to Cardiff in . They appeared in Dublin with a new pantomime of Robinson Crusoe at the Rotunda that Christmas. They called their company George Lambert D’Arc’s. In February they were on their way back to China, stopping to perform in Calcutta, Bombay, and Siam. In  they were caught up in the Boxer rising. Later they abandoned the puppets and opened a hotel in Tientsin.14 William J. D’Arc had returned to England with his sister Ethel, and from  to  they worked the halls with “D’Arc’s Marionette Empire of Stars.” In  they paid a visit to Australia but after this appeared only sporadically with marionettes.15 Five of Harry Wilding’s six sons joined up to fight in the First World War. Wilding packed up his show and went to work at the pithead at West Cannock Colliery. When his sons returned (only one wounded), they went down the mine.16 Wilding himself died on  January , at the age of eighty-four. His son Bert Wilding revived the company as “Wilding’s Crown Marionette Theatre” in  and presented variety acts. He was still functioning in the s. Seaside resorts catered for holidaymakers who needed to be entertained. Sam Baylis had realized this when he worked in Blackpool and Scarborough in the s and s. By the later years of the century, the Royal Aquarium in Brighton and a number of pier pavilions at seaside towns hosted marionette shows or acts, while the people on the sands and in public gardens near the promenades also provided ready audiences. Joe Randel Hodson, son of Joe Hodson, who had traveled with both marionettes and a variety combination in the later nineteenth and early twentieth century, had a successful career in variety and pantomime (where he played the Dame). In , finding himself less fully employed, he turned to his father’s old puppets.17 For eight years he functioned as a seaside entertainer as “De Randel’s Marionettes” at Heysham. The posters used by De Randel’s were in fact old Thomas Holden posters that he had acquired and over-printed. Ireland was less directly affected by the two world wars, but the general economic level was low. This may explain why portable theatres and fit-ups continued there rather longer than in Britain – more prof-

090 c9 (210-224)

8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 215

Apogee and After

. Finale at Delvaine’s, Second World War. Archival Photo. Desiree Delvaine Collection.

itable alternative employment was less easily available. McCormick’s company presented marionettes as part of a combination until , when they ceased to travel.18 In the s and s a number of cinemas offered a ciné-variety program, where marionette performers continued to do what they had previously done in the booths turned biographs. Irish department stores at Christmas were among the last places where Victorian marionettes could be seen in action. Some also had a slot in the annual pantomime. The last really significant avatar of the Victorian marionette show is Delvaine’s. Daniel Fanning, its long-lived founder, remained active until close to his death at the age of ninety-nine years eleven months, in . The company was a family one, with three generations performing in the s. At the start of the Second World War the team consisted of five family members, two assistants, and a driver. Daniel operated the show with his stepson, Ted Delvaine; Ted’s wife, Jenny; their daughter May; and Ted’s other son, Danny. After the death of Daniel, Danny joined the Australian air force. Ted died in . Jenny and May continued the show in a reduced form until , when Jenny became ill, and a very good contract with Bernard Delfont (£, a week) had to



090 c9 (210-224)



8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 216

Apogee and After

be turned down. At this point the show was packed up and put into store for many years. In later years Delvaine’s company concentrated on pantomimes and variety numbers, and the dramatic repertoire fell into disuse. They shared the bill with leading artistes, were regarded as a major attraction, and were often given the final slot after the main comedian’s number. In  the company first appeared as part of a live pantomime, and a half-hour panto slot became a regular feature. Without question Delvaine’s went out of business with a bang, not a whimper. By the Second World War their John Bull (Grand Turk) had become the patriotic grand finale.19 It was set on the deck of a battleship, and three additional characters were introduced to the routine: Hitler, Mussolini, and Churchill. The cloth was a gauze lit from behind to show portholes and guns fired.


Victorian Marionettes in Perspective The marionette theatre was affected in much the same way as actor’s theatre, as popular audiences sought in cinema the novelty and vicarious experience that theatre had provided. For three centuries the marionette theatre had been one of the popular forms of transmission of narrative and dramatic material and in this sense was a significant part of the oral culture of Britain (and most of Europe). Marionettes, unlike glove puppets, had been perceived as a lesser form of theatre but still as theatre. This explains the jealousy of managers of the various theatres royal from time to time when they objected to puppets performing the dramatic repertoire, which they saw as their special preserve. The nineteenth-century melodrama proved a goldmine to marionette proprietors, with its exciting plots and even more thrilling situations and stage effects. By the s the early melodrama, with its cruelty, violence, and exaggerated emotions, already had become a bit of a joke and the subject of parody. Audiences continued to lap it up, however, just as today’s television audiences lap up a very similar diet. The appropriateness of simplified emotions and strong gestures to the marionette stage allowed the genre to survive longer in that context than it could on the live stage. The dramatic material performed by the average nineteenth-century marionette troupe is a useful gauge of extrametropolitan theatrical tastes. Being a part of the popular culture of the period (even if audiences frequently included middle-class elements)

090 c9 (210-224)

8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 217

Apogee and After

did not really imply that it was anything but conservative. Marionette proprietors subscribed to Victorian notions of respectability. If some of the plays had a whiff of populism, this was good box-office, but was certainly no more revolutionary than today’s tabloid press. The newer and more socially involved drama of the later years of the century, with less action and more psychology, was less suited to the puppet stage. Naturalistic stage effects could be managed, but the newer acting styles did not lend themselves so well. Where “realism” was a criterion, it seemed difficult to compete with cinema. The relative simplicity of the marionette show seemed to have little to offer. More seriously, there was no renewal. The old repertoire had lost any real potential for development and was completely out of touch with what might be happening in London. The new showbiz ethos did not fit happily with the older tradition, and one result of this was an increasing divide between those rural companies that perpetuated the dramatic repertoire and the more urban ones that abandoned it in favor of pantomimes and variety. The fantoccini acts had once been the novelty numbers to complete the bill after the drama or to provide a short street or fairground show. Once they displaced the dramatic material, a large part of what had been fundamental to marionette theatre for three centuries began to fade. The variety acts continued, but with very little evolution or change – virtually the same set of acts could be found in every company. Delvaine’s company was more up to date than many, but most of the numbers were familiar. Vestiges of the harlequinade remained in a routine involving the antics of two clowns with a donkey and cart and a policeman, with the sudden transformation of the cart into a sailing boat at sea to the tune of “A Life on the Ocean Wave.” We still find some of the circus acts, including trapeze and slack-rope acrobatics. Alabama, one of the oldest marionettes, was the token survivor of the minstrel show and performed a big-boot dance. Delvaine’s three “cures” (later reduced to two) had appeared first as policemen, later as guardsmen, and finally as sailors, while the tap dance duo was provided with a piano and converted into the well-known entertainers Bob and Alf Pearson. They had an ostrich that laid an egg out of which came a snake (and later Mickey Mouse) and, alternately, a goose that laid an egg out of which hatched goslings (the goose-girl was also made to look like the popular entertainer Fanny Fields). The egg-laying ostrich sounds remarkably like a number we find in German companies at the very



090 c9 (210-224)



8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 218

Apogee and After

beginning of the nineteenth century. The disjointing skeleton and the Grand Turk in the form of John Bull remained among their most popular acts, but the Old Woman and her children and Scaramouche dropped out of use when there was only a twenty-minute slot.20 A complicated Delvaine number, subsequently abandoned, was a sequence involving a German airman in a black uniform and an English one in white. First there was a fistfight between the airmen – won, of course, by the British one. He then proceeded to transform into an airplane, of which he was the pilot, and fly off the stage.21 This act was the only one to offer real novelty, but it too was merely a more modern version of the transformation figures that existed in the later eighteenth century. Audiences that were faced with far more choice, not to mention quantity, of entertainment probably did not want to see the same acts again and again. Marionettes and popular culture in Britain were ceasing to belong together. This was less true of Punch and Judy, which still enjoyed a degree of freedom in the rapid and often improvised dialogue between the central figure and the audiences. Indeed, as marionette shows became increasingly visual, it was the verbal contact that maintained Punch. This may help explain why Punch remained in people’s memories as representing the Victorian puppet tradition, while memories of the marionette shows rapidly vanished. In recent years puppet and theatre festivals have sometimes presented “traditional” marionette theatre, but the real or implied quotation marks always suggest a backward look at something which, however interesting, has lost its currency. Relevance is not everything, but the absence of virtually any point of reference in their own experience has made it difficult for modern audiences to watch a revived performance of a nineteenth-century melodrama with figures from the period. This has been tried; but the complete absence of an authentic performance context, the outmoded (and usually second-rate) nature of the material being performed, and our own rather different expectations all conspire to prevent a serious suspension of disbelief.


New Departures Britain did not enjoy the close link between puppets and education of the young that assured much official support in Eastern Europe. While the last companies continued much as they had done in the nine-

090 c9 (210-224)

8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 219

Apogee and After

teenth century, a renaissance was on the way. Fundamental to it was an attempt to move in new directions. It was an amateur movement to begin with, consisting largely of artists and people with artistic leanings. In  Harry Whanslaw published the first of a series of books on puppetry, Everybody’s Theatre. In these books he gave free rein to his professional talents as an illustrator. Whanslaw had seen the Jewell-Holden company at the Victorian Era Exhibition of  and become fascinated by the art of puppetry. He devoted much of his life to collecting puppets and documentation about the puppet theatre. In  he became one of the founders of the British Puppet and Model Theatre Guild; and in , together with Waldo Lanchester, he created an amateur puppet group. By  this had become the London Marionette Theatre, with premises in a Hammersmith mews. The company performed to invited audiences and took occasional engagements. It lasted until , when Waldo Lanchester married and moved to Malvern, where he set up as a puppeteer on his own.22 Whanslaw, Lanchester, Jan Bussell, Doris Bickerdike, and others can best be described as amateurs in the fullest sense of the term – people who loved puppets. They did not come from a culture of entertainers, but without question they helped create a new puppet culture in Britain, informed by the work of the traveling Victorian companies. Holden’s had already initiated a move away from the canon of variety acts, and the delicacy, balance, and sense of proportion of the Holden figures appealed to Whanslaw and Lanchester. They also set out to create a new repertoire, narrative in form but no longer an echo of the regular repertoire of the live theatre. Following such artists as Paul Brann, creator of the Munich Artists’ Marionette Theatre, every figure was made for a specific role in a specific scene or piece. It was no longer an “actor” who could play a variety of parts. Lanchester created an insect act, The Grasshopper and the Beetle, while Bussell worked on puppet versions of Luigi Pirandello’s The Man with a Flower in His Mouth and a Decameron story. Whanslaw and Lanchester simplified and stylized, in the same way that the avant-garde theatre of the time in Europe was simplifying and stylizing. Unlike their slightly younger and often undervalued contemporary Olive Blackham, they did not go as far as the experiments of the Bauhaus or Sophie Taeuber-Arp, where figures were reduced to geometric shapes that evoked rather than represented human or animal



090 c9 (210-224)



8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 220

Apogee and After

bodies. They were in tune with their period, however, in a new focus on underlying structure and mechanics. They had a great interest in artistically carved figures and used wood as the main construction material. A point of reference for the carving and jointing of figures, and the achievement of realistic proportions, was the artist’s manikin or lay figure. Quality wooden joints were important, and delicate balancing was achieved by addition of lead weighting to parts of the bodies of the figures. The London Marionette Group tried to find a more subtle and “realistic” movement than that favored for the stronger melodramatic style of acting prevalent in the Victorian marionette theatre. Enormous attention went into observation of everyday movements such as walking and sitting, not to mention very subtle gradations of head movement and pieces of quasi-naturalistic acting, handling props such as telephones in a convincing manner. There is a degree of irony in that their search for a more “realistic” mode of puppet acting was actually continuing the idea of the marionette as an actor in miniature.23 The great realism versus stylization debate in theatre of the earlier twentieth century seems almost irrelevant when we discuss puppet theatre today. Realism, ultimately, is a purely relative concept and boils down to what an audience will or will not accept. Seventeenth-century French theatre audiences happily accepted the “vraisemblable” or probable. Theatrical illusion has far more to do with stimulating the imagination than with reproducing reality, and the puppet by its nature has a much greater degree of freedom than the actor does. Gordon Craig used puppets to explore some of his ideas about the reduction of acting to certain minimalist gestures. At one period he had a set of figures designed to make only one or two gestures each, and these gestures were a sort of distillation of qualities he had observed in individuals. For more complicated emotions, he preferred to use several similar figures, each provided with one or two gestures.24 In “The Actor and the ÜberMarionette” Craig looks forward to the perfect actor with a new form of acting consisting principally of what he calls “symbolic gesture”: “Today they impersonate and interpret; tomorrow they must represent and interpret; and the third day they must create.”25 Craig loved puppets but refused to accept them as surrogate actors impersonating the characters of a realistic drama. As a figure made of wood, rags, and possibly papier-mâché, the marionette was never seriously in a position to impersonate but could represent and interpret, and

090 c9 (210-224)

8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 221

Apogee and After

this is its intrinsic strength. The transformation came when the modernist puppeteer recognized this and gave up any attempt at pretending that the figures were miniaturized human beings. The puppet has its own compelling reality and, like objects in the world of Jean-Paul Sartre, is defined by what it does. The proprietors of Victorian marionette shows took for granted the invisibility of the puppeteer and the means of control, which contributed to the illusion that the puppet was a living being existing in its own real world through the proscenium arch. Twentieth-century puppeteers began to emerge from behind the curtains that concealed them and to appear directly onstage with their puppets. This allowed them to dispense with cumbersome set-ups, especially when the marionette act was restricted to about ten minutes. Marionettes also began to appear in such places as cruise liners and cabarets, with a performer in evening dress. This was a practical consideration and owed nothing to Brechtian theories of demystification. In Britain Frank and Maisie Mumford (no known connection with the Glasgow showman) represented this trend. Audiences were now reminded that the puppet is a figure operated by a human performer, and that visible performer has become a de facto part of the show. A new theatrical dynamic has been created from the interaction between puppet and performer. This has had far-reaching consequences in terms of modern puppetry, although it is almost the exact antithesis of what the Victorian marionette theatre thought it was about. A further problem today is that the relatively clear-cut generic distinctions of the nineteenth century have become blurred. Marionettes and glove puppets are sometimes mixed in the same performance or even combined with other forms such as the rod-puppet. The most popular type of puppet today, after the glove puppet, is probably the tabletop one, which is a simplified version of the Japanese Bunraku. This means that audiences cannot even go to a puppet show (provided it is still called that) with any clear-cut notion of what type or types of puppets they will see. Individual performers also work with several types of puppets. Such was the case of Barry Smith, one of Britain’s finest puppeteers of the second half of the twentieth century. Today many puppeteers choose the type of puppet they will use according to the nature of the production. A few have remained resolutely with marionettes. Stanley Parker was presenting a marionette



