“Then he sings again:
“Then the figure of a little girl comes in and raps at the door: ‘Mr. Jobson, is my mamma’s slipper done?’ ‘No, miss, it’s not done; but if you’ll call in half-an-hour it shall be well done, for I’ve taken the soles off and put the upper leathers in a pail to soak.’ ‘What, in a pail?’ ‘Yes, my dear, without fail.’ ‘Then you won’t disappint.’ ‘No, my dear, I’d sooner a pot than a pint.’ ‘Then I may depend?’ ‘Yes, and you won’t have it.’ He says this aside, so the girl don’t hear him. Then Jobson begins to sing again. He comes in front and works. You see his lapstone and the hammer going. He begins to sing:
“Then the little girl comes in again to know if the slipper is done, and as it isn’t, it’s ‘My dear, you must go without it.’ Then she gets impertinent, and says, ‘I shan’t go with it, you nasty old waxy, waxy, waxy, waxy, waxy! Oh, you nasty old ball of bristles and bunch of wax!’ Then he tries to hit her, and she runs into the house, and as soon as he’s at work she comes out again: ‘Ah, you nasty cobbler! who’s got a lump of wax on his breeches? who sold his wife’s shirt to buy a ha’porth of gin?’ Then the cobbler is regularly vexed, and he tries to coax her into the stall to larrup her. ‘Here, my dear, here’s a lump of pudden and a farden.’ ‘Oh, yes, you nasty old cobbler! you only want to give me a lump of pudden on my back.’ ‘Here’s a penny, my dear, if you’ll fetch it.’ ‘Chuck it here, and I’ll fetch it.’ At last she goes into the stall, and she gets a hiding with the hammer. She cries out, ‘You nasty old cobbler waxy! waxy, waxy! I’ll go and tell my mother all about it.’ That’s what we call the aggriwating scene; and next comes the passionate scene.
“He begins singing one of his songs. He thinks he’s all right now he’s got rid of the girl.
“Then comes in the old lady, shaking with rage. ‘How dare you to strike my child in this here kind of a manner! Come out of the stall, or I’ll pull you out neck and crop!’ Then Jobson is in a funk, and expects a hiding. ‘Oh, mum! I’m very sorry, but your child said, I skinned a cat for ninepence, and called me cobbler waxy, waxy, waxy.’ ‘I won’t believe a word of it, Mr. Jobson.’ ‘Yes, mum, your child’s very insaulting.’ ‘How dare you strike the chick? You nasty old villain! I’ll tear the eyes out of you.’
“A fight then commences between them, and the old lady gets the worst of it. Then they make it up, and they’ll have some gin. ‘I’ll be a penny to your threepence,’ says the cobbler; and the old lady says, ‘Oh, I can always treat myself.’ Then there’s another fight, for there’s two fights in it. The old lady gets the worst of it, and runs into the cottage, and then old Jobson cries, ‘I’d better be off, stall and all, for fear she should come back with the kitchen poker.’ That finishes up the scene, don’t you see, for he carries off the stall with him.
“Cobbler Jobson is up to the door, I think. It’s first rate; it only wants elaborating. ‘Billy Button’ is a very laughable thing, and equally up to the door. There’s another piece, called ‘Billy Waters, the celebrated London Beggar;’ and that’s a great hit. There’s the ‘Bull-baiting.’ That’s all the scenes I know of. I believe I am the only man that knows the words all through. ‘Kitty biling the pot’ is one of the most beautifullest scenes in the world. It wants expounding, you know; for you could open it the whole length of the theatre. I wanted to take Ramsgate Theatre, and do it there; but they wanted 2l. a-night, and that was too much for me. I should have put a sheet up, and acted it with real figures, as large as life.
“When I was down at Brighton, acting with the Chinese galantee show, I was forced to drop performing of them. Oh dear! oh dear! don’t mention it. You’d have thought the town was on fire. You never saw such an uproar as it made; put the town in such an agitation, that the town authorities forced me to desist. I filled the whole of North-street, and the people was pressing upon me so, that I was obliged to run away. I was lodging at the Clarence Hotel in North-street, at the time. I ran off down a side-street. The next day the police come up to me and tell me that I mustn’t exhibit that performance again.
“I shall calculate it at 5s. a-night, when I exhibit with the ombres. We don’t go out every night, for it’s according to the weather; but when we do, the calculation is 5s. every night. Sometimes it is 10s., or it may be only 2s. 6d.; but 5s. is a fair balance. Take it all the year round, it would come to 9s. a-week, taking the good weather in the bad. It’s no use to exaggerate, for the shoe is sure to pinch somewhere if you do.
“We go out two men together, one to play the pipes and speak the parts, and the other to work the figures. I always do the speaking and the music, for that’s what is the most particular. When we do a full performance, such as at juvenile parties, it takes one about one hour and a quarter. For attending parties we generally gets a pound, and, perhaps, we may get three or four during the Christmas holiday-time, or perhaps a dozen, for it’s according to the recommendation from one to another. If you goes to a gentleman’s house, it’s according to whether you behave yourself in a superior sort of a manner; but if you have any vulgarity about you you must exaunt, and there’s no recommendation.
“Tom Paris, the first man that brought out the ombres in the streets, was a short, stout man, and very old. He kept at it for four or five years, I believe, and he made a very comfortable living at it, but he died poor; what became of him I do not know. Jim Macklin I’ve very little knowledge of. He was a stage performer, but I’m not aware what he did do. I don’t know when he died, but he’s dead and gone; all the old school is dead and gone—all the old ancient performers. Paul Herring is the only one that’s alive now, and he does the clown. He’s a capital clown for tricks; he works his own tricks: that’s the beauty of him.
“When we are performing of an evening, the boys and children will annoy us awful. They follow us so that we are obliged to go miles to get away from them. They will have the best places; they give each other raps on the head if they don’t get out of each other’s way. I’m obliged to get fighting myself, and give it them with the drumsticks. They’ll throw a stone or two, and then you have to run after them, and swear you’re going to kill them. There’s the most boys down at Spitalfields, and St. Luke’s, and at Islington; that’s where there’s the worst boys, and the most audaciousest. I dare not go into St. Luke’s; they spile their own amusement by making a noise and disturbance. Quietness is everything; they haven’t the sense to know that. If they give us any money it’s very trifling, only, perhaps, a farden or a halfpenny, and then it’s only one out of a fifty or a hundred. The great business is to keep them quiet. No; girls ain’t better behaved than boys; they was much wus. I’d sooner have fifty boys round me than four girls. The impertinence of them is above bearing. They come carrying babies, and pushing, and crowding, and tearing one another to pieces. ‘You’re afore me—I was fust—No you wasn’t—Yes I was’—and that’s the way they go on. If a big man comes in front I’m obliged to ask him to go backwards, to let the little children to see. If they’re drunk, perhaps they won’t, and then there’s a row, and all the children will join in. Oh, it’s dreadful erksome!
“I was once performing on Islington-green, and some drunken people, whilst I was collecting my money, knocked over the concern from wanton mischief. They said to me, ‘We haven’t seen nothing, master.’ I said, ‘I can see you; and haven’t you got a brown?’ Then they begun laughing, and I turned round, and there was the show in a blaze, and my mate inside a kicking. I think it was two or three drunken men did it, to injure a poor man from gaining his livelihood from the sweat of his brow. That’s eighteen years ago.
