PA L G R AV E S T U D I E S I N T H E AT R E A N D P E R F O R M A N C E H I S T O RY

Child Labor in
the British Victorian
Entertainment Industry
1875–1914

Dyan Colclough
Palgrave Studies in Theatre and Performance History is a series devoted to
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Also in the series:

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Theatre, Politics, and Markets in Fin-de-Siècle Paris by Sally Charnow
Ghosts of Theatre and Cinema in the Brain by Mark Pizzato
Moscow Theatre for Young People: A Cultural History of Ideological Coercion and Artistic
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Absence and Memory in Colonial American Theatre by Odai Johnson
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Performance and Femininity in Eighteenth-Century German Women’s Writing
by Wendy Arons
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in Performing Arts by Richard Wattenberg
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Transposing Broadway: Jews, Assimilation, and the American Musical
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by John M. Clum
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Staging Holocaust Resistance by Gene A. Plunka
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by Jeffrey Ullom
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by Michael Schwartz
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by Rick DesRochers
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American Theatre, 1890–1916 by J. Chris Westgate
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Irene to Gypsy by Maya Cantu
Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry: 1875–1914
by Dyan Colclough
Also by Dyan Colclough
D. Colclough (2014) “British Child Performers 1920–1940: New Issues, Old
Legacies,” in G Arrighi and Victor Emeljanow (Eds.) Entertaining Children
(Basingstoke and New York: Palgrave Macmillan).
Child Labor in the British
Victorian Entertainment
Industry
1875–1914

Dyan Colclough

Palgrave
macmillan
CHILD LABOR IN THE BRITISH VICTORIAN ENTERTAINMENT INDUSTRY: 1875–1914
Copyright © Dyan Colclough 2016
Softcover reprint of the hardcover 1st edition 2016 978-1-137-50317-6
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First published 2016 by
PALGRAVE MACMILLAN
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ISBN 978-1-349-55569-7
E-PDF ISBN: 978–1–137–49603–4
DOI: 10.1057/9781137496034

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Colclough, Dyan, 1952–
Child labor in the British Victorian entertainment industry,
1875–1914 / Dyan Colclough.
pages cm.—(Palgrave studies in theatre and performance history)

1. Child actors—Great Britain—History—19th century. 2. Child

actors—Great Britain—History—20th century. 3. Child labor—Great
Britain—History—19th century. 4. Child labor—Great Britain—
History—20th century. 5. Child labor—Law and legislation—
Great Britain—History. I. Title.
PN2594.13.C45C86 2015
792.02⬘80830941—dc23 2015019597
A catalogue record for the book is available from the British Library.
For Tony, Christian, Adam, Louis, Nathan and
Sophie Colclough and Ruby Grace Anderson
This page intentionally left blank
Contents

List of Illustrations xi
Acknowledgments xiii

Introduction 1
1. Raw Material, Labor, and the Finished Product:
The Theatrical Child as Employee 15
2. Laboring Fairies: The Theatrical Child as a Family Resource
and a Resourceful Child 43
3. The Performing Child and Its Audience 75
4. Performing Their Duty: Child Savers and the
Theatrical Child 99
5. Protective Legislation and the Theatrical Child 139
Conclusion 165

Notes 173
Bibliography 209
Index 223
This page intentionally left blank
Illustrations

1.1 Etches at a Training School for Dancing, The London

Illustrated News, January 3, 1884 29
1.2 Days with Celebrities Madame Katti Lanner, Moonshine,
December 29, 1888, 307 34
2.1 Pantomime Child (to admiring friend), Punch,
Wednesday, November 27, 1901, 379 51
2.2 Rehearsing for a Pantomime, The Graphic,
December 25, 1885 65
2.3 Willa Sibert Cather, “Training for the Ballet: Making
American Dancers” McClure’s Magazine, 41 (October 1913) 72
3.1 Pantomime Tastes at Three Periods of Youth, The Bystander,
December 23, 1907 96
4.1 Image of Ellen Barlee, from author’s private collection 102
4.2 The Theatrical Mission, The Graphic, June 17, 1893;
issue 1229 105
4.3 Sketches at the Bazaar for Macready House Theatrical
Mission, The Illustrated London News, December 10, 1887 106
4.4 The Theatrical Mission, The Graphic, February 26, 1887 107
4.5 Treat to the Children Engaged in the Pantomime at Drury
Lane, The Illustrated London News, December 17, 1883 109
4.6 Advancing a Stage Funny Folks (London, England),
Saturday, January 22, 1887 132
4.7 Holiday House, Woman’s Herald, August 8, 1891; issue 145 136
5.1 The Employment of Children in Pantomime, The Graphic,
March 23, 1889 143
5.2 The Original Masonic Temple, Drury Lane Theatre,
circa 1886 144
This page intentionally left blank
Acknowledgments

W
hen a book has been as long in the making as this one, the
list of those who deserve acknowledgment could run to sev-
eral pages and space is limited—if I have left you out, please
forgive me. I would sincerely like to thank four women who, in a variety
of ways, contributed to the completion of this work. From the outset, Pat
Ayers not only appreciated the value of this study but somehow saw in
me the potential and ability needed to undertake the research. It was her
foresight and belief in me that gave me the confidence to take on this chal-
lenge. Without Pat I could not have embarked upon or ever completed this
book. Her academic advice, emotional support, enthusiasm, empathy, and
unfailing friendship have proved invaluable, and I am eternally indebted to
her. The very high standards set by Karen Hunt shifted my aspirations for
the research to another level; her advice, guidance, and commitment were
really important at a time when letting it all go was a distinct possibility.
In recent years, the encouragement, example, and friendship of Melanie
Tebbutt have been immeasurable. I have been fortunate to have had the
opportunity to witness firsthand, the degree of dedication she brings to
her own work and the wider research community. As the external exam-
iner of my thesis, Anna Davin’s interrogation of my research, insights, and
thoughtful counsel were of enormous help. Her own work on the poor
children of London, which places the experience of the child at the heart of
the study, offered an exemplar to aspire to. I know I am not the only person
to have been inspired by reading this book—thank you, Anna.
I will be forever grateful to the Academic Board of the Research Degrees
Committee of Manchester Metropolitan University for awarding me the
studentship that made the work possible. I thank the Society for Theatre
Research for recognizing the importance of this research by granting me
the Anthony Denning Award that proved so important in the furtherance
of my research. There are no words to express my gratitude to the British
Federation of Women Graduates Charitable Foundation, whose financial
xiv Acknowledgments

support at a particularly difficult time prevented a forced abandonment of

the project and ultimately ensured its completion.
I have been privileged to be so warmly welcomed into the world of
Theatre Studies in all its rich manifestations. I am grateful to David Mayer
for an early meeting he has probably now forgotten but which I found
inspirational. As a timid and intimidated attendee dipping her feet into
conferences that included names I was in awe of, the kindness, interest,
and validation extended to me went way beyond anything I could have
wished for. In the time since, the collegiality initially evident has been
affirmed through the ongoing support from and engagement with those I
now count as friends. Particular thanks go to Victor Emeljanow, Gillian
Arrighi, Marah Gubar, Shauna Vey, and Sharon Aronofsky Weltman.
Sincere thanks go to my long suffering proof readers, Adam Colclough,
Diane Evans and Alex Evans. I am also appreciative for the help and
expertise of the many librarians and archivists I have consulted over the
years. The assistance given by the New York Public Library and the Folger
Shakespeare Library, Washington, DC was exceptional and deserving of
particular thanks.
A special mention and gratitude goes to family and friends for their
long-standing encouragement and support. In particular a big thank you
is reserved for Sarah and Sophie Colclough, Sara Dixon, Chloe Joseph, and
my dear sister Pamela Davies. Without question and most importantly, all
my love, thanks, and appreciation are directed to my husband Tony; to my
sons, Christian, Adam, Louis, and Nathan; and precious granddaughter
Ruby Grace Anderson.
Final thoughts are reserved, though, for those many thousands of
girls and boys who tapped, pirouetted, acted, and sang their way through
countless performances. This book pays tribute to their talent, hard work,
physical endurance, emotional investment, hopes, and dreams.
Introduction

T
his book explores and evaluates the contribution of theatrical child
labor to the success of commercially provided, performance-based
leisure during the period 1875–1914. I was originally drawn to
this subject area by insights gained from my personal involvement in the
entertainment industry as a chaperone to children who worked within the
film and theatre industries. I was licensed to act as loco parentis to child
performers who were younger than 16 years of age. My initial research was
driven by an awareness of the juxtaposition of attitudes toward and man-
agement of child performers in the workplace and the ways that the general
public respond to these children. It became clear that child performers
were/are an exclusive group who straddle the two worlds of entertainment
and work, and that this dichotomy presents the child with problems, bene-
fits, choices, and experiences unique to performing children. It also became
clear that the real child becomes lost within the artistic priorities of writers
and directors allied to audience engagement with the characters portrayed.
My initial intention was to undertake a contemporary study but before
embarking on work that focused on modern-day performers I sought to
contextualize the experience of contemporary children. On turning to the
history books to frame my study I discovered that the history of British
child performers as a workforce had been largely overlooked. Moreover, it
soon became clear that readily available source material relating to child
performers was thin, and there was little evidence that gave direct access to
the experiences of the children themselves. I came to believe that the most
important and valuable contribution I could make to this area of history
was to capture the earliest living voices of child performers while they were
still available. During the 1990s I set about locating, corresponding with,
and interviewing a number of individuals who shared their experiences
of performing as children in the 1920s and 1930s. Interpretation of these
interwar voices demonstrated the inadequacy of past legislation intro-
duced to protect stage-children from exploitation, which had a resonance
in terms of my own more recent experience within the industry.1 This led
2 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

me to question assumptions about the success of nineteenth-century leg-

islation in outlawing child labor. Enthused by my findings and perturbed
by an obvious shortfall in historiography I became keen to explore the lives
of nineteenth-century child performers for whom protective laws had first
been formulated. The study shows that for almost 30 years the Victorian
performance-based entertainment industry was dependent on child labor
as a key factor in its evolution, prosperity, and success. In demonstrating
this, the book highlights the extent to which the significance of this sub-
stantial and important sector of child labor has been largely overlooked in
historiographies of both childhood and performance. This work acknowl-
edges the value of the few existing studies produced between 1981 and
2014 for their rare contribution to this field of study.
An article by Tracy Davis first alerted me to Brian Crozier’s unpub-
lished thesis.2 Crozier examines the dialogue and content of late Victorian
dramatic productions to explore the change in attitudes that underlay con-
temporary interest in childhood. He concludes that portrayal through the
drama reinforced the new construction of childhood and that this coin-
cided with increasing protective and educational legislation for children.
He shows that within melodrama the presentation of the child as a victim
of poverty and deprivation that dominated the 1870s, was transformed
during the 1880s to one that constructed the child as representative of
working-class humor and vitality. Crozier demonstrates a switch from the
portrayal of children as pathetic creatures, to one that evoked sentimental-
ity among the audience.3
Crozier’s study examines notions of childhood through stage-child
characters whereas this work will focus on the actual children employed to
portray those roles. Comparison of my approach and Crozier’s approach
reveals that the industry’s desire to satisfy audience appetite for ideal rep-
resentations of childhood made heavy demands on theatrical child labor.
Paradoxically, child performers were unable to experience what could be
termed the “blueprint of childhood” they created on stage, which was
shaped by legislation, philanthropy, and commercial enterprise. The
public persona of the stage-child helped to promote, publicize, and sell
late Victorian notions of childhood. In order for this to be achieved, the
private persona of the theatrical child was compromised and its labor
exploited. Crozier’s work is valuable in developing an understanding of
attitudes toward children and the evolution of the notion of childhood
and is useful as a measure of the increased demand for and supply of
theatrical children. However, it simultaneously underlines my argument
regarding the extent to which child performers have, as real children,
 Introduction 3

remained largely undocumented, and demonstrates the need for appro-

priate research to address this deficiency. Tracy Davis first provided a
published insight into the actual children behind the roles they played
on stage.4 Davis briefly touched upon recruitment, training, education,
and economic issues relating to theatrical children, highlighting what she
identified as the positive and negative aspects of theatrical child work.
She also outlined late nineteenth-century debates and legislation concern-
ing theatrical child employment and their effects. As a pioneering study,
Davis’s work has offered a springboard for further research, including my
own. Although she did not pursue this aspect of theatre history, mak-
ing only fleeting reference to theatrical children in her subsequent major
works, her knowledge about performing as a business has enriched and
furthered my own research and helped me to contextualize the child’s
place within this labor market.5
Hazel Waters has also drawn attention to the place of children in the
mid-Victorian theatre, focusing attention on child prodigies. This work,
by her own admission, is speculative because she found source material
to be “scattered and fragmentary.”6 The period covered by Waters lies, in
the main, outside my chosen timescale but her thought-provoking work
allowed me to raise new questions that led to fresh sources. Insights gained
from these challenge her contention that the fashion for child prodigies
was over by 1886.7 Carolyn Steedman’s chapter concerning stage-children,
understandably, draws heavily on Davis’s original account but develops
this to include a detailed description of the debates around the employ-
ment of theatrical child labor during the late nineteenth century. Again
this proved illuminating. Steedman’s emphasis is weighted toward per-
ceptions of childhood rather than on the actual experiences of the child.
Nevertheless, her work provided a new framework for the exploration of
what motivated audiences to watch children perform, and this helped with
my interpretation of new evidence uncovered by my own research.
Pamela Horn’s analysis of theatrical children also builds on Davis’s find-
ings.8 Previous studies have tended to conflate legislative advances with
social change in accepting that the passing of laws to regulate child labor
automatically implied their successful implementation. This assumption
has led to much emphasis being placed on the Prevention of Cruelty to
Children Act of 1889 as a watershed in the regulation of theatrical child
labor. Horn presents a more focused analysis than previously offered and
takes into account the possibility that this law was limited and allowed pos-
sibilities for the continued illegal employment of theatrical children. My
research not only substantiates Horn’s claim but also shows this practice
4 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

to have been far more enduring and to have concerned much larger num-
bers of children than her conservative estimate. Each chapter of this book
reveals a different group of individuals that had a vested interest in the
continued employment of child performers and shows a number of ways in
which child employment and education laws were evaded and avoided in
order to sustain supply and demand.
Madame Katti Lanner was one the largest purveyors of Victorian child
performers. This book draws on Lanner’s contribution to the increased
supply of and continued demand for child performers. Jane Pritchard pro-
vides a rare insight into Lanner’s copious work as a choreographer of the
poplar ballet. This was enlightening and suggested questions that could
only be addressed by further research. As shown below, child protective
legislation did not affect Lanner’s business to the extent that has previously
been claimed.9 Lanner, like others with a vested interest in the continued
presence of children in theatres, was adept in evasion, and evidence sup-
ports my argument that Lanner continued to successfully train theatrical
children and remained a regular and profuse supplier of theatrical child
labor to theatres across the nation and abroad up until her death in 1906.
Shauna Vey’s research on the situation of nineteenth-century child per-
formers in America has proved enlightening and valuable. Her research
has enabled me to identify the parallel experiences and treatment of British
and American children who were employed to entertain. This has brought
a new perspective to my evaluation and analysis of certain primary sources
that hailed the American system as one to be emulated in Britain.10
The key most single influential work in the study of performing
children in the last quarter of the nineteenth century was published in
1884 by author, philanthropist, and theatrical missionary Ellen Barlee.11
Barlee’s work is noteworthy for its inclusion of the previously elusive voices
of children. Subsequent academics, alerted by Davis’s first mention of this
publication, have cited this author. However, none to date have challenged
Barlee’s interpretations. Alexandra Carter’s contribution concerns the the-
atrical employment of older girls. In places, resonant of both Barlee and
Davis’s work, Carter focuses on a very specific period, 1892–99. Using
the device of a journal, she aims to present an account of the industry
by documenting the experiences of, what she regards as, a typical young
ballet dancer. Carter’s methodology can be viewed as problematic because
Cara Tranders is a fictional character whose dialogue Carter uses as a tool
to link evidence derived from novelists, lyricists, critics, and historians.12
Carter’s work though is based on primary sources and has been useful to
my research insofar as it offers an interesting and evocative account of
 Introduction 5

