speaks feelingly of a boy's relish of Mr Merryman's jokes, and makes Colonel Newcome visit that most famous of all circuses, namely, Astley's. Above all, Dickens has recorded the thrills of that famous spot on the south side of Westminster Bridge. In the 'Sketches by Boz' and 'The Old Curiosity Shop,' he describes its wonders. Yet truth once again proves more strange than fiction. Piecing together the details of the scene, finding out from old playbills, old newspapers and old prints who were the people who performed before Thackeray's Colonel Newcome and Dickens' Kit Nubbles, we come upon a story as delightful and dramatic as the raw material of a Dickens novel. Only his pen, we feel, could do justice to the history of those years when the ring was transmuted by a showman's alchemy from sawdust to gold, the years when tan blossomed as the rose and the smell of horseflesh was the breath of romance. That showman was Ducrow. Everybody knows his remark, Cut the dialect and come to the 'osses'probably through Surtees who, changing 'dialect' into cackle,' quoted it in one of his famous sporting novels. But very few people indeed know much about the phrase's inventor for the simple reason that the full story of his life is told here for the first time. My years of diligent research brought forth only disconnected facts and fables until I gained permission from our leading showman, Mr C. B. Cochran, to inspect his library. Here I found three large scrap-books labelled 'Astley's,' which seemed to contain every reference to Ducrow which had appeared in playbills or the press, and a copy of nearly every one of the innumerable prints which picture him in the act of performing difficult feats with god-like grace. Concerning his private character many a wildly comic story is told by writers of articles that are pasted in these albums. Yet, after making full allowance for the kind of fictions and exaggerations which flamboyant people always inspire, we still see Ducrow as a character more improbable than any of those who were being invented at this time by Dickens. In lovely Louisa Woolford he had a partner who, brought up like himself to be both wire-walker and trick-rider, danced on the back of a horse, swiftly galloping in a circle, as confidently as if she had the

power to float on air. In the centre of the ring stood Mr Widdicomb, paragon of riding-masters, whose portly dignity subdued the rowdiest catcalls from the Olympians' orange-scented heights. In the equestrian dramas Gomersal's glory, especially when giving his celebrated impersonation of Napoleon, was more glamorous than that of any hero of military history, while the hoarse roaring of Cartlitch wafted lines of defiant verse to the back of the gallery and out into the street. Comic relief came from the antics of John Ducrow, brother of the Ducrow, who originated all the stock jests of the clown that are still uttered when the circus companies of England pitch their tents by seaside resorts or by towns at fair-time to-day. Here are the characters. Now for the drama that ended, so the inscriptions on the Ducrow family vault in Kensal Green Cemetery, London, tell us, with his daughter's death ten years ago.

The first performance of Andrew Ducrow to be recorded took place in a temporary building at Bath. While tumbling on horseback there he had to be carried out of the ring. A few minutes later, says a journalist who declared, 'For this anecdote we pledge ourselves,' the audience were alarmed by a boy's screams: in the stables Old Ducrow was horsewhipping his son for having broken his leg. Being a 'strong man' himselfby no means his only accomplishment, for he would p vault through hoops of fire-old Peter Ducrow wanted his boy to be a strong man even though this was the last thing nature had intended him to be. Nevertheless, Andrew for a time had to be an 'Infant Hercules' and as such travelled as far as Portugal in his father's company. His frame was slight and his constitution sickly, but his manner was wild enough to earn for him, at a very tender age, the title of 'The Little Blackguard.' In 1807, when fourteen, he was skilled in several crafts of the circus. Five or six years later he was a 'star' wire-walker, capable of wheeling a boy in a barrow from stage to gallery. On the second night of his engagement at the Surrey Theatre, the passenger thought better of it and disappeared. Ducrow, failing to induce any of the stage 'supers' to take his place, ascended the slanting wire with his barrow empty. On arriving at his journey's end whom should he see but this very boy

The

For

greatly enjoying the spectacle of danger while leaning against the gallery rail and chewing an orange. Vulture never pounced on prey more quickly than Andrew Ducrow did upon his victim. 'I've paid my shilling and I'm going to be left alone,' yelled the urchin; but in vain. An arm trained from infancy to lift heavy weights hoisted him out of his seat and dropped him into the barrow. Rather more briskly than was reasonably safe, the barrow rolled down the wire to the stage while the boy was 'Distilled almost to jelly by the act of fear.'

