Part 5 (2/2)
Companions n.o.ble, poor and few!
This, I think, marks the completion of my connection with the stage world, and I cannot but feel that those who have scanned these few recollections of mine will have found them something more than an uneventful and cut-and-dried story.
CHAPTER VI
MARIONETTES AT INGROW-AN AMUSING STORY
By this time my appet.i.te for ”seeing the world” had got somewhat satisfied, and I stayed at home for a while. I happened to become acquainted with a man of the name of Howard, who went under the nick-name of Harlequin d.i.c.k. By trade he was a wood-carver, and a first-cla.s.s hand at his job. He was a Liverpool man, and during his stay in Keighley he did wood-carving for many firms in the district. Then he was taken into tow by old James Illingworth (now deceased), who ran the Worth Valley Chair Works, at Ingrow, opposite the Worth Valley Hotel. A new stone building now occupies the place of the old structure. Now my friend Howard's great hobby was making marionettes, and performing with them; and of these Lilliputian mummers he made a set, and then discussed ways and means for appearing with them in public. I was by him put into the trinitarian post of scenic artist, advance agent, and stage manager. It devolved upon me to draw up the advertis.e.m.e.nts. We had some capital wall posters, each figure-its capabilities, recommendations, &c.-being graphically described in rhyme; yes, it was a remarkable bill-so remarkable that parties interested in other marionette shows appropriated its contents for their own shows. When all the paraphernalia were ready, we went round to various schools in the town and neighbourhood, giving entertainments to the school children. I remember one occasion-yes; I shall never forget it-when we exhibited our show in St. John's school-room, Ingrow. The Rev Mr Mayne was then the vicar of St. John's, and he allowed us to have a night with the children. Well, we removed a part.i.tion in the school-room dividing the boys' from the girls'
department, and made a sort of shake-down stage at one end of the room, and with a scene and proscenium the place looked like a pretty little theatre. There was a crowded audience for our performance, including the vicar and Mrs Mayne, the curate of St. John's (who, by-the-way, was a coloured gentleman), Mr John b.u.t.terfield, brother of Mr H. I.
b.u.t.terfield, of Cliffe Castle, and, indeed, a good many of the _elite_ of the district. The show opened: the curtain was rung up. The first part was a representation of ”The Babes in the Wood,” which went very smoothly, and appeared to suit the general taste of the spectators. Then followed a ”skeleton dance,” and next we gave with the puppets an amusing harlequinade by clown, pantaloon, and b.u.t.terfly. Yes, and here the real fun of the evening came in. The b.u.t.terfly took a great deal of catching.
Mr Howard and his good lady and myself were leaning over a rail (behind the scenes, of course) near the front of the stage, energetically working the strings of the figures, when, without any warning, the stage front gave way, and we (still energetically working the figures) were thrown right into the auditorium. Talk about tumbling head over heels! Why, words would only belittle this part of our ”performance.” Suffice it to say that the wreckage just cleared the front seat, on which the Vicar and his good lady and friends were sitting.
OUR HUMPTY-DUMPTY SITUATION
was so irresistibly humorous that Mr Mayne burst into a fit of laughter, and, taking up his hat, he left the room, followed shortly after by his wife and the curate, and shortly afterwards by Mr John b.u.t.terfield, who, I may say, seemed to enjoy the accident far better than the legitimate performance. The audience roared and roared again with laughter, and, speaking for myself, I can say that I felt ”jolly queer.” We had only, as it were, pitched the stage together, making it by placing one form above another. Fortunately the people present took the unlooked-for incident in good part, and with a little a.s.sistance we managed to improvise another stage, and upon this we went through a little more of our ”show.”
AT ADDINGHAM FEAST-A JOKE THAT TOOK
Before we ventured upon a further public appearance with the ”dolls” we provided the show with better equipments. These included a tent, which, along with a magic-lantern, we bought for a trifling matter from a travelling photographer who went by the name of Old Kalo. The first of our second series of entertainments took place at Addingham, where, it being the Feast, we did very brisk ”biz.” During one of the intervals between the performances, I remember a gentleman coming in and asking me, ”Do you think you could study a few lines for me, and introduce them into your play?” ”What are they about?” said I. Then my visitor told me that he ”had got a little fellow, Jacky Demaine, of Catgill, in the public house opposite, and wanted me to talk about him during the acting.” I agreed to carry out his wishes, and my worthy friend, Howard, and I, having been supplied with the ”matter,” commenced to rehea.r.s.e the scene we had prepared expressly for Jacky. There were two figures strutting about the stage. ”Good morning, Mr Catgill” said one of them. ”Why, you are smart this morning.” ”Well, you know it is Addingham Feast,” was the reply of the other figure. ”Are you in want of a sweetheart?” ”No,” said Jacky's double; ”I came here to buy some cattle.” Upon this the real Jacky Demaine could ”stand it” no longer, and he rose from a front seat in the audience and made an ”explanation.” He wished to know ”how the little hound knew him,” saying that he never had a pint o' beer with him in his life! Then Jacky wanted to come behind the stage to talk to the ”little hound.” Of course he was a little fresh. The audience ”fairly brought down the house” with their bursts of laughter, and people crowded into the booth and around the entrance anxious to know what was the matter. I have no doubt the little incident would be talked about for a good while in Addingham.
”NOT ONE LEFT TO TELL THE TALE”
After this, we appeared with our show in the old Mechanics' Hall (now the Yorks.h.i.+re Penny Bank) at Keighley. A travelling auctioneer who was staying there a week engaged us to give our performances during the intervals at his sales. He paid us very well. But Mr Howard was in the habit of taking more drink than was good for him, and he dispensed with the ”mummers” one by one, until there was scarce one of our celebrated actors left to tell the tale and carry on the show.
THE WAR PIG AT HAWORTH-A LAUGHABLE STORY
The marionettes having come to their end, and your humble servant being now practically out of a situation, he began to bestir his imagination for some other line which he might enter into in the show business. It was one morning while I was walking along Back-lane, at the top end of the town, that I ”fell in luck.” Old John Malloy kept a grocer's shop there-the s.h.i.+p Inn now marks the spot-and I heard from him that he had a small litter of pigs. I saw them, and found among them a black pig-a puny, rickety, and most dejected-looking creature. I asked John what he would take for the best and the worst, and although he did not wish to part with the best pig, he was not very particular in that respect with regard to the worst-”the leetle blackie.” For this he said he would take a s.h.i.+lling, and after bargaining with John I got the pig for ten-pence. I took the pig away with me in an empty herring-box, and consulted my friend, John Spencer. I said, ”John; we'll take this pig to Haworth, and show it as the War Pig from South America.” John laughed at the idea, but heartily agreed with it. In the next place I got ”on tick” a piece of calico several yards long, and with some lampblack I painted in bold type on the calico the words, ”Come and see the War Pig from South America, 2d. each.” Then Spencer and I engaged the large garret at the Fleece Inn, Haworth. It was a large room, holding, I should think, a couple of hundreds of people, and was entered by a staircase in the back-yard, separate from the public house proper. Mrs Stangcliffe was the landlady, and she readily allowed us to have the room, I having taken it of her once before. Well, to get to business.
THE EXHIBITION
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