“I was up at Islington last week, and I was really obliged to give over on account of the children. The moment I put it down there was thousands round me. They was sarcy and impertinent. There was a good collection of people, too. But on account of the theatrical business we want quiet, and they’re so noisy there’s no being heard. It’s morals is everything. It’s shameful how parents lets their children run about the streets. As soon as they fill their bellies off they are, till they are hungry again.
“The higher class of society is those who give us the most money. The working man is good for his penny or halfpenny, but the higher class supports the exhibition. The swells in Regent-street ain’t very good. They comes and looks on for a moment, and then go on, or sometimes they exempt themselves with ‘I’m sorry, but I’ve got no pence.’ The best is the gentlemen; I can tell them in a minute by their appearance.
“When we are out performing, we in generally burn three candles at once behind the curtain. One is of no utility, for it wants expansion, don’t you see. I don’t like naphtha or oil-lamps, ’cos we’re confined there, and it’s very unhealthy. It’s very warm as it is, and you must have a eye like a hawk to watch it, or it won’t throw the shadows. A brilliant light and a clean sheet is a great attraction, and it’s the attraction is everything. In the course of the evening we’ll burn six penny candles; we generally use the patent one, ’cos it throws a clear light. We cut them in half. When we use the others I have to keep a look-out, and tell my mate to snuff the candles when the shadows get dim. I usually say, ‘Snuff the candles!’ out loud, because that’s a word for the outside and the inside too, ’cos it let the company know it isn’t all over, and leads them to expect another scene or two.”
“I am the only man in London—and in England, I think—who is exhibiting the figuer of méchanique; that is to say, leetle figuers, that move their limbs by wheels and springs, as if they was de living cretures. I am a native of Parma in Italy, where I was born; that is, you understand, I was born in the Duchy of Parma, not in the town of Parma—in the campagne, where my father is a farmer; not a large farmer, but a little farmer, with just enough land for living. I used to work for my father in his fields. I was married when I have 20 years of age, and I have a child aged 10 years. I have only 30 years of age, though I have the air of 40. Pardon, Monsieur! all my friends say I have the air of 40, and you say that to make me pleasure.
“When I am with my father, I save up all the money that I can, for there is very leetle business to be done in the campagne of Parma, and I determine myself to come to Londres, where there is affair to be done. I like Londres much better than the campagne of Parma, because there is so much affairs to be done. I save up all my money. I become very économique. I live of very leetle, and when I have a leetle money, I say adieu to my father and I commence my voyages.
“At Paris I buy a box of music. They are made at Genève these box of music. When I come to Londres, I go to the public-house—the palais de gin, you understand—and there I show my box of music—yes, musical box you call it—and when I get some money I live very économique, and then when it become more money I buy another machine, which I buy in Paris. It was a box of music, and on the top it had leetle figuers, which do move their eyes and their limbs when I mounts the spring with the key. And then there is music inside the box at the same time. I have three leetle figuers to this box: one was Judith cutting the head of the infidel chief—what you call him?—Holeferones. She lift her arm with the sword, and she roll her eyes, and then the other hand is on his head, which it lifts. It does this all the time the music play, until I put on another figuer of the soldat which mounts the guard—yes, which is on duty. The soldat goes to sleep, and his head falls on his bosom. Then he wake again and lift his lance and roll his eyes. Then he goes to sleep again, so long until I put on the other figuer of the lady with the plate in the hand, and she make salutation to the company for to ask some money, and she continue to do this so long as anybody give her money. All the time the music in the box continues to play.
“I take a great quantity of money with these figuers, 3s. a-day, and I live very économique until I put aside a sum large enough to buy the figuers which I exhibit now.
“My most aged child is at Parma, with my father in the campagne, but my wife and my other child, which has only 18 months of age, are with me in Londres.
“It is two months since I have my new figuers. I did have them sent from Germany to me. They have cost a great deal of money to me; as much as 35l. without duty. They have been made in Germany, and are very clever figures. I will show them to you. They perform on the round table, which must be level or they will not turn round. This is the Impératrice of the French—Eugénie—at least I call her so, for it is not like her, because her cheveleure is not arranged in the style of the Impératrice. The infants like better to see the Impératrice than a common lady, that is why I call her the Imperatrice. She holds one arm in the air, and you will see she turns round like a person waltzing. The noise you hear is from the wheels of the méchanique, which is under her petticoats. You shall notice her eyes do move as she waltz. The next figure is the carriage of the Emperor of the French, with the Queen and Prince Albert and the King de Sardaigne inside. It will run round the table, and the horses will move as if they gallop. It is a very clever méchanique. I attache this wire from the front wheel to the centre of the table, or it would not make the round of the table, but it would run off the side and break itself. My most clever méchanique is the elephant. It does move its trunk, and its tail, and its legs, as if walking, and all the time it roll its eyes from side to side like a real elephant. It is the cleverest elephant of méchanique in the world. The leetle Indian on the neck, who is the driver, lift his arm, and in the pavilion on the back the chieftain of the Indians lift his bow and arrow to take aim, and put it down again. That méchanique cost me very much money. The elephant is worth much more than the Impératrice of the French. I could buy two—three—Impératrice for my elephant. I would like sooner lose the Impératrice than any malheur arrive to my elephant. There are plenty more Impératrice, but the elephant is very rare. I have also a figuer of Tyrolese peasant. She go round the table a short distance and then turn, like a dancer. I must get her repaired. She is so weak in her wheels and springs, which wind up under her petticoats, like the Impératrice. She has been cleaned twice, and yet her méchanique is very bad. Oh, I have oiled her; but it is no good, she must be taken to pieces.
“When I sent to Germany to get these méchanique made for me, I told the mechanician what I desired, and he made them for me. I invented the figuers out of my own head, and he did the méchanique. I have voyaged in Holland, and there I see some méchanique, and I noticed them, and then I gave the order to do so and so. My elephant is the best of my leetle figures; there is more complication.
“I first come to England eighteen years ago, before I was married, and I stop here seven years; then I go back again to Parma, and then I come back again to England four years ago, and here I stop ever since.
“I exhibit my leetle figures in the street. The leetle children like to see my figuers méchanique dance round the table, and the carriage, with the horses which gallop; but over all they like my elephant, with the trunk which curls up in front, like those in the Jardin des Plantes, or what you call it Zoological Gardens.
“When I am in the street I have two men beside myself, one plays the organ, and the other carry the box with the méchanique figuers inside, and I carry the table. The box with the méchanique is in weight about 80 lbs. English, and there are straps at the back for the arms to go through. It is as large as a chest of drawers, for the leetle figures are eighteen inches high, and each has a compartment to itself. I pay my men 1l. a-month, besides lodge, clean, and grub him.
“The organ for the music is mine. I have another organ, with a horse to draw it, which I want to sell; for the horse, and the two men to play it, destroy all the profits.
“When I make my figuers to play in the street I must make the table level, for they will not mount up a hill, because the méchanique is not sufficiently strong for that. I go to the West-end to show my leetle figures to the gentlemans and ladies, and their families; and I go to the East-end to the families of the work-people. I also go to Brixton and Hoxton, where they are severe for religion. They like my figures because they are moral, and their children can see them without sinning. But everywhere my figures have much success. Of all the places, I prefer, rather, Regent-street, and there I go to the leetle streets, in the corners, close by the big street. If I calcule how much money I receive for all the year,—but I have only had them two months,—it is six shillings by day regularly. Sometime I take ten shillings, and sometimes four shillings, but it settles itself to six shillings a-day. After paying for my men, and to clean, lodge, and grub them, I have three shillings for myself.
