PANTOMIME CLOWNS

Otago Witness, Issue 3954, 24 December 1929, Page 6

PANTOMIME CLOWNS

By

One of Them.

Once upon a time —say, about, 51) years ago—Christmas was no Christmas at all without the pantomime, and a pantomime wasn't a pantomime at all without the Clown, who, with Pantaloon, Harlequin, and Columbine, and the inevitable Policeman, delighted the kiddies with the harlequinade, and were often called “ the comic scenes.” But to-day there are very few who have ever seen a harlequinade, and, to judge by the pictures illustrating Hie Christmas annuals, there are no artists who know what a real Harlequin's dress was like. And, as for clowns, I can see the spirits of Joey Grimaldi, Tom Mathews, Harry Boleno, Paul Herring, and Wattie Hildyard, and a host of other pantomime clowns weeping over something in an old dress suit, which to-day they ca'l a clown. Times have indeed change I, and so have tastes, and I suppose the modern article suits the modern taste, and that is all that matters.

Fifty years ago the harlequinade was the principal feature in the pantomime. The opening usually consisted of about four scenes. Then the Good Fairy would rise through a trap in an enchanted bower of glittering gems, and, to rescue the lovers from the pursuit of the wicked squire and the cruel father, would transform them into Harlequin ai d Columbine, and, to aid them in their flight, would present Harlequin with the magic sword and mask, which rendered him invisible to their pursuers. Then the cruel parent and wicked squire appeared and were transformed—the parent into Pantaloon, and the squire into Clown, and “the comic scenes” (or harlequinade) started. There were usually 10 or 12 of these at least, and many of the tricks and scenes were topical. In one I remember Clown and Pantaloon arrived in a stage coach, and, as soon as they got out, Harlequin, with his mask down, and supposed to be invisible, struck the coach with his “ mat ” (as the magic sword was usually called), and it changed into a railway engine and carriage, in which he and Columbine went off, thus escaping from Clown ami Pantaloon. Another, described in a supplement to “ Bow Bells,” is a scene of Vauxhall Gardens, in which Mr Grimaldi as clown burlesques the Pandean Band —one of his happiest efforts. The Pandean seems to have been an ancestor of the jazz band. In Grimaldi’s time the harlequinade was written as part of the pantomime by the author, and the one I refer to above was by Thomas Dibdin. It was called “ Mother Goose,” and was played at Sadlers Wells.

In later years the clown was expected to invent and arrange his own tricks and business. Harry Boleno and Wattie Hildyard were both famous for the ingenuity of their scenes. One of Boleno’s, produced at Covent Garden, was invented the year of the great exhibition in 1851, when London was so crowded that sleeping accommodation was at a premium. It was known as the Waterbutt and Dustbin Scene. Rival lodging house keepers, at opposite houses, kept exhibiting cards. First, there was a “Nice airy attic.” This was snapped up. Then the opposition advertised a “ Comfortable coal cellar,” and the crowd rushed for this. No. 1 next offered a “Good dry dustbin,” to which No. 2 replied with a “Well aired water-butt.” No. 1 then produced a “ Commodious chest of drawers, suitable for a small family.” etc. Clown and Pantaloon took tin “ Water-butt and dust-bin,” and a lot of very funny business took place. Amongst other tricks invented by Wattie Hildyard, I may mention the sawing of a man in two. I myself worked this trick in my harlequinade in Oscar Barrett's pantomime, “ Santa Claus,” at the Edinburgh Empire in 1897 (I think that was the date). Another was blowing the Policeman to pieces and sticking him together again, after which he shook hands with Clown and walked off to his beat! Flattening the policeman and then blowing him out with bellows was another popular item. Again, two lawyers pulled a client in halves, and the clown stuck him together again with a sewing machine!

I could go on describing similar clover and ingenious tricks, but I am afraid space won't permit. In later years clowning became a heart-breaking job. Managers spent so much on the pantomime openings and they became so long that the comic scenes were cut down to ten minutes, and the poor clown would get no properties to work with, and only supers and extra girls to assist—and very often the one you had rehearsed did not turn up at night, but sent someone else, who, of course, had no idea what io do when they got on. Hence the story of the old clown:—

Clown—Old un, if you was playing Hamlet, and the Ghost wouldn't come on, you couldn’t play Hamlet, could you? Pantaloon—No, Joey, of course not. Clown—Then where the blank is that blighter with the pie can? The decline of the harlequinade may lie put down mainly to the scarcity of good pantomimists, and especially clowns. In the old “ stock ” days the first low comedians often played clown at Christmas—and very good some of them were. Willie Edouin, Teddy Royce, and Charles Groves were amongst those in the front rank as comedians in later years. But, as the openings got longer, comedians found they had quite enough to do with out the worry of harlequinade. Then

managers took to engaging acrobats, knockabout niggers, and others, who knew little or nothing about it, and put themselves to useless expense for properties which were often never used—for the simple reason that they did not know what to do with them when thev got them! But, whatever the reason may be, the harlequinade has completely disappeared, and I am afraid we shall ; never again hear the children's shrieks of delight at the Christmas clown's familiar greeting: “Hello! Here we are again! ” —“Chuckles,” in the Glasgow Weekly Herald.