Wire-walking and rope-dancing, however, had been carried to such a pitch of excellence by the leading 'equilibrists' of this time, that Ducrow turned aside from a career which baffled his determination to be foremost. While touring abroad he was engaged at Franconi's, the historic circus of Paris, where he seized the chance to perfect himself as a trick-rider. But the mere risking of life and limb was nothing to Ducrow. There was a thirst for romance in his heart which could only be slaked with play-acting. In consequence he invented those extraordinary performances called 'Poses Plastiques Equestriennes.' While standing on the bare back of a horse, slanting inwards by the force of its circular gallop, he would represent Cupid, holding aloft his little sister to represent Psyche. These 'histories on horseback' were always springing from his fertile imagination though, as he never read, where his knowledge of Greek mythology came from no one ever knew. On this limited and insecure stage he would represent gods, sailors, gladiators, monkeys, or Chinese enchanters. Then, hitting on the idea of quick changes of costume without dismounting, he acted all the characters in a pantomime from Clown to Harlequin, finishing up with Adonis, although he was by no means handsome.

Full of these ideas, he returned with his troop of horses to find recognition not at Astley's but at the Theatres Royal. In order to represent the charge of cavalry which upset the Mexicans, who had never seen horsemen before, his troop were employed in Cortez ; or, the Conquest of Mexico,' at Covent Garden in 1823. For himself there was the part of a wild warrior which called for an expert tumbler. This was Ducrow's chance.

Dropping from the 'flies,' he rebounded from platform to platform until he disappeared beneath the stage. After that he played the squire in the Christmas pantomime, and in the spring he was given command at Drury Lane of a troop of horses in 'The Cataract of the Ganges.' On the field of battle, through a burning forest, and even up a cataract of real water, the horses were seen in what was described as 'eternal galloping.' Drury Lane was filled with enthusiastic spectators, and the management of Astley's was alarmed. They invited Ducrow to join the company, and he came back on his own terms; in fact, he was now virtually manager, and the bills were plastered with the names of 'Madame Ducrow' (his wife), 'Mademoiselle Ducrow' (his sister), and 'Mons. Ducrow.' Although a thorough little Londoner-he was born at the Nag's Head in the Borough-he had a characteristically Cockney passion for deluding himself that he was French. For this reason he was constantly uttering words which belonged neither to one language nor the other. ' Instead of champion he said champignion,' instead of caracole he said 'currycomb,' and so forth. Mixed with persistent errors of this kind were curious and forcible oaths, resulting in a language strangely at variance with his elegance when appearing in the ring. He also had a very shrewd head for business. When Elliston had engaged his stud for 'The Enchanted Courser' at Drury Lane, the horses were brought to the first rehearsal by the grooms. As nothing could be done without Ducrow, Elliston sent a note, begging his instant attendance.

"What, Mr Ducrow, is the meaning of this?" asked

Elliston.

""Anan! Miss t'Elliston," was the only answer.

Why, sir, have you not been here to your engage

ment?"

6.66

'Gagement, Miss t'Elliston? I have no 'gagement. There's the 'osses-punctual creatures."'

As there was no word in the contract of Ducrow apart from his stud, Elliston saw that it was a case where the Newmarket Club would have given the verdict against him, but as Ducrow's horses were about as useful without him as a conjurer's dog would be away

from

ET

the conjurer, 'The Enchanted Courser' was at a standstill until he had been engaged to superintend rehearsals.

6

To appear at Drury Lane might seem an overwhelming honour to some showmen, but not to Ducrow. He was not unduly impressed even when invited to assist at the coronation of William IV. Having taught the King's champignion' how to currycomb' while backing gracefully out of Westminster Hall after he had flung down the gauntlet, Ducrow was presented with two tickets for the ceremony. Furnishing himself and Madame Ducrow with Court dresses out of the wardrobe of Astley's, he entered the best carriage the equestrian drama could boast and harnessed to it a pair of Hanoverian creams which had once belonged to the royal Istud. Thus the Emperor of all Horseflesh,' attended by Little Dick and Joe Chafe dressed as magnificent flunkeys in royal liveries hired from Nathan's, drove across Westminster Bridge before the open mouths of a wondering populace. Not content with the honour of taking a place in the queue of notables' carriages their equipage broke the line, others making way partly because of the royal colour of the team and partly because Dick was cutting figures of eight with his whip. Inside Westminster Hall, the pageant made no impression on the critical eye of Ducrow. The horsemanship of the champignion aroused in him nothing but disgust. When the bridle was pulled too hard he roared to Madame, 'That's vone of the best performing 'osses we've got in the whole stud; that's our Mazeppa mare. I daresay he's spiled the poor h'animal's mouth. If he has, he'll pay a pretty penny for it, I can tell you.' He got up to go. Meanwhile his magnificent flunkeys had been joining in a dispute at the King's Arms over the abnormal armorial bearings upon their property coach, which none of the coachmen of the House of Peers could interpret. This argument was inevitable. Having belonged to Napoleon in 'The Burning of Moscow,' the Count Palatine in 'Mazeppa,' and other equally illustrious personages, the coach bore dolphins, dragons, swans with two necks, and elephants and castles. By the time Mons. and Madame had decided to assist no longer at the ceremony, Dick lay sprawling in the kennel and Joe was squaring in his shirt-sleeves, at his own shadow. Dick was drunk, Vol. 249.-No. 493.

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