“In wet weather, when it makes rain, or when there is fog, I cannot quit my house to show my figures, for the humidity attack the springs and wheels of the méchanique: besides, when it falls rain the dresses of my figuers are spoiled; and the robes of the Impératrice and the Tyrolese peasant are of silk and velvet bodies, with spangles, and they soon spoil. They cost me much money to repair their springs,—never less than eight shillings for each time: my peasant has been arranged twice in her springs. It was a watchmaker who arranged her, and he had to take all her inside out; and you know what those kind of people charge for their time.
“Sometimes, when I am out with my figuers, the ladies ask me to perform my figuers before their windows, to show them to their families. The leetle children look through the window, and then they cannot hear the movement of the méchanique, and the figuers look like living. When the organ play a valtz to the Impératrice, he has to turn the handle quick at the commencement, when the spring is strong in the méchanique, and she turn quick; and to make the music slow when she turn less often, when the springs get weak at the end. This makes it have the look of being true to one living,—as if she danced to the music, although the organ play to her dancing. I always mount the figures with the key myself.
“I have never performed to a school of young scholars, but I have visited evening-parties of children with my méchanique. For that they give me sometimes 8s., sometimes 10s., just as they are generous. My méchanique require nearly one hour to see them to perfection. The Impératrice of the French is what they admire more than the paysanne of Tyrol. The dress of the Impératrice has a long white veil behind her hairs, but her costume is not so soignée as the peasant’s, for she has no spangles; but they like to see the Impératrice of the French, and they excuse her toilet because she is noble. My elephant is the greatest delight for them, because it is more complicated in its méchanique. I have always to mount with the key the springs in its inside at least three times before they are fatigued with admiring it.
“I never perform in the streets during the night, because the air is damp, and it causes injures to my méchanique; besides, I must have lights to show off the costume of my figuers, and my table is not large enough.
“It is not only the leetle children that admire my méchanique, but persons of a ripe age. I often have gentlemen and ladies stand round my table, and they say ‘Very clever!’ to see the lady figuers valtz, but above all when my elephant lift his trunk. The leetle children will follow me a long way to see my figuers, for they know we cannot carry the box far without exhibiting, on account of its weight. But my table is too high for them, unless they are at a distance to see the figuers perform. If my table was not high, the leetle children would want to take hold of my figuers. I always carry a small stick with me; and when the leetle children, who are being carried by other leetle children, put their hand to my figuers, I touch them with stick, not for to hurt them, but to make them take their hand away and prevent them from doing hurt to my méchanique.
“When the costume of my Impératrice is destroyed by time and wear, my wife makes new clothes for her. Yes, as you say, she is the dress-maker of the Impératrice of the French, but it is not the Emperor who pays the bill, but myself. The Impératrice—the one I have, not that of the Emperor—does not want more than half a yard of silk for a petticoat. In the present style of fashion I make her petticoat very large and full, not for the style, but to hide the méchanique in her inside.”
“It must be about eight years since I first exhibited the telescope. I have three telescopes now, and their powers vary from about 36 to 300. The instruments of the higher power are seldom used in the streets, because the velocity of the planets is so great that they almost escape the eye before it can fix it. The opening is so very small, that though I can pass my eye on a star in a minute, an ordinary observer would have the orb pass away before he could accustom his eye to the instrument. High power is all very well for separating stars, and so forth; but I’m like Dr. Kitchener, I prefer a low power for street purposes. A street-passer likes to see plenty of margin round a star. If it fills up the opening he don’t like it.
“My business is a tailor. I follow that business now. The exhibiting don’t interfere with my trade. I work by day at tailoring, and then, at this time of the year (26th Oct. 1856), I go out with the instrument about six o’clock. You see I can, with a low power, see Jupiter rise. It is visible at about half-past five, but it gets above the horizon, out of the smoke, about a quarter past six. Saturn rises about ten.
“From a boy I was fond of philosophical instruments. I was left an orphan when I was ten years of age; indeed, I haven’t a relation in the world that I’m aware of, only excepting my wife’s family. My mother died the same year as the Princes Charlotte (1818) for I can remember her being in mourning for her. My name is a very peculiar one—it is Tregent. This will show you that it is. I some time ago advertised an instrument for sale, and I had a letter from gentleman living in Liverpool. He said that he was sitting down to lunch and he took up the paper, and cried out, ‘Good God! here’s my name.’ He sent for paper and pens and wrote off at once. He asked whether I was a relation of Tregent, the great chronometer maker. He said he always thought he was the only Tregent in England. He said he was a bachelor, and hoped I was too. Perhaps he wanted the name to die out. His father, he told me, kept a paper-mill. We corresponded a long time, till I was tired, and then one day a friend of mine said, ‘Let me write to him, and I’ll tell him that if he wants any more information he must pay your expenses down to Liverpool, and you’ll pay him a visit.’ This letter was sent, and by and by comes an answer, telling me that I was no gentleman to make such a proposition, and then the matter dropped.
“When I was six years old I was brought up to tailoring. I was kept very close to work—always on the board, working. I even took my meals there. I don’t consider it was hard, for it was done for my own benefit. If there was no work going on I used to be made to learn verses out of the Bible. I highly respected my master, for I consider this was done for my benefit. He died in the country, and I was sorry for it; for if I had known it, I would have gone anywhere to see him buried—ay, even if it had been a hundred miles off. I stopped with this party till I was ten years old.
“The next party I was with I was ’prenticed to, but he failed when I had been with him three or four years, and then I had more the keeping of him than he of me; I had that resolve in me even at that young age.
“After I finished my ’prentice articles I went with my society card on the tramp. I went all through Yorkshire, going to the tailors’ houses of call, where the clubs are held, and a certain sum of money subscribed weekly, to relieve what are called tramps. In some towns I worked for months—such as Leeds. What is called ‘a tramp’ by tailors, means a man searching for work about the country. After I got back to London I went to my trade again, and I was particularly fortunate in getting good situations. Whenever I was out of work I’d start off to the country again. I was three years in Brighton, doing well, and I had six men under me.
“It’s about eight years ago that I first exhibited in the streets. It was through a friend of mine that I did this. Me and my wife was at Greenwich-hill one Sunday. I was looking through a pocket-telescope of mine, and he says, ‘Look through mine.’ I did so, and it was a very good one; and then he says, ‘Ah, you should see one I’ve got at home; it’s an astronomical one, and this is terrestrial.’ I did so, and went and saw it. The first planet I saw was Venus. She was in her horns then, like the moon. She exhibits the same phases as the moon, as does also Mercury; sometimes horns, sometimes half a sphere, and so on; but they’re the only two planets that’s known that does so. When I saw this, I said, ‘Well, I must have something of this sort.’ I went to a telescope-maker up at Islington, and I made a bargain with him, and he was to make me a day-and-night telescope for five suits of clothes. Well, I bought the cloth, and raised all the money to complete my part of the contract, and then, when the telescope was finished, it wasn’t worth a d——. You might as well have looked through a blacking-bottle. When I told him of it he said he couldn’t help it. It was worth something to look at, but not to look through. I pawned it for 15l. and sold the ticket for 5l. The gentleman who bought it was highly satisfied with it till he found it out. I took this one out in the streets to exhibit with, but it was quite useless, and showed nothing; you could see the planetary bodies, but it defined nothing. The stars was all manner of colours and forks. The bodies look just like a drawing in chalk smudged out. The people who looked through complained, and wouldn’t come and look again, and that’s why I got rid of it.