090 c9 (210-224)



8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 222

Apogee and After

variety program in the late s that in essence differed little from shows offered a hundred years earlier, except that it had simpler staging, with visible manipulators. Eric Bramall and his partner Chris Somerville offered classic marionette performances of Gilbert and Sullivan operas in their theatre in North Wales. This was still a miniaturized version of theatre and close in spirit to the Victorian marionette show. One of the most interesting recreations of the portable theatre is Gren and Juliet Middleton’s “Moving Stage Marionettes.” This is a canal barge converted into a theatre with seating and a proscenium arch. Their program is predominantly a dramatic one but differs from that of the average Victorian troupe in that each production is written for marionette performance. The repertoire has ranged from an adaptation of Coleridge’s poem “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” to new work specially commissioned from the contemporary British playwright Howard Barker. Other fine marionette artists include Christopher Leith and Stephen Mottram. Both have developed the marionette as an art form and used it in a way that places it firmly and unapologetically in the context of contemporary performance. The Victorian drama, with actors or marionettes, depended heavily on the spoken word. The modern marionette theatre, especially in its more avant-garde manifestations, has moved away from the spoken word, becoming a predominantly plastic medium, with points of reference in the visual arts, mime, dance, and music. The transformation is fascinating, but this has entailed changes in critical criteria, many of which have become irrelevant for an examination of the Victorian marionette theatre. Where a dramatic structure has remained (predominantly in work for children), it seldom takes the form of adaptations of live theatre. Most marionette performers write or commission their own material and do not turn to theatre scripts, and the puppets are never perceived as reduced actors. There is more than enough evidence to indicate that the Victorian marionette theatre, in its own time, was a major cultural phenomenon, which touched the lives of countless thousands of people. It provided access to worlds of fiction and the imagination and was a vital element of the entertainment culture of its day. To understand the Victorian marionette theatre requires a degree of imaginative transposition, since we have to look for relevance in terms of its own audiences and not in terms of today’s values. A poor relation of the live theatre, it has

090 c9 (210-224)

8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 223

Apogee and After

left fewer ephemera and seldom been seriously recorded by the press. Its “actors” had no biographies to be written; and, even more importantly, its audiences no longer exist. We cannot reproduce a Victorian marionette performance any more than we can reproduce a Greek tragedy with its original performance context. The Victorian Marionette theatre can still be a vital source of inspiration for today’s puppet theatre, however, and elements of it provide surprise and delight to modern audiences.



090 c9 (210-224)

8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 224

100 nts (225-254)

8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 225

Notes 

. Quennell, , p. . . A number of Tiller figures were also seen in the Museum of Popular Entertainment, Whaplode. These have now been acquired by the Theatre Museum.

. 

. Signed “Jonathan Stump, ..,” this poem was found among the papers relating to the marionette showman Clunn Lewis at the Musée Gadagne, Lyon. . Interview, Morning Chronicle, Monday,  February . . The French collector Léopold D’or bought the Clunn Lewis figures from his widow. These were exhibited in  and eventually came into the collections of the Musée Historique de la Ville de Lyon (Musée Gadagne). Apparently there was a considerable amount of accompanying documentation, but little of this remains. . E. Gordon Craig, “Puppet and Poets,” Chapbook, A Monthly Miscellany, no. , February , p. . . Craig, , pp. –. . Published in Iliffe and Baguley, , p. . Wombwell’s Wild Beast Show, established by George Wombwell (b. ) and later acquired by the Bostock family, was the most celebrated traveling menagerie of the nineteenth century. In , as well as exhibiting elephants, it also showed a mermaid. . Cutting dated  October , Nottingham Public Library. . Monday,  October . . Nottingham Daily Guardian,  October . Such trains may have been running from a much earlier date. . For his Irish tour, Horman advertised for “a young man, or a man and his wife, that have been accustomed to marionettes” (Era,  January ). . Era,  June . An advertisement of  for “Harmon’s” marionettes may refer to him or his successor. . “The Ghost! The Ghost!! The Ghost!!!” (unpublished article by John Phillips, January ). . Honri, , pp. , –. . See Toulmin, , p. .

100 nts (225-254)



8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 226

Notes to Pages ‒ . Era,  June . . Era,  April and  July . The last Era advertisement for Ashington’s “Living Picture and Marionette Exhibition” is in . He died in . . World’s Fair,  December . Lawrence’s interest in cinematography led to making a film of Oliver Twist. . Southdown, “A Few Long Shorts,” World’s Fair,  July . As late as  “Messrs E. Lawrence and Son” were touring in Derbyshire with a much reduced marionette fit-up. . See, for example, Sheridan, , part II: “Pantomime and Poverty.” . Nottingham and Midland Counties Daily Express,  October . . Arthur, , p. . . George Speaight collection. . Terry, , p. . . Nottingham and Midland Counties Daily Express, Sunday,  October . . Guildhall Library, MS . . Morley, , p. . . Information provided by Paul Newman, a descendant of Thomas Lawrence. . Reports of the accident are given in the Western Morning News and Daily Western Mercury,  March . See also MS (photocopy in National Fairground Archive, Sheffield). “No Personality – the recollections of an obscure civil servant” by the grandson of Morris Lawrence. . Speaight, , p. . . J. M. Bulloch, in Scottish Notes and Queries, June , pp. –. . Glasgow Constitutional,  July . . Altick, , p. . . Ian McCraw, “Stairway to Tragedy,” in Scots’ Magazine, May , pp. –. . Barnard and Barnard, , p. . . Era,  May . . Dublin Advertising Gazette,  July . . Era,  July . The address was given as the Music Hall, and “applications” were invited to a certain A. Litra at the Rotunda, Dublin. “A. Litra” looks more like an anagram than an actual name and certainly appears in no other context. . Era,  April . . Era,  December .

.   

. Nottingham and Midland Counties Daily Express, Thursday,  October . This advertisement is specially valuable, since Middleton’s show was

100 nts (225-254)

8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 227

Notes to Pages ‒

. . . .

. . . . . .

. . .

. .

not deemed worthy of mention in the review of the fair published a few days later. Letter to World’s Fair,  November . Clowes and Sons came to an abrupt end in , when the men went to the war, after which they retired from show business. In the s they claimed that they possessed a bill dated , but unfortunately this has not survived. Barnard and Barnard, , p. . The combination may make us smile. Around , however, the Church of England Temperance Society advertised a concert with Professor Louis Glennie’s marionettes, which had to share the bill with a lecture on temperance (undated leaflet). These were written with the help of J. P. Robson and published in Newcastle-upon-Tyne in . The third edition was published in . Robson, , p. . Race meetings have always been a place for puppet shows. After  Era regularly carried advertisements inviting showpeople to apply to give performances at such events. Purvis indicates that the rent of the Assembly Rooms was normally half a guinea, but that the lady who rented it was persuaded to let him have it for five shillings. Robson, , p. . Robson, , p. . “Whappers” and “trappers” probably mean adults and children. In dialect “whapper” can mean a large person. “Trapper” may relate to the dialect word “treapy,” meaning slight and probably related to the French “trapu” (short and squat). “Trapper” was also a term used for boys working in the mines, operating the trapdoors through which the trams passed. Purvis was mainly operating in areas where there were coal mines, and the word may have been in more general use for boys. These figures were a skeleton, a sailor, and an old woman smoking her pipe (letters at the back of Arthur, , pp. , ). Era,  July . Era,  September . The “speaking figure” sounds like a ventriloquist act. “Galvanic and Electromagnetic Experiments” are examples of the use of popular scientific displays for entertainment purposes, while the “dancing Automaton” probably refers to a mechanically operated figure, perhaps with a clockwork mechanism, and not to a puppet. Era,  November . This is a single entry and not repeated. Era,  October . Baylis gives his permanent address as being in Preston.



100 nts (225-254)



8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 228

Notes to Pages ‒ . Arthur, , p. . McPharlin, , p. , indicates that he appeared at Miner’s Bowery Theatre, Broome Street, New York, in August . This might just be a reference to his son Samuel, who ran away to America with Sam Haigh’s Marionettes in  (Era,  May ). . A copy of this document is with the Clunn Lewis puppets at the Musée Gadagne. . Press cutting of  among the Clunn Lewis material, Musée Gadagne. PUNCH’S ADDRESS ON HIS MASTER’S RECENT IMPRISONMENT We have received the following doggerel lines from a Correspondent at Minster, in allusion to the recent imprisonment of MIDDLETON for performing without leave of the Magistrates of that portion of the County. What is this I hear? sure it can’t be true! Such things before, faith I never knew! My master taken – sent to jail – Refused the privilege of bail – There to trudge and labour hard Before he has in court been heard; This can’t be right, else I’m much mistaken, And by reason surely am forsaken. T’is true I’ve never studied much the law, But trust I’ve always understood, The maxim too, I think is good, – “That innocent each man is thought Until to trial he is brought” But in this case my master is detained And punished, whilst his character’s unstain’d. What’s the indictment? O, let me see! Thus runs the matter, nearly as may be: “A certain interlude, or play, Was acted on a certain day.” This did my master, so says p . . . f, But proof they have not got as yet; And if old Punch ought of thee know, No play is this, no, it’s call’d a show. But what surprised me more than all is this – That I so long should travel hit or miss: I’ve travelled full a hundred years, Exciting mirth, dispelling cares;

100 nts (225-254)

8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 229

Notes to Pages ‒ My duty in each place I’ve done, With Frisby and with MIDDLETON; Both Lawyer, Doctor, Magistrate and Cit Their sides have held when I’ve displayed my wit.

. .

. .

. . .

What have I done, for clearly it was me Committed these trocious acts, not thee: My family, with heads of wood, Performed a play of moral good; Those who know the play can’t this deny; It’s name, The Maid and the Magpie. Consult your law-books pray, and there you’ll find That plays were made to please the human mind. My friends will all believe me when I say My family are moral in their way; If wooden heads can, by their art, A moral lesson now impart; And strive with virtue’s advocate All bad practices to eradicate; Take this for granted, tho’ some may chop them, Now only wooden heads will try to stop them. OLD PUNCH. Bill in Lanchester scrapbooks, Douglas Hayward Collection. McPharlin, , pp. –, suggests that Henry James Middleton, his wife, and Elizabeth Case (also an ex-member of the Bullock company) appeared in Philadelphia for a month in  with a company calling itself “The Royal Oriental Marionettes.” McPharlin, , pp. –. Ken Barnard put together a family tree which indicated that Henry was the father of Alfred, James, Edwin, and William and that James was married to Sarah Jane (Holden). He may be conflating the two family lines and thinking of James’s sons not as brothers of his great-grandmother but as her first cousins. McPharlin, , p. . Era,  June . Speaight, in Barnard and Barnard, , p. , presents a family genealogy that shows Henry, brother of Charles and James I, as grandfather of a Frederick Charles Middleton, the father of Elizabeth Jane, who married first Philip Clark and later Richard Barnard. One of Richard Barnard’s sons was called Frederick. Advertisements of the s show the existence of an F. (probably Frederick) Middleton as a marionette performer.



100 nts (225-254)



8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 230

Notes to Pages ‒ . Barnard and Barnard, , pp. –. . Era,  September . . Barnard and Barnard, , p. . An advertisement for Case’s and Ranford’s marionettes at Leicester fair appeared in Era,  October . Ranford is not a well-known name, but Radford was. It is also unclear whether there was a brief partnership before the entire fit-up was advertised for sale in . . Era,  February . . Era,  February . In  Frank Walton (then a photographer in Leeds) advertised the sale of the Case’s Marionette exhibition. . The marionettes were divided among her grandsons, James and Ambrose III (sons of Ambrose II), and her daughter Lucy Bowden. . Neville McKinder, a grandson of Ambrose Tiller, studied these diaries and also worked from a series of taped interviews between his father and Jim Tiller, Ambrose’s eldest son. The information is based on his findings. . In the autumn of  John Holden’s company was in Belgium. In September D’Arc’s “Fantoches” followed them at the Alhambra, Antwerp, and were at pains to assert that they were “not outdistanced by them.” D’Arc’s popularity can be measured by Holden’s perception of them as serious rivals. By October a rumor, probably originating with Holden’s, circulated that D’Arc’s company had been the recipients of charity some twenty years earlier. Lambert D’Arc refuted this and added that the charity (£) was bestowed upon “a gipsy family which travelled at that time through England with a glass-blowing booth,” a snide reference to Holden’s and its fairground glass-blowing. D’Arc’s perceived themselves as respectable artists (wax-modelers) and slightly despised Holden’s as mere fairground showpeople. (See Era,  October .) . In July  a J. W. Holden placed an advertisement in Era for the sale of a “first class portable theatre, Parade Wagons, Stage ditto (to fold up), Gallery, Brackets, nearly new. Can be fitted in twenty minutes. New Back Front  feet high (in Oil). Stage front and Orchestra to match (in Oil) Back shutters  high, good wardrobe, Splendid Drum, Lamps etc.” This sounds like a theatre for live actors but may have been used for marionettes as well. The identity of J. W. is not clear. It might be James, possibly a brother of John, the marionette proprietor. The booth in question might be an older one used by the glass-blower/marionettist, James. The advertisement indicates that J. W. Holden has “other business to attend to.” A J. W. Holden was appearing in the pantomime of Dick Whittington in Rochester (as Guy Gobblemgrim) in  and was still working as a stage actor five years later.