stage labor as it might have been seen through the eyes of the performer
herself. This said Tranders’ “experience” is not necessarily representative
of a diverse workforce that cuts across both age and class and as such
does not advance the historiography of nationwide labor force of Victorian
child performers.
Jim Davis’s study of nineteenth-century child performers focuses on
how audiences responded to performances of Shakespearian roles enacted
by children.13 Davis’s work was particularly useful in confirming my
assertion of the need for further investigation into the role of theatrical
representation in the construction and invention of nineteenth-century
childhood.14 His study also prompted me to look beyond the experiences
of child stars and search for the life experiences of jobbing child perform-
ers who comprised the mass of the British workforce of children who were
employed to entertain.
The broadest contribution to the historiography of British Victorian
child performers comes from Anne Varty who in 2008 provided the first
monograph to explore the topic.15 This innovative study provided much
food for thought in determining the path taken by my own research. The
detailed backdrop painted by her far-reaching work is underpinned by a
profusion of primary sources. Varty has provided an unprecedented oppor-
tunity for academic discussion of this neglected area of British history.
From this I have been able to contextualize my arguments and present
new theoretical concepts and new evidence to further the debate. Marah
Gubar’s work has enriched my understanding of the reasoning behind
the formulation of a variety of fictional, Victorian child characters. Her
detailed erudition has guided and supported my arguments about how
and why childhood, as a newly recognized and distinct period in the life
cycle, was both celebrated and revered in ways that were specific to the
nineteenth century.16 Likewise, catalysts of perceptions of childhood pro-
vided by Jennifer Sattaur have helped me to contextualize the space occu-
pied by theatrical child employees within the psyche of British Victorian
society.17 Jeanne Klein’s recent study has proved reassuring in that it
shares the same premise that underpins the main argument to be pre-
sented here: “child actors commanded their own roles as an integral part
of nineteenth-century theatre culture.”18 The recent research by Gillian
Arrighi and Victor Emeljanow, and their subsequent edited collection of
essays about child entertainers have not only identified a crucial need for
further investigation but also have begun to fill this void. Their work has
highlighted the timeliness for further research into children who were/are
employed to entertain.19
6 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

I came to this field of study from a retrospective perspective, and this

has proved advantageous. My earlier research into child performers of the
1920s and 1930s coupled with my knowledge of children working in the
industry today provided the grounding and insight necessary to identify
less obvious questions and gaps in our understanding. While offering a
fresh interpretation of previously presented evidence, this study also iden-
tifies new primary sources and offers new analysis in this field. It is also
intended that the work will provide a basis for future research, encourage
interrogation of my arguments, and support the development of new ques-
tions that can be asked of the evidence.
As a relatively new and under-researched area of study, investigation
into late Victorian theatrical child labor in Britain has proved problematic.
In the absence of a fully established historiography it was not possible to
implement a structured methodology. Therefore, my early research was
largely uninformed, wide ranging, and necessarily painstaking. As such
I have consulted and interpreted an extensive variety of historical sources,
many of which subsequently required reinterpretation in the light of fresh
evidence, developments in historiography, and under the influence of new
concepts and theories. In this way, a genuinely reflective and reciprocal
relationship developed among reading, research, and understanding, and
this is visible in the interpretations offered. This process is evident also in
the nature of the questions asked of contemporary material. My extensive
research, allied to wide secondary reading generated new questions and
answers and brought new perspectives to bear on my chosen topic.
This study is qualitative in approach. Research specifically related to
the central question of this book revealed theatrical children to be an elu-
sive workforce and difficult to pinpoint. Unlike those children targeted
by social reformers earlier in the industrializing nineteenth century who
were geographically or industrially concentrated, theatre children com-
prised a casual, scattered, and nomadic labor force. Additionally, perform-
ers were recruited from a number of different sources. Some belonged to
established theatrical families and a number were hired through internal
recruitment of the children of backstage workers. However, increasing
demand for theatrical child labor outgrew this supply, and a progressively
larger proportion were engaged from various training schools established
for this specific purpose. Others were marketed by a growing number of
independent agents. When huge numbers were required for pantomime,
the traditional practice of advertising in the press and hiring at the stage-
door continued, although this lessened as children became more central to
the industry and preference for trained children increased.
 Introduction 7

The nature of late Victorian commercial theatre also presented prob-

lems for research. The industry operated, in equal measure, in both the
worlds of business and leisure. Its backstage capitalist infrastructure and
the public facade which the theatre presented to its consumers. Within this
working environment theatrical child employees occupied two personas;
the private backstage laborer and the public onstage performer. The lat-
ter regularly formed the antithesis of the former and was something the
industry was keen to keep hidden from public scrutiny. This presented a
key challenge. The real nature of stage work undertaken by children was
deliberately hidden from public view by those with a vested interest in the
continued employment of theatrical child labor. Setting aside occasional,
yet invaluable, glimpses of the real children who worked in the industry,
the only way of gaining access to the lived experience of the stage-child has
been to closely examine the image sold by the contemporary industry and
to detail the nature and implications of the work children actually did.
Careful reading of the subtext in available sources has provided a means to
measure the theatrical child’s public and private experiences of childhood
against late Victorian aspirational ideals of childhood, as promoted by the
government and other agencies. This has made it possible to construct a
detailed picture of theatrical child employment and to demonstrate that
between 1875 and 1914, this child workforce made a significant contribu-
tion to the theatrical industry.
Within the wide range of sources that have been scrutinized in the
research undertaken for this study, periodical literature has been exten-
sively consulted. The use of nineteenth-century periodicals as histori-
cal source material is not unproblematic. The sheer scale of publication
makes this sort of research daunting and even after necessary selection
has been made, the actual exploration itself is incredibly time consuming.
Also the very nature of journalistic evidence implies editing and selection.
However, as shown in the following paragraphs, I have purposely incorpo-
rated this premise into my research and have used the weaknesses of this
source material to strengthen my arguments.
The popularity and expansion of the theatrical industry spawned a
massive growth in the publication of theatrical journals, the employees of
which relied on the industry for their livelihoods.20 Given that all things
theatrical attracted wide readership, much space was also given over to the
British stages in the general press. I have used the content of these publica-
tions in a variety of ways to show the importance of the industry in the
late nineteenth-century economy and more specifically, the importance
of children within this industry. My heavy reliance on periodicals and
8 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

newspapers has allowed me to demonstrate that selective reporting and

editing, self-interest, and bias within the journalistic industry were the key
factors that helped to fashion the public image of child performers and
sustained their continued and often illegal employment.
Features about and interviews with popular child actors and actresses
reveal much more than is intended by the text. Their self-promoting tone
and boasting of vast, varied, and regular child performances inadvertently
expose years of relentless and heavy working regimes for the children
described. Additionally, from a careful reading of the industry’s promo-
tion of nationwide tours, it is possible to track and show the particularly
demanding working schedule assigned to touring children who made up
the most elusive sector of the theatrical child labor force. In the absence of
any other statistics about touring children, this exercise, while essentially
impressionistic, has proved particularly useful to my research.
Promotional literature and theatrical reviews have been especially illu-
minating not least because they invariably made special mention of any
young members in the cast. Reviewers often expressed their amazement
at the performances given by children with emphasis put on their ages,
their numbers on stage, descriptions of the characters children repre-
sented, and their theatrical attire. Their popularity with the audience was
also regularly alluded to in reviews. Theatrical listings allow an exami-
nation of the types and numbers of productions that included children
and show a definite growth in their frequency. These and larger adver-
tisements display the length of the run, the start and finishing times of
performances, and the number of daily and weekly performances. This
gives some indication of the weeks and months worked and what propor-
tion of the child’s working day was spent on call at the theatre and their
late finishing hours. Advertisements also signal the growth in theatrical
training establishments that points to a buoyant market in the supply of
child performers. Editorial features, supposedly taking a “peep behind
the scenes” invariably dwell on the self-sacrifice of managers and tutors of
the performing arts who, in the name of art and as servants of the public,
could never be off duty. However, declarations of the demands to them-
selves of constant regimes of training and rehearsing of performers fly in
the face of their claims, which equated the work of theatrical children
with a few hours of play on stage.
Although press coverage reflected the majority view that favored the
industry’s continued inclusion of child performers, a minority group
identified theatrical children as laborers and called for an end to their
 Introduction 9

employment. The ensuing public debate was heavily weighted in favor

of theatrical employers. Although newspaper coverage showing opposing
views is limited, I have taken great pains to locate and include these in my
analysis. In order to show as balanced a view as possible I have consulted a
range of journalistic literature that is likely to sympathize with the minor-
ity view. These include less mainstream newspapers, the educational press,
and publications from the National Vigilance Association that headed the
anti-theatrical lobby.
Despite the scale of publicity and debate regarding late nineteenth-
century theatrical children, apart from promotional journal interviews,
the voices of the children themselves are seldom heard. Setting aside a
rare glimpse of the child’s perspective found in Ellen Barlee’s study, it is
apparent that enquirers and debaters failed to seek the opinion of theatri-
cal child employees themselves.21 In an attempt to compensate for the
lack of children’s testimony, I turned to autobiographical sources. The
benefit and disadvantages of autobiography as a historical source are well
documented, but it is useful to bear in mind factors that are distinct in
autobiographies written by actresses from the late nineteenth and early
twentieth centuries who held a public persona to which they needed to
conform.22 It also must be considered how far celebrities, who were chil-
dren in the Victorian age, were representative of the majority of “job-
bing” child actors who made up the mass of this child workforce. Visual
images have also proved to be especially evocative and important in a
variety of ways, not least in reminding me that this project was originally
driven by empathy and my witnessing of the experiences of more recent
child actors.
None of the sources referred to above has been consulted in isolation.
Evaluation and analyses have been carried out in conjunction with a wide
range of additional material. These include government enquiries and
reports, parliamentary debates in both the houses of Lords and Commons,
and child laws all of which concerned the theatrical employment of chil-
dren and provide an official perspective.23 The originality of this study has
dictated that my research was positioned within the experiences of British
child performers, and in the main, research has focused on London’s the-
atrical child workforce. As the nucleus of the entertainment industry, the
capital city was the largest employer of theatrical children and was also
the base for the campaign that called for an end to their employment.
However, this work also reveals the use of theatrical child labor to have
been a nationwide phenomenon.
10 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

DISCUSSION

Discussion takes place within two broad and well documented historiog-
raphies. The first is the commercial rise of late Victorian entertainment
as an industry and the second is the new social construct of childhood
during the same period. What follows bring these two seemingly unre-
lated historical aspects together to show that by the last quarter of the
nineteenth century, the burgeoning theatrical industry was strongly
placed to trade on society’s obsession with the newly, culturally con-
structed identity of the child. Theatrical entrepreneurs commissioned
child-themed and child-centered productions that would appeal to its
long sought after mass, family audience, and reap large returns at the
box office. This implied a change in the theatrical labor market. The
existing child labor force was largely made up of children from theatri-
cal families. The drive to promote childhood as the industry’s newest
item for consumption outstripped its existing pool of child labor. This
forced the widespread recruitment of theatrically inexperienced child
workers to meet the demand for (watching) children upon the stage.
As a group, these children were differentiated by age, gender, and class;
however, once recruited, they all had in common something that set
them apart from nontheatrical children. Employment gave each per-
former worker two distinct and separate personas: the onstage child and
the backstage child laborer. Both these personas were inhabited by a
series of fluctuating identities.
Chapter 1 determines the place of theatrical child labor in the new busi-
ness structures and economy created by mass provision of entertainment
on the commercial stage. Child employees provided theatrical employers
with much more than their labor; they comprised the industry’s raw mate-
rial and its saleable finished commodity. Their value to the industry is
explored through examination of the time and money employers invested
in their child workforce. With this in mind, an account is taken of the
training regimes, apprenticeships, contracts, and wage rates offered to
child employees.
Additionally, a willingness among employers to circumvent child protec-
tion laws so as to secure their workforce comes under scrutiny. Theatrical
recruitment of children was on the rise at a time when child-protective
legislation was progressively shifting the status of the child from worker
to that of scholar. Theatre work provided an increasingly rare opportunity
for children to earn from a very young age. Chapter 2 explores the worth
of theatrical children to their parents and guardians who identified them
 Introduction 11

as a family resource. This recognition was not simply derived from the
child’s ability to contribute to the family budget but also stemmed from
the kudos surrounding the performing child, which attached itself to the
family’s status and its standing in the community. The cross-class nature
of the workforce and the destination of the child’s wage coupled with the
child’s popularity with the audience is used to measure the child’s contri-
bution to its family. This chapter also considers the cost to the child as he
or she attempted to satisfy the financially- and socially-driven ambitions
of its family. Conclusions are drawn from parental attitudes to theatrical
child labor and investigation into the work hours, backstage working con-
ditions, and the impact of these on the health, safety, and moral welfare of
theatrical child laborers.
The theatrical children spent the majority of their working life as a
backstage laborer but for a short period in the working day, their iden-
tity shifted. It was the presence of an audience, which transformed the
child’s identity from backstage worker to that of stage-child. Chapter 3
appraises the complex relationship between the stage-child and its audi-
ence. This is achieved through close study of the appeal of children to
British Victorian audiences and the emotional responses children evoked
in those who paid to watch them perform. Equal consideration is given
to the benefits children gleaned from their audience. Popularity, appre-
ciative applause, and adulation empowered children and gave perform-
ers a sense of pride, self-worth, and status. This was countered by the
notion of the child as public property and the unwanted attention that
this could bring. Audiences identified with the theatrical characters the
children portrayed, yet knew little of the children who represented them,
or the realities of life for those children outside the parameters of the
stage. Although performers sold an elusive product, through individual
interpretation an audience purchased a tangible commodity that stayed
with them long after they left the theatre. It was in the industry’s inter-
est to keep the child’s public persona alive in the minds of its audience,
and so children were promoted and publicized in a way that created an
aura of celebrity around them. This was a double-edged sword. Audience
appetite for the stage-child not only perpetuated the continued employ-
ment of theatrical child labor but unwittingly generated its exploitation.
Rising demand furthered the industry’s ability to exploit the profitable
popularity of children, which intensified the working schedule for child
laborers. In a climate fixated with child welfare this did not go unnoticed.
Although a minority contingent, some voiced concern over the effects of
theatrical work on children.
12 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

Chapter 4 pinpoints the prominent figures who identified the theatrical

child as a cause to champion. This chapter challenges the historiographi-
cal consensus that conflates evangelical philanthropist, Ellen Barlee’s
work with theatrical children and the anti-theatrical child campaign of
the National Vigilance Association (NVA), headed by Millicent Fawcett.
Although Barlee and Fawcett shared concern for late nineteenth-century
theatrical children, closer examination reveals a disparity in the origins
of concern, wholly differing aims of how best to help child performers,
and widely divergent strategies to achieve their respective goals. Both
approaches are considered in detail and the ways in which these influ-
enced the theatrical child’s experiences of childhood are also addressed.
The NVA’s campaign sparked public discussion and debate in both the
Houses of Commons and Lords, and this forms the basis of chapter 5.
Throughout the years of NVA theatrical agitation, the London Society
for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children (LSPCC) conducted a separate,
concurrent campaign on child welfare and 1888 witnessed the tabling of
a bill to protect children from cruel treatment.24 The limited success of
the NVA campaign prompted members to attach their revised demands
to the Bill for the Better Prevention of Cruelty to Children. They sought
to attach a clause to this proposed legislation to regulate the employment
of theatrical child labor. This final chapter discusses the criticisms leveled
at the industry’s use of child labor and the strategies theatrical employers
adopted to defend their employment of children and fight regulation of
their child workforce.
Each of the previous chapters identifies a wide range of people who had
vested interests in the theatrical child. Chapter 5 shows how individual
interest translated into a collective network of support for the continued
employment of theatrical children. Employers found allies on the shop
floor from all those directly employed by the industry, including theatrical
children themselves and their families. Wide-ranging support also came
from within the many satellite industries spawned by the rise and expan-
sion of commercially provided performance-based mass leisure. The indus-
try boasted alliances in both the Houses of Lords and Commons, and
consideration is given to the forging of these relationships. Additionally,
the industry’s manipulation of the influential contemporary press comes
under scrutiny, as does the extent to which the theatre was held in high
esteem by an enthusiastic, unquestioning, and supportive audience.
Clearly, the industry was in a powerful position to oppose any regulation
of its child workforce that might affect profits. The industry’s strategies
are discussed here through examination of debates around the passage of
 Introduction 13

the Bill, which included a clause for theatrical children and resulted in the
1889 Prevention of Cruelty to Children Act. As mentioned above, pre-
vious studies have concluded that this Act and its amendment in 1894
effectively protected theatrical children and greatly reduced their numbers.
This chapter challenges that view on both counts.