“The next telescope I had made was by the manufacturer who made the one my friend first showed me. That maker has taken some hundred of pounds of me since then; indeed, I’ve had eleven five or six feet telescopes of him, and his name is Mr. Mull, of 13 Albion-place, Clerkenwell, and the value of each of the object-glasses was, on the average, 30l., though he charged me only trade-price, so I got them for less.
“The first telescope that was of any good that I exhibited with in the streets was worth to me 25l. If you was to go to Dollond he would have charged 105l. on a common tripod stand. I had it done under my own direction, and by working myself at it, I got it very cheap. It wasn’t good enough for me, so I got rid of it. I’ve got so nice about object glasses and their distinct vision, and the power they bear, that I have never rested content until I have a telescope that would suit the first astronomer.
“I’ve got one now that will bear a magnifying power 300 times, and has an object-glass 4¼ inches diameter, with a focal length of 5 feet 6 inches. The stand is made of about 250 pieces of brass-work, and has ratchet action, with vertical and horizontal movement. It cost me 80l. and Ross, Featherstone-buildings, would charge 250l. for it. I’m so initiated into the sort of thing, that I generally get all my patterns made, and then I get the castings made, and then have them polished. The price of the object-glass is 30l. I’m going to take that one out next week. It will weigh about 1½ cwt. My present one is a very fine instrument indeed. I’ve nothing but what is excellent. You can see Jupiter and his satellites, and Saturn and his belt. This is a test for it. Supposing I want to see Polaris—that’s the small star that revolves once in 180 years round the pole. It isn’t the pole star. It isn’t visible to the naked eye. It’s one of the tests for a telescope. My instrument gives it as small as a pin’s point. There’s no magnifying power with a telescope upon stars. Of course they make them more brilliant, and give some that are not visible to the naked eye, for hundreds and thousands will pass through the field in about an hour. They also separate double stars, and penetrate into space, nebula, and so on; but they don’t increase the size of stars, for the distance is too great.
“I’ve worked about five years with this last one that I’ve now. It weighs, with the stand, about 1 cwt., and I have to get somebody to help me along with it. One of my boys in general goes along with me.
“It depends greatly upon the weather as to what business I do. I’ve known the moon for a month not to be visible for twenty days out of the lunation. I’ve known that for three moons together, the atmosphere is so bad in London. When I do get a good night I have taken 35s.; but then I’ve taken out two instruments, and my boy has minded one. I only charge a penny a peep. Saturdays, and Mondays, and Sundays, are the best nights in my neighbourhood, and then I can mostly reckon on taking 20s. The other nights it may be 7s. or 8s., or even only 2s. 6d. Sometimes I put up the instrument when it’s very fine, and then it’ll come cloudy, and I have to take it down again and go home. Taking the year round, I should think I make 125l. a-year by the telescope. You see my business, as a tailor, keeps me in of a day, or I might go out in the day and show the sun. Now to-day the sun was very fine, and the spots showed remarkably well, and if I’d been out I might have done well. I sold an instrument of mine once to a fireman who had nothing to do in the day, and thought he could make some money exhibiting the telescope. He made 8s. or 10s. of an afternoon on Blackfriar’s-bridge, showing the dome of St. Paul’s at the time they were repairing it.
“When the instrument is equatoreally mounted and set to time, you can pick out the stars in the day-time, and they look like black specs. I could show them.
“People can’t stop looking through the telescope for long at a time, because the object is soon out of the field, because of the velocity of the earth’s motion and the rapidity at which the planets travel round the sun. Jupiter, for instance, 26,000 miles an hour, and Saturn 29,000, soon removes them from the field of the telescope. I have to adjust the telescope before each person looks through. It has, I fancy, hurt my eyes very much. My eyesight has got very weak through looking at the moon, for on a brilliant night it’s like a plate of silver, and dazzles. It makes a great impression on the retina of the eye. I’ve seen when looking through the telescope a black spec, just as if you had dropped a blot of ink on a piece of paper. I’ve often had dancing lights before my eyes, too—very often. I find a homœopathic globule of belladonna very excellent for that.
“When I exhibit, I in general give a short lecture whilst they are looking through. When I am not busy I make them give me a description, for this reason: others are listening, and they would sooner take the word of the observer than mine. Suppose I’m exhibiting Jupiter, and I want to draw customers, I’ll say, ‘How many moons do you see?’ They’ll answer, ‘Three on the right, and one on the left,’ as they may be at that time. Perhaps a rough standing by will say, ‘Three moons! that’s a lie! there’s only one, everybody knows.’ Then, when they hear the observer state what he sees, they’ll want to have a peep.
“When I’m busy, I do a lecture like this. We’ll suppose I’m exhibiting Saturn. Perhaps we had better begin with Jupiter, for the orbit of Saturn’s satellites is so extensive that you can never see them all without shifting the glass: indeed it’s only in very fine climates, such as Cincinnati, where the eight may be observed, and indeed up to a late period it was believed there were only seven.
“When the observer sees Jupiter, I begin: ‘Do you see the planet, sir?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘I introduce to you Jupiter with all his four satellites. It is distant 600 millions of miles from the sun, and its diameter is about 7900 miles. It travels round the sun at about 27,000 miles an hour, and its orbit is over four years, and of course its seasons are four times the length of ours, the summer lasting for a year instead of three months.’ One night an Irishman, who was quite the gentleman, came to me rather groggy, and he says,—‘Old boy, what are you looking at?’ ‘Jupiter,’ says I. ‘What’s that?’ says he. ‘A planet you may call it, sir,’ says I; ‘and the price is one penny.’ He paid me and had a look, and then he cries out, ‘What a deception is this! By J—— it’s a moon, and you call it a star!’ ‘There are four moons,’ said I. ‘You’re another,’ said he; ‘there’s a moon and four stars. You ought to be took up for deception.’ After a time he had another look, and then he was very pleased, and would bring out gin from a neighbouring public-house, and if he brought one, he brought seven.
“Another time, a man was looking through; and I had a tripod stand then, and one of the legs was out, and he pushed the tube and down it came right in his eye. He gave a scream and shouted out, ‘My God! there’s a star hit me slap in the eye!’
“Another night an old woman came up to me, and she says, ‘God bless you, sir; I’m so glad to see you. I’ve been looking for you ever such a time. You charge a penny, don’t you? I’m a charwoman, sir, and would you believe it, I’ve never had a penny to spare. What are you looking at? The moon? Well, I must see it.’ I told her she should see it for nothing, and up she mounted the steps. She was a heavy lusty woman, and I had to shove her up with my shoulder to get up the steps. When she saw the moon she kept on saying, ‘Oh, that’s beautiful! well, it is beautiful! And that’s the moon, is it? Now, do tell me all about it.’ I told her all about Mount Tycho, and about the light of the sun being seen on the mountain tops, and so on. When she’d looked for a time, she said, ‘Well, your instrument is a finer one than my master’s, but it don’t show so much as his, for he says he can see the men fighting in it.’ This made me laugh so, I very nearly let her tumble by taking my shoulder away from under her. But when she came down the steps, she said something quite moved me. She threw her hands up and cried, ‘If this moon is so beautiful and wonderful, what must that God be like who made it?’ And off she went. It was very fine, wasn’t it?