100 nts (225-254)

8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 231

Notes to Pages ‒ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Era,  and  March . They were advertising for musicians. Era,  April . Era,  October ,  and  January . Era,  December . And, , pp. –. Thomas and James Holden visited Istanbul in March , , and , while James had further visits in  and finally in . James Holden reportedly was buried with his most famous marionette, Salome. Most of the figures were burned in the s, but a few were rescued by the grandchildren, who used them as dolls. Phillips, , is of crucial importance for sorting out the rather complex history of the Holden family from the s on. Nottingham Daily Guardian,  October . Era,  October,  October,  October,  October, and  November . Era,  February and  March . See McPharlin, , pp. ff. McPharlin, , pp. –. For a detailed account of Bullock’s company in America, see McPharlin, , ch. , “The Odyssey of the Royal Marionettes,” pp. –. From Weekly Ceylon Observer (Colombo),  May , p. . This chronology for Charles Webb’s career was established by Richard Bradshaw. Bradshaw, , pp. –. Harry Wilding, “A Marvellous Marionette Manipulator,” World’s Fair,  March . Bradshaw, . For more on D’Arc’s in Japan, see Mizote, , pp. –; and Blundall,  and . Era,  January . Era,  February and  May . Some further confusion is caused by the fact that the Life and Travelsdoes not mention earlier seasons at the Crystal Palace. There may be some family connection, but this is not indicated. Perhaps this should be “fifth.” Apart from lapses in memory, there are a number of cases in the Life and Travels where mistakes have obviously been made in copying from handwriting. Era,  July , announces a season at the Apollo Theatre (New York) for April . Era,  July . The American manager who approached him was a Mr. Jarrett of New York.



100 nts (225-254)



8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 232

Notes to Pages ‒ . Report of the case in the Liverpool Daily Post,  August . . Era,  July . Mr. and Mrs. Donnelly, Mr. and Mrs. Clarke, Mr. and Mrs. Marlow, James Shaw, Mr. Cleghorn, and C. Evans are all advertising for work, having terminated their agreement with Bullock. . Era,  January  and  October . By this point they were an act on a mixed bill at the Princess’s Palace. . Era,  March . . According to Harry Wilding (Era interview,  November ), Cooper had been a manager at Astley’s. . Era,  May . . Era,  February . . Era,  May . . Era,  October  and  November . . Daniel Fanning acquired a set of Bullock figures, but it is not clear whether this was at the death of Bullock or a little later. It sounds as if the original D’Arc figures were lost in , but perhaps only some of them were. Information provided by Desiree Delvaine. Only one Bullock figure remains in the Desiree Delvaine Collection. Some may have been lost or destroyed. Equally, most of them may have ended up with Harry Fanning when he and his brother Daniel decided to establish separate troupes. . A rather fuzzy photograph of his proscenium front (together with eleven figures including Harlequin, Columbine, and Pantaloon) appeared in World’s Fair,  November . . Daniel Fanning married the widowed Anna Maria Matthews, an accomplished bare-back rider and daughter of John Wilson of Wilson’s Circus. Her son Edward (Ted), who took the name of Ted Delvaine, worked with Daniel, his own wife (Jenny Godden), and later his children May (Maisie) and Dennis (Danny). . H. L. L., “Personal Interests: Marionettes,” B.J.B. News (Bayliss Jones Bayliss Ltd. Newsletter), no. , vol.  (April ), –. . Era,  December . Memories of his son, Henry Wilding. . Era,  November . . Era,  April . When Harry Wilding was married on  April  at West Bromwich, he and his father both gave their professions as “musician.” One of the witnesses was Walter William Case. . Information communicated by Val Chilton (a great-granddaughter of Harry Wilding) and by Reg Wilding (grandson of Harry Wilding). Val gives his birthdate as , Reg Wilding as . It is assumed that Charles was the father of Harry. Charles was married to a Mary Brandon from Suffolk. . Obituary, World’s Fair,  January .

100 nts (225-254)

8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 233

Notes to Pages ‒ . Letter of  September , Theatre Museum, London, Gerald Morice Papers, box . . Gerald Morice Papers, box . . Letter of  June , Gerald Morice Papers, box . . Letter of  December , Gerald Morice Papers, box . . Phillips, , mentions that D’Arc’s had been at the St. George’s Hall (Cheltenham) with waxworks until April . During this period “a splendid set of Marionettes with Stage and Scenery all complete” was offered for sale. It is possible that Donnelly’s acquired this. . Era,  August . Todd may have been the proprietor of the Sunderland marionette theatre.

. , ,   

. See P. Kavanagh, The Irish Theatre (Tralee: Kerryman), pp. –. . A rejected watercolor for James Winston’s Theatric Tourist () depicts this building, which still exists. See Ranger, , p. . . First located by Paul McPharlin and mentioned in an article, “An Unknown Puppet Theatre in the North of England,” in Puppetry, vol.  (New York: Puppeteers of America, –). See also Speaight, . . Era,  November . Todd’s address is given as  New Grey Street. . Peterson, . . Era,  and  April . . Worsdall, , reproduces a long account of the fair from the Glasgow Herald ( July ). With the decline of the fair, the Mumfords became auctioneers. . Quennell, , pp. –. . Sheridan, , is valuable, but does not refer to puppets. . McKechnie, , p. . His source is vaguely referred to as a “periodical” thirty years later than William Hone’s Every-Day Book reference to Candler’s Fantoccini. . Greater London Record Office, MR/LMD /, Michaelmas quarter sessions,  (dated  October). . Sheridan, , p. , reproduces a print of Bianchi’s gaff, with a performance by live actors. . “The Show Business in Court,” Era,  November . . Russell, , p. . . Kift, , p. . . Era,  October . . Era,  December . . Era,  January .



100 nts (225-254)



8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 234

Notes to Pages ‒ . Era,  July . He gave the patent number as ,, and also mentioned taking out a copyright for his music: reg. no. ,, Stationer’s Hall. . Built in , the Adelaide Gallery became what R. D. Altick calls “the first direct English progenitor of the modern science and technology museum.” By the s it was used for variety entertainments and exhibitions (Altick, , p. ). . The Ballroom, of the same size and situated underneath it, also cost £. A smaller Exhibition Room ( feet by  feet), cost £, while two smaller rooms cost £.. The largest space, the Round Room ( feet in diameter, with a gallery), cost £ a week (advertisement in Era,  October ). The Rotunda (Rotundo) rooms are a part of Dublin’s Rotunda Hospital and were created in the eighteenth century to provide funds for the running of this early maternity hospital. The hospital, created by Dr. Bartholomew Mosse, opened in . Gardens were created in the s, and the Rotundo, based on London’s Ranelagh, was built in the s, with subsequent developments in the s. It is possible that D’Arc’s may sometimes have used the Round Room. George William Middleton, who spent fifteen weeks with the company in the early s, recalled the waxworks in the smaller rooms around the main hall. . The Egyptian Hall had been built by another William Bullock, probably a relative, at the beginning of the century. . Era,  January . . Speaight, . . Gyngell had been active since the late eighteenth century. He died in , but the show continued for a few more years. . The Chester and Lee company originated in the late s. The partners were Clarence Lee and H. Chester. Advertisements began to appear in Era in , when they visited Birmingham, Wellington, and Blackpool. They advertised “French Marionettes and Negro Varieties” as well as “Pantomimes.” Their show was primarily adapted to the variety circuit, and they ranged from the south of England to Scotland, Ireland, and Wales. In , after what he said was a partnership of sixteen years, Chester separated from Lee. The show retained its original name, lasting into the s. . This account, dated  June , was among the John Phillips papers. So far it has not been possible to identify the source. A plan of Cremorne Gardens, with a sketch of the façade of the theatre, is to be found in Wroth, . . Quennel, , p. . . McPharlin, , p. . When he reached America, Lano did not have a stage, merely a red plush curtain with a scene from Orlando Furioso that he hung up behind the marionettes when he performed indoors.

100 nts (225-254)

8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 235

Notes to Pages ‒ . Newspaper cutting from Harrogate (n.d., possibly , when Candler was seventy-one years old). The Cruikshank drawing of Candler’s Fantoccini is reproduced in Speaight, , p. . . Illustrated London News,  January . Reproduced in Speaight, , p. . . Era,  April . . Robson, , p. . The year he gives is . . Robson, , p. . Purvis mentions that a local farmer pulled them out but insisted on being paid seven shillings first. . Reproduced in Cameron, , p. . . Robson, , p. . . Barnard and Barnard, , p. . . Era,  November  (Leeds Fair). . Purvis specifically mentions bringing tiered seating from Newcastle for a colleague, James Scott, who had a booth for actors. Purvis arrived too late; Scott had already purchased his seating in Glasgow. Purvis was able to use Scott’s planks, however, which undoubtedly represented an economy for him. . Barnard and Barnard, , p. . . World’s Fair,  October . . Robson, , p. . . Era,  and  May and  and  June . . Barnard and Barnard, , p. . . Billy Purvis mentions a dispute at Houghton Feast in  over the payment of fair dues, which led to the confiscation of his steps (presumably to make it difficult for audiences to get into the show) and he specifically refers to his steps being furnished by a joiner at Kilmarnock in  (Arthur, , p. ). He also records a disaster when his overcrowded parade space collapsed (fortunately without serious injuries) but was set up again with the loan of three trestles. . Museum of London. Reproduced in Cameron, , p. . . Robson, , p. . . Era,  September . . Era,  February . . Era,  April . The sale was handled by A. E. Burford, Show Front and Carriage Builder, , New North-road, London. . Era,  January . . Era,  July . . City of Nottingham Committee Minute Books, CA, CM (Markets). Nottingham Goose Fair employed a police officer to collect rents for stalls, but by the late s there was a special employee to carry out this job.



100 nts (225-254)



8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 236

Notes to Pages ‒

.  

. Jurkowski, , p. . He is speaking primarily of the twentieth-century puppet, and his emphasis on the iconic rather than the indexical nature of the puppet is crucial. . See, for example, Gilles, . . And, , p. . . The French director Gaston Baty (–) formed a puppet company in the s. As a very devout Roman Catholic, he had his figures blessed to avoid the transmission of any possible evil forces through them. . Leon Pierre, interviewed in World’s Fair,  May . . To a lesser extent this did happen in the popular theatre and theatres of the day. Dion Boucicault, playing one of his own comic characters (such as Conn the Shaughraun), totally subverted the rather silly conventional serious plot and transformed these plays into comic melodramas. . See Jurkowski, , p. . . See Booth, , pp. –. . Among the Clowes-Tiller figures now in the Theatre Museum which relate to this list are the following: a leading man (young middle-aged and heavily bearded), at least two candidates for the leading juvenile man (beardless young face), a “heavy” or villain (moustache and hint of upperclass elegance), a first old man (bald crown and heavy gray/white sideburns), and one or two possible “walking gentlemen” (a confidant and a youngish figure). Female figures include a leading woman, a leading juvenile woman, a first old woman, a maid, and a “walking lady.” In  Sid Tiller (son of Walter) was thinking of selling his figures to Waldo Lanchester, and there was an exchange of correspondence (kept in Lanchester scrapbooks). He listed fourteen dramatic figures : Heavy, Lead, Juvenile Lead, Comedy, Old Man, Leading Lady, Chamber Maid, Slavey, Old Woman, Boy, Girl, “Chinaman,” Angel, Character. . Booth, , p. . . National Library of Ireland. This bill also provides the last mention we have of Stretch’s marionettes (Stretch himself had died in the s). . Mother Shipton, smoking her pipe, had a comparable role as a jocular conversationalist. . Speaight, , p. . . B. E. Ayres, in World’s Fair,  July . . Peterson, . . One of the various small figures produced by the Barnard old woman was Ally Sloper (still in the possession of Ken Barnard). . James Byrne had introduced the “new” Harlequin to Drury Lane in the – season.

100 nts (225-254)

8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 237

Notes to Pages ‒ . Joseph Grimaldi (–) performed at Sadler’s Wells and later Drury Lane and Covent Garden. He originally interpreted Punch but later, under the name of “Joey,” made the clown the central figure of the harlequinade and created the prototype of the English circus clown. Joey also appears in the Punch and Judy show. . A dismembering policeman can be found in the John Blundall Collection. . This exotic detail may hark back to some elaborate circus parades. In  Hughes’s Circus parade included the Burmese Imperial Carriage and Throne, pulled by two elephants (reproduced by Speaight, , p. ). . Translated into English by the dramatist and novelist Thomas Holcroft in  in a three-volume edition and in a more popular edition in , which was reprinted through the nineteenth century (th edition, ). . “De l’inutilité du théâtre au théâtre,” in Tout Ubu (Paris: Livre de Poche, ), pp. –. . Moranges, , p. . . Many of these ideas derive from John Bulwer’s Chirologia (). . Siddons, , p.  and plate . . The same distinction is made by Pasqualino, , pp. –, in his study of the gestural codes of the Sicilian pupi. . Siddons, , p. . . Siddons, , p. . . Siddons, , p. , illustrated plate XIII. . Siddons, , p. . . Old Stager [Charles Gerty], The Actor’s Handbook (ca. ). . Old Stager, The Actor’s Handbook, p. . On p.  Old Stager speaks of management of the voice and emphasizes the care of the voice, suggesting various recipes to help (including a piece of prunella, an anchovy, an egg beat up in a glass of Madeira, and, above all, barley water). He also mentions brandy as a very temporary restorative. . World’s Fair,  March . . . . . .

.      

McPharlin, , pp. –. Era,  October . Era,  January . Era,  November . Era,  February . Years later he mentioned making figures for J. Holden, but this was almost certainly a slip. See an undated article from a temperance newspaper, reprinted in the Caravan (n.d.), National Fairground Archive, Lawrence file. . Taped interview with Neville McKinder, grandson of Ambrose Tiller II.