CONCLUSION

The book concludes that the construction of dual personas and multiple
identities led to adult demands on and expectations of theatrical children,
which prevented them from experiencing the “blueprint of childhood”
designed and aspired to by legislation, philanthropy, and commercial
enterprise. The contribution of theatrical children to the success of late
Victorian theatrical industry equaled that of earlier factory children dur-
ing the industrial revolution. The industry exploited the public persona
of the stage-child to promote, publicize, and exploit the new understand-
ing of childhood. In order for this to be achieved, the private persona of
the theatrical child was compromised and its labor was exploited. What
to other children was play became, most definitely, the work of the late
Victorian theatrical child. This said, many child performers were not with-
out agency and derived fulfillment from their work. As Anna Davin has
argued in her scholarly study of poor children in Victorian Britain, “the
working child was never simply a victim.”25
1. Raw Material, Labor, and the
Finished Product: The Theatrical
Child as Employee

T
he emergence of the late nineteenth-century entertainment
industry was accompanied by the associated pressures of compet-
itive and speculative production. Producers straddled the worlds
of trade and leisure and were simultaneously answerable to their backers
and to the paying public. Although there was much potential for profit,
fortunes might just as easily be lost. Success was allied to securing the
majority audience. Industry bosses needed to be astute and intuitive in
determining, as Peter Bailey put it, “when to drop the ballet and promote
gymnasts, to know how to compile a programme of the widest appeal.”1
Throughout our period, supply of and demand for child entertainers show
them to be one of the largest box-office draws of the time. When it came
to theatre productions it was claimed that children comprised “some of
their most attractive features” and should they be prevented from per-
forming, it would “interfere with hundreds of operas and plays.”2 The
last 25 years of the nineteenth century saw the widespread employment
and promotion of theatrical children. This fervent application of child
labor points to its marked contribution to the commercial success of the
entertainment industry.

NUMBERS

Despite late nineteenth-century claims that “the employment of children

in pantomime is of modern date” there is a long history of children upon
the stage.3 The performing child has been traced throughout centuries
of theatrical history.4 However, the key difference between their previous
appeal and their use during the last quarter of the nineteenth century was
16 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

their increasing numbers and prominence on stage. Nina Auerbach con-

cludes that, as late as the 1850s “stage children were prized because they
were rare.”5 From the early 1880s an unprecedented market for stage chil-
dren continued to rise at a swift rate throughout the decade and beyond.
The presence of stage children was prolific enough to instigate a call for
action to end this form of child labor. “Stop the demand and the supply
will soon cease. Stop the managers’ supply and their demand for chil-
dren will die a natural death.”6 However, many detractors recognized this
as a futile call. “I dislike children on the stage . . . I do not see their pur-
pose . . . Though I must confess that the audience is not of my opinion.” 7 It
was this exact same majority opinion that ensured their continued mani-
festation in large numbers.
The prolific presence of theatrical child labor is evident from an abun-
dance of advertisements, reviews, editorials, programs, and playbills,
which allude to their performances. However, even with a richness of
primary sources, any calculation of precise numbers remains problem-
atic. The nature of the late Victorian entertainment industry hinders
any attempt at a precise evaluation. This type of child labor was neither
centralized nor uniform. At any one time an eclectic mix of performance
genres was presented in a vast number of venues across the nation. The
localized recruitment of children, children on tour, and those in travel-
ing theatres and circuses make the numbers of children involved in these
sectors particularly elusive. Estimation is further blighted by the attempts
of employers to evade protective child legislation through the deliberate
concealment of employee numbers. Simple ploys, such as the changing of
a child’s stage-name, can prove problematic for the researcher attempting
any headcount. For example, actress Florrie Robina recalls thinking that
she had been replaced by another child when she saw her role billed as
“The legend ‘Little Esmeralda,’ the girl with the woman’s voice.” She was
relieved to be told that her employer had simply altered her identity and
that the part was still hers.8
Contemporary investigators experienced their own difficulties when
attempting to calculate the size of the nation’s theatrical child labor
force. Millicent Fawcett claimed that numbers reached 1,000 in London
in 1887, while in the same year, Cardinal Manning referred to 3,000.9
A calculation of one performance genre alone came from contemporary
commentator Laura Ormiston Chant who claimed that in 1887 “there
were known to be 10,000 children employed in connection with pan-
tomimes throughout the country.”10 This estimate does not take into
consideration the vast range of alternative performance genres that Ellen
 Raw Material, Labor, and the Finished Product 17

Barlee had previously acknowledged. “Since Music halls, circuses and

caravan booths have been licensed for dancing and gymnastic exhibi-
tions the numbers of girls who have adopted this means of livelihood has
raised from 4,000 to 12,000 or more.”11 By 1891, the mass employment
of child entertainers had been established for more than two decades, yet
numbers remained speculative. “No individual or body of individuals has
any precise information about the hundreds of children engaged as ballet
dancers, acrobats and models.”12 Indefinable numbers were not due to any
paucity of child recruits. Given the public discourse around this group of
child workers, Gertrude Tuckwell’s reference to “hundreds of children”
suggests a wholly inadequate understanding of how many children were
involved. Child entertainers, though, were sufficient in number to war-
rant extensive public reaction and parliamentary debate. Given that com-
mercially minded, profit-driven bosses employed a multitude of children,
it is realistic to conclude that child labor brought a lucrative return within
this hugely competitive industry. A number of different but related factors
influenced the expansion of child employment in the theatre during the
late nineteenth century.

DEMAND FOR STAGE CHILDREN: EXPANSION

OF THE LABOR MARKET

At first, stage-child numbers increased within the generic expansion of the

labor-intensive commercialization of mass entertainment. The changing
nature of production that favored the spectacular further swelled recruit-
ment to this emerging industry. Arthur Wilson encapsulates the new fash-
ion for production that boasted “pageantry and splendour, magnificent
scenery, gorgeous tableaux and above all imposing processions that often
filled the Drury Lane theatre with armies of marching men, women, and
children clad in dazzling finery.”13 Troupes of children made a central
contribution to the huge casts which became fundamental to spectacular
production.14 While children did not necessarily occupy main roles, the
division of labor indicates that they often made up a substantial percentage
of the general cast. “The force may approximately be divided as follows:
Band 30 persons; ballet and extras 150; carpenters 70; property and gas-
men 60; dressers 50; children and supers 260.”15 Considering the claim
that “managers find children so much cheaper than full grown extras” it
seems safe to assume that child supers were an economic practicality in
crowd scenes.16
18 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

The employment of large numbers of children was not exclusive to dra-

matic establishments. Ellen Barlee’s investigation into the lives of perform-
ing children emphasized the reliance of the industry on a wide-ranging
and flexible child labor force. “Different classes of entertainment are mul-
titudinous and can last days, weeks or years.”17 Press reports support her
claim and show a variety of ways that child labor contributed to entertain-
ment. For instance, recruitment by circus companies increased as produc-
ers recognized the popularity of the spectacular genre in theatres and the
profitability of children within this. Typical examples include 100 children
employed to appear in twice daily performances of a grand battle scene
that was staged in the circus ring. Another 50 children were hired to per-
form four times each day in a fairy equestrian spectacular.18 The sizeable,
national recruitment of child labor is confirmed by contemporary theatri-
cal columns that advertised and reviewed the industry’s vast output.
The Manchester production of Blue Beard at the Queen’s Theatre
mirrored a production at London’s Drury Lane, and included an army
composed entirely of children, which was led by a brass band made up of
juveniles.19 Pantomimes were the most popular and profitable productions
of the year, and children were a huge part of their appeal. Journalists were
clearly struck by the volume of children in any one production. Reviews
invariably made specific reference to the presence of children and the num-
bers involved. Two Manchester productions boasted that “altogether about
40 young folks will be introduced to the cast of The Forty Thieves and The
Harwood Troupe of children we understand are likely to appear in the
pantomime at the Comedy Theatre.”20
The demand for child entertainers in Pantomimes was far more than a
localized novelty, it became a nationwide phenomenon. Productions, like
those in Manchester were replicated in all the major cities:

“The Forty Thieves” is to be seen at the Surrey Theatre London; also at

Glasgow (Royal); Sunderland (Avenue); Brighton (Royal); and Greenwich
(Prince’s). “Sinbad the Sailor” in addition to the Prince’s Manchester; at
Newcastle (Royal); Stratford near London; Cheltenham (Royal); and the Opera
House Stockport. “Blue Beard” at the Queen’s Manchester; also to be seen at
Birmingham (Prince’s); Bradford (Royal); Sheffield (Royal); Rochdale; and
Opera House, Swansea. “Aladdin”, now playing at the Comedy Manchester;
also being performed at Leeds (Grand); Southampton (Royal); Derby (Grand);
Woolwich (Royal); and at the new theatre, Oxford.21

This growth became apparent from the early 1880s. In 1885 it was claimed
that “pantomime this season is produced at 109 theatres in 77 towns, a
 Raw Material, Labor, and the Finished Product 19

slight increase in last year’s figures, to which no fewer than 20 circuses and
11 music halls enter the field with grand Christmas Spectacles.”22
Publicity highlighted the significance of theatrical children noting both
their contribution and their numbers:

At the Royal Court, Chepstow Street it is intended to produce a Fairy

Spectacular legend under the title of “Cinderella and the Little Glass slip-
per.” As at the other places of amusement the entertainment of the young
folks will be specially studied, and with this end in view upwards of 100
Manchester children will be engaged in the performance. There will be two
performances daily.23

The labor-intensive expansion of the industry did swell the numbers of

children employed on stage, but this alone was not solely accountable for
their proliferation. A second, significant important factor also generated
demand.

DEMAND FOR STAGE CHILDREN:

CULTURAL CHANGE

As Michael Booth has observed, the entertainment industry increasingly

reflected the daily concerns of its audiences. “Public taste interfused with
art and was re-created in art forms for public consumption.”24 Within late
Victorian society notions of childhood had evolved to become an impor-
tant cultural focus. Of this Vivianna Zelizer has argued 25

Acting was condemned as illegitimate labor by those who defined it as a pro-

fane capitalization of the new “sacred” child. Yet, ironically, at a time when
most other children lost their jobs, the economic value of child actors rose
precisely because they symbolized on stage the new economically worthless,
but emotionally priceless child.26

Theatrical employers were swift to recognize this and through their exploi-
tation of the stage-child’s emotional worth they were able to profit from its
economic potential as child labor.
It was from the 1880s that the focus of the theatre audience began to
shift toward childhood. Millicent Fawcett described this phenomenon as a
“fashion, amongst audiences, for watching children upon the stage.”27 Of
this expanding demand the theatrical missionary Ellen Barlee observed
that “whenever a demand exists, political economy dictates that a supply
will follow.”28 Unsurprisingly, the commercialized entertainment industry
20 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

responded accordingly. As the century entered its final two decades, chil-
dren appeared on stage in greater numbers for longer periods and with
added frequency.29 The last quarter of the nineteenth century became a
pinnacle for both the entertainment industry and the notion of childhood.
Theatrical producers were well placed to benefit from an expansion of
child-centered and child-themed productions.30
Creative writers were also progressively subjected to market demands.
According to John Styan “producers of performance-based leisure extended
their grip to play-writing.”31 The new business demands of the industry
dictated that playwrights joined the long line of those dependent upon the
industry for their livelihoods. As one theatrical writer confirms, the nature
of the industry dictated that authors wrote with revenue in mind “not
pleasant work as it used to be but I fear profitable.”32 The Victorian period
was “a time when a variety of new forms of dramatic activity were tried
and tested, and large new audiences were in the making . . . the second half
of the nineteenth century was an era of prolific playwriting with around
20,000 new plays emerging between 1850 and 1899.”33
Contemporary comment supports that a good deal of this output
focused on childhood and included children as cast members. “It is often
said that this is the ‘Age of Children.’ If literature really reflects the feelings
of the age there would seem to be much truth in the saying.”34 Theatrical
entrepreneurs contrived in all manner of ways to convert society’s obses-
sion with children into monetary reward. Lobbyists against this use of
child labor were clear about employers’ motives. “There is no question
whatever that theatrical Managers wish to make the largest profit they can
and they do so by employing children.”35
Expanding the productivity and profitability of children involved more,
though, than simply engaging additional numbers. The industry’s new
product was childhood, and as with any industry its latest line required
clever promotion and marketing. Once producers fixed their sights and
capital on promoting child-themed fare, young performers became increas-
ingly featured in all areas of entertainment and were especially important
at particular times. “Christmas, Easter and other holidays were theatre’s
golden harvest times” and according to Barlee this was when there was “a
large demand for children and young girls.”36 In terms of profit, the panto-
mime was the most important in the industry’s financial calendar. These
productions meant much more to producers than the immediate profit it
brought. One early claim echoed repeated press reports throughout the last
two decades of the century. “The reign of the pantomime is now firmly
established . . . Upon its production vast sums are spent; upon its success
 Raw Material, Labor, and the Finished Product 21

depends the theatrical balance sheet for the year. It means financial failure
or financial fortune.”37 At the top of the scale a pantomime at London’s
Drury Lane could cost “in excess of £30,000 to stage.”38 It is useful to note
that pantomime was one of the largest employers of children in greatest
numbers. Their continued and featured presence in the industry’s most
fundamental production signifies the important contribution that child
labor made to the industry as a whole. The seasonal nature of this work
does suggest that employment was confined to a few weeks during the
Christmas period. According to Millicent Fawcett this was misleading and
in 1887 she supported her claim with an example that she suggested was
the norm at that time. “The Drury Lane pantomime this year ran for four
months; from the 26th of December to the 23rd of April. To this must be
added, so far as the performers are concerned, at least another six weeks for
rehearsals, and if the two are put together, it will be found that there is very
little change left out of half-a-year.”39 This process challenged industry
claims of its child employees being engaged at play.
Although pantomimes became considerably more spectacular over the
period, there was also an element of caution evident within these offer-
ings. With so much dependent on this seasonal investment, producers
were obliged to reach the widest spectatorship. As such the family audi-
ence, which cut across age, class, and gender, was the primary consumer
market it coveted. Children were fundamental to the industry’s success in
attracting and retaining its targeted audience. High demand for and sup-
ply of children was accompanied by an increase in the promotion of child
performers through advertisements, featured articles, and press reviews.
“The Covent Garden pantomime was certainly the best for the occasion,
because it is essentially a children’s pantomime, crowded with children’s
scenes, and enacted by very clever children.”40 There was no shortage of
fervent publicity for this type of production. “A capital pantomime was
acted at the Adelphi entirely by masters and misses in their teens; and only
last year we were all astonished with the sly fun and boundless vivacity of
some Italian children, who played ‘La Fille de Madame Angot’”41
Pantomime advertisements regularly encouraged mothers to “take their
young families to the theatre.”42 Evidence shows that these enticements
were readily accepted. For instance, audience uptake at the Theatre Royal
in Glasgow was representative of all the major cities in Britain. “In the
first four weeks of its run 72,356 persons have already paid to witness
the truly successful pantomime Aladdin.”43 The decision of employers
to market children so solidly, both as performers and as audiences, dur-
ing the most important periods of the theatrical year is testament to
22 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

the significant position they held within the industry’s success. Reviews
substantiate this. “There is nothing that children like better than to see
children act. The Lilliputian scenes in the pantomime are always the most
popular; and a manager has only to introduce a baby columbine, a youth-
ful clown, and a boy pantaloon, to get the whole house in laughter.”44
Late nineteenth-century audiences wanted to be presented with images
of childhood that reinforced their own perceptions and satisfied their spe-
cific needs. As Russell Jackson observes, audiences demanded productions
that made spectators “forget—for as much as possible of their time in the
theatre—that they knew a world more ‘real’ than that placed before them
on the stage.”45 Bearing this in mind the entertainment industry needed
to profile its children to fit with the late Victorian model of childhood.
For example, in reality some child employees were, as one manager termed
it, “street urchins.”46 Such children might be employed to represent poor
street waifs, but the salability factor required stage children to be visu-
ally pleasing. In effect, employers could take an authentic street waif have
them washed and dressed in theatrically designed street waif costume and
makeup.47 Thus, an appealing stage-child could evoke the notion of the
unacceptable face of childhood without confronting an audience with
stark realities. Of course, the authentic street child would be rehearsed
before being allowed on stage to represent a theatrical street waif. The
comments of one observer suggest that through this shrewd presentation
of children the industry achieved its desired effect:

We have come across real infants now and then in the course of visits to mar-
ried friends . . . but the stage child is very different. It is clean and tidy. You can
touch it anywhere and nothing comes off . . . even its boot-laces are done up.
The stage child is affectionate to its parents and its nurse and is respectful in its
demeanor toward those whom Providence has placed in authority over it; and
so far it is certainly much to be preferred to the real article . . . The stage child
is much superior to the live infant in every way . . . Everybody loves the stage
child. They catch it up in their bosoms every other minute and weep over it.
They take it in turns to do this.48

ALL-CHILD PRODUCTIONS

The full extent of the theatrical child’s role in the industry’s success
becomes apparent in the theatre’s comprehensive investment in and
exploitation of the child’s allure. Throughout the 1880s and 1890s a
new theatrical genre grew up around performing children. The industry
 Raw Material, Labor, and the Finished Product 23

adopted fresh strategies that took the marketing of children to a higher

level. Astute managers fashioned new style productions consisting of all-
child casts.49 This form of commercial development indicates that the
industry employed children primarily as profit generators. In challenging
efforts by campaigners who sought to remove children from the theatrical
labor market employers placed emphasis on their artistic contribution:

Be it noted that not only pantomime and spectacle, but serious and even legiti-
mate drama is threatened. Prince Arthur and the Duke of York may be acted
by children in their teens, but a ten year old Maximillius would seem rather
overgrown; and fairy plays would be out of the question . . . Children, in short,
play so large a part in life that to banish them from the stage would be like
forbidding a master painter the use of some indispensable pigment.50

Arguably, the exclusion of children in certain productions would infringe

on artistic content. However, this argument falls short with regard to all-
child versions of adult productions where artistic necessity was not a viable
justification for their extensive use. Apart from the profit they could gen-
erate, there appears to be no other incentive for the commercial provision
of all-child casts. It was their commercial potential that made children
indispensable to the industry.
During the1880s a wide assembly of all-child casts in numerous produc-
tions became progressively apparent. Publicity reveals that representations
of this genre were commonplace. The Court Theatre, for example, prom-
ised “an afternoon show daily for young folks, when ‘Goody Two Shoes’
is performed by a company of children.”51 This drama was a modest pro-
duction when compared to the large all-child companies that were formed
to tour the country. One of the most widely publicized of these ventures
was an operatic company with advertisements and reviews appearing in
the local press wherever the company performed. A stint in Manchester
elicited a typical, positive response:

Mr D’Oyly Carte’s Children’s “Pinafore” Company, who occupy the Prince’s

this week, have been here before, and most people know the character and mer-
its of the entertainment . . . In regard to grace of movement, precision of action,
and correct elocution, some of the older members of the profession might learn
something from these juveniles.52

When evaluating the impact of theatrical child labor against the success
of the industry, it is important to bear in mind that all-child productions
were serious capitalist ventures.53
24 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

Clearly, entertainment entrepreneurs believed theatrical child employ-

ees to be a worthwhile and reliable asset. This is apparent from the extent to
which producers were willing to invest the extra capital, time, and energy
needed to address the specific requirements of all-child casts. This was not
simply a case of replacing adult performers with children. For instance,
Clement Scott testified that such productions required much preparation
in tailoring to the skills and weaknesses specific to young performers:

As may readily be imagined, it was no child’s play to transpose the key of

every song to fit each individual child’s voice; the choruses necessitated entire
rearrangement, especially of the string parts, and in the unaccompanied
numbers orchestral accompaniment had to be substituted for the support of
male voices.54

All child productions were labor-intensive, professional affairs with much

attention given to perfecting a performance. One journalist observed that
this was the case with preparations for a production of The Pirates of
Penzance. “Their ages, I should mention, varied between ten and thirteen.
With but few eliminations or fresh recruitments, the company of Mr.
Carte’s original choice, fifty-four in number, underwent daily rehearsal
for a little over two months.”55 Astute investment in all child productions
evidently paid dividends for the industry. Producers saw fit to expand the
marketing of their new merchandise through extensive touring. These
companies regularly packed the theatres and typically played to “large
enthusiastic aristocratic audiences, who filled the house.”56 Child produc-
tions were exceptionally beneficial to the industry. The novelty of all-child
casts sustained regular return visits to all the major towns and cities.57
These did not necessarily replace the adult versions but often played
alongside them. For instance, one all-child production of HMS Pinafore
played in the afternoons while the evening performance was given over
to the adult version. The juvenile performances outran the adult produc-
tion by one month.58 Similarly, although in 1885 Gilbert and Sullivan
retained four successful adult touring companies, they also recruited a
fifth company that consisted solely of children.59 Contemporary com-
ment confirms that far from encroaching upon existing profitable ven-
tures, all-child productions created additional revenue for the industry.
Audiences were likely to make a visit to the children’s adaptation after
seeing the adult version.60 The public appeared willingly to accept this
additional cost. “It is worth all the money on the part of lovers of music
to hear this boy sing Sullivan’s music.”61
 Raw Material, Labor, and the Finished Product 25

It is also clear that some all-child casts could extend the profitability
factor of popular adult productions. This was the case with the children’s
Pinafore. “As the adult version is now getting a little stale, this diamond
edition will give it a longer lease of life.”62 This proved to be a lucrative
move. The children’s Pinafore was able to draw audience across the nation
to an already extensively delivered production that had played 508 times
at the Opera Comique alone, without calculating performances in other
theatres in London and the provinces.63 This is a testament to the huge
capacity of children to generate profit for their employers and entertain-
ment for their audiences.
Child entertainers held universal appeal, but their entertainments were
particularly popular among younger viewers. Contemporary comment on
audience reaction often referred to the enthusiasm for children watching
their peers on stage. “All were enjoying it and the applause, in the treble
of young palms was hearty and pleasant to hear.”64 This, along with the
advent of matinee performances, provided the industry with further oppor-
tunities to expand upon the lucrative all-child genre.65 Scott remarked on
the enthusiasm of child audiences for juvenile productions:

If anyone asked me how best I could delight a private box full of children of
all ages and sizes, I should decidedly say by expending a little judicious capital
at the Opera Comique, where some exceedingly clever youngsters act “H.M.S.
Pinafore” in admirable style and without a tinge of juvenile precocity.66

Seats at a children’s matinee could bring in revenue of between two and five
shillings each per performance. Child performances encouraged a new spec-
tatorship, namely, the all-child audience that not only captured supplemen-
tary revenue but also inspired a future generation of theatregoers.67 Despite
the glamour associated with the production of entertainment, as significant
in relation to the Victorian audience as it is today, it was a manufacturing
process much like most other commercial industries. As children advanced
to become key components in the oiling of the wheels of the industry,
employers could not afford to ignore the growing revenue that child per-
formers were contributing to company profits. Recognition of their future
potential resulted in a need to reevaluate the children as raw material.

RECRUITMENT

In the early stages of child recruitment, selection of the rank and file was
achieved by a stratagem adopted by most industries requiring a casual
26 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

labor force. “At the time appointed the neighborhood of the stage door
is besieged by a great multitude from which the stage manager has the
troublesome task of making his selection.”68 There was though a crucial
element specific to the hiring of casual child labor as entertainers that was
not applicable to other industries. Indeed, the aesthetic appeal of child
supers was prized over artistic prowess. Testimony reveals that a healthy
yet unattractive child could work in most modes of child employment but
not upon the stage. “She can go and make shirts, or cut out trousers, or
run a sewing machine, but she cannot figure in a pair of pink tights.”69
Managers selected their child employees before establishing if they had any
performing talent, “they tumble up to it [the stage door] by their dozens
and as they come in [he] selects 3 or 4 score of them who are blessed with
pretty faces.”70 The selection process was swift. “Some few are eligible at a
glance—smart—well formed-tidy looking girls; some few are equally cer-
tain not to be cast-draggled disreputable and impossible.”71 Both the speed
and criteria of selection implies that the primary role of these children was
decorative rather than artistic.72 One dancer at the Drury Lane Theatre
tells that appearance affected the rates of pay offered and their position in
the line up on stage:

Front Row generally known as front line or front eight are paid from 40/- +
half for matinees = £3 per week. [The second row] The pretty girls here [Fanny
was one of them] get the same as the first row. This is by favour. The girls of
medium looks get £1 + 10/- for matinees . . . Harris [the theatre’s owner/man-
ager] is the judge of prettiness.73

Appearance remained a significant factor of recruitment, throughout the

period, but as the role of children became more central to the business of
entertainment then additional considerations increasingly came into play.
The theatrical child comprised the industry’s raw material, its labor,
and its finished product; childhood rapidly became one of the industry’s
most lucrative merchandises. However, as one theatrical entrepreneur
noted, there was “no difficulty in obtaining any quantity of necessary raw
material.”74 Over time new composite productions demanded a more sophis-
ticated workforce. Increasingly, recruitment of attractive but unskilled
labor proved inadequate. “It is never pleasant to employ cheap material.
The difficulty of making these ‘supers’ understand what they have to do
is extreme.”75 Quality raw material was fast becoming the key to keep-
ing production costs to a minimum and profits at a premium. Experience
could address some of the problems confronting producers. Some rank and
file children were annual applicants for Christmas productions, and these
 Raw Material, Labor, and the Finished Product 27

seasoned recruits introduced siblings and friends to the work.76 This famil-
iarity naturally created a readily accessible pool of casual but experienced
labor. This evolutionary acquisition saved time and money on rehearsals
and produced a superior end product. However, as both the popularity
and value of child performers steadily increased and children became more
central to production, the established ad hoc system of recruitment became
unviable. It became necessary for employers to invest in transforming their
child workers into a skilled labor force.

TRAINING

During the 1880s there was a clear shift in recruitment toward a prefer-
ence for accomplished performers. “Having selected our children they are
turned over to the care of the ballet master or mistress . . . [she] transforms
the miscellaneous company of raw recruits into a systematic and well-
disciplined corps.”77 The press echoed this thinking and regularly voiced
its approval over the positive effect that training had on the standard of
performance. “The ability and perfection of training exhibited by this class
of stage youngster was well exemplified.”78 Training, thus, became a fac-
tor in the promotion of children. “The introduction of trained children
proved such an attractive item in the pantomime of ‘Mother Goose’ last
Christmas at the Theatre Royal, Captain Bainbridge has resolved to pur-
sue a similar course with his forthcoming annual.”79 Similarly, the Famous
Midget Minstrels were billed as “phenomenally talented” children who had
been “trained to perfection.”80
The fact that employers were willing to create a skilled workforce from
casual child labor demonstrates the Victorian child’s worth to the industry.
According to employers, a skilled and experienced labor force was also a
potential resource with possible long-term benefits for continued success
of both the theatre and the individual performers. “A child in the panto-
mime getting the advantage of early training may someday become great
in the profession.”81 Millicent Fawcett challenged such claims. She argued
that “those of them who can obtain engagements in theatre after they are
grown up are counted by tens.”82
The many and varied ways that children were presented to the pub-
lic made the process of training theatrical children a complex procedure.
Those children used in stage processions or as decoration for the stage were
usually required only for single productions; although, if the production
was a pantomime, the employment term would cover several months.83
The attention given to children in lesser roles is testament that every level
28 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

of theatrical child labor was seen worthy of speculation by theatrical entre-

preneurs. The industry’s investment in its raw material was paralleled by
increased exertive labor on the child. Training became a key and serious
consideration when linked to recruitment:

Dressed up in their ballet skirts they would spend a whole morning under Katti
Lanner’s instruction, and perhaps even then only one particular movement had
been perfected. Talk about discipline!84

The industry claimed that child performers were not set to work but
were simply at play when on stage. However, this flies in the face of their
boasting about the professionalizing of their child recruits and what this
entailed. “Before they make their public appearance there is a long and
tiresome training to go through.”85 Evidence suggests that this was poten-
tially taxing for the children concerned. “Day after day the drilling goes
on for several hours.”86 Frederick Dolman described a strategy adopted by
employers in the rehearsal of infant employees “several of whom were too
young to read and had to be taught the words of their singing by word of
mouth.”87 For employers, this was a worthwhile investment because the
youngest children often equated with the largest profits.88 The promo-
tion of one, three-year-old child is a case in point. Barlee recalled that she
was “billed as the tiniest dancer in London, she attracted the crowds and
always played to a full house.”89
The rehearsing of incidental children in routines requested by the
stage manager also entailed expenditure on the services of professional
choreographers and singing coaches although not, as shown below, on
child’s wages.90
There were degrees of training which equated with the child’s signifi-
cance to a production. Although much time was given over to the rehears-
ing of the rank and file, according to one ballet mistress these children
were “not trained, in the strictest sense of the word at all.”91 To appreciate
the industry’s investment in child performers it is important to note the
contemporary understanding of training. Trained children were defined
as those who were receiving some form of professional regular instruction
in the performing arts outside of the theatre. A key consequence of the
industry’s expanding demand for quality raw material was that a whole
subsidiary business sector grew up around the training of children in all
aspects of the performing arts.92 The industry’s demand for skilled child
labor encouraged enrolment to schools. The need for a skilled labor force
saw children stepping up their game in the face of competition. There was
 Raw Material, Labor, and the Finished Product 29

a rush to gain the necessary skills that would bring in the work. As Barlee
noted, a child’s enrolment “secured them their heart’s desire, viz an entry
of their names on the agents’ books for training.”93 Increasingly, training
superseded other marketable attributes with access to training a recognized
essential. This was good news for those in the business of training because
by the late 1880s this was the main route to engagement. Children and
their parents understood the realities of the theatrical labor market that
was willing to employ and pay more for trained and experienced children.
This guaranteed a constant influx of children into training establishments,
from which proprietors could sustain a living.