“Sometimes when I’m exhibiting there is quite a crowd collects. I’ve seen them sitting down on the curb smoking and drinking, whilst they are waiting for their turns to have a peep. They’ll send to the public-house for beer, and then they’ll stop for hours. Indeed, I’ve had my business quite interfered with by the mob, for they don’t go away after having their look. I seldom stop out after 12 o’clock at night.
“Sometimes when I have been exhibiting, the parties have said it was all nonsense and a deception, for the stars was painted on the glass. If the party has been anything agreeable, I’ve taken the trouble to persuade him. I’ve, for instance, placed the star on the very edge of the glass, and then they’ve seen it travel right across the field; and as I’ve told them, if it was painted it couldn’t move and disappear from the lens.
“Most of the spectators go away quite surprised and impressed with what they have seen. Some will thank me a dozen times over. Some will say, ‘Well, my penny is well laid out. I shouldn’t have credited it with my own eyes.’ Others, but there are very few of them, won’t believe when they have looked. Some, when I can see the moon on their eye as they look in, swear they don’t see it. Those I let go on and don’t take their money, for the penny is no object. When I tell the people what the wonders of the heavens are, and how each of these planets is a world, they go away wonderfully grateful and impressed.
“I went down to Portsmouth with my telescope at the time the fleet sailed under Sir Charles Napier, and the Queen led them out in her yacht. I took a great deal of money there. I didn’t exhibit in the day-time: I didn’t trouble myself. I took two guineas showing the yacht the day she sailed, and at night with the moon. The other nights, with the moon and planets only, I took from 12s. to 14s. I refused 15s. for one hour, for this reason. A lady sent her servant to ask me to go to her house, and my price is one guinea for to go out, whether for an hour, or two, or three; but she first offered me 10s., and then the next night 15s. Then I found I should have to carry my instrument, weighing one cwt., two miles into the country, and up hill all the way; so, as I was sure of taking more than 10s. where I was, I wouldn’t for an extra shilling give myself the labour. I took 12s. 6d. as it was. At Portsmouth a couple of sailors came up, and one had a look, and the other said ‘What is there to see?’ I told him the moon, and he asked the price. When I said ‘One penny,’ he says, ‘I aint got a penny, but here’s three halfpence, if that’s the same to you;’ and he gives it, and when I expected he was about to peep, he turns round and says, ‘I’ll be smothered if I’m going to look down that gallows long chimney! You’ve got your money, and that’s all your business.’ So you see there are some people who are quite indifferent to scientific exhibitions.
“There are, to the best of my knowledge, about four men besides myself, going about with telescopes. I don’t know of any more. Of these there’s only one of any account. I’ve seen through them all, so I may safely say it. I consider mine the best in London exhibiting. Mine is a very expensive instrument. Everything depends upon the object-glass. There’s glasses on some which have been thrown aside as valueless, and may have been bought for two or three pounds.
“The capital required to start a telescope in the streets all depends upon the quantity of the object-glass, from 3l. to 50l. for the object-glass alone.
“Nobody, who is not acquainted with telescopes, knows the value of object-glasses. I’ve known this offer to be made—that the object-glass should be placed in one scale and gold in the other to weigh it down, and then they wouldn’t. The rough glass from Birmingham—before it is worked—only 12 inches in diameter, will cost 96l. Chance, at Birmingham, is the principal maker of the crown and flint for optical purposes. The Swiss used formerly to be the only makers of optical metal of any account, and now Birmingham has knocked them out of the field: indeed they have got the Swiss working for them at Chance’s.
“You may take a couple of plates of the rough glass to persons ignorant of their value, and they are only twelve inches in diameter, and he would think one shilling dear for them, for they only look like the bits you see in the streets to let light through the pavement. These glasses are half flint and half crown, the flint for the concave, and the crown for the convex side. Their beauty consists in their being pure metal and quite transparent, and not stringy. Under the high magnifying power we use you see this directly, and it makes the object smudgy and distorts the vision.
“After getting the rough metal it takes years to finish the object-glass. They polish it with satin and putty. The convex has to be done so correctly, that if the lens is the 100th part of an inch out its value is destroyed.
“The well-known object-glass which was shown in the Great Exhibition of 1851, was in Mr. Ross’s hands (of Featherstone-buildings, Holborn,) for four years before it was finished. It was very good, and done him great credit. He is supposed to have lost by the job, for the price is all eat up by wages pretty near.
“The observatory on Wandsworth-common is a complete failure, owing to the object-glass being a bad one. It belongs to the Rev. Mr. Cragg. The tube is 72 feet long, I believe, and shaped like a cigar, bulging at the sides. He wanted to have a new object-glass put in, and what do you think they asked him at Birmingham for the rough metal alone?—2000l.! It is 24 inches in diameter. Mr. Ross asks 6000l., I was told, to make a new one—finished for him.
“The making of object-glasses is dreadful and tedious labour. Men have been known to go and throw their heads under waggon wheels, and have them smashed, from being regularly worn out with working an object-glass, and not being able to get the convex right. I was told by a party that one object-glass was in hand for 14 years.
“The night of the eclipse of the moon, (the 13th October, 1856,) when it was so well seen in London, I took 1l. 1d. at 1d. each. I might as well have took 2l. by charging 2d., but being so well known then I didn’t make no extra charge. They were forty deep, for everybody wished to see. I had to put two lads under the stand to prevent their being trod to death. They had to stay there for two hours before they could get a peep, and so indeed had many others to do the same. A friend of mine didn’t look at all, for I couldn’t get him near. They kept calling to the one looking through the tube, ‘Now, then, make haste, you there.’ They nearly fought for their turns. They got pushing and fighting, one crying, ‘I was first,’ and, ‘Now it’s my turn.’ I was glad when it was over, I can assure you. The buttons to my braces were dragged off my back by the pressure behind, and I had to hold up my breeches with my hand. The eclipse lasted from 21 minutes past 9 to 25 minutes past 12, and in that time 247 persons had a peep. The police were there to keep order, but they didn’t interfere with me. They are generally very good to me, and they seem to think that my exhibition improves the minds of the public, and so protect me.
“When I went to Portsmouth, I applied to Mr. Myers the goldsmith, a very opulent and rich man there, and chairman of the Esplanade Committee at Southsea, and he instantly gave me permission to place my stand there. Likewise the mayor and magistrates of Portsmouth, to exhibit in the streets.”