100 nts (225-254)



8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 238

Notes to Pages ‒ . Whanslaw had access to a number of Clowes figures, many of which are sketched in his various books. . World’s Fair,  March . Jewell had died in February. . An example of Bonini figures that reached Britain were the Martinek ones, purchased by Lanchester and now in the collection of Ricky de Loro (McCormick). . Catalogue apparently published in the early s. . Letter among assorted papers relating to the Théâtre Pitou, Musée Gadagne, Lyon. . See Speaight, , pp. –. I am inclined to think that there may be some linguistic confusion where Speaight refers to Samuel Foote’s figures as being of flat cardboard and that in fact they were large, threedimensional papier-mâché figures. . See Speaight, , p. . . The smaller set includes figures used for that company’s immensely popular Arden of Faversham. . These figures may have been from a set that Lewis used before he acquired the Middleton ones. Richard Barnard mentions visiting an aunt and uncle in , however, and going to Cremorne to collect and pack some marionette figures and scenery which the uncle had bought. If that is the case, these could be some of the remnants of the Brigaldi Royal Marionettes that thus found their way into the Middleton troupe. “I found out that the effects had belonged to a company of Italians, who had been induced to visit London with their entertainment. They had rented a space and erected a small Theatre thereon, in the celebrated Cremorne Gardens. It was at these gardens the things had been seized for debt, and sold by auction” (Barnard and Barnard, , p. ). Chester and Lee also claimed that they had got their figures from Cremorne and that these were Bullock ones. It would seem that we are into the realm of myth-making or confusion here. As far as we know, Bullock was never involved with Cremorne. . See Betty Cadbury, Playthings Past (Newton Abbot: David and Charles, ), pp. –. . Quoted by Fawdry and Fawdry, , p. . . World’s Fair,  April . . Letter of  November  (assorted Pitou papers, Musée Gadagne, Lyon). . See Booth, , pp. –. . The Powell dolls in the Museum of Childhood (Bethnal Green) have these dots. The technique is found with other puppet traditions, notably that of Rajastan.

100 nts (225-254)

8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 239

Notes to Pages ‒ . In France, according to Polichinelle performer Philippe Casidanus, there was, and still is, a convention that heroes and “good” characters have blue eyes. . Whanslaw, , p. , expressed his own dislike of the body covered with fabric or wash-leather, with sawdust stuffing, vulnerable to vermin and damp, a state in which many disused puppets were encountered. For many years this attitude led to a degree of prejudice about the construction of the Victorian marionette. . Ambrose Tiller introduced a third section to the middle of the body of his dancers, which increased flexibility. Normally the upper and lower sections of the body were simply linked by a cotton tube, which was tied in the middle to create more of a waist. . Twentieth-century puppeteers, using all-string figures, often place some lead in the pelvis. The added weight counteracts the weight of the legs and helps the puppet sit on a chair more easily. . See, for example, Fawdry and Fawdry, , p. . . The combination of a back spring, slightly large papier maché heads, and glass eyes suggests that Jim Tiller or his father, Ambrose II, may have acquired some Bullock figures in , when the last of the Bullock material was sold. A single “Negro” figure in Munich (not part of the main English collection) has similar characteristics and, coupled with the style of head modeling, looks remarkably like yet another D’Arc figure or else one made by Harry Fanning. . Desiree Delvaine (interview, ) could remember her father fixing such a spring in a puppet. . When Bullock’s performed in London in  the Times reviewer wrote on  August: “Be it understood, they are not common dolls. Their bodies, as they confess, are wooden, but their heads are mostly of wax or papier maché, flexible material has been used in the manufacture of their arms and legs, and withal they are furnished with springs and other expedients, which enable them to comply with the will of the most capricious director.” North Italian companies of the period sometimes used watch springs as knee-joints for dancers. No examples survive in Britain, but this could also explain the mention of springs here and with reference to Thomas Holden. . Sicilian pupi have a special neck joint that allows the head to be detached easily. This is not generally the case in England. . Pretini, , p. . . Delvaine’s drilled large holes in the lower legs and filled them with cork to reduce weight still further.



100 nts (225-254)



8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 240

Notes to Pages ‒ . To prevent such joints from moving too far in the wrong direction, a small staple placed in the bottom of the upper leg acts as a stop. A restraining slip of cloth or leather is sometimes used for the same purpose. This is also found at the elbows, when both parts of the arm are of wood. . The carving of the feet and the quality of the ankle joints lend weight to the supposition that the Munich figures may have originated in a Holden company. . Whanslaw, , p. . . The illustration of Samuel Foote and his puppets in Macaroni and Theatrical Magazine in February  (reproduced in Speaight, , p. ) shows a female figure with a wire to the head and strings to the hands and a male figure who also has leg strings. . Clunn Lewis figures, Musée Gadagne. A heavily restored and restrung figure of an old woman with a head rod is in the London Puppet Centre Trust collection (see fig. ). . Some of the trick figures in the Borromeo collection on the Isola Madre, which go back to the earlier part of the nineteenth century, are operated by strings alone. . Quennell, , p. . . See Speaight, , p. . . Era,  May . . Many surviving figures have obsolete center head staples combined with strings, or points of attachment for strings, at the sides of the head. . Maindron, , p. . . Delvaine’s used it until the s, and Harry McCormick until the s. McPharlin’s sketches for Nelson and Hayes are invaluable, since they are based on the horizontal bar control, although his concern is with using this type of control for new puppets and not looking at it from a historical perspective. In the United States, Daniel Meader and Walter Deaves, both of whom had worked with the “Royal Marionettes,” continued to use two horizontal bars for controls. . McPharlin, , p. . . Holes drilled in the bars for tying on strings may have been a late development. The use of round section doweling for control bars probably indicates a twentieth-century replacement, as does the addition of screw-eyes either for attaching strings or for allowing them to run through. . The Munich figures equipped with a T-bar may have their original controls. Among the Clunn Lewis figures there is one bar with the remains of a center rod, cut off and bent over, and this looks as if the original control was a rod with a cross bar. . Times,  February .

100 nts (225-254)

8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 241

Notes to Pages ‒ . Era,  July . . Whanslaw, , p. . He added: “Sometimes a marionette would ‘float’ not only forwards across the stage but backwards to the opposite side like the swing of a pendulum.”

. , ,   

. Jonathan Stump,  February . . Bill in the George Speaight collection. The Sheep Stealer is almost certainly a version of the medieval French farce Master Pierre Pathelin, which survived in English marionette repertoires. . Era,  September . . Advertisement in the Aberdare Times (date uncertain, but either  or ). . MS by Harriet Clowes, Theatre Museum, Gerald Morice Collection, box . . Barnard and Barnard, , p. . The most complete list of plays performed by Victorian marionette companies is to be found in Speaight, , pp. –. . “The Old Puppet Man” (an interview with Clunn Lewis), Daily Chronicle, Monday,  February . . “The Old Puppet Man.” . Letter of Tuesday,  August , to Gerald Morice (Theatre Museum, Gerald Morice Collection, box ). . Theatre Museum, London. . In actors’ fit-ups this was common practice, often at quite short notice. Agnes Sullivan (a member of an Irish fit-ups family) relates that on the night when a show finished she would read through the text of the next piece to be performed (even a new play), go through rehearsal the following day, and perform in it the day after. . As late as the s the Irish traveling showman Ben Bono bought a set of figures for The Babes in the Wood in London. . Tiller scripts, Theatre Museum, London. There are two notebooks containing parts of the Babes in the Wood. One seems to have been written by Harry Wilding. . Marionette versions also omit the comic figure of the “tutor” Apathy, Sir Rowland’s pimp, parasite, and general factotum. . These notebooks are in the Theatre Museum, with the Tiller scripts. . Some useful information about the play is to be found in M. L. Wine’s edition of The Tragedy of Master Arden of Faversham (London: Methuen, ). . See Rosenfeld, , pp. – and .



100 nts (225-254)



8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 242

Notes to Pages ‒ . Speaight, , pp. –, lists nineteenth-century dramas and the companies performing them. . Bullock’s, Wilding’s, and Middleton’s all had this play in their repertoire, and it was also performed at Brown’s theatre in Hull in the s. . Dicks plays, no. . The “Imp,” a Mephistophelean figure, was originally played by O. Smith, an actor who excelled in parts with a large element of mime, such as the Monster in Frankenstein. . A hint of this is given by an s drawing of Mumford’s “geggie” in Glasgow, which shows The Bottle Imp as being announced. . From the list of characters of The Bottle Imp (London: Dicks, n.d.). . Daily Chronicle, Monday,  February . . Era,  July . . Burton, , p. . . Era,  June . This may be a straightforward puff, but it indicates the emphasis on the scenic spectacular. . First performed at the Britannia Theatre in ; published by Dicks, no. . . This version concludes a bit abruptly just after the children have recognized their father and does not include the final arrest of the real murderer. It is in a notebook with a stamp on the cover; but the name, unfortunately, is illegible: “John . . . Ghost Entertainment open every evening,” an interesting reminder that scripts could circulate from one performer or company to another and that a ghost show might also present marionettes. . Either a costume change happened backstage or, more probably, a duplicate puppet was used. The marionette character now looked as follows: “White long wig. Black Hat. Black coat long. Top boots.” . It has also been surmised that some of the plays from the toy theatre repertoires of Green, Skelt, and others may have been used by the marionette companies. This is a tempting supposition, but there is no real evidence to substantiate it. . “Mr. Harry Wilding Remembers,” World’s Fair,  November . . Typescript appended to Speaight’s copy of The Factory Girl of Manchester and dated  December . Speaight indicated that he was not able to compare it to Douglas Jerrold’s unprinted The Factory Girl (). . The script indicates for scene  the setting of a “Backwood or Abbey.” Since the plot does not demand this setting, this is probably an indication of the backcloth that was used for the scene. . Era,  December , the Colosseum, Deansgate, Manchester. . Era,  January  and  January .

100 nts (225-254)

8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 243

Notes to Pages ‒ . . . .

. . . . . .

.

. . . . . . . . . . .

Bill in the George Speaight Collection. Era,  January . Era,  January . See Ashton, n.d., pp. –. The real Sir Richard Whittington was a prosperous merchant, three times lord mayor of London, who died in . His origins were not humble, and even the historical accuracy of his cat is in doubt. The Diary of Samuel Pepys, ed. Henry B. Wheatley (London: George Bell and Son, ), p. . Moranges, , pp. –. Era,  January . Moranges, , p. . Reproduced by Gerald Morice in World’s Fair,  December . McPharlin, , pp. –, describes the production according to this book of words. It is not entirely clear whether Bullock reworked the script or simply took over the D’Arc one. Fragments of the Clowes-Tiller script for Little Red Riding Hood in the Theatre Museum seem to be simply a handwritten copy of the Bullock text. Printed by Azzopardi, Hildreth & Co., Melbourne. This text was provided by Richard Bradshaw. Steel may be the Steel who was manager of the Reading Opera House, who found himself in the thick of the legal dispute between Bullock and McDonough and Earnshaw. Little Red Riding Hood, p. . Era,  August . Moranges, , pp. – (my translation). Letter from C. G. Fagg,  June , to Waldo Lanchester (Lanchester scrapbook). Fagg was remembering performances of some forty years earlier at the Crystal Palace. Sydney Race Diary, Nottingham Library, M,/A/. Quennell, , p. . Quennell, , p. . Jonathan Stump,  February . Daily Chronicle, Monday,  February . McPharlin, , p. . Unmarked newspaper cutting, Musée Gadagne. It describes Lewis entertaining a children’s party for G. K. Chesterton.

.   

. Whanslaw, , p. . . The Italian fantoccino, the diminutive of fantoccio, can be a generic term for a puppet but usually refers to one operated by rods or strings and



100 nts (225-254)



8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 244

Notes to Pages ‒

. .

. . . .

. . .

. .

resembling a miniaturized human figure. The word itself was associated with fante, meaning a boy, and of course with the English word “infant.” Hoste, , p. . Information provided by Iris Tunnicliff, Museum of Popular Entertainment. A similar dragon is in the John Blundall collection. In the s Maffey’s brought to London a table that turned into a dragon (Speaight, , p. ). General Advertiser,  September . Hone, , p. . McPharlin, , p. . Speaight, , p. . The “original” Mother Shipton was born in  and particularly associated with Knaresborough in Yorkshire. Supposedly her father was the devil, and eighteenth-century chapbook illustrations depict her in conversation with witches and even, Faustlike, conjuring devils from within a magic circle. She worked a number of wonders, all of a jocular nature, and was known for her gifts of prophecy. She died in . Her life and prophecies were published in  as The Prophesie of Mother Shipton in the Raigne of Henry the Eighth: Foretelling the Death of Cardinal Wolsey, the Lord Percy and Others, as Also What Should Happen in Issuing Times. She first reached the stage in a comedy by Thomas Thompson, The Life of Mother Shipton (), which focused on the marriage of her mother, Agatha Shipton, with the devil and her final escape thanks to an angel, leaving a furious Pluto and his devils to return emptyhanded to hell. Speaight, , p. . The Clunn Lewis collection includes a papiermâché head of Mother Shipton. A head that belonged to the Clowes Excelsior troupe is in the Theatre Museum. An obvious Mother Shipton in Munich was, upon acquisition, labeled “Judy.” A. R. Philpott, A Dictionary of Puppetry (London: MacDonald, ), p. . La Mère Gigogne is still in use in Bordeaux at the Guérin theatre. She could be found in the main traveling marionette theatres at the end of the nineteenth century – Horward, Levergeois, L. Roussel, Garat, and Borgniet (see Groshens, , p. ). The Borgniet Mère Gigogne was acquired in  and is dressed as a peasant. Nine little figures were hidden under her skirts. Pulling up a string released these figures for instant birth. George Speaight Collection. Strand Magazine, January–June . John Phillips examined this character in an article of , published in the British UNIMA Bulletin.