Figure 1.1 Etches at a Training School for Dancing, The London Illustrated
News, January 3, 1884.
30 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

The extent of demand for child entertainers is indicated in its ability to

generate and maintain subsidiary businesses in this way. The willingness
to supply trained children bears witness to the important position occu-
pied by young performers within the industry.
During the last quarter of the century the industry adopted a lucra-
tive business strategy through the popularizing of the previous elite art of
ballet:

There is no brighter gem in the crown of the music hall than the ballet, which
is rescued from the neglect of the opera house and sedulously nurtured . . . great
opera, ballets and dancing bade fair to become a lost art till the expanding
variety theatre offered it an asylum.94

Reviews show that children played a significant role in the commercial

popularization of ballet. Their widespread inclusion within its choreogra-
phy became a vast generator of business not only for theatres but also for
those who supplied various theatrical outlets with trained labor. Dance
training became a particularly buoyant branch of the industry’s subsidiary
trades. “In one training school close to a popular theatre, a visitor saw from
80 to 100 girls, who ranged in lines of proficiency, not age, were being
taught their steps.”95 The need for and success of such businesses further
confirms that theatrical children were important to these new initiatives.
Moreover, the practices adopted by academies plainly show that theatrical
children were an exceptionally valuable commodity.96 As businesspersons,
first and foremost, academy proprietors were fiercely protective of their
assets and investments. Fawcett highlighted an industry-spread practice:

Proprietors of theatrical dancing academies induce parents to bind their baby

children of four or five years old to a seven or nine years apprenticeship . . . they
are entirely under control of the man or woman to whom they are appren-
ticed, and they are ready to be hired out for public performances in any part of
London or the country.97

A parental signature contracted a child to the elected academy and in the

words of one contemporary commentator, “they are bound to appear in
any theatre the manager of the school may see fit to send them to, with-
out any special payment being made besides the usual remuneration.”98
The obligatory nature of these documents led Fawcett to conclude that
parents, in effect, signed their parental rights over to the academy.99
Dance historian Ivor Guest suggests that this procedure was advanta-
geous to Katti Lanner. “The indenture of apprenticeship which bound
 Raw Material, Labor, and the Finished Product 31

them to her, if it erred on either side in generosity, certainly did not select
the apprentice for its aberration.”100 Documents were legally binding, as
some parents found to their cost when summoned to court for breach of
contract.101 The need and willingness to take such rigorous safeguarding
measures do point to the theatrical child as a key generator of profit for
their individual enterprises.
In order to protect their investments, theatrical employers and propri-
etors of training establishments took steps to evade child protection laws
concerning education and employment. This was not difficult, as existing
laws did not fully take into account the unique conditions of theatrical
child labor. Theatrical methods of production differed from those of gen-
eral industry. Therefore, those who drafted the protective legislation earlier
in the century could not have predicted the specific needs of theatrical
children and the modes of operation. Fawcett cited the 1870 Education
Act to illustrate this point:

This act forbids the employment of children under ten, and places educational
conditions on their employment between ten and fourteen; but with an excep-
tion which allows, or at all events is construed by its administrators to allow
scores of children under ten, some as young as four or five, to be employed day
after day and night after night in theatres and pantomimes.102

As shown below Fawcett and her supporters identified the ways in which
inadequate laws and deliberate collusion left child performers in a vulner-
able position.

EDUCATION

Expectations of child recruits were such that they could not help but
interfere with the general education of those apprenticed into the indus-
try. The toll was confirmed by one ballet master. “Three or four hours
dancing practice and tuition a day in addition to the stage work for five
or six years and that will make a good average dancer but perfection and
promotion takes many years.”103 Time demands made by the industry on
its young workforce were matched by the time demands made on them
by the 1880 Education Act. The introduction of compulsory schooling
simultaneously created a dilemma for employers and a leverage tool for
campaigners who were against theatrical child labor. Activists claimed
that child performers were often unavailable for school and when in
attendance they were too tired to apply themselves to their lessons.104
32 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

Children were too profitable for the industry to allow protective legis-
lation to reduce earning potential. General evasive action included the
affiliation of some training schools to private fee-paying schools to take
jurisdiction away from school boards and avoid prosecution over non-
attendance. During busy periods some theatre managers set aside space
backstage to be used as a schoolroom and engaged a teacher for their
young employees. Campaigners condemned such measures as sham tac-
tics undertaken by the industry to gain a tighter control over its child
workforce.105 Regardless of motivation, the fact remains that the employ-
ers thought it necessary and worthwhile to develop strategies to address
the issue of compulsory schooling. This in turn is evidence of the value
placed on child entertainers by their employers.
The gendered nature of theatrical child labor did though make evasion
of educational legislation simpler. Whenever possible, girls were employed
over boys with girls often hired to play boys on stage.106 There were two
main reasons for this. First, female children were seen as being more mal-
leable than boys. It was thought that they were easier to discipline and bet-
ter behaved. As one observer put it, girls were “more amenable to rules and
regulations.”107 Boys showed more agency. “No discipline seems to keep a
pantomime boy in order.”108 Secondly, education was widely viewed as less
important for girls. Fewer questions were asked about the absence of girls
when the industry required them to play truant. It was generally assumed
and accepted that female offspring would be needed at home to help with
domestic duties.109 This gave the industry much leeway for rehearsals,
matinees, late night, and touring performances.
A measure of how precious the labor of children was to employers can
be seen more clearly by their readiness to contest any new laws designed
to bring theatrical children under the protective umbrella of legisla-
tion.110 One report reflects the general thinking with regard to proposed
legislations to bring theatre children into child-protective law. “Moreover
it will doubtless be found when the act comes into force there will be
many ways of evading it. For it is a proud boast of many English law-
yers that they can drive a coach and four through any act of Parliament
ever passed.”111 Evasive and deliberate actions on the part of employers
to secure an expansive, readily available workforce serves to emphasize
the substantial contribution of a child workforce to the success of the
entertainment industry.
Such strategies ensured employers a constant, easily accessible supply
of child labor. The contracting of pupils meant that academy proprietors
became their sole theatrical agents. Their role was aptly summed up by
 Raw Material, Labor, and the Finished Product 33

Barlee, “Agents make life easier for managers, but to agents, children sim-
ply represent so much marketable ability to be turned into profit for their
employers’ account.”112 From the 1880s the economic climate was seen
as increasingly favorable for trainer/agents. The increasing preference for
trained children meant a switch from direct recruitment at the stage door
to the use of professional suppliers of theatrical child labor. In return for a
percentage of their earnings, trained children received their engagements
and pay via the agent they were contracted to.113

TRAINERS AND AGENTS

The dual role of trainer and agent was beneficial to the financial success of
this particular branch of theatrical business. Better paid and more frequent
work went to skilled children. As a result, trainers secured a continual
supply of free raw material. The key inputs to capitalist industry are raw
material and labor; in the case of child entertainers these were one and the
same thing. This meant that there was only one cost and any value added
was in training. The race for performance skills and stardom intensified
enthusiastic enrolment at training establishments. Moreover, through the
payment of fees, children and their parents actually subsidized the pre-
mium rates training brought for those tutors who were also agents.114 The
industry’s call for skilled children ensured trainers a demand for their
product while managers provided them with nationwide retail outlets for
their finished creation.
Those children contracted to the National Training School of Dancing;
the most famous of the establishments, gave the theatrical entrepreneur
and choreographer, Katti Lanner, access to her own pool of skilled labor
from which she produced numerous children’s ballets.115 At just one of the
many theatres she supplied she produced no less than “thirty six ballets,
some being revised in ‘second editions,’ and the first thirty-four of them,
produced between 1887 and 1905, being consecutive works.”116 Lanner’s
copious productivity extended to national and international venues and, as
a matter of course, included child pupils from her dancing academy. This
practice continued throughout her long career.117
Although Lanner’s was one of the larger and most publicized sub-
sidiary theatrical concerns, plenty of others sustained a living from the
employment of theatrical children. The careers of many academy propri-
etors and tutors can be traced through articles, reviews, and advertise-
ments in the columns of the trade journals throughout the last 25 years
34 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

Figure 1.2 Days with Celebrities Madame Katti Lanner, Moonshine, December
29, 1888, 307.

of the nineteenth century. Miss Emily Mclaughlin’s school of elocution

is a case in point. She began her trade in 1884 and was based in the
drawing room of her father’s home. Ten years later Miss McLaughlin’s
business had successfully expanded to her proprietorship of a thriving
Theatrical School.118
 Raw Material, Labor, and the Finished Product 35

Theatrical training and the supply of children was not an exclusively

female business domain. Male instructors were equally able to obtain a liv-
ing from training young theatricals. An investigation by Charles Mitchell
into the lives of theatrical children revealed one “male professional whose
whole life had been connected to the stage and whose chief occupation
consisted in the drilling and training of children.”119 Two of the most cele-
brated figures within the training field were also male. Mr. Nolan and Mr.
Fitzgerald became, as one commentator put it, “about the largest ‘purveyors
of children’ in London.”120 Popular, academies did not hold the monopoly
on the training of children. There were also many independent tutors who
made their living from teaching theatrical skills. Independents might teach
in their own homes or, if required, the homes of their pupils.121
Profiting from the supply of skilled children was not restricted to pro-
fessional teachers nor was it limited to a specific class. Demand for child
performers encouraged individual enterprise in child trade.122 Venue man-
agers cast the net wide for children to meet the specific needs of their
audience. The polarization of suppliers is clearly illustrated through the
demand for children to represent animals in processions, fairy spectacu-
lars, and pantomimes. Training was required for these roles. Children had
to be taught how to perform while clad in restrictive animal skins. Katti
Lanner took training of this sort, but she did not hold the monopoly.123
A theatrical missionary described the situation of a woman of a similar
age but of different class who taught the same skills and supplied theatres
with children:

The imp woman was of middle age and had three miserable little children
dependent upon her, as her husband had absconded. These with several others
which she borrowed as business required, provided her with a good living, as
she supplied several of the “low” theatres with imp children used in panto-
mimes and plays to represent huge frogs, cats and other animals, also as angels,
goblins and demons. Employers from the theatres used to come to fit skins
and to instruct the children in their duties . . . These were of the most ludicrous
kind, and her boy of six did the monkey so well that for two Christmas seasons
he earned £1 a week . . . Upon entering the room he [the missionary] saw that
the sobs proceeded from a blue fiend, which was wagging its forked tail and
shaking its bat wings upon the table to command, the woman standing over
the creature with a cane.124

According to Barlee, this business is but one of many such examples.125

The so-called “imp woman” made her living from supplying children to
theatres at the lower end of the market. This is something that indicates
36 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

the breadth of opportunity for independent suppliers who were able to

benefit from the vast demand for young, skilled entertainers.
At the higher end of the job market children featured as part of the main
cast.126 The industry’s successful acquisition of the family audience was
accompanied by a growing acceptance of acting as a legitimate profession.
From this came an increase in recruitment of middle-class children. One
trade journal typically commented on this new influx of children. “It is
surprising the number of well, not to say highly bred and educated children
one meets with nowadays on the pantomime stage little ladies and gentle-
men, who speak, act, and behave in quite a superior manner.”127 Leading
children were recruited to the profession in a number of ways. Some were
the offspring of established theatrical families. Owing to the increasing
demand for young performers, parents were well positioned to boost the
family business by promoting their own children at an early age.
The demand for children was particularly beneficial to theatrical fami-
lies. The mother of Phyllis Bedells, for instance, had originally become
an actress to help her husband to finance the education of their son and
daughter. However, the increasing profitability of child performers per-
suaded an enterprising Mrs. Bedells to give up her own career and to pro-
mote that of her daughter. Bedells’ mother had publicity leaflets printed to
promote her daughter’s career. These were sent to various theatre manag-
ers with a request for an audition. Testimony from Phyllis highlights the
possibilities of social mobility from setting a daughter on the stage:

We were able to say goodbye to the boarding-house . . . and take a three-roomed

flat over a shop . . . which we furnished on the hire purchase system. By the time
I was fourteen I had a home of my own, Out of my salary we managed to save
a little for a rainy day as well as pay for my dancing classes and instalments on
the furniture.128

Experienced members of theatrical families were able to coach their young

relatives and secure work for them through their own business and social
contacts.129 Apprenticeships for these children were served within the fam-
ily firm. Children became skilled without the need for costly or bind-
ing contracts and agents’ fees. Their mentors were also in a position to
engineer the most lucrative engagements. Actor Conway Thornton, for
example, penned his own sketches to include his daughter, Ella, who regu-
larly played alongside her father assuring the family of a double income for
each performance.130 It was also a common and profitable feature to have
siblings play sisters and brothers in dramatic productions or to tailor an act
 Raw Material, Labor, and the Finished Product 37

to include several siblings. Considering the relatively generous wage rates

of theatrical children, the employment of several children from one family
could bring in a sizeable sum.131
It was possible for the children of nontheatrical, middle- and upper
middle–class families, who showed some aptitude for entertaining, to
enter the profession at a high level. These children had an advantage over
ambitious jobbing performers from the lower classes who aimed to move
up through the ranks. Children from better-off backgrounds did not nec-
essarily have any formal training, but they were able to exploit social con-
nections to individuals who were influential in the theatrical world. One
trade journal provides a typical example of a successful principal child
actress whose sole training had comprised “some dozen lessons in elocu-
tion when ten years old.”132 However, regardless of family connections,
only talented children among the well connected could be considered for
employment at this level. Profits came before nepotism.
Employers ensured that leading child performers made a marked entry
into the business through deliberate publicity campaigns and unashamed
promotion. The theatrical press carried articles about them, interviews
with them, and photographs of them. Additionally, all their performances
were heavily advertised and reviewed.133 Mass publicity guaranteed to keep
children in the public eye and to generate interest among their audience.
The industry’s promotion of its precious commodity provided impressive
curricula vitae and an air of celebrity for featured children. Marcus Tindal
observed that “the most child-like of children will to her visitors show,
with no little pride, her book of press-cuttings.”134 The careers of four sib-
lings, which began in a juvenile spectacular in 1889, were so eventful that
four years later one journal claimed it had no space to give its readers a full
account of their performances.135
Clearly principal child performers were a profitable commodity, “If
they manage to take the public taste managers’ fall over each other to
employ them.”136 Children were regularly marketed as infant prodigies.137
Theatrical producers fully exploited the crowd-pleasing potential of lead-
ing children by investing in the creation of roles that would exhibit their
particular talents:

As many who saw “One Summer’s Day” at the Comedy Theatre must have
suspected, the part of the Urchin was specially designed for Master Bottomley
by Mr. Esmond. It may be supposed too, that Sutton Vane had him in his mind
when he introduced the queer little gamin Goliah into his play “The Crystal
Globe” at the Prince’s last winter.138
38 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

Principal children’s agents were often family members. Those with family
connections were frequently offered roles rather than having to seek them
out. This was particularly true of the most popular children. The high and
varied demand for theatrical children meant that trading in their supply
was far reaching. Large professional establishments to individual suppli-
ers shared one common feature: the recognition of child performers as a
cost-effective and profitable commodity.