“I exhibit with a microscope that I wouldn’t take fifty guineas for, because it suits my purpose, and it is of the finest quality. I earn my living with it. If I were to sell it, it wouldn’t fetch more than 15l. It was presented to me by my dear sister, who went to America and died there. I’ll show you that it is a valuable instrument. I’ll tell you that one of the best lens-makers in the trade looked through it, and so he said, ‘I think I can improve it for you;’ and he made me a present of a lens, of extreme high power, and the largest aperture of magnifying power that has ever been exhibited. I didn’t know him at the time. He did it by kindness. He said, after looking through, ‘It’s very good for what it professes, but I’ll make you a present of a lens made out of the best Swiss metal.’ And he did so from the interest he felt in seeing such kinds of exhibitions in the streets. With the glass he gave me I can see cheese-mites as distinctly as possible, with their eight legs and transparent bodies, and heads shaped like a hedgehog’s. I see their jaw moving as they eat their food, and can see them lay their eggs, which are as perfect as any fowl’s, but of a bright blue colour; and I can also see them perform the duties of nature. I can also see them carry their young on their backs, showing that they have affection for their offspring. They lay their eggs through their ribs, and you can tell when they are going to lay for there is a bulging out just by the hips. They don’t sit on their eggs, but they roll them about in action till they bring forth their object. A million of these mites can walk across a flea’s back, for by Lardner’s micrometer the surface of a flea’s back measures 24 inches from the proboscis to the posterior. The micrometer is an instrument used for determining microscopic power, and it is all graduated to a scale. By Lardner’s micrometer the mite looks about the size of a large black-beetle, and then it is magnified 100,000 times. This will give you some idea of the power and value of my instrument. Three hundred gentlemen have viewed through it in one week, and each one delighted; so much so, that many have given double the money I have asked (which was a penny), such was the satisfaction my instrument gave.
“My father was a minister and local preacher in the Wesleyan Methodists. He died, poor fellow, at 27 years of age, therefore I never had an opportunity of knowing him. He was a boot and shoe maker. Such was the talent which he possessed, that, had it not been for his being lamed of one foot (from a fall off a horse), he would have been made a travelling minister. He was a wonderful clever man, and begun preaching when he was 21. He was the minister who preached on the occasion of laying the foundation-stone of Hoxton Chapel, and he drew thousands of people. I was only two years old when he died, and my mother was left with five of us to bring up. She was a visitor of the sick and the dying for the Strangers’ Benevolent Fund, and much respected for her labours. After my father’s death she was enabled to support her family of one son and four daughters by shoe-binding. She was married twice after my father’s death, but she married persons of quite opposite principles and opinions to her own, and she was not comfortable with them, but left them, and always found shelter under her son’s roof, where she died triumphantly happy.
“I was apprenticed when I was 13 years of age to a shoemaker, who was a profound philosopher, and very fond of making experiments and of lecturing on various branches of science. I could produce bills—I have them at home—such as that at the Friar’s-mount Sunday-school, some six or seven years ago, where it states that William Knock, minister and lecturer, will lecture on zoology and natural history. He’s about 70 now. Electricity is his favourite science. Whilst I was his apprentice, he had an observatory built at the top of his house in Underwood-street, Spitalfields, for the purpose of taking astronomical observations. My being in his house, and seeing him so busy with his instruments, gave me a great taste for science. I was his assistant when he went lecturing. I was apprenticed with him for five years. He was a kind and good master, and very affectionate. He encouraged me in my scientific studies, and gave me access to his library, which was immense, and consisted of 3000 volumes. Amongst other employment I used to copy out sermons for him, and he gave me a penny each, which by saving up enabled me to buy a watch of him for 5l. 5s. He was a shoemaker and manufacturer of ladies and children’s boots and shoes, so that he might have made from his 2l. to 3l. a-week, for he was not a journeyman, but an employer.
“After I was out of my time I went to Mr. Children, a bootmaker of Bethnal-green-road, well known in that locality. My master had not sufficient employment for me. One night this Mr. Children went to hear a lecture on astronomy by Dr. Bird, and when he came home he was so delighted with what he had seen, that he began telling his wife all about it. He said, ‘I cannot better explain to you the solar system, than with a mop,’ and he took the mop and dipped it into a pail of water, and began to twirl it round in the air, till the wet flew off it. Then he said, ‘This mop is the sun, and the spiral motion of the water gives the revolutions of the planets in their orbits.’ Then, after a time, he cried out, ‘If this Dr. Bird can do this, why shouldn’t I?’ He threw over his business directly, to carry out the grand object of his mind. He was making from 3l. to 4l. a-week, and his wife said, ‘Robert, you’re mad!’ He asked me if I knew anything of astronomy, and I said, ‘Sir, my old master was an astronomer and philosopher.’ Then I got books for him, and I taught him all I knew of the science of astronomy. Then he got a magic-lantern with astronomical slides. The bull’s-eye was six inches in diameter, so they were very large, so that they gave a figure of twelve feet. For the signs of the zodiac he had twelve separate small lanterns, with the large one in the centre to show the diverging rays of the sun’s light. He began with many difficulties in his way, for he was a very illiterate man, and had a vast deal to contend with, but he succeeded through all. He wrote to his father and got 500l., which was his share of the property which would have been left him on his parent’s death. At his first lecture he made many mistakes, such as, ‘Now, gentlemen, I shall present to your notice the consternations,’ at which expression the company cried, ‘Hear, hear,’ and one said, ‘We are all in a consternation here, for your lamp wants oil.’ Yet he faced all this out. I was his assistant. I taught him everything. When I told him of his mistake he’d say, ‘Never mind, I’ll overcome all that.’ He accumulated the vast sum of 6000l. by lecturing, and became a most popular man. He educated himself, and became qualified. When he went into the country, he had Archbishops and Bishops, and the highest of the clergy, to give their sanction and become patrons of his lectures. He’s now in America, and become a great farmer.
“After I left Mr. Children, I connected myself with a Young Men’s Improvement Meeting. Previous to that, I had founded a Sunday-school in the New Kent-road. Deverell-street Sabbath-schools were founded by me, and I was for fourteen years manager of it, as well as performer of the funeral service in that place; for there was a chapel, and burying-ground and vaults, attached to the schools, and I became the officiating minister for the funeral service. Three thousand children have been educated at these schools, and for fourteen years I lectured to them every Sunday on religious subjects. With the tutors and the eldest scholars I formed a Young Men’s Improvement Meeting. I became the president of that meeting, and their lecturer. I lectured on the following subjects,—Natural History, Electricity, Astronomy, and Phrenology.
“At this time I was a master-shoemaker, and doing a business of fifty guineas a-week, of which ten were profit. I built large workshops at the back of my house, which cost me 300l. Unfortunately, I lent my name to a friend for a very large amount, and became involved in his difficulties, and then necessity compelled me to have recourse to street-exhibitions for a living. When I was in affluent circumstances I had a library of 300 volumes, on scientific subjects mostly, and from them I have gleaned sufficient information to qualify me for street-exhibition, and thereby enable me to earn more money than most individuals in such circumstances.
“I began my street-life with exhibiting a telescope, and here is the origin of my doing so. I had a sister living at the west-end of the town who was a professed cook, and I used to visit her three times a-week. One night I saw a man in the Regent-circus exhibiting a telescope. I went up to him, and I said, ‘Sir, what is the object to-night?’ And he told me it was Jupiter. I was very much interested with looking at Jupiter, and I stopped with that man for two hours, conversing with him, and I saw exactly how much he took. Then I thought, ‘Why shouldn’t I do this?’ So I wrote to my brother-in-law, and I told him this man was taking at the rate of 1d. per minute, and I offered, if he would provide me with a telescope, that I should be very happy and contented to take half of the receipts as my share, and give him the other for the use of his instrument. He did so, and bought a telescope which cost him 14l. I took up my stand on London-bridge, and did very well, taking on the average 6s. a-night. I gave up the telescope for this reason,—my brother-in-law was going to America, and was anxious to call in all his money. The telescope was sold, and my sister, the professed cook, fearing that I should be left without a means of living, bought for me a microscope out of her own earnings, which cost her 5l. She said to me, ‘The microscope is better than the telescope, for the nights are so uncertain.’ She was quite right, for when the telescopes have been idle for three months at a time, I can exhibit my microscope day and night. She gave it to me as a mark of her respect. She died in America, just after she arrived. That instrument has enabled me to support an afflicted and aged mother, and to bury her comfortably when she died.