100 nts (225-254)

8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 245

Notes to Pages ‒ . In the s De Veres’, makers of ventriloquists’ dolls and marionettes, included “la Mère Cigogne [sic] et sa nombreuse famille” in its catalogue of Holden-style figures. E.Le Mare also advertised an “Old woman and Children.” . Speaight, , p. . . The transformable Pulcinella in the Borromeo collection on the Isola Madre, Lago Maggiore, operates on this principle. . Speaight, , p. . See the Public Advertiser,  January to  May . . Reeves bills, Royal Irish Academy. . Speaight, , p. . From a description of Bartholomew Fair, signed J. J. A. F. (Fillingham). . The word “jingoism” came from the popular music hall song of  “MacDermott’s Warsong.” . Published by H. D’Alcorn (London, ); words by F. C. Perry, music by J. Blewett. Stead’s dance was probably on the lines of the performance of the early black-face entertainer Thomas Dartmouth Rice, who created the character of Jim Crow, with its exaggerated dance, jumping up and down. . Scaramuzzia (meaning skirmish) appeared as the companion to Pulcinella in Naples in the later sixteenth century. As a Commedia dell’Arte figure he was similar to the (Spanish) Capitano. The seventeenth-century Italian performer Tiberio Fiorelli was a famous interpreter of this character and is said to have had an influence on Molière. . Thomas Elrington, manager of the Theatre Royal in Smock Alley, saw Stretch’s puppet show as a serious rival and endeavored to have it closed down. A prologue delivered by Mrs. Sterling on the stage of Smock Alley on  March  refers to the craze for puppets and to “Signior Scaramouch and Punchinello.” . Reproduced by McPharlin, , p. . . McPharlin, , pp. –. The puppeteer’s name is not recorded. . Every-Day Book,  August , pp. –. . Douglas Hayward Collection. . Quennell, , p. . In the John Payne Collier/Giovanni Piccini version of Punch and Judy there is a scene where Punch strikes off Scaramouche’s head. The character does not reappear (in this version of the text). Mayhew’s Punchman does not have this scene, but almost at the end of the show he mentions a headless Scaramouche appearing, who frightens Punch and “does a comic dance, with his long neck shooting up and down with the actions of his body, after which he exaunts [sic]”



100 nts (225-254)



8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 246

Notes to Pages ‒

.

. .

. .

. . .

. .

. . .

(Quennell, , p. ). Piccini had a separate courtier figure with an extending neck. McCormick’s marionettes were still using a single-headed Scaramouche when they ceased to function in the s. A Delvaine Scaramouche is a single-headed figure in a tailcoat and a flat hat. The body stretches up from the waist, and the flat hat extends into a high top hat. Scaramouche’s body was a cylinder, which contained the head(s). Sometimes it consisted of no more than two or three cane hoops covered by the costume, but it could also be more rigid. This figure, in the Detroit Institute of Arts Collection, is shown in Bell, , p. . It is misleadingly labeled the “Grand Turk.” It was originally labeled the “terrible Turk,” probably because the striped cotton used over the head, when twisted, half-evoked a turban. Baird, , p. . Baird’s comments applied to Tony Sarg watching the James Holden company. Toole-Stott, –, reproduces an engraving of twenty-four feats performed by the famous Polander (vol. , plate ). The original is in the British Library in the Perceval collection of ephemera relating to Sadler’s Wells, BM Crach  tab  b  ( vols. of scrapbooks, –). Bill for Youghal, probably from , National Library of Ireland. This appears to be a company from Sadler’s Wells visiting Ireland. The program also included the former Stretch marionettes. Quennell, , p. . Whanslaw, , p. . He restored it heavily and performed with it on television at the Alexandra Palace. He also replaced with a more modern type of control the two or more likely three bars to which strings would have been attached. The figure probably originated in a Clowes troupe. Delvaine’s linked the arms in front of the chest with a string, which prevented them from moving back too far behind the body. The Detroit Institute of Arts catalogue includes a small Indian juggler figure (reproduced in Bell, , p. ). Another is in the Archibald collection (see Puppet Master [Journal of the British Puppet and Model Theatre Guild] , no.  [Autumn ], ). Both of these look as if they may have been commercially made figures. De Vere’s included a juggler in its catalogue circa ; but it is not given a name, and the sketch does not imply an Indian figure. Quennell, , p. . Nelson and Hayes, , p. . The surviving examples are probably commercially made figures. There is one in the collection of the Detroit Institute of Arts, and another, almost identical, in the collection of the British Puppet and Model Theatre Guild

100 nts (225-254)

8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 247

Notes to Pages ‒

. . . . . . . . .

.

. . . . .

in the Theatre Museum, London. A photograph of the latter appears in Michael Dixon’s “Update on Our Archives Clown,” Puppet Master , no.  (Autumn ), . Quennell, , p. . No example of this had been found among surviving collections of Victorian marionettes; however, such a figure is still in use with the Slovak puppeteer Anton Anderle. Pitou’s drawing of the construction of the torso under the costume is also probably by guesswork. It is more like a French marionette than an English one. Speaight, , p. . Interview with Desiree Delvaine, . McCormick’s marionettes used this term until the s. World’s Fair,  July . Letter of  November  (Pitou documents, Musée de la Marionnette, Lyon). Dering et al., , p. . Mayhew’s fantoccini man was particularly proud of the costume and of the jointing of the knees of this figure: “all the joints are countersunk – them figures that shows above the knee. There’s no joints to be seen, all works hidden like, something like Madame Vestris in Don Juan” (Quennell, , p. ). Era,  March . When Bullock took over the show he published the words of the song on his program for St. James’s Great Hall, London. McPharlin, , p. , reprints this song. Roger Charles Tichbourne disappeared at sea in . He “re-appeared” in Wagga Wagga, Australia, in , returned to England, and laid claim to his baronetcy (a claim supported by his mother). In the ensuing court case he was found to be Arthur Orton, son of a Wapping butcher. The diminutive music-hall comedian Harry Ralph, born , was nicknamed “Little Tich,” with reference to the rather corpulent claimant. William Chappell, Popular Music of the Olden Time, (London: Cramer, Beale and Chappell, –), pp. –. In Munich there is a female marionette (possibly eighteenth-century), also without legs, but with a stick attached to the torso to act as a spacer between the trunk and the ground. Quennell, , p. . This public statement about the indecency of the Barnard show led Richard Barnard to take legal action for slander against the member of the council. See Barnard and Barnard, , pp. –. Published by Z. T. Purday, London (communicated by Oliver Davies). On this copy is noted: “Miss S. Carter, Augst th, .”



100 nts (225-254)



8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 248

Notes to Pages ‒ . The London Society for the Suppression of Mendicity was formed in  to deal with the growing problem of beggars on the streets. . Reproduced in Russell, , facing p. . . See Russell, , pp. –. . Published as no.  of The Musical Bouquet (London, n.d.). One is inclined to see in the coupling of names a parody of Isaac Bickerstaff and Thomas Arne’s Thomas and Sally (Covent Garden, ). . World’s Fair,  August , quoting from Horne, . . Gerald Morice Papers, box , Theatre Museum, London. . Quennel, , pp. –. . Times,  April . . The first mention is in the Dublin Advertising Gazette for  February . The rest of the program was composed of The Mistletoe Bough and the pantomime of Bluebeard. . Letter from C. G. Fagg,  June , Lanchester scrapbooks. . A list of acts and music for Clunn Lewis’s show is on a piece of paper attached to the box for the figures, now in the Musée Gadagne. The list is as follows: “Pole balancer: Waltz, Countryman: Jig, Little Nigger: Coon Jazz, Fairy Dancer: Schotoche [schottische], Acrobat: Waltz,  Clowns: Comic tune, Four Quadrille Dancers: Quadrille, Non-descript: Comic Tune, The Cure: Cure, Chinese Juggler: Chinese tune.” . Samuel French’s acting editions of the period sometimes advertise makeup. This is basically rouge, white, and various pencils but also includes prepared burnt cork for “Negro” minstrels. . Clifford Essex, a singer and banjoist, liked the idea of the French Pierrot costume and makeup and used it for all the performers. Apart from the costume, this entertainment has nothing to do with the Commedia dell’Arte tradition of Pierrot. See Pertwee, , p. . . Era,  June . . Era,  January . . Bullock’s program for performances at the Town Hall, Crewe, in April .

.   

. McPharlin, , p. . This was sold for sixpence. Charles Middleton once gave a performance in aid of the hospital in Cambridge with a distinguished audience, for which he provided a special program printed on silk (Barnard and Barnard, , p. ). . Era,  November . . Robson, , p. . . Whanslaw, , p. , mentions seeing Delvaine’s performance at Barnard’s Music Hall in Chatham sometime before its destruction by fire

100 nts (225-254)

8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 249

Notes to Pages ‒

.

.

. . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . .

in . He comments on the stage audience and orchestra and also on the quality of the manipulation, especially for the more specialized turns. McPharlin, , p.  suggests that Deaves in America introduced the idea of a stage upon a stage for vaudeville acts. The Lupi company in Turin had been doing this since the s, with its “Bijou” theatre. Delvaine’s may well have derived the idea from working with D’Arc’s and Bullock’s, and this raises the possibility that it was a part of the Bullock show presented in America. Era,  February . The address was Herbert Wycherley, , Belham Street, Camberwell. As well as the show he also hoped to sell “a Splendid Pantechnicon van, nearly new,  ft long, High wheels, Large Well and Patent Axles.” This would have contained the full length of his stagefront and of the backcloths of the theatre. Typed note in Lanchester scrapbooks, Douglas Hayward Collection. Era,  July . Quennell, , p. . Leon Pierre in interview given to Waldo Lanchester. Typescript of notes of this interview, probably circa , in Lanchester scrapbooks, Douglas Hayward Collection. Era,  July . This was advertised by a P. Tylor of , Seven Sisters Road, Holloway. The lot also included “forty figures quite new.” “Mr. Harry Wilding Remembers,” World’s Fair,  November . Typed note in Lanchester scrapbooks. Era,  February . Letter from Henri Renaud to Waldo Lanchester,  April , Lanchester scrapbook. An earlier letter from Renaud of  April  also has some useful details. Era,  May . Henri Renaud (who also went under the professional name of Harry Vernon) purchased the Barnard scenery for £. In  Lanchester eventually bought eight Barnard backcloths for the sum of £. The three surviving backcloths are now in the collection of Purves International Puppet Theatre, Biggar, Scotland. Rosenfeld, , pp. –. Castle, , p. . Castle was the grandson of Bruce (“Sensation”) Smith, one of the major scene-painters at Drury Lane after Beverley. He is best remembered for his train crash in The Whip (). Era,  October . “Mr Harry Wilding Remembers,” World’s Fair,  November . Nottingham Daily Guardian,  October . Era,  November .



100 nts (225-254)



8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 250

Notes to Pages ‒ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . .

Era,  November . Era,  July . Era,  November , p. , col. . Era,  July . This took place when the theatre was at Cannington. Era,  December . Arthur, , pp. –. Letters from Sam Baylis,  and  September  (also a reference to a third letter). Era,  November . Arthur, , p. . Robson, , p. . Era,  November . Era,  December . Madame Pollinta, in Liverpool in , advertised “magnificent scenery” by Nicholas Hinchley (Era,  December ). Era,  July . Era,  November . Letter from Henri Renaud to Waldo Lanchester,  April , Douglas Hayward Collection. Era,  February . See Rees, , ch. . Barnard and Barnard, , p. . Rees, , p. . The second was in Herne Bay in , when a “Mammoth Benefit” was given for them at the Palace Theatre. A handful of hats and accessories can still be found with the Clunn Lewis figures in Lyon. Barnard and Barnard, , p. . The Munich figures have a preponderance of historical costumes. Some of these may be no more than acrobats’ costumes, with trunk hose and a bolero. Extra costume elements have been provided, however, especially cloaks. This suggests that some of these figures started out as trick figures but ended up as dramatic ones. Mayer, , p. . Jerome, , p. . Reproduced by Russell, , facing p. . Era,  April . Era,  April . Barnard and Barnard, , p. . Barnard and Barnard, , p. . Era,  January . Russell, , p. .

100 nts (225-254)

8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 251

Notes to Pages ‒ . Russell, , p. , quoted from an article in Brass Band News (). . Russell, , pp. –. . Era,  July . The euphonium was the B flat bass member of the saxhorn family, a group of what Dave Russell calls “improved bugles,” which were developed by the Paris instrument-maker Alfred Sax and widely adopted in Britain in the s (Russell, , pp. –). . Era,  June . . Russell, , p. . . The piano was also used for ghost shows. . Barnard and Barnard, , p. . . Era,  February . . Letters from Harriet Clowes to Gerald Morice,  October  and  January , Theatre Museum, Gerald Morice Papers, box . . See Ord-Hume, , pp.  and . . Era,  April . . Leo Scott, World’ s Fair, December . Testo’s company also combined films with marionettes. At one point their show was known as “The Egyptian Manikins.” They were best remembered for their spine-chilling Sweeney Todd. . A postcard in the National Fairground Archive, Sheffield, shows the interior of Clark’s booth, complete with organ (see Fig. ). . Quennell, , p. . . McKechnie, , p. . . Era,  September . . Nottingham Guardian,  October . . Barnard and Barnard, , p. . . Barnard and Barnard, , p. . . Era,  July . . Era,  September . . Era,  June . . Mayer, , p. . . The World behind the Scenes (London, ), p. . Quoted by Mayer, , pp. –. . Mayer, , p. . . Mayer, , p. . . Specific songs and melodies utilized in Little Red Riding Hood were “Down in the Coal Mines,” “Few Days,” “Amaryllis,” “If Ever I Cease to Love,” “Chilperic Quadrilles,” “We Are So Volatile,” “March of the Pigmies,” and “Mollie Darling.” . Russell, , p. .



100 nts (225-254)



8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 252

Notes to Pages ‒ . Alphabetical Catalogue, pp. –; Mayer, , p. , footnote . . Glover, , pp. –. Quoted by Mayer, , p. . . Mayer, , p. .

.   