WAGES

The capital employers were willing to invest in theatrical children verifies

their value and contribution to the business. For instance, a regular prior-
ity on the agenda of the Association of London Music Hall Managers was
to determine ways to reduce performers’ salaries and boost shareholder
dividends.139 Compared to the rates of adult performers, children’s pay was
by no means the largest drain on the wages bill.140 However, as children
were often employed as a troupe their collective pay comprised a sizable
financial outlay. Given that curtailing wage costs was a priority for the
industry, it is noteworthy that theatrical employers were willing to pay
child performers above the general rate paid for child labor.
As Tracy Davis has demonstrated, principal performers excepted, “the
only time theatrical wages were likely to exceed industrial rates was in
childhood.”141 Earnings of child performers could vary and several factors
determined the rate that they could expect to receive.142 The location, size,
and type of venue had to be considered as did the size and importance of
the role. Touring rates also differed from those paid when the child worked
locally and resided at home.143 The performer’s individual popularity also
influenced levels of pay. Taken as a whole, however, wage rates for theatri-
cal children were comparatively generous when measured against alterna-
tive waged opportunities for children.
Davis has clearly shown that girls in nontheatrical work rarely earned
more than one shilling a week.144 In 1897, a survey on waged child labor by
Edith Hogg provided a framework, within which, to compare the general
earning capacity of theatrical children. In one of many examples, Hogg
reveals that a girl of seven years would receive a few pennies per week in
return for many hours of daily cleaning.145 By comparison, some 15 years
before the publication of Hogg’s report, untrained theatrical children were
earning a starting wage of three shillings and sixpence a week rising to
between six and eight shillings a week.146 One year before the publication
 Raw Material, Labor, and the Finished Product 39

of Hogg’s report the pay rates of child dancers had risen to between one
and two shillings for each performance with older experienced girls receiv-
ing a pay of between four and eight pounds each month.147
Rates for theatrical boys were also attractive compared to alternative
employment. Hogg suggests a barber’s boy would have to work for more
than 30 hours a week for two shillings and sixpence.148 Even the lowest
provincial rate for boy dancers appears generous when set against Hogg’s
examples. Like their sisters, untrained boy dancers earned between three
shillings and sixpence for a night’s performance in the provinces, and dou-
ble this pay in London.149 Boys in nondancing roles were also well paid.
A 13-year-old boy commanded 12 shillings every week for his first part.
He appeared in a scuffle scene that required him on stage for few minutes
two or three times each night.150 Large principal theatres, on average, paid
between one and three pounds a week for prime roles, although this rate
could be reduced to between 10 and 20 shillings in minor theatres. The
father of a boy actor confirmed wages in one all-child touring company to
be 15 shillings a week in the chorus with principals receiving between two,
four, and five pounds, exclusive of board, lodgings, and travel expenses.151
Theatrical employers were not only prepared to pay over the going rate
for child labor, but they were also willing to increase these rates for expe-
rienced children.152 As one ballet master put it, young dancers received,
“nine to fifteen shillings a week . . . from being auxiliaries and get in the
regular army at fifteen shillings to thirty shillings but still in the ranks.”153
Nevertheless, the fact that employers offered such inducements to chil-
dren implies that they were prized by the industry for their universal and
money-making appeal. Estimates of the actual wages earned by individual
children have, though, to be qualified. Wages were paid only for perfor-
mance, and the long hours of rehearsal received no remuneration. One
young ballet girl voiced concern over this “we have to practice for four to
six weeks, for which in London we get not a single penny piece.”154 If a
child was contracted to an agent, it was the latter who secured the rate for
the job and the children received only a fraction of this. “Front row ballet
girls sometimes get £5 a week but the work is uncertain and does not last.
(In this Mdm. Katti Lanner has been drawing £5 and only giving the girl
£2.10). The girl found out after some time and then negotiated for herself.
Now draws the whole of the £5.”155 In a breach of contract case, the court
testimony of Katti Lanner’s secretary showed not only the commission
to be made from hiring dancers to theatres, but the high rates theatrical
employers were willing to pay and the high rates of increase which saw
this young girl’s earning potential double during the course of two years.
40 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

“In 1896 Miss Parry was getting 9s, and the plaintiff [Katti Lanner] 12s.
In 1897 the former was receiving 9s to 12s and the plaintiff 18s a week. In
1898 Miss Parry received 12s to 18s a week and the plaintiff received from
18s to 30s a week.”156 Evidently, at 33 percent Lanner’s potential earnings
from commission on child labor was substantial. Especially, when we con-
sider that at any one time she could have troupes of children appearing all
over the country and abroad. Well before demand for child performers had
reached its height, Lanner had for some time been a purveyor of troupes
that comprised of 30 or 40 dancing children. When Lanner took over
the “National Training School of Dancing” in 1876 it had been seeking
investment, however under Lanner’s management it had by 1879 become
self-supporting.157 Generous wage rates allied to binding contracts were
conducive to securing a compliant and reliable child workforce, but it is
not suggested here that all child entertainers were the hapless victims that
detractors proclaimed this group of child workers to be.
A clear indication of the child’s key role in the industry’s economy can
be found in the bargaining power held by those performers with whom
an audience was particularly taken. Georgina Middleton was one case in
point. “This little girl has of late deserted the theatre proper for music hall
sketches in which she stars in her own company.”158 Claims from one ballet
master reveal the degree of agency enjoyed by some young entertainers who
“manage to hit the public taste, managers’ fall over each other to engage
them and they can ask almost what they like.”159 Barlee was also mindful
of this. “Incredulous sums were earned if billed as prodigy or celebrated
dancer.”160 Barlee also demonstrates that some children were self-aware of
their agency. The example of one eight year old reflects the extent of this:

I’ve been to see two managers but as they only offered me £1 a week I declined.
I’m not going to dance for them at that rate, I can tell you. There’s nothing in
the business I can’t do so I am off to Mr. – – for he will give me 30 shillings,
I know, like a shot.161

This level of confidence is also indicative of the contribution that children

made to the industry’s success. The potential bargaining power of children
can be seen from the actions of a group of boys employed on stage to rep-
resent waves in a sea scene. They had only to bob up and down under a
canvas, but this contribution formed an integral part of an ambitious ship
wreck scene. The children recognized their worth to their employer and
threatened to strike if not given a wage increase:

In spite of the thunder and lightning the cloth forming the sea refused to
respond to the stage-manager’s repeated adjurations until the boys engaged
 Raw Material, Labor, and the Finished Product 41

underneath to produce the angry waves were promised additional pay, when
at once as shilling instead of sixpenny waves, the storm acquired its desired
dramatic effect.162

Evidence offered above allows us to discount any notion that a shortage

of theatrical child labor forced employers to agree to generous wage rates.
There existed, during the last quarter of the century, a large pool of the-
atrical child labor whose numbers invariably exceeded demand.163 “If you
remove 5,000 children from stage association today, and a theatrical agent
put out his notices tomorrow then you would have five thousand more.”164
This was a buoyant industry with an oversubscribed workforce during a
period of general economic depression. The wage rates offered by theatri-
cal employers clearly show that child labor comprised a fundamental ele-
ment in the financial success of the entertainment industry.
The last quarter of the nineteenth century was for the entertainment
industry, a period of commercial excellence. The preoccupation of the late
Victorian society with children encouraged the industry’s marketing of
childhood as its new product. The labor of child entertainers permitted
prevailing notions of childhood to be transformed into something tangible
that employers could present as entertainment and sell to an enthusias-
tic audience. The initial rise in child numbers formed part of a general
increase in labor which followed on from commercial expansion. However,
employers recognized that their child workers held a contributory potential
of their own; the child’s ability to appeal to a universal audience was a
valuable asset to its employers. It is difficult to identify a similar attraction
within the industry with an appeal that cut across the class, culture, age,
and gender of a mass audience.
The industry’s approach to the marketing of childhood provides evi-
dence that the labor of theatrical children played an important part in its
success. That the industry found it necessary to increase their recruitment
of children, and over time invested in the transformation of recruits into a
skilled labor force indicates that children were a worthwhile venture. The
fact that their training sustained a vast subsidiary industry underscores
their profit value. The extent to which they became an essential element in
the success of the industry can be seen from their impressive rise in status
among employers and audiences alike. From simply making up the num-
bers in the industry’s labor force, children became a focal selling point.
Their success and contribution is evident given that through the extensive
application of their labors the industry established a new genre of child-
centered and child-themed productions. The profitability of children to
the industry is clear from the comparatively high wage rates they were able
42 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

to secure. A second and perhaps more important indication of the child’s

worth was the extent to which the industry was prepared to safeguard its
labor supply. Children were such a profitable asset that in order to ensure
they had a flexible and readily available child workforce, employers were,
as shown below, prepared to go to great lengths to appease, evade, or fight
opposition to their continued use.
Child labor was a crucial element in the success of the late-nineteenth
century theatrical industry. However, the employment of theatrical child
labor was at its height at a time when childhood was widely accepted as less
a time for earning than a period of learning. The following chapter explores
the ways in which, as key promoters of theatrical childhood, the industry
encroached upon the real childhood experiences of its child workers.
2. Laboring Fairies: The
Theatrical Child as a Family
Resource and a Resourceful
Child

T
he conceptualization of childhood in the second half of the nine-
teenth century coincided with government and philanthropic
research into the welfare needs of children. Within this period,
a spate of legislations on education was implemented during the third
quarter of the century. New laws around schooling were key in helping to
define the Victorian perception of children and their place in society.1 The
domain of the child was increasingly seen as within the peer environment
of school as opposed to the adult realm of the workplace. Reallocation
into this new child milieu was accompanied by a shift in status for the
child within the family. As children, increasingly, came under the protec-
tive umbrella of legislation their earning opportunities became progres-
sively restricted.2 Ultimately, James Walvin has argued that compulsory
education “effectively ended the nation’s commitment to widespread child
labor.”3 This may well have been the case in older established industries,
but it was not so with regard to children employed as entertainers. The
commercial provision of performance-based leisure for the masses was in
its relative infancy during the formative period of protective child law. The
specific modes of operation and the future needs of child labor within the
entertainment industry had not been envisaged. As a consequence, gaps in
legislation created loopholes that theatrical bosses were able to exploit to
recruit child labor.
In Michael Lavallette’s excellent study that draws on census data of
child workers, he observed that “after 1881 children between the ages of 5
and 9 are not recorded because their numbers are so small . . . Young chil-
dren had almost ceased working by the 1880s.”4 There is, however, much
44 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

evidence to indicate that during the 1880s and well beyond 1900 the enter-
tainment industry engaged in sustained, recruitment across the nation of
child workers. The majority of those so employed not only came within
the age band quoted above but also included children younger than five
years.5 The children under indenture to Katti Lanner were aged “from five
years old upwards.”6 In 1879, The National Training School of Dancing is
reported to have had 147 pupils on its books. Their ages ranged between 3
and 12 years.7 Essentially, at the precise time when child laws were believed
to be addressing the issue of child labor, the recruitment of child perform-
ers not only gained momentum but also became more rigorous and exten-
sive as the decade progressed.8 It is understandable that the vast majority of
child labor studies have previously overlooked this growing force of young
employees. The historic invisibility of children, who worked in the theatre
as “other” than labor, was something that employers had encouraged from
the outset. The reasons why theatrical child labor was so under-recorded
are many and complex, although in contrast to previous claims, numerical
insignificance was unlikely to have been one of them.
The aim of this chapter is to reveal a hidden workforce of child enter-
tainers who were employed between 1875 and 1914. Examination of the
labor conditions of young theatricals and the underlying rationale that
informed their vast recruitment gives voice to those children whose sto-
ries are waiting to be told. Children had a presence in all performance
genres and performed in many venues throughout Britain at just that time
when, on a national scale, access to child employment in other trades was
increasingly circumscribed. The entertainment industry was not explicitly
incorporated into the legislation concerned with child welfare and employ-
ers became adept at circumventing those laws that might have limited its
free use of child labor. The entertainment industry employed some of
the youngest children to have been set to work since the operation of the
domestic system. Children as young as three- or four years of age who were
superfluous to any other industrial workforce were prized employees in the
world of entertainment. It was not unusual for children to become sea-
soned performers before they reached eight years of age. One example was
of a girl who began her career at the age of four when she appeared in a pro-
duction of “ ‘Gulliver’s Travels’ in Lilliputian Land. At that age, her wages
were four shillings a week, and now as an 8 years old, she could earn nearly
double by taking ‘short parts’ in various plays.”9 Good wage rates were
indicative of the profitability of the youngest performers. Paying audiences
were particularly taken by their dainty appearance and the engaging ways
in which they were presented on stage. One backstage account describes
 Laboring Fairies 45

“the babies have come down under the care of the dressers . . . Suddenly
there is a call for them; the audience applauds boisterously.”10
One of the youngest child performers, cited by Barlee “commenced her
stage career at the age of eighteen months . . . Her friends had heard that a
baby was wanted at the theatre and had responded by offering this little
one’s services. Her first earnings were 3 shillings a week and the engage-
ment lasted three months.”11 A substitute of any kind for a child workforce
was not a viable option for theatrical bosses. Childhood was the indus-
try’s new commodity and only children could convincingly sell this to the
public.12 The commercial potential of children deemed them indispens-
able to the industry. As such, rather than discontinuing this profitable line,
there was a willingness among those with a vested interest in theatrical
children, to collude in the evasion of any laws that might regulate the
employment of stage children.

STAGE CHILDREN AND THE

FAMILY ECONOMY

When compulsory schooling was introduced it not only curtailed the

time duration when children were available for work but also restricted
the types of work they were able to undertake. With fewer opportuni-
ties to contribute financially, children were becoming economic depen-
dents within the family unit. The entertainment industry offered families
a financial lifeline.13 This rare work opportunity, coupled with relatively
generous wage rates, attracted a large pool of child labor to the stage doors.
Many children who sought employment in crowd scenes, processions,
and spectaculars were inhabitants of poorer communities characterized
by under- and unemployment.14 As one journalist observed of would-be
recruits “fortunate they deem themselves if they are ranked among the
numbers of the elect of fairyland.”15 At a basic level, the work could bring
immediate personal advantage to the children themselves. As Tracy Davis
put it, “statistics show that children’s wages were of real benefit to them
and that the rate of pay was exceptionally attractive, especially for girls.”16
This translates in contemporary comment to “what the little things earn
at the theatre helps to put warmth and food into their little bodies.”17
Benefits though could far outreach the child’s personal needs and often
extended to family survival. This was particularly applicable for families
where the adult breadwinner was engaged in seasonal or casual work.18 At
such times a child performer’s wage could often become the main source
46 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

of income.19 Barlee offers examples of the great resilience shown by many

child performers from orphaned families who provided for younger broth-
ers and sisters in order to keep the family together.20 In such instances,
the availability and importance of a stage child’s income cannot be over
emphasized. The same can be said of the weight of responsibility placed
upon the young shoulders of children whose earnings, for instance, “paid
the rent.”21 Perhaps one of the most illustrative ironies comes from the
recollections of one child from an impoverished background:

I made my first appearance in a child’s part in a little sketch called, “Father

Come Home,” at Leeds. I got 6 shillings a week and I remember the first use
I made of my wealth was to buy a shawl for my mother.22