“My microscope contains six objects, which are placed on a wheel at the back, which I turn round in succession. The objects are in cell-boxes of glass. The objects are all of them familiar to the public, and are as follows:—1. The flea. 2. The human hair, or the hair of the head. 3. A section of the old oak tree. 4. The animalculæ in water. 5. Cheese-mites. And 6. The transverse section of cane used by schoolmasters for the correction of boys.
“I always take up my stand in the day-time in Whitechapel, facing the London Hospital, being a large open space, and favourable for the solar rays—for I light up the instrument by the direct rays of the sun. At night-time I am mostly to be found on Westminster-bridge, and then I light up with the best sperm oil there is. I am never interfered with by the police; on the contrary, they come and have a look, and admire and recommend, such is the interest excited.
“The first I exhibit is the flea, and I commence a short lecture as follows:—‘Gentlemen,’ I says, ‘the first object I have to present to your notice is that of a flea. I wish to direct your attention especially to the head of this object. Here you may distinctly perceive its proboscis or dart. It is that which perforates the cuticle or human skin, after which the blood ascends by suction from our body into that of the flea. Thousands of persons in London have seen a flea, have felt a flea, but have never yet been able by the human eye to discover that instrument which made them sensible of the flea about their person, although they could not catch the old gentleman. This flea, gentlemen, by Dr. Lardner’s micrometer, measures accurate 24 inches in length, and 11 across the back. My instrument, mark you, being of high magnifying power, will not show you the whole of the object at once. Mark you, gentlemen, this is not the flea of the dog or the cat, but the human flea, for each differ in their formation, as clearly proved by this powerful instrument. For they all differ in their form and shape, and will only feed upon the animal on which they are bred. Having shown you the head and shoulders, with its dart, I shall now proceed to show you the posterior view of this object, in which you may clearly discover every artery, vein, muscle and nerve, exact like a lobster in shape, and quite as large as one at 2s. 6d.’ That pleases them, you know; and sometimes I add, to amuse them, ‘An object of that size would make an excellent supper for half-a-dozen persons.’ That pleases them.
“One Irishwoman, after seeing the flea, threw up her arms and screamed out, ‘O J——! and I’ve had hundreds of them in my bed at once.’ She got me a great many customers from her exclamations. You see, my lecture entices those listening to have a look. Many listeners say, ‘Ain’t that true, and philosophical, and correct?’ I’ve had many give me 6d. and say, ‘Never mind the change, your lecture is alone worth the money.’
“I’ll now proceed to No. 2. ‘The next object I have to present to your notice, gentlemen, is that of the hair of the human head. You perceive that it is nearly as large as yonder scaffolding poles of the House of Lords.’ I say this when I am on Westminster-bridge, because it refers to the locality, and is a striking figure, and excites the listeners. ‘But mark you, it is not, like them, solid matter, through which no ray of light can pass.’ That’s where I please the gentlemen, you know, for they say, ‘How philosophical!’ ‘You can readily perceive, mark you, that they are all tubes, like tubes of glass; a proof of which fact you have before you, from the light of the lamp shining direct through the body of the object, and that light direct portrayed in the lens of your eye, called the retina, on which all external objects are painted.’ ‘Beautiful!’ says a gentleman. ‘Now, if the hair of the head be a hollow tube, as you perceive it is, then what caution you ought to exercise when you place your head in the hands of the hairdresser, by keeping your hat on, or else you may be susceptible to catch cold; for that which we breathe, the atmosphere, passing down these tubes, suddenly shuts to the doors, if I may be allowed such an expression, or, in other words, closes the pores of the skin and thereby checks the insensible perspiration, and colds are the result. Powdering the head is quite out of date now, but if a little was used on those occasions referred to, cold in the head would not be so frequent.’ What do you think of that? I never had an individual complain of my lecture yet.
“Now comes No. 3. ‘This, gentlemen, is the brave old oak, a section of it not larger than the head of a pin. Looking at it through this powerful instrument, you may accurately perceive millions of perforations, or pores, through which the moisture of the earth rises, in order to aid its growth. Of all the trees of the forest, none is so splendid as the brave old oak. This is the tree that braves the battle and the breeze, and is said to be in its perfection at 100 years. Who that looks at it would not exclaim, in the language of the song, ‘Woodman, spare that tree, and cut it not down?’ Such is the analogy existing between vegetable and animal physiology, that a small portion of the cuticle or human skin would present the same appearance, for there are millions of pores in the human skin which a grain of sand is said to cover; and here are millions of perforations through which the moisture of the earth is said to rise to aid the growth of the tree. See the similitude between the vegetable and animal physiology. Here is the exhibition of nature—see how it surpasses that of art. See the ladies at the Great Exhibition admiring the shawls that came from India: yet they, though truly deserving, could not compare with this bit of bark from the brave old oak. Here is a pattern richer and more deserving than any on any shawl, however wonderful. Where is the linendraper in this locality that can produce anything so beautiful as that on this bit of bark? Such are the works of art as compared with those of nature.’
“No. 4 is the animalculæ in water. ‘Gentlemen, the object now before you is a drop of water, that may be suspended on a needle’s point, teeming with millions of living objects. This one drop of water contains more inhabitants than the globe on which I stand. See the velocity of their motion, the action of their stomachs! the vertebræ is elegantly marked, like the boa-constrictor in the Zoological Gardens. They are all moving with perfect ease in this one drop, like the mighty monsters of the vast deep.’
“One on occasion a gentleman from St. Thomas’s Hospital disputed my statement about it’s being only one drop of water, so I said to the gent: ‘If you will accompany me to some coffee-house the drop of water shall be removed, and perhaps what you see you may believe,’ which he did, and he paid me 1s. for my experiment. He told me was a doctor, and I told him I was surprised that he was not better acquainted with the instrument; for, said I, ‘how can you tell the effects of inoculation on the cuticle, or the disease called the itch, unless you are acquainted with such an instrument?’ He was quite ashamed as he paid me for my trouble. I tell this anecdote on the bridge, and I always conclude with, ‘Now, gentlemen, whilst I was paid 1s. by the faculty for showing one object alone, I am only charging you 1d. for the whole six.’ Then I address myself to the person looking into the microscope, and say, ‘What do you think of this one drop of water, sir?’ and he says, ‘Splendid!’ Then I add, ‘Few persons would pass and re-pass this instrument without having a glance into it, if they knew the wonders I exhibit;’ and the one looking says, ‘That’s true, very true.’