. B. E. Ayres, World’s Fair,  July . . The Chester and Lee show had continued to function for some years after the death of Clarence Lee in , at the age of eighty-four. Some of the figures were exhibited at the British Theatre Exhibition in . . They appeared from time to time for a number of years then went to Munich for an extended stay. They eventually returned to Britain in the late s, were purchased by John Phillips, and found their way into the Theatre Museum after his death. . McCormick and Pratasik, , mistakenly assumed that these controls were English. If they were not attached by a Dutch or German puppeteer, it is just possible that the puppets arrived in the museum without controls and were simply attached to whatever was available. . Neither the costume nor the head (which may not be the original one for the figure) looks like the Pierrot of the English Pierrot show, who had a fullish costume, inspired by the French Paul Legrand (successor of JeanBaptiste Deburau). As a character, Pierrot had not been one of the characters in the English pantomime. . For a note on De Doncker, see Hoste, , p. . . Mrs. Walter Tiller came from another showpeople’s family, the Campbells. It is uncertain exactly when Sid Tiller ceased to perform, but by  he had retired. . Local newspaper cutting of  September , Museum of Entertainment Collection, Whaplode Saint-Catherine. . This building (with its corrugated-iron roof), which burned down in , was rebuilt and renamed “The Gem.” It eventually closed down in . . This information came from Iris Tunnicliff, Museum of Entertainment, who bought James Tiller’s marionettes. . Copy of an article of  February  in the Isle of Ely and Wisbech Advertiser. . When he finally ceased to perform, Jim Tiller sold his part of the collection to the Museum of Entertainment at Whaplode Saint Catherine, Lincolnshire. . World’s Fair,  June . . For this part of the family history, see Power, . Desmond Power is a grandson of George D’Arc.

100 nts (225-254)

8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 253

Notes to Pages ‒ . D’Arc’s last recorded appearance was at the Empire, Stratford (London), in . He died in . See Phillips, , p. . . World’s Fair,  July . . From a -page typescript of memoirs of Joe Randel Hodson, “ Years in Theatre” (n.d., but presumably circa –). The name “Randel” came from Randel Williams, a friend of his father’s. See also Harry Wilding, “A Veteran of the Road” (on Joseph Charles Hodson), in World’s Fair, , vol. . Born in  at Teignmouth, Devon, J. C. Hodson was associated with the Ashington marionette company in . The special attraction was a sketch called “Down in a Coal Mine.” Later Hodson abandoned the music halls to tour with his own portable theatre, “Hodson’s Varieties,” in Yorkshire and Lancashire. Over the years he moved back and forth between a variety show and a marionette one. The figures mentioned here may have come from the Simms troupe, whose equipment was bought up by Hodson in , presumably after the death of Simms. He probably never used the figures. . The main figure in the combination was Colm McCormick. His brother Harry was the puppeteer. After  Harry was employed as a redcoat at Butlin’s holiday camp near Drogheda and performed there until . . Marionette shows were quite ready to express patriotic sentiment on appropriate occasions. In Ambrose Tiller’s combination during the early part of the First World War, his daughter Minnie sang a recruitment song he had composed: Go, boys, go and be a soldier, Go and be a soldier to the king. A call to arms again, don’t wait then call in vain. But show our foes we nobly respond, Don’t wait until our country press them, One volunteer can beat a dozen pressmen, Be British one and all, respond to England’s call, And go and be a soldier of the king. (World’s Fair,  December ) . Both these puppets, probably made around , still exist. The Scaramouche is redressed in nineteenth-century costume, complete with a top hat that extends in the same way as the rest of the figure. . This was probably borrowed from a popular number presented by the German Schichtl troupe. The Theatre Museum possesses the Schichtl figure and has also made a video, with the help of Ken Barnard and a descendant of the Schichtl family. It requires about an hour to pack the puppet ready for the transformation. . “The Book of the London Marionette Theatre” by H. W. Whanslaw ( pages) was communicated in typescript form by Douglas Hayward. It



100 nts (225-254)



8/4/04

10:38 AM

Page 254

Notes to Page  describes the years of the group, including television engagements in . . From a technical point of view, this often required an increased number of strings. Where a Victorian dramatic marionette might have five to seven strings, their figures tended to average nine to twelve. To cope with this, they introduced a vertical control based on ones they had seen in Papa Schmid’s “Munich Marionette Theatre.” Thanks to Whanslaw’s books, the vertical control gradually replaced the “old English” horizontal bars. Whanslaw’s technical drawings are invaluable; but as a modern puppeteer, working in a slightly different idiom, he “improved” the stringing, which leaves problems for today’s researcher. In some of his books, nineteenthcentury English figures are redrawn with a vertical control and anachronistically equipped with screw eyes. . See Joseph, , pp. –. Various puppeteers prefer to have a figure strung to carry out one or two specific movements and to use other figures if a wider range of movement is desired. This makes for more precise movement and avoids unnecessarily complicated stringing. . Craig, , p. .

110

glos (255-258)

8/4/04

10:39 AM

Page 255

Glossary Apotheosis: Religious term often used for a final scene in which the soul of a dead character is carried to heaven by angels. More loosely, a grand and spectacular final transformation. Automata: Figures worked by a mechanism, often clockwork. Very popular in the late eighteenth century. Backcloth: Scene at the back of the stage painted on a cloth which can be lifted or dropped for changes. Benefit: Special theatre performance where an actor (or deserving cause) receives the profits. Big-boot dance: Popular music-hall act for which the performer wore boots of an exaggerated size. Bill: Short for “playbill.” A printed sheet used to publicize theatrical performances since the seventeenth century. Bohemia: Geographical area which, together with Moravia, constitutes today’s Czech Republic. Booth: Small screen stage which contains the performer for a Punch and Judy show or a similar self-contained show; temporary structure used by marionette showpeople. See also Portable theatre. Border: Strip of painted cloth crossing the top of the stage and concealing lighting and other stage equipment that functions as a scenic element. Bottler: Person who collected money for a street show. This was often done with a bottle, which made it more difficult for any of the collected money to be stolen. Boxes: Partitioned compartments dividing up a theatre auditorium. Those on either side of the stage are known as stage boxes. Bridge: Area on which the marionettist stands, often raised above the stage. Broadsheet: Sheet of paper printed on one side used for ballads and songs and often sold in the streets. Bunraku: Japanese form of puppetry dating back to the seventeenth century that combines storytelling with theatre. It is distinguished by the fact that the main figures are operated by three visible manipulators. Busker: Street entertainer dependent on contributions from passersby. Butt joint: Joint created when two ends of pieces of wood meet but do not interlock. Call: See Swazzle.

110

glos (255-258)



8/4/04

10:39 AM

Page 256

Glossary Chapbook: Short printed text costing about one penny and sold by eighteenthcentury peddlers known as “chapmen” in the streets and marketplaces or fairs. Combination: Traveling show of the later nineteenth and early twentieth century that combined plays, sketches, songs, and other acts, including marionettes. Crutch: Showpeople’s term for the control of the marionette. Cut cloth: Backcloth with parts cut out to reveal further scenery behind. Diorama: Optical show using lighting and transparencies, developed by Louis Daguerre in the early nineteenth century. Droll: Fairground dramatic performances, usually of curtailed plays and generally of a burlesque nature, on the fairgrounds of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries; also loosely applied to cover marionette shows. Encaustic: Originally a form of painting in wax which was fixed by heat. Application of this technique to puppet heads produced a glaze and could give the impression that the head was made of wax. Entr’acte: French term for the interval between two acts of a play. Extravaganza: Burlesque entertainment of a spectacular and fantastic nature, with singing and dancing, popular in the nineteenth-century theatre. Fantoccini: Word for marionettes introduced to Britain in the late eighteenth century by Italian performers. Figure-worker: Manipulator of marionettes. Fit-up: Traveling show, sometimes with its own tent or booth. Footlights: Row of lights along the floor at the front of the stage. Gaff: Originally a fair or place of amusement; by the nineteenth century used in relation to low-class theatres. Galanty: Street shadow show popular around , performed on a small stage with a screen lit from the back with a candle. Popular pieces included The Broken Bridge. Gauze: Painted cloth with an open weave which allows it to become transparent when lit from behind. Geggie: Glasgow term for the booth of a fairground sideshow or gaff. Gesso: From “gypsum.” A plaster base for painting, also used in the decoration of picture frames. With puppet heads, this was usually a mix of glue-size and whiting. Glove puppet or hand puppet: Term used today to describe a puppet worked from below and usually consisting of a solid head worn on one or more fingers. The puppeteer’s hand, covered by a costume, forms the body. Jigging doll: Jointed figure, often held on the end of a stick over a board that is tapped to make it vibrate. The vibration makes the figure dance.

110

glos (255-258)

8/4/04

10:39 AM

Page 257

Glossary Jumping Jack: Flat figure jointed at the shoulders and thighs. One hand holds the figure suspended, while the other pulls down a string. This action causes the arms and legs to jerk upward in a single and simultaneous movement. Lake liner: Dark, earthy red makeup stick, particularly used to produce effects of aging. Manikin: Traditionally an undersized human; it became a popular term for a marionette in the late nineteenth century. Mortise: Cavity into which the end of another part of a structure is fitted to form a joint. Music hall: Initially a room or hall with a platform where vocal or instrumental concerts were given. Some became concert halls, but many remained attached to drinking establishments. After  they began to develop into theatres offering variety entertainment. The American equivalent was the vaudeville theatre. Outfit: Generally used to mean a show or company with its equipment. Pan (pandean) pipes: Musical instrument made of a series of reeds of different lengths to produce different notes when blown. Parade: Show or display. By extension used to describe a balcony in front of a fairground theatre where some sort of performance took place to attract spectators inside. Also a procession through the town, often with a band. Peep-show: Box that has a small hole with a magnifying lens to look through at one end. Inside was a scene arranged in vanishing perspective, often with figures. A common fairground and street attraction in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Perch: Term used by showpeople for the control of the marionette. Petersham: Ribbon usually of ribbed or corded silk, often used for hatbands. Pitch: Site on which a booth or temporary theatre is erected. Portable theatre: Theatre booth of wood and canvas, including seating and a stage, designed to be erected on a fairground or other site and dismantled for removal to the next site. Proscenium: Originally the front part of the stage; later used for the “proscenium arch” or frame surrounding the front curtain. Pupi (sing. pupo): Marionette figures used in the south of Italy and Sicily and operated by a rod to the head. Especially known for their performances of medieval material relating to Charlemagne, Orlando, and others. Pyrotechnics: Fireworks. Quadrille: Square dance of French origin performed by sets of couples. Very popular in nineteenth-century Britain and Ireland both on the stage and in dancing at all social levels.



110

glos (255-258)



8/4/04

10:39 AM

Page 258

Glossary Ric-rac: Narrow braid woven in a zigzag pattern, commonly used for trimming dresses. Size: Preparation made from animal glue and used for priming surfaces for painting. Slangs: Strings of the marionette. “Slang” could also refer to a fairground sideshow. Slapstick: Broad farce with a strong physical element. Derives from Harlequin’s baton or Punch’s stick, which is split to make a loud crack when used in fights. Staple: Piece of wire bent into a U shape, both ends of which are driven into a piece of wood. Used both for joints and for run-through strings. Stock company: In the eighteenth and early nineteenth century a permanent company attached to a theatre or provincial circuit. Began to decline after  because of touring productions sent out from London. Sugar paper: Coarse paper used for wrapping sugar. Swazzle: Instrument made of two small plates of metal (usually German silver), with a membrane between and bound with cotton. Inserted against the palate and used to produce the high-pitched squeak associated with Punch. Also known as a “call.” Teatrum mundi: Machine with moving figures, often worked by clockwork, popular in Renaissance courts. Later it passed into the hands of showpeople, who gave it a more theatrical appearance, with flat figures moving in front of a background. It was sometimes fused with optical shows and panoramas. Tempera: Water-based paint sometimes given extra resilience and durability by the addition of egg white. Tenon: Projection that fits into a cavity (see Mortise) to form a joint. Tilt: Old English word for an awning or roof of coarse canvas. Trunk-hose: Short, full breeches worn over tights in the early seventeenth century. Utility actor: Actor with a very small speaking part. Ventriloquist doll: Puppetlike figure, usually with articulated eyes and mouth. The performer throws his or her voice to give the illusion that the doll is speaking and often holds conversations with it. Whiting: Finely powdered chalk preparation used for whitewashing. Wing: Painted strip of canvas or flat at the side of the stage that completes the stage picture and prevents the audience from seeing offstage.

120 bib (259-264)

8/4/04

10:39 AM

Page 259

Bibliography Altick, R. D. . The Shows of London. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press. And, Metin. . Karagöz: Turkish Shadow Theatre. rd ed. Istanbul: Dost. Arthur, T. . The Life of Billy Purvis, the Extraordinary, Witty and Comical Showman. Newcastle-on-Tyne. Facsimile reprint, Newcastle upon Tyne: Frank Graham, , Queen’s Terrace, . Ashton, John. n.d. Chapbooks of the Eighteenth Century. London: Skoob Books. (Based on Chatto and Windus edition of .) Bailey, Peter. . Popular Culture and Performance in the Victorian City. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Bailey, Peter (ed.). . Music Hall: The Business of Pleasure. Milton Keynes: Open University Press. Baird, Bil. . The Art of the Puppet. New York: Macmillan. Baker, Michael J. N. . The Rise of the Victorian Actor. London: Croom Helm. Barker, Kathleen. . Bristol at Play. Bradford-on-Avon: Moonraker Press. Barnard, Kenneth, and Richard Barnard. . The Life and Travels of Richard Barnard, Marionette Proprietor. Ed. George Speaight. London: Society for Theatre Research. Bell, John. . Strings, Hands, Shadows: A Modern Puppet History. Detroit: Detroit Institute of Arts. Bennett, A. R. . London and Londoners in the 1850s and 1860s. N.p. Blundall, John. . “The D’Arc Marionettes and the Japanese Theatre.” British UNIMA Bulletin  (November), –. ———. . “The D’Arc Marionettes in Japan.” British UNIMA Bulletin  (March), –. Booth, Michael R. . Victorian Spectacular Theatre 1850–1910. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul. ———. . Theatre in the Victorian Age. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. ——— (ed.). . Victorian Theatrical Trades. London: Society for Theatre Research. Bradshaw, Richard. . “Webb’s Royal Marionettes – The Australian Puppets That Visited Russia in .” UNIMA Australia (September), –.