There was a minority of individuals who remained unconvinced of the

need of any child to earn. They directed criticism at those parents who
were accused of substituting the labors of their children for their own. It
was also claimed that parents spent their children’s earnings on alcohol
rather than on family necessities.23 A lobby of supporters countered this
claim. “Some say the extra money goes for extra gin, and that may happen
in some cases; but, at any rate, the child’s earnings usually purchase a share
of food as well as of drink; for the worst blackguard in the world dares
not send a starveling to meet the stage-manager.”24 The findings of one
investigation into theatrical child labor highlighted the importance placed
by parents on the earnings of their offspring and that this was driven by
the needs of their children. At the time it was claimed that “the 3 shillings
and 6d per week earned by the children is the main consideration. ‘Jeanie
wanted clothes.’ ‘Father has been terribly ill and out of work.’ ‘The times
are terribly hard and little coming in,’ such formed the staple excuses.”25
Such claims and counterclaims continued for decades during debates
around the child performer as an employee.
The theatrical child’s role as family benefactor was not necessarily
restricted to the very poor or to times of economic crisis. 26 As contempo-
rary commentator, Gertrude Tuckwell, noted additional earnings could
raise an already adequate standard of living. “A good many of the stage
children are, however, drawn from the artisan class; they are the children
of fairly prosperous people . . . and the children’s wage makes a consider-
able difference to their comfort.”27 As the industry expanded, it targeted
the respectable family audience and its increased output of child-themed
and child-centered productions was a useful tool with which to secure this
profitable patronage. The growing respectability and professionalization
 Laboring Fairies 47

of commercial entertainment was instrumental in raising ambitions

within children from the better-off classes for them to take to the stage.
This shift in attitude opened up the theatrical doors to many children
whose parents would previously have prohibited them from performing
in public.
The desire to ease family hardship, as demonstrated by the less privi-
leged of theatrical children, can also be found among those from the more
advantaged backgrounds. Although circumstances differed between the
classes, relatively speaking the sentiment behind them remained con-
stant. The action of a young girl, who later became a child star, is testa-
ment to this:

When Patti was almost seven years old she well remembers seeing her father in
great distress on the point of parting with a diamond ornament he possessed,
so that his children might not want for bread. Like lightening an idea flashed
through her childish brain. “Papa” she exclaimed, “You just give a concert and
I will sing!” . . . Her success as everybody knows was immediate.28

Although this report claims that the girl’s father laughed at his daughter’s
initial suggestion, it did not prevent him from acting upon it. Even allow-
ing for the gloss that time might have put on this reminiscence; the girl
described did come from an affluent background, and it is significant that
it is her economic contribution that is highlighted as the key motivator
for her entry into the industry. Evidence shows that once acting was pro-
fessionalized the theatre could provide a financial lifeline for those who
came from “good stock” but found themselves experiencing lean times.
Similarly, this new profession offered middle-class girls an escape route
from their destined life in the private sphere:

How many younger sons of well-born but not too well-to-do parents have hailed
the present social position of the actor with delight? How many educated girls,
finding themselves, through force of circumstances, suddenly compelled to
face the world on their own account have turned with a sigh of relief from the
prospect of the stereotyped position of “companion” or “governess” to the vista
that an honourable stage connection with the Stage holds for them . . . These
young aspirants rush to the stage as to the promised land.29

Regardless of whether theatrical children were set to work to pay the rent
or to save the family’s silver, it is clear that parents recognized the theatri-
cal child worker’s potential as a family resource that could have a profound
effect on their collective standard of living.
48 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

Not all children felt compelled to work and many were not required to
turn over their earnings for the greater good of the family. The celebrated
actress Irene Vanbrugh is testament to this. Of her theatrical child years
she recalled:

I got many a thrill by walking the length of Old Brompton Road and sav-
ing a penny which I would squander on a divine concoction of chocolate and
coconut to be bought at a certain shop . . . I half wished at the bottom of my
heart that my labors were a necessity to the upkeep of the home. In such cir-
cumstances I feel I might have denied myself the luxury of that chocolate in
order to feed my starving family instead of having all I earned to keep for my
very own.30

Although Vanbrugh offers a rather romanticized view of poverty, her testi-

mony does demonstrate that the backstage community of child entertain-
ers contributed to a collective awareness of the variety of imperatives that
influenced the destiny of money earned. For some, a sizeable theatrical
wage funded a self-indulgent childhood:

I used to travel to the theatre by bus and I was twelve years old when I fell
in love with the bus conductor . . . I spent my entire theatre earnings on bus
fares from the depot to Baker Street. This went on for at least one month
until I encountered Pierre Dumont, the son of my French Governess . . . and the
money I had hitherto spend on bus fares, I now spent drenching myself with
California Poppy and Phulnana perfume until my father claimed that our flat
smelt of an oriental bazaar.31

The luxuries her earnings afforded her are indicative of the purchasing
capacity of the theatrical child’s wage. The money squandered by some
would have been a significant contribution to the subsistence needs of
less-fortunate families from which the majority of “jobbing performers”
originated. Such diversity in the destination of wages reveals that certain
children desperately needed the work, while others just desperately wanted
it. This raises the questions of why, in the absence of economic necessity,
would a child want to work and what was it about theatrical employment
that might secure parental approval?
The key to answering this question lays in the fact that the entertain-
ment industry straddled, in equal measure, the worlds of work and leisure.
This meant that young entertainers simultaneously inhabited two distinct
personas that were separated only by the stage curtain. Back stage, the
child’s role was one of a worker, but once in front of the footlights the child
 Laboring Fairies 49

adopted the mantle of performer. It was this public aspect of performance

and leisure that set the work apart from all other forms of child employ-
ment. Public perception of theatrical work was grounded in the leisure
perspective. It was this misconception of theatrical work that proved a lure
to many would-be child performers. This is perhaps understandable, given
that many children’s initial introduction to the theatre was as a member
of an audience where “caught up with the magic of the performance they
were no longer content with their passive role and desired to participate;
to become part of the electrifying proceedings.”32 The growing respect-
ability and professionalization of performing sanctioned the entry of upper
middle-class children into the theatrical world of work.

STAGE CHILDREN: CELEBRITY

The 1880s saw the advent of celebrity within the industry. Glamour
became associated with all things theatrical, and this helped to entice
children to seek out fame on the boards. The desire for fame was intense
among children and should not be underestimated. The period witnessed
the development of a “mania” to be on the stage.33 This yearning to tread
the boards cut across the classes. The effect was all the greater for those
young performers who hailed from less-fortunate backgrounds. The stage
offered an escape from the physical and emotional harshness of life. Of
this, one theatre journalist mused:

Must it not be a temporary Heaven on earth to the children whose homes we

have alluded to above to be associated with the joyousness, the brightness, and
the beauty of display of the scenes with which they appear? . . . Who will say
that harm can come of this association with all that is so likely to impress upon
the young minds of the back-slums the fact that there is a brighter and a hap-
pier sphere outside the wretchedness of their daily lives?34

Some of those who noted children’s craving for audience adulation regarded
it as a self-centered and negative pursuit. “One noticeable feature in these
children’s character is their insatiable thirst for admiration, their organs of
approbativeness becoming largely developed. This doubtless arises from
the public notice which is tendered to them.”35 Clearly, many children did
revel in the limelight of the stage and its potential for celebrity status. One
young actress recalled that her fans “wanted to carry me shoulder high
around the hall and I had to have a special police escort to escort me to my
lodgings.”36 No other form of employment could offer its child workers an
50 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

equivalent accolade and recollections leave no doubt as to how desperately

children prized audience adoration. “When you mount unconsciously the
glittering stairway you never give a thought that it may fade away and leave
you without a foothold. Leave you more desolate because the departed
glamour was not only attributed to you.”37 Unsurprisingly, this reliance
on an audience for personal affirmation encouraged young performers to
seek out the limelight. “At the close of the pantomime season I was of
course relegated to the obscurity of private life, but all my thoughts were
centered on the glories of the stage, and whenever there was a benefit or
charity concert or anything of that sort going in the neighborhood where
we lived I used to volunteer my services.”38 Profit from the labors of the-
atrical children may have been at the forefront of the minds of employers
and parents alike, but recognition of emotional worth through apprecia-
tive applause was paramount among the collegiate of theatrical children. It
was this that largely formed the basis of their conformity to the painstak-
ing demands of backstage work. Mass appreciation also translated into a
sense of job satisfaction that was largely unparalleled in alternative forms
of child employment.
Becoming a paid entertainer afforded children a certain status within
the family circle and the wider community. “When once in receipt of
wages, these little ones are henceforth transformed from street waifs into
young ladies.”39 One report highlights how family members could bask in
the success of their stage-child’s persona:

Of course it must not be understood that we intend to convey that all the
children employed in pantomimes are of this lowest strata of human life, but
a very good many of them are, and it not only improves them, but it also has a
sort of reflected effect upon their parents, who take a certain amount of pride
in them, on account of them being engaged in the work of the theatre, which
would otherwise be entirely absent.40

This was a prevailing and much publicized sentiment:

Pantomime children are a proud and happy lot. For not only do they glory
in the inexpressible pleasure of wearing fine clothes and being “somebody”
but at home they are the heroes of the hour. Sally and Billy are not of much
account, except at mealtimes in the poor little home; but fresh from imper-
sonating the gallant soldier or the popular sailor, or the Kate Greenaway
schoolgirl, they are people of consequence in the family circle, and also, pub-
lic characters whose claim to respect and admiration is readily allowed by
envious neighbours.41
 Laboring Fairies 51

Actor-manager Henry Irving also acknowledged that child performers

were envied by children of their class “who were not so fortunate as to get
an engagement on the stage.”42
Child entertainers were quick to take advantage of the supposed envi-
able station that stage work afforded them and the self-esteem that this
fostered.

Figure 2.1 Pantomime Child (to admiring friend). “Yus, and There’s ANOTHER
HADVANTAGE IN BEIN’ A HACTRESS. YOU GET YER FORTYGRAPHS
TOOK FOR NOFFINK!” Punch, Wednesday, November 27, 1901, 379.
52 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

This is plainly demonstrated by Marion Keates’ when recalling her first

public appearance “Yes and wasn’t I proud? Rather! I held my head quite
three inches higher; did up my back hair and insisted on being addressed
as Miss Keates.”43 Child actress Florrie Robina echoed these sentiments.
“Although quite a child, I was very proud of my reputation and jealous of
my fame.”44
The public identities of young performers not only elevated their status
and that of their families, but for those children who caught the pub-
lic’s imagination there was also the prospect of an adult career and social
mobility. This was a prized vision that was well-publicized. “As everyone
familiar with theatrical biography well knows, many a distinguished stage
career has begun almost in infancy.”45 It is crucial though to put such
claims into perspective. When compared to the vast number of children
employed on stage only an insignificant percentage ever reached the height
of their chosen profession.
Opportunities for a successful adult theatrical career were more read-
ily open to children at the higher end of the market.46 One Ballet mis-
tress admitted that there were some exceptions to this rule “I frequently
get quite a number of poor children, regular little street urchins some of
them . . . Sometimes I discover a promising dancer, and then I endeavour to
obtain parental consent to properly train her.”47
The possibility alone of enduring success was enough of a lure to ensure
employers a well subscribed and compliant child labor force. Ellen Barlee
noted additional aspirations associated with this type of employment:

The girls frankly admit they consider that, in raising their social position,
the chances afforded to them of making a good marriage; otherwise in
their own homes, nothing but service is open to them. Every now and then,
the marriage of some nobleman or man of wealth with a favorite actress
fuels this utopian idea, although not one in ten thousand ever attains such
promotion.48

Fame and wealth may well have eluded the majority of jobbing perform-
ers, but the industry could provide them with a living behind the scenes.
Evidence suggests that many children hired during the labor-intensive
1880s did remain in the business.49 An introduction to the industry, at
a young age, was not without its advantages. Young performers gained
knowledge and experience that opened up “various opportunities of
becoming working men and women in the many departments of the
theatre.”50
 Laboring Fairies 53

STAGE CHILDREN: PARENTAL ASPIRATION

By the mid-1880s the respectable family audience had been seduced by the
entertainment industry. A switch in status for performance-based enter-
tainment ensued and respect for dramatic art was enhanced. According to
one contemporary, the vocation was by this time “acknowledged to be a
high and important one, and the society of the intelligent and cultivated
actor eagerly sought after.”51 By the end of the nineteenth century, a shift
in attitude was plainly apparent:

For the first time in the history of histrionics in this country, acting is regarded,
not merely here and there, but more or less generally, as a profession to be
adopted as one adopts Medicine, Law, or the Church, the Army, the Navy, or
the Civil Service.52

A consequence of professionalization was that it widened horizons for

middle-class children whose performances had previously been restricted
to amateur productions. The popularity of the theatre greatly influenced
the lives and tastes of the public outside of its venues. The zeal for watch-
ing child performers in the private sphere equated with the fervor shown to
child entertainers in the public arena. Typical opinion reflected this trend:

At-homes, receptions, bazaars and similar entertainments, are dull enough in

the ordinary way, but of late it has been the custom to enliven them with the
acting and musical sketches, in the performance of which our stage babies are
making themselves favorites.53

Amateur productions made it permissible for middle-class children to

practice and hone their skills in performing and audience manipulation.
Moreover, such performances functioned as a possible springboard to a
theatrical career for youngsters. The celebrated careers of sisters, Lulu and
Valli Valli began in this way:

They first sang and danced at afternoon “at homes” under the auspices of
their aunt, Mrs. Mary Watson, the musical composer and teacher, by whom
their extraordinary talents were discovered and developed. [The younger of
the two] was so small [aged four] that she used to sing and dance on top of a
grand piano.54

By the late Victorian period, many young girls from the middle classes
embraced the option of entering the public sphere of paid work in an area
that had, previously, been closed to their mothers’ generation.55 Progressive
54 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

thinking within fashionable society also sanctioned mothers’ aspirations for

their children. The promise of fame was beguiling across the class divide.
For example, Marie Harris aged 13 and her 10-year-old sister Dorrie owed
much of their success to their mother:

With the exception of some lessons in dancing from a well-known stage “coach”,
they have received all their training from their mother, an accomplished lady
who has, herself, acted a good deal as an amateur, more particularly in India,
where the stage as a recreation is so much favored in military society.56

The rise of the middle-class “stage mother” is evident at this time.