“The next object is the cheese-mite—No. 5. I always begin in this way,—‘Those who are unacquainted with the study of entomology declare that these mites are beetles, and not mites; but could I procure a beetle with eight legs, I should present it to the British Museum as a curiosity.’ This is the way I clench up the mouths of those sceptics who would try to ridicule me, by showing that I am philosophic. ‘Just look at them. Notice, for instance, their head, how it represents the form of an hedgehog. The body presents that of the beetle shape. They have eight legs and eight joints. They have four legs forward and four legs back; and they can move with the same velocity forwards as they can back, such is their construction. They are said to be moving with the velocity of five hundred steps in one minute. Read Blair’s ‘Preceptor,’ where you may see a drawing of the mite accurately given, as well as read the description just given.’ A cheesemonger in Whitechapel brought me a few of these objects for me to place in my microscope. He invited his friends, which were taking supper with him, to come out and have a glance at the same objects. He gave me sixpence for exhibiting them to him, and was highly gratified at the sight of them. I asked him how he could have the impudence to sell them for a lady’s supper at 10d. a-pound. The answer he gave me was,—‘What the eye cannot see the heart never grieves.’ Then I go on,—‘Whilst this lady is extending her hand to the poor, and doing all the relief in her power, she is slaying more living creatures with her jaw-bone than ever Samson did with his.’ If it’s a boy looking through, I say, ‘Now, Jack, when you are eating bread and cheese don’t let it be said that you slay the mites with the jaw-bone of an ass. Cultivate the intellectual and moral powers superior to the passions, and then you will rise superior to that animal in intellect.’ ‘Good,’ says a gentleman, ‘good; here’s sixpence for you;’ and another says, ‘Here’s twopence for you, and I’m blessed if I want to see anything after hearing your lecture.’ Then I continue to point out the affection of the mite for its young. ‘You see fathers looking after their daughters, and mothers after their sons, when they are taking their walks; and such is their love for their young, that when the young ones are fatigued with their journey the parents take them up on their backs. Do you not see it?’ And then some will say, ‘I’ll give a penny to see that;’ and I’ve had four pennies put in my hand at once to see it. Excitement is everything in this world, sir.
“Next comes the cane—No. 6. ‘The object before you, gentlemen, is a transverse section of cane,—common cane,—such, mark you, as is used by schoolmasters for the correction of boys who neglect their tasks, or play the wag.’ I make it comic, you know. ‘This I call the tree of knowledge, for it has done more for to learn us the rules of arithmetic than all the vegetable kingdom combined. To it we may attribute the rule of three, from its influence on the mind,’—that always causes a smile,—‘just look at it for one moment. Notice, in the first place, its perforations. Where the human hand has failed to construct a micrometer for microscopic or telescopic purposes, the spider has lent its web in one case, and the cane in the other. Through the instrumentality of its perforations, we may accurately infer the magnifying power of other objects, showing the law of analogy. The perforations of this cane, apart from this instrument, would hardly admit a needle’s point, but seem now large enough for your arm to enter. This cane somewhat represents a telescopic view of the moon at the full, when in conjunction with the sun, for instance. Here I could represent inverted rocks and mountains. You may perceive them yourself, just as they would be represented in the moon’s disc through a powerful telescope of 250 times, such as I have exhibited to a thousand persons in St. Paul’s Churchyard. On the right of this piece of cane, if you are acquainted with the science of astronomy, you may depicture very accurately Mount Tycho, for instance, representing a beautiful burning mountain, like Mount Vesuvius or Etany, near the fields of Naples. You might discover accurately all the diverging streaks of light emanating from the crater. Further on to the right you may perceive Mount St. Catherine, like the blaze of a candle rushing through the atmosphere. On the left you may discover Mount Ptolemy. Such is a similar appearance of the moon’s mountainous aspect. I ask you, if the school-boy had but an opportunity of glancing at so splendid an object as the cane, should he ever be seen to shed a tear at its weight?’
“This shows that I am scientific, and know astronomy. The last part makes them laugh.
“This is the mode in which I exhibit my instrument, and such is the interest been excited in the public mind, that though a penny is the small charge which I make, that amount has been doubled and trebled by gentlemen who have viewed the instrument; and on one occasion a clergyman in the Commercial-road presented me with half-a-sovereign, for the interest he felt at my description, as well as the objects presented to his view. It has given universal satisfaction.
“I don’t go out every night with my instrument. I always go on the Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Saturday, for those are the nights when I take most money, especially on the Monday and Saturday. The Monday and Saturday are generally 6s., Tuesdays about 5s., and Wednesdays about 2s. 6d. Then the Thursday averages 1s. 8d., and the Fridays, in some localities, where the men are paid on that night, are equal to Saturday. Such are the benefits arising from night exhibition. In the day it comes to rather more. I’ve been to Greenwich, and on the One-tree Hill I’ve done more with the sun light than the night light. Taking the changes of weather, such as rain and cold bleak nights, and such weather as isn’t suitable to such an exhibition, I may say safely that my income amounts to 80l. a-year. The capital required for such a business amounts to from 10l. to 20l. My instrument only cost 5l.; but it was parted with to raise money;—and I wouldn’t take 50l. for it. It was my sister’s son-in-law who sold it. It was a gift more than a sale. You can buy a very good microscope for 10l., but a great deal, of course, is required in choosing it; for you may buy a thing not worth 20s. You’d have an achromatic microscope for 20l. It costs me about 4d. a-week for oil, the best sperm, at 1s. 4d. the pint; and a quarter of a pint will last me the week. I get my specimens in London. I prepare them all myself, and always keep a stock by me. For the sake of any gentleman who may have any microscope, and wish to procure excellent living specimens of mites and animalculæ in water, may do so in this way. (This is a secret which I give from a desire which I feel to afford pleasure to gentlemen of a scientific mind.) Get mites from a cheesemonger. Mites differ in their shape and form, according to the cheese they are taken from. The Stilton-cheese differs from the Dutch-cheese mite, and so does that of the aristocratic Cheshire, as I call it. In order to rise them clear and transparent, take a wooden box, of 2½ inches deep and 2½ inches in diameter, with a thick screw-lid, and let the lid take off half-way down. Place the dust in the bottom of the box, damp the thread of the screw-lid, to make it air-tight. The mites will ascend to the lid of the box. Four or five hours afterwards unscrew the lid gently, and, removing it, let it fall gently on a piece of writing paper. The mites crawl up to the lid, and by this way you get them free from dust and clean. To make the animalculæ water, I draw from the bottom of the water-tub a small quantity of water, and I put about a handful of new hay in that water. I expose it to the influence of the solar light, or some gentle heat, for three or four hours. Skim off its surface. After washing your hands, take your finger and let one drop of the hay-water fall on the glass, and then add to it another drop of pure water to make it more transparent. This information took me some years of experience to discover. I never read it or learnt it from any one, but found it out myself; but all liberal scientific men like to share their information.
“It’s impossible for me to say how many people have looked through my instrument, but they must be counted by tens of thousands. I have had 160 looking through in one night, or 13s. 4d. worth. This was on a peculiar occasion. They average about 6s. worth. If I could get out every night I should do well. As it is, I am obliged to work at my trade of shoemaking to keep myself: for you must take it into consideration, that there are some nights when I cannot show my exhibition. Very often I have a shilling or sixpence given to me as a present by my admirers. Many a half-crown I’ve had as well.
“One night I was showing over at the Elephant and Castle, and I saw a Quaker gentleman coming along, and he said to me, ‘What art thee showing to night, friend?’ So I told him; and he says, ‘And what doth thee charge, friend?’ I answered, ‘To the working man, sir, I am determined to charge no more than a penny; but to a gentleman, I always leave it to their liberality.’ So he said, ‘Well, I like that, friend; I’ll give thee all I have.’ And he put his hand into his pocket, and he pulled out five penny pieces. You see that is what I always do; and it meets with its reward.”