120 bib (259-264)



8/4/04

10:39 AM

Page 260

Bibliography ———. . “D’Arc’s Marionettes in Australia.” Australian Puppeteer (Spring). Bratton, J. S. . Music Hall: Performance and Style. Milton Keynes: Open University Press. Brooks, Peter. . The Melodramatic Imagination: Balzac, Henry James, Melodrama, and the Mode of Excess. New Haven: Yale University Press. Burton, Brian J. . The Murder of Maria Marten or the Red Barn. Rev. ed. Birmingham: Cambridge. Cameron, A., and A. Scullion (eds.). . Scottish Popular Theatre and Entertainment. Glasgow: Glasgow University Library Studies. Cameron, David C. . The English Fair. Thrupp: Sutton Publishing. Castle, Dennis. . Sensation Smith of Drury Lane. London: Charles Skilton. Cockrell, Dale. . Demons of Disorder: Early Blackface Minstrels and Their World. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Craig, Edward Gordon. . On the Art of the Theatre. London: Heinemann. Dering, Florian, Margarete Gröner, and Manfred Wegner. . Heute Hinrichtung. Munich: Christian Brandstatter. Disher, M. Willson. . Fairs, Circuses and Music Halls. London: Collins. Era. Various dates. Fawdry, Kenneth, and Marguerite Fawdry. . English Dolls and Toys. London: Ernest Benn. Reprinted, Leicester: Promotional Reprint Company, . Fillinham Public Gardens Collection (Guildhall Library, London). Findlater, Richard. . Joe Grimaldi: His Life and Theatre. nd ed. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Fitzgerald, Percy. . The World behind the Scenes. London: Chatto and Windus. Gilles, Annie. . Le jeu de la marionnette: L’Objet intermédiaire et son métathéâtre. Nancy: Université de Nancy. Glover, James. . Jimmy Glover, His Book. London: Methuen. Goodfellow, Caroline. . The Ultimate Doll Book. London: Dorling Kindersley. Groshens, Marie-Claude. . Des marionnettes foraines aux spectacles de variétés. Paris: Réunion des Musées Nationaux. Harrison, B. H. . Drink and the Victorians. London: Faber. Harrison, William H. . Mother Shipton Investigated. London: W. H. Harrison. Harrop, Jo. . Victorian Portable Theatres. London: Society for Theatre Research.

120 bib (259-264)

8/4/04

10:39 AM

Page 261

Bibliography Hone, William. . The Every-Day Book. London: Hunt and Clarke. (st ed. .) Honri, Peter. . Working the Halls. Glasgow: Futura. Horne, Thomas. . Humorous and Tragic Stories of Show Life. London: Era Publishing Company. Hoste, Lode. . Gent, Poppenspelstad. Ghent: Imschoot. Iliffe, Richard, and Wilfrid Baguley. . Victorian Nottingham: A Story in Pictures. Vol. . Nottingham: Nottingham Historical Film Unit. Jackson, Russell. . Victorian Theatre. London: A and C Black. Jackson, Sheila. . Simple Puppetry. London: Studio Vista. Jerome, Jerome K. . On the Stage and Off: The Brief Career of a WouldBe Actor. London: n.p. Joseph, Helen Haiman. . A Book of Marionettes. New York: Huebsch. Jurkowski, Henryk. . A History of European Puppetry. Vol. : From Its Origins to the End of the Nineteenth Century. Lampeter: Edwin Mellen Press. ———. . A History of European Puppetry. Vol. : The Twentieth Century. Lampeter: Edwin Mellen Press. ———. . Métamorphoses. Charleville Mézières: Institut International de la Marionnette. Kift, Dagmar. . The Victorian Music Hall: Culture, Class and Conflict. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. King, Elspeth. . The People’s Palace and Glasgow Green. Edinburgh: W. and R. Chambers. Maindron, Ernest. . Marionnettes et guignols, les poupées agissantes et parlantes à travers les âges. Paris: Félix Juven. Mayer, David. . “The Music of Melodrama.” In D. Bradby, L. James, and B. Sharratt (eds.), Performance and Politics in Popular Drama, pp. –. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. ——— and Matthew Scott. . Four Bars of Agit: Incidental Music for Victorian and Edwardian Melodramas. London: Samuel French. Mayhew, Henry. . London Labour and the London Poor. London: n.p. McCormick, John, and Bennie Pratasik. . Popular Puppet Theatre in Europe 1800–1914. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. McKechnie, Samuel. . Popular Entertainment throughout the Ages. London, Sampson, Low Marston and Co., Ltd. McPharlin, Paul. . The Puppet Theatre in America: A History, 1524–1948. Boston: Plays, Inc. Mizote, Eri. . “The D’Arc Troupe and Its Successors: A Study of the History of the Japanese Puppet Theatre” (Da-ku ichiza to sono Keisho: Nihon nongyogekishi no hitosuno kokoromi). In Children’s Culture:



120 bib (259-264)



8/4/04

10:39 AM

Page 262

Bibliography Present and Traditional (Jidobumka no dento to genzai), pp. –. Kyoto: Minerva. Moranges, Louis de. . Thomas Holden et ses fantoches. Paris: E. Perraux. Morley, Henry. . Memoirs of Bartholomew Fair. London: Chatto and Windus. Nelson, Nicholas, and J. J. Hayes. . Trick Marionettes: Puppetry Handbook VI. Illustrated by Paul McPharlin. Birmingham, Mich.: Puppetry Imprints. Old Stager [Charles Gerty]. n.d. The Actor’s Handbook. London: John Dicks [ca. ]. Ord-Hume, Arthur W. J. G. . Barrel Organ: The Story of the Mechanical Organ and Its Repair. London: Allen and Unwin. Parliamentary Papers. . () XVI Select Committee Report on Theatrical Licences and Regulations. Parliamentary Papers. . () XVIII Select Committee Report on Theatres and Places of Entertainment. Pasqualino, Antonio. . L’Opera dei pupi. Palermo: Sellerio. Revised ed. . Pertwee, Bill. . Pertwee’s Promenades and Pierrots: One Hundred Years of Seaside Entertainment. North Pomfret and Newton Abbot: David and Charles. Peterson, Archer E. . “End of a Quest.” Puppet Master (Journal of the British Puppet and Model Theatre Guild, London) , no.  (July). Phillips, John. . “Light on D’Arc.” Animations (London, Puppet Centre) , no. , . ———. . “Mr Sam Baylis’s Living Shadows and French Marionettes.” British UNIMA Bulletin  (November), – and . ———. . “D’Arc’s in Dublin.” Theatre Notebook: Journal of the Society for Theatre Research (London) , –. ———. . “The Origin and Progress of W. J. Bullock’s Royal Marionettes.” In The Puppetry Yearbook, vol. , pp. –. Lewiston, New York: Edwin Mellen Press. ———. . “A Survey of Victorian Marionettists.” In The Puppetry Yearbook, vol. , ed. James Fisher, pp. –. Lewiston, New York: Edwin Mellen Press. ———. . “Some Victorian Marionette Companies in Scotland –.” British UNIMA Bulletin  (March), –. Power, Desmond. . Little Foreign Devil. Vancouver: Pangli Imprint. Pretini, Giancarlo. . Facanapa e gli altri. Udine: Trapezio. Quennell, Peter (ed.). . Mayhew’s Characters. London: Spring Books.

120 bib (259-264)

8/4/04

10:39 AM

Page 263

Bibliography ——— (ed.). . Mayhew’s London. London: Spring Books. Ranger, Paul. . Theatre in the Cotswolds. London: Society for Theatre Research. Rees, Terence. . Theatre Lighting in the Age of Gas. London: Society for Theatre Research. Robson, J. P. . The Life and Adventures of Billy Purvis, Continued to the Time of His Death. rd ed., improved. Newcastle-upon-Tyne: John Christie. (st ed. .) Rosenfeld, Sybil. . Strolling Players and Drama in the Provinces 1660–1765. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. ———. . The Theatre of the London Fairs in the Eighteenth Century. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. ———. . A Short History of Scene Design in Great Britain. Oxford: Basil Blackwell. Russell, Dave. . Popular Music in England 1840–1914: A Social History. Manchester: Manchester University Press. Sala, G. A. . “Things Departed.” Household Words (London),  January. Scharf, George. British Library (Print Room): Drawings of Street Fantoccini. Sheppard, Thomas. . Evolution of the Drama in Hull and District. Hull: A. Brown and Son. Sheridan, Paul. . Penny Theatres of Victorian London. London: Denis Dobson. Siddons, Henry. . Practical Illustrations of Rhetorical Gesture and Action. London: Sherwood, Neely, and Jones. Smith, M. B. . “Victorian Entertainment in the Lancashire Cotton Towns.” In S. P. Bell (ed.), Victorian Lancashire. Newton Abbott: David and Charles. Speaight, George. . “The Devil in the Puppet Show.” In Puppetry: International Yearbook of Puppets and Marionettes. New York: Puppeteers of America. ———. . “Puppets in the Gardens.” Puppet Master (Journal of the British Puppet and Model Theatre Guild, London) , no.  (May). ———. . A History of the Circus. London: Tantivy. ———. . “A North of England Marionette Theatre in the s.” Theatre Notebook (London, Society for Theatre Research) , no. , –. ———. . The History of the English Puppet Theatre. Revised ed. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press. (Originally published .)



120 bib (259-264)



8/4/04

10:39 AM

Page 264

Bibliography Storch, Robert D. (ed.). . Popular Culture and Custom in NineteenthCentury England. London: Croom Helm. Terry, Ellen. . The Story of My Life. Woodbridge: Boydell Press. Thétard, Henri. . La merveilleuse histoire du cirque. Paris: Julliard. Toole-Stott, Raymond. –. Circus and the Allied Arts: A World Bibliography. Derby: Harpur and Sons. Toulmin, Vanessa. . “Telling the Tale: The Story of the Fairground Bioscope Shows and the Showmen Who Operated Them.” In Film History, vol. , pp. –. New York: Taylor and Francis. Tuer, Andrew. . Pages and Pictures from Forgotten Children’s Books. London: Leadenhall Press. (“A Month’s Vacation,” pr. for William Cole, ca. .) Whanslaw, H. W. . Everybody’s Marionette Book. Redhill: Wells Gardner, Darton. ———. . Everybody’s Theatre. Redhill: Wells Gardner, Darton. (Originally published .) ———. . A Bench Book of Puppetry. Redhill: Wells Gardner, Darton and Co., Ltd. Whanslaw, H. W., and Victor Hotchkiss. . Specialised Puppetry. Redhill: Wells Gardner, Darton. World’s Fair. Fillinham Gardens Collection (Guildhall Library, London). Worsdall, Fred. . A Glasgow Keek Show. Glasgow: Drew. Wroth, Warwick. . Cremorne and the Later London Gardens. London: Elliot Stock.

130

index (265-272)

8/4/04

10:39 AM

Page 265

Index As most of the Victorian marionette companies were family affairs, family rather than individual names are given below. The index also includes relevant showpeople, musicians, scene-painters, titles of plays (and adapted novels), and authors. Well-known popular entertainers or figures, many of whom also appeared as marionettes, are included under their stage names, as are names of stock types and significant acts. Ainsworth, Harrison, ,  Aladdin,  Alexander, John Henry,  Ali Baba. See The Forty Thieves Allingham, J. T.,  Alonzo the Brave,  The Arabian Nights, ,  Arden of Faversham, , , , , , ,  Arne, Thomas,  Arnold, Samuel, ,  Arrah na Pogue,  Ashington family, , , , ,  The Babes in the Wood, , , , , , , ,  Babil and Bijou,  Barker, Howard,  Barnard family, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,  Barnum and Bailey,  Bartholomew, Arthur, 

Basket Biddy,  Baylis family, , , , , , , , , , ,  Beauty and the Beast, , , , , ,  Bedford, Alfred, ,  La belle Roxalana,  Berlerie, Signor,  Beverley, William, ,  Bey, Emin,  Bianchi, Peter, ,  Bickerdike, Doris,  Bickerstaff, Isaac, , ,  Bilking a Reckoning,  Bishop, Henry, , ,  Black Ey’d Susan, , , , , ,  Blackbeard the Pirate,  Blackham, Olive,  Blanchard, Sophie,  Bleak House, , , –,  Block, Ben,  Blondin, ,  Blondin, Charles,  Blondin, “Madame,”  Bluebeard (Blue Beard), , , , , , ,  Bluff King Hal, 

130

index (265-272)



8/4/04

10:39 AM

Page 266

Index Bobbin, Tim, , , , ,  Bonamici, Arthur,  Bonini, ,  Bono, Ben,  Borgniet family, ,  Borromeo collection,  Bostock, , . See also Wombwell The Bottle Imp, ,  Boucicault, Dion, , , , , , ,  Bowden, , , , . See also Tiller Braddon, Mary Elizabeth,  Bramall, Eric,  Brann, Paul,  Brigaldi company, , , , ,  , , , ,  The Brigand Chief,  The British Puppet and Model Theatre Guild, ,  Brown brothers, , , , ,  Buckstone, J. B.,  Bull, Hart and Francis,  Bullock, C. P.,  Bullock, William, ,  Bullock, William J., , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,  Bullock’s theatre,  Burford, A. E.,  Bussel, Jan,  Buxton, Henry, ,  Calver family, , , , , , ,  Campbell family,  Candler family, , , , , , , , , 

