The Art of Merrymaking.
By Jerome K. Jerome.With illustrations by Arthur Watts.
My first dissipation, so far as I can remember, was a visit to the Crystal Palace. Before that, there had been occasional tea-meetings at which, after the tables had been cleared, some elderly and generally bearded gentleman, would rise up to say what he invariably called 'a few words'; but these, involving as they did much effort on my part to maintain long silences and not to shuffle my feet, I had always—in spite of the rolled bread and butter and two sorts of cake—regarded as religions duties rather than mundane pleasures.
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But the Crystal Palace belonged to the world of marvels and adventure. It had not so very Jong been built and was still the talk of London. I slept but fitfully the night before; and it seemed to me, when my mother at last opened my door, that the day was already half gone. It wasn't rally, and my sister and I caught the quarter to nine train from Poplar Station, and from Broad Street we took the two-horse bus to Victoria. I climbed up to the knife-board, my sister watching my progress nervously from the curb. The conductor suggested her following me up, and gallantly offered to help her. But ladies did not then ride outside buses: besides, there was her crinoline.
They were building Holborn Viaduct, so we had to go round by Clerkenwell. I remember the old gateway. The journey took us well over an hour, and at Charing Cross I climbed down, and consulted with my sister as to whether we had not better get out and run, It was an Aunt of ours who was giving us the treat, and we were to wait for her and our cousins at the entrance to the platform. But here a difficulty arose. It appeared there were two Crystal Palaces: one a High-level and the other a Low-level Fortunately, my Aunt had arrived first, and saw us from afar. She discussed the matter with a kindly porter, and he strongly advised the High-level. I was glad of that. I had the idea that the Low-level Palace was some poor sort of affair intended only for common people.
It was a wonderful place. It came up to my expectation. So few things in life do. There were other visits spread over the years, and each time I found things strange and new. And then one night there came the fireworks! I visited Wembley the last year it was open. There was, of course, much more to see. But the difficulty of seeing anything rather appalled me, so that I ended by seeing next to nothing, and I could not get anything to eat or drink without waiting in a queue. I ought, I suppose, to have been younger. Shows nowadays would seem to be only for the brave and strong.
Amusement combined with instruction was considered best for youth, when I was a boy. Yet we managed to get our fun notwithstanding. The old Polytechnic was interesting. It was thrilling to stand on the brink of the swimming pool, watching the dark lapping waters, waiting for one's turn to go in the great diving-bell; and Pepper's ghost, in a darkened room with creepy music, was more convincing than the manifestations that are now offered to us as the real thing. One learnt, later, it was only a trick produced by clever arrangement of mirrors, but until one knew one had an uncanny feeling.
The Egyptian Hall or 'England's Home of Mystery,' standing in Piccadilly opposite Burlington House, was given over to conjuring of a high-class kind. I think it was the elder Maskelyne who had it before he went to the St. George's Hall, then occupied by the German Reeds, who gave 'drawing-room entertainments' in conjunction with Corney Grain. The Grossmiths—the grand-father of the present George Grossmith, with his sons George and Weedon—used to do the same sort of thing. It was a genteel age. But I have suffered, in my time, a good deal of boredom from vulgarity.
After Maskelyne left, the Egyptian Hall was occupied by 'Hamilton's Excursions.' Seated in our easy chairs, we viewed the world from China to Peru, coming back the other way round. A gentleman with the aid of a wand, and accompanied by appropriate music, described the pictures as they were unrolled before us, and added information. And often the natives of the country through which we were passing would oblige with folk songs and national dances. I gained much sound knowledge of foreign parts from Hamilton's Excursions. We had also magic lanterns and dissolving views. These likewise told us of strange people and far lands. The pictures were coloured and many of them quite beautiful: everybody did not look like a bleached nigger. There was a panorama, near St. James's Park, of Niagara Falls. Later, I saw the real thing, surrounded by hotels and factories, and preferred the panorama.
Waxworks were popular. In addition to Madame Tussaud's there was one in Islington and another off the Gray's Inn Road. School children were taken to them in parties for purposes. of education; but would persist in staring at the wrong figures. The Brighton Aquarium caught on famously at first. It was interesting to see soles without their bread-crumbs, and to know that lobsters also loved. In London the idea was less successful.
The first exhibitions also combined instruction with entertainment. They took place in wooded grounds that then extended