Carbold, W.,  Cardoni, ,  Carter’s waxworks,  Case family, , , , , , , , , , , ,  Cassidy, G. W.,  The Castle Spectre,  Chappell,  The Charcoal Burner,  Charles Peace,  Cheadle, ,  Chester, H., , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,  Children in the Wood. See Babes in the Wood Chipperfield, ,  Chorus Tommy, , ,  Christy Minstrels, , , , , , ,  Cinderella, , , ,  Clark, Phillip, , ,  Clark’s Ghost Show, ,  Clarkson,  Cleghorn,  Clements,  Clowes family, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . See also Tiller Clown, , , –, –, , , , , ,  The Cobbler of Preston,  Colla, ,  The Colleen Bawn, , ,  Collins, Lottie,  Collins, P.,  Collyer, Henry, 

130

index (265-272)

8/4/04

10:39 AM

Page 267

Index Columbine, , –, –, –, –, , ,  Commedia dell’Arte, , , , , , , ,  Connolly, Michael,  Cooper, Sidney, , ,  Coppelia,  Corbould, W. See W. Carbold The Corsican Brothers, , ,  Craig, Edward Gordon, , , , , , ,  Creation of the World,  Crippen,  Cross, J. C.,  Crow, Jim,  Cure, , –, ,  Dame Crump,  D’Arc family, , , –, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , –, , , , –, , –, , , ,  Davison, Mr.,  De Doncker, J., ,  De Randel, , , , ,  De Vere, , , , , , ,  Deaves, Edwin,  Deaves, Walter, ,  Deburau, Jean-Gaspard,  Delfont, Bernard,  Delvaine company, , , , , , , , , , , , , –, , , , , , –, , –, , –. See also Fanning Dibdin, Charles, ,  Dick Turpin, ,  Dick Whittington and His Cat, , , , , 

Dickens, Charles, , , ,  Dicks, John, , , , , , , , ,  Dog Toby,  Donnelly, R. C and Mrs., , , , ,  Duffy,  Dugard,  Dumas, Alexandre,  Earnshaw, H. A., , , , , , , , ,  East Lynne, , , ,  Egan, Pierce, ,  Elton John,  Engel, Johann Jakob,  Ethiopian Serenaders, ,  Evans, C.,  The Factory Boy,  The Factory Girl of Manchester, ,  The Factory Lad,  Fair Rosamund,  The Fairy of the Golden Cloud,  Fanning family, , , , , , , , . See also Delvaine Faust, , ,  Ferguson, J.,  Fields, Fanny,  Field, Gracie,  Fiorelli, Tiberio, ,  Fitzball, Edward, ,  The Floating Beacon, ,  Flockton,  The Football Match,  The Forest of Bondy,  Fortune’s Frolic. See Robin Roughhead The Forty Thieves,  Fossett, , , 



130

index (265-272)



8/4/04

10:39 AM

Page 268

Index Fox, G. H.,  French, Samuel, , ,  Frisby, , ,  Gallici,  Garat,  Garrick, David, , ,  Genoveva,  Girard family,  Girolamo,  Glennie, Louis, , ,  Glitter, Gary,  Gompertz,  Grace, W.,  Grand Turk, , , , , ,  Grant,  The Grasshopper and the Beetle,  Green (painter),  Green, J. K., ,  Grey, , , , , , , ,  Grimaldi, Joe, , , , , , , , . See also Clown Guignol, ,  Guy Mannering,  Gyngell, , , ,  Haigh, Sam,  Haines, J. F.,  Hall, Tom,  Hanswurst,  Harlequin, , , , –, –, –, , , , , ,  Harlequin and Little Red Riding Hood,  Harlequin and Mother Goose,  Harlequin Little Tom Tucker,  Harlequin O’Donoghue,  Harlequin Shepherd,  Harlequinade, , , , , , , 

Hart, Alex,  The Haunted Inn,  Hill, Aaron,  Hinchley, Nicholas,  Hodson family, , , , , , , , ,  Holcroft, Thomas,  Holden family, , –, , –, , , –, –, –, –, , , , , , , , , –, –, , –, , , , –, , , , , –, –, , –, –, , –, , , –, , –, – Holland, A.,  “Home of Undine under the Sea,”  Homer and the Moor,  Horman, Eugene, , ,  Horward,  Howlett, Carl,  Hudson,  Hughes, Miss,  Hughes’s Circus,  Hunt, Edward and Eliza, , ,  The Hunter of the Alps,  Irving, Henry, , ,  Jack and the Beanstalk, , ,  Jack Sheppard (Jack Shepherd), ,  Jack the Giant Killer,  Jarrett,  Jennion, , ,  Jerrold, Douglas, , ,  Jesson,  Jewell, –3, , , , –, , ,  Joan,  John Bull, , , 

130

index (265-272)

8/4/04

10:39 AM

Page 269

Index Jones, Davy,  Jones, Henry Arthur,  Judy, , , , , , , , , , , , , ,  Judy Callaghan,  Kean, Charles,  Kelly, Michael,  Kelsall, , ,  Kikugoro,  King,  Lacy,  Lady Audley’s Secret,  Laird, James,  Lanchester, Waldo, , , , , , , , , , ,  Lano family, ,  Lauder, Harry,  Lawrence family, –, , , , –, , , , , , ,  Le Mare, ,  Lee, Clarence, , , , , , , , –, , , , , , , , ,  Legrand, Paul,  Leichner,  Leith, Christopher,  Léotard, Jules, , ,  Levergeois,  Lewis, Mrs. Clunn,  Lewis, Thomas Clunn, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,  Lillo, George,  Litra, A.,  Little Red Riding Hood, , , –, , 

Little Tich,  Loïe Fuller,  London by Night,  The London Marionette Group,  Lost in London,  Luke the Labourer, ,  Lupi, , ,  Maeterlinck, Maurice,  Maffey,  Magic Sultan. See Grand Turk The Maid and the Magpie,  Mammoth Mannikins,  The Man with a Flower in His Mouth,  Maria Marten, , , , , , ,  Marler, William,  Marlow, Mr. and Mrs.,  Marshall,  Martinek,  Matsune, Suekichi,  Matthews, ,  Mayhew, , –, , , , , , , , , , , –, , , , , , , –,  McCormick, , , , , , , , –,  McDonough, John E., , , , , , , , ,  McKinder, Neville, ,  M’Culloch, W.,  Meader, Daniel, , , ,  Mère Gigogne, , , ,  Mickey Mouse,  Middleton family, , , , , , , , , , , , , –4, , –, , , , , , , , , , –, , , , , , ,



130

index (265-272)



8/4/04

10:39 AM

Page 270

Index Middleton family (continued) , , , , , , , , –, , , ,  Middleton, Gren and Juliet,  Miles, James,  The Miller and His Men, , –,  Milner, H.,  Milton, Arthur, ,  The Miser and Three Thieves,  The Mistletoe Bough, ,  Moncrieff, William T.,  Montague, H., ,  Moon,  Morell,  Morley, ,  Morton, Thomas, ,  Mother Goose, , ,  Mother Shipton, , , , , , –, ,  Mottram, Stephen,  Mumford, , , , , , ,  Mumford, Frank and Maisie,  Murder in the Red Barn. See Maria Marten Murray, W. H.,  My Poll and My Partner Joe, ,  Nichol, Wardhaugh, ,  Noakes, G.,  Obi,  Obraztsov, Sergei,  O’Donoghue,  The Old Curiosity Shop, ,  Old Darby,  Old Waxy, ,  Orlando Furioso,  The Padlock, ,  Page, Henri, 

Pantaloon, , , , –, –, , , ,  Parker, Stanley,  Parsloe,  Peake, Richard Brinsley,  Pettigrove family, , , , , , , , ,  Piccini, Giovanni,  Pierke,  Pierrot, , , –, , ,  Pirandello, Luigi,  Pitou, Emile, , , , –, , , , , , , , ,  Pitt, George Dibdin,  Planché, James Robinson,  The Ploughman Turned Lord,  Pocock, Isaac,  Polander, , ,  Pole, Andrew,  Policeman, –, , , –, , ,  Pollinta, “Madame,”  Poor Jo(e), the Crossing Sweeper. See Bleak House Powell, Martin, ,  Pratt, W. W.,  Princess Badora,  The Prophesie of Mother Shipton in the Raigne of Henry the Eighth,  Pulcinella, , ,  Punch, , , , , –, , –, , , , , , , , –, ,  Purvis, Billy, , , –, –, –, , , , , ,  Radford, John, , ,  Ravensburg, Duke,  Rebecqui, J., ,  Redington, John,  Reynolds, Alfred J., 

130

index (265-272)

8/4/04

10:39 AM

Page 271

Index Reynolds, Charlie,  Rice, Thomas Dartmouth,  Richardson show, ,  Rime of the Ancient Mariner,  Rob the Gardener,  The Robbers of Bohemia,  Robert-Houdin,  Robin Roughhead (Robin Rough Head), ,  Robinson Crusoe, ,  Rogers, Thomas, ,  Rookwood,  Rost, Ernst,  Roussel, L.,  Russell, Henry,  Salmon,  Samee, Ramo,  Sandrone,  Sanger and Powell,  Saqui, “Madame,”  Sarg, Tony,  Sax, Alfred,  Scaramouch(e), , –, , , , –, , , –,  Scaramuzzia, ,  Schichtl family, , ,  Schmid, “Papa,”  Scott, Walter, , , ,  Seward, Samuel, ,  Shakespeare, William, ,  Shaw, George Bernard, , ,  Shaw, James, , ,  The Sheep Stealer, ,  Sheridan, Thomas, ,  Siddons, Henry, – The Silver King, ,  Simms, John, –, , , , ,  Simpson,  Sims, George R., 

Sinbad (Sinbad the Sailor), ,  Skeleton, , , , , , , , , , , ,  Skelt, ,  Sloper, Ally, ,  Smith, Albert, ,  Smith, Barry,  Smith, Bruce “Sensation,”  Smith,  Smith marionettes, ,  Smith, O.,  Somerville, Chris,  Sprake,  The Sprightly Sprites of the Demon’s Cave,  Springthorpe family, –, , , –,  Stanislavsky, Konstantin,  Stead, J. H., , ,  Steel, Silas, ,  Stone,  Stowe, Harriet Beecher,  The Streets of London,  Stretch, , , , – Sue, Eugène,  Sullivan, Agnes,  Sweeney Todd, , ,  Sylvester, ,  The Taming of the Shrew,  Tchantchès,  Ten Nights in a Bar Room,  Terry, , . See also Middleton Terry, Ellen, , , ,  Testo family, ,  There He Goes,  Thomas and Sally, ,  Thompson, Harry,  Thompson, Thomas,  Thorne,  Thurmond, John, 



130

index (265-272)



8/4/04

10:39 AM

Page 272

Index Tichborne Claimant,  Till, John,  Tiller family, , , –, , , , , , , –, –, , , , –, –, , , , –, , , , , , , , , , –, , –, , , , – Tim Bobbin(s), , , , ,  Todd, James, , ,  Tracked by Wireless. See Crippen Tranka, , , ,  Tray,  Trotter, Charles,  Turk. See Grand Turk Turpin, Dick, ,  Tussaud, Marie, ,  Uncle Tom’s Cabin, , –, – Valentine and Orson, ,  Valentine, Thomas,  The Vampire,  Van Lier, Abraham,  Virginia Serenaders,  Wadforth, Henry,  Walker, John,  Walton, Frank, , , , 

The Waterman,  Waters, Billy,  Webb, Charles, , , –, ,  Whanslaw, , , , , , , , , –, , , , – The White Horse of Killarney. See O’Donoghue White, Parry,  Whitley, Ben,  The Wife of Seven Husbands,  Wiggins,  Wilding family, , , –, , , , , , , , –, , –, , , , , –, , , ,  Williams, Randel, ,  Wilson,  Wombwell, , ,  The Wood Demon,  Wood, Mrs. Henry,  The Woodcutter’s Daughter,  Wycherley, Herbert, , , , , , ,  Yorkshire Bob, , ,  Zilbach, Benedict 

140 after index (2-pages)

8/4/04

10:39 AM

Page 273

Studies inTheatre History & Culture Actors and American Culture, ‒9 By Benjamin McArthur The Age and Stage of George L. Fox, ‒: An Expanded Edition By Laurence Senelick American Theater in the Culture of the Cold War Producing and Contesting Containment By Bruce McConachie Classical Greek Theatre: New Views of an Old Subject By Clifford Ashby Embodied Memory: The Theatre of George Tabori By Anat Feinberg Fangs of Malice: Hypocrisy, Sincerity, and Acting By Matthew H. Wikander Marginal Sights: Staging the Chinese in America By James S. Moy Melodramatic Formations: American Theatre and Society, ‒ By Bruce A. McConachie Meyerhold: A Revolution in Theatre By Edward Braun Modern Czech Theatre: Reflector and Conscience of a Nation By Jarka M. Burian Modern Hamlets and Their Soliloquies An Expanded Edition By Mary Z. Maher Othello and Interpretive Traditions By Edward Pechter Our Moonlight Revels: A Midsummer Night’s Dream in the Theatre By Gary Jay Williams The Performance of Power: Theatrical Discourse and Politics Edited by Sue-Ellen Case and Janelle Reinelt

140 after index (2-pages)

8/4/04

10:39 AM

Page 274

Performing History: Theatrical Representations of the Past in Contemporary Theatre By Freddie Rokem The Recurrence of Fate: Theatre and Memory in Twentieth-Century Russia By Spencer Golub Reflecting the Audience: London Theatregoing, ‒ By Jim Davis and Victor Emeljanow The Roots of Theatre: Rethinking Ritual and Other Theories of Origin By Eli Rozik Shakespeare on the American Yiddish Stage By Joel Berkowitz The Show and the Gaze of Theatre: A European Perspective By Erika Fischer-Lichte Textual and Theatrical Shakespeare: Questions of Evidence Edited by Edward Pechter The Theatrical Event: Dynamics of Performance and Perception By Willmar Sauter The Trick of Singularity: Twelfth Night and the Performance Editions By Laurie E. Osborne The Victorian Marionette Theatre By John McCormick with Clodagh McCormick and John Phillips Wandering Stars: Russian Emigré Theatre, ‒ Edited by Laurence Senelick Writing and Rewriting National Theatre Histories Edited by S. E. Wilmer