Performing offspring had the potential to fill a void in their mothers’
lives. This could take several forms. For instance, those women who were
restricted by the angel in the house ideal and denied their own aspira-
tions for a professional acting career, could “live out” their own theatri-
cal fancies by assisting their children to achieve theirs.57 The experience
of Irene Vanbrugh illustrates how these forward-thinking women could
also empower their daughters. “My mother was heart and soul in favor of
grasping the opportunity which to her had fewer terrors and from her own
desires she longed to give Violet the chance of a career which as a girl she
would have so easily have sought for herself.”58 Violet entered the profes-
sion in 1884 and when, four years later, her sister wished to join her she
recalled, “Violet with both hands outstretched, made the opening wide
enough to get through herself and when my time came the door was still
ajar and others had also followed in her wake.”59
Growing acceptance of the stage enabled enthusiastic mothers to tailor
their daughters’ education “with a view to a theatrical career.”60 Within
the middle-class domestic setting, artistic accomplishments had long since
been recognized as prized female attributes61 Crucially though, in terms
of liberation into the public sphere of paid work, this progressive step
was potentially life changing. Unsurprisingly, daughters and their moth-
ers grasped this new prospect of autonomy and acted upon it. Testimony
reveals a proactive approach. “With great joy, I began to have singing,
piano and fencing lessons, dancing lessons with Madame Carmani, and
acting lessons with the great Rosina Filippi . . . They were happy days for
me.”62 Mothers were also instrumental in navigating the path that a daugh-
ter’s career would take. Phyllis Bedells thought herself to be more fortunate
than some of her contemporaries in terms of motherly direction:

Mother used to come with me to the theatre . . . she looked like a fright-
ened mouse as she sat in the dressing-room for she was desperately anxious
 Laboring Fairies 55

not to become the typical “theatre-mother” but she was different from the
majority of the dancers’ mothers.63

Regardless of what fueled parental aspirations, if these were not shared by

their performing offspring, the consequences could weigh heavily on small
shoulders. In terms of social and economic currency, a child entertainer
was potentially vulnerable in the hands of less-scrupulous parents and
guardians. Popular fiction of the time highlights contemporary concern
about the dubious practices of some. Dorothy Lowndes provides one of
the most provocative portrayals of a mother parading her reluctant, yet,
resigned daughter around the circuit to perform for free:

One of the men near her was leaning forward but the little girl had drawn back
quietly beside her mother again. “Won’t you speak to me, Bébé?” he said coax-
ingly. “Yes of course. Go and sit on his knee,” Mrs. Vescey assented carelessly
drawing her forward. “Don’t be shy, Bébé ” she added in a tone of slight ridicule.
Bébé allowed herself to be lifted on to the young man’s knee, and submitted to
being kissed and petted with an air of tired indifference . . . “You’re my sweet-
heart aren’t you, golden hair?” he began in a half teasing manner, which he
rather fancied. This was usually the style of his conversation to her. Bébé knew
it well. She did not answer, for she was waiting her opportunity to slip down
and run away. It did not seem likely to come, however; Lord Charles was hold-
ing her closely with his arm, stroking her loose curls with his other hand, and
whispering nonsense to her, making love in a fashion to see how she would take
it. She took it very patiently; it was a part of her life, this toleration of people
because “mother” wished it. Bébé had as keen a sense of the unfitness of things
as most children have, but she swallowed her objections, and only turned her
head away rather wearily when his attentions became too pressing.64

The heady mix of ambition, money, social status, and celebrity placed all
child performers at risk of untoward attention. Such prized trappings were
unique to the entertainment industry, and this lent itself to those oppor-
tunists with predatory tendencies.65 Whether the intentions and goals of
stage mothers were altruistic or otherwise, there was always a fine line to
be negotiated between respectability and exploitation.
Unlike any other form of child labor, stage-children were well posi-
tioned to experience a sense of command and agency. Young entertainers
had the ability to control the emotions of an audience, and this was a pow-
erful draw. As Angela John put it, “the actress is subject to the direct gaze
yet divided from the audience on stage. An actress creates a world of make-
believe whilst the admirer watches. Her very inaccessibility can add to the
fantasy and be conveniently seen as temporary, the presumption being that
56 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

she is available once the performance is over.”66 However, if the audience–

performer relationship was allowed to continue outside the confines of the
auditorium, control could shift and the child become the vulnerable party.
Reports show that there was a downside to the rewarding adulation that
attracted children to the stage. “Marion has plenty of admirers and she
seldom leaves the ‘dark stage door’ for her brougham without encountering
one or more specimens of that particularly objectionable product of our
fin de siècle civilisation—the masher.”67 In a society gripped by the cult of
the child, young performers had their fair share of admirers who were not
content with worshipping their idols from afar. One investigation into the
lives of child performers concluded that:

There are temptations connected with such employment that are peculiarly
hazardous in the case of young girls. I dare say it may be maintained the youth
and tender age of the children place them beyond the dangers of such evil com-
munications. But let it be remembered that although there are a number of very
young children there are a good many girls from twelve to fourteen which is
just the most impressionable age.68

“Jobbing” performers from poorer backgrounds were less likely to be chap-

eroned, but it is important to bear in mind that this was not necessarily by
choice. It was rarely economically viable for mothers of this class of chil-
dren to accompany their offspring to and from a venue. Such children were
aware of their increased vulnerability.69 “Sometimes when worn out with
barely enough money for necessities, I do feel that when gold is offered me,
it is almost too much for my powers of resistance.” 70 Of course, it is not
argued here that all attention was necessarily inappropriate. Nevertheless,
a tendency for young performers to be viewed as public property did make
them vulnerable child employees. Child entertainers were not a centralized
workforce, and consequently there was no universal experience of this type
of work and the benefits and challenges it generated.
Employers’ claims that stage work provided a sanctuary for its child
workers points toward their acceptance that dangers lay outside the stage
door. The degree of refuge offered in relation to this was not as compre-
hensive as employers purported it to be. For instance, with the excep-
tion of matinee days, once rehearsals were over young supers were not
required during the daytime, except on the occasion of matinee perfor-
mances. Children’s voices reveal that employers regularly left them to
their own devices. “We rest from three till four, only they don’t allow
us to stay in the theatre, and we have to keep in the streets if we haven’t
 Laboring Fairies 57

anywhere else to go . . . From six till seven we do as we like” 71 Children

were again left exposed once their theatrical working day came to a close.
Eyewitness statements supported assertions that “hundreds of panto-
mime children go home in the dark and alone and they get into bad
company and the morality of the theatre is not proof against the immo-
rality of the streets.” 72
Many stage children showed a natural craving for attention and their
rigorous theatrical training equipped them to procure this. Capturing
audience devotion and evoking response on stage was a goal shared by
both employer and employee, but a penchant among the young for the
limelight off-stage was a cause for concern. For the young, unwitting per-
former this need for adoration could be misinterpreted.73 Perhaps, no girl
is subject to so many temptations as the ballet girl. Behind the scenes she
is constantly being addressed by men of fortune and talent and “to a girl
comparatively ignorant, the temptations are great, and the bright promises
held out are many.”74 The blurring of lines between the characters repre-
sented on stage, and the performers who portrayed these were potentially
problematic for the inexperienced child. The worth of the child as a fam-
ily resource was matched by its importance as a source of profit for the
industry and its value to the audience as a source of pleasure. Satisfying all
those needs could not help but compromise a young entertainer’s experi-
ence of childhood because despite all the rhetoric, those deriving some
sort of return from the children’s work were unwilling to acknowledge
their vulnerability. This happened in the most public of ways, but those
benefiting from the children’s labor chose to interpret it otherwise, or were
beguiled into seeing only the chimera of illusion. Given the public nature
of performance, child performers would appear to have been a very visible
workforce. However, the largest demands on their time and energy were
made during the time they spent at work behind the curtain, well away
from the public gaze.

BACKSTAGE WORKERS

The world behind the stage was a relatively unknown entity to the audience.
This mystique was carefully crafted by the industry and enhanced notions
of the unattainable celebrity that fostered a subculture of fandom among
the paying public. Clandestineness also allowed a veil to be drawn over
backstage realities. These often formed the antithesis of the glamour and
excitement that paying patrons widely associated with being entertained.
58 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

Similarly, new, young recruits to the business were not necessarily prepared
for their unspectacular working environment. Of this Vanbrugh recalled
“that unplumbed fairyland of ‘behind the scenes,’ so different from what
is imagined, may be disappointing when first encountered.” 75 One indi-
vidual who unexpectedly, accompanied a friend backstage endorsed, “I
could not help wondering as I crossed the dirty stage and saw the squalor
and filth which is hidden up behind the scenes, how delicate and dainty
dresses and brilliant costumes ever retain an hour’s freshness with such
surroundings.” 76
Back stage comprised the theatrical equivalent of the factory floor and
formed the antithesis of the swish and gilded front of the house.
Although the finished product (the performance) was publicly associ-
ated with leisure and pleasure, the following account illustrates the con-
trasting perspective of its backstage manufacture:

Assembled with their hair in papers, looking like ghosts with bad colds, being
kept up so late each night for the frost scene in the pantomime. Sneezing and
low grumbling in all directions each person attending literally to the words of
the call, everybody looking concerned. Groupings commence to a single violin,
and the loud thumping of the ballet masters stick to keep time. Most of the
sylphs and the fairies rehearsing in their street clogs and umbrellas.77

The capacious auditorium contrasted sharply with backstage space, which

was at a premium.
Theatrical employers prioritized the industry’s public image over and
above the health, safety, and welfare of their young workers. As one jour-
nalist put it:

Dressing rooms were not a top priority for theatrical employers often because
of lack of space managers and architects seem to think a deep stage or what
not is better and artistes could be herded together like animals. There is lack
of space in London and poor facilities but accommodation in the provinces is
scandalous.78

In short, back stage emulated factory-sized production, but within a work-

shop-sized environment. Although theatrical employees were engaged in
the manufacture of a single end product, the stages of manufacture were
both vast and diverse. Rehearsal periods, in particular, saw carpenters,
painters, machinery, lighting equipment, orchestra, choreographers, and
performers jostling for space.79 One journalist claimed that the young-
est children were shielded from dangers as “the babies, their little white
 Laboring Fairies 59

slippers clutched tightly to their hearts, and enthroned on the table to be

out of harm’s way.”80 Clara Morris recalls a less-romanticized account:

It was no unusual thing for the little one to get frightened behind the scenes,
One Monday evening as I came to my place, I saw the new baby standing all
forlorn, with apparently no one at all to look after her, not even one of the
larger children. She was evidently on the very verge of frightened tears. 81

Larger groups of older children, without supervision and perhaps not as

intimidated by their surroundings, were no less at risk. This was par-
ticularly true of boy performers who were shown to be, “hidden every-
where except where they are wanted. Hidden in the flies, lurking in
corners, in the way of scenery and workmen, playing with dangerous
properties.”82
Chaotic cramped and grim working conditions were exacerbated by
design planning. Dressing rooms at some venues were situated in the
flies and were reached by an iron, spiral staircase that had to be ascended
by performers three or four times each night.83 This was a continuing
source of hardship that took its toll on young performers. One young
apprentice reasoned that the constant climbing of the “92 steps from
the stage to her dressing room at the Empire Theatre had rendered her
too frail to dance.” This did not dissuade her employer from taking her
to court for failing to complete her contract.84 Low-rise dressing rooms
offered little respite as often these were “small, fireless and frequently
damp rooms boarded off from some passage exposed to sharp currents
of air.”85 As will become apparent, young performers were the least pro-
tected of any group of child laborers even though their backstage work-
place was on a par with factory conditions before the children’s Factory
Acts came into force.86
Similar to factory production, the entertainment industry embraced
advancing technologies. With the coming of mechanization, fantasy could
appear real and reality could be faked convincingly. Automation fed the
growing supply of and demand for spectacular productions during the lat-
ter half of the nineteenth century. Progressive production did not necessar-
ily imply any advances in working conditions for performers:

The transformation scene of a pantomime, in which numbers of coryphées

(or ballet girls) were strapped aloft in irons . . . exposed them to excessive heat
and the noxious fumes of the special lighting that made the transformation
scene . . . a wondrous thing of beauty. . . . The poor pale girl is swung up to ter-
rific heights, imprisoned in and upon wires, dazzled by rows of hot flaring gas
60 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

and choked by the smoke of colored fires. . . . John Doran visiting backstage
during a Drury Lane pantomime, commented optimistically that there was no
danger of them being roasted alive, provided they were released in time . . . sel-
dom a night passes without one or two of them fainting.87

The fact that employers were willing to satisfy audience demand to see
such feats, at the expense of the health and safety of their workers is evi-
dence of how valuable young performers were as a commodity. This can
also be seen with respect to parental attitudes to such issues. “The girls
who are to fly in the new ballet won’t have the wires affixed to them unless
they are raised to eighteen pence a night, their mothers won’t let them
endanger their lives under that sum! Now Sir we should be in a great scrape
at night if this were to happen.”88
Safety, or the lack of it, was only one consequence of backstage working
conditions. Several factors, singly and combined, adversely affected the
general health and well-being of the young performer.

HEALTH

The working environment had a direct impact on the health of theatrical

children and were manifest from mild ailments to fatalities. With each
component of a production needing to be simultaneously completed to
tight deadlines, back stage was both noisy and stressful.89 One eyewit-
ness observed that in such a charged environment even those symptoms
of lesser severity could be distressing for a young child, “This season,
one little bit of a girlie, tired with the incessant noise of a lengthened
rehearsal, was found by the writer of this article away from her post and
crying bitterly with a headache.”90 Such instances are made all the more
poignant by the “show must go on” work ethics attached to the theatri-
cal industry, which dictated that its child employees were required to
“learn to smile in the theatre, whatever we may feel in our hearts.”91
The pressure on children to grin in the face of adversity was real. One
account reads “the boy came down a tremendous thump with his head
on the stage. The plucky little fellow however, came on again though
looking very white and ill and met with a big reception he thoroughly
deserved.”92
Illness was common among young performers. Characteristic claims
confirmed that “there’s many a ballet girl of weak constitution who sows
the seeds of consumption and kindred diseases in her system through the
continual exposure and physical exertion of her life.”93 Illness though did
 Laboring Fairies 61

not necessarily relieve performers of their duties. Barlee recalled one back-
stage conversation between two young dancers:

One of them who looked as if she were dying of consumption and coughed
incessantly said to her companion, who remarked upon it; “Yes I go on so,
pretty much of the time, and I have a mind somewhat to kill myself.”94

Tuberculosis was perceived as a real threat to the health of theatre children

whose work was regarded as making them particularly susceptible. “The
reason why many of them die of consumption—and a good many of them
do—is that they have often to put their stage clothes on before they are
dried after having been washed.”95 This was a consequence of appearance
being a crucial consideration for this group of child laborers. A fining sys-
tem was set in place by employers to ensure that children paid close atten-
tion to cleanliness.96 Employers defended the docking of a child’s wage by
claiming that this was positive discipline, “obligation itself induces a gen-
eral habit of orderliness and tidiness.”97 That same obligation could also
prove problematic for those child entertainers whose homes were steeped
in, “misery and starvation, of squalor and vice.”98 Without the means to
dry their rehearsal uniforms the wearing of wet clothing was more of a
necessary evil than an exercise in cleanliness set by the industry. Damp
clothes might well have compromised the health and comfort of children
but crucially, for the child earner, the wearing of clean, damp clothes was
at least fine free.99 In terms of the incidence of tuberculosis though, the
close contact with other workers in poor backstage conditions, provided
an ideal environment for contagion.
The promotion of children as entertainers had them dressed in all
manners of stage costumes. Child performers were particularly suited to
fantasy themes that were popular with late Victorian family audience.100
The industry’s inclination to satisfy audience expectations of fairyland
had many children performing in gossamer costumes and leaving little to
the imagination.101 This, coupled with a distinct lack of privacy backstage
could adversely affect their long-term moral and psychological well-being.
Barlee recognized this as a cause for concern:
The shock to any modest mind of the “undress” of these children is great and
at first to the more respectable ones of their number a trying ordeal. One girl
of fifteen when ordered to doff her clothing and habit herself on tights said
she crouched down in a corner of a room with shame facedness and dared not
rise until laughed out of her shyness. The same girl now sits unblushingly to
photographers to be taken in all kinds of attitudes, all feminine modesty hav-
ing long since departed.102
62 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

Barlee was eyewitness to an additional problem associated with the

scanty costumes worn by young girls “the piercing cold of the Green
Room almost paralysed her as she waited in the scanty Page’s clothing
to go to the boards shivering from head to foot.”103 These rare accounts
contrasted sharply with the propagandist descriptions that were made
more readily available to the public. Published versions were usually
subject to positive embellishment “When the pantomime is going on
they have warm dressing-rooms, and are assisted by dressers in assuming
their gorgeous garbs.”104 Such claims did not fit well with the coping
strategies that more resilient children were known to have shared with
their more naive peers. One raw recruit recalled being advised to “send
and get 3d-worth of raw whiskey and drink it all down at once . . . You
will find that will warm your blood fast enough. Not half of us could
dance a bit if we did not take something of the kind to put power into
our limbs.”105
Young entertainers were usually required to appear in several scenes
that were often separated by long intervals.106 During these waiting peri-
ods children were witnessed with their “teeth chattering from the bitter
cold.”107 Extremes of temperature between on and off stage led Barlee to
conclude that “It is this that sows the seeds of consumption which carries
off hundreds of their number.”108 The decision of Theatrical Missionaries
to implement a help scheme is symptomatic of the extent of labor-related
welfare issues that could blight child performers. Missionaries told of
“Visitations in homes or Hospitals especially in cases of accident and sick-
ness, which are numerous . . . endured by the little ones who are compelled
to perform for their amusement.”109 The keenness, with which the late
Victorian industry wished to promote childhood as one of its most profit-
able products, meant that child performers were posed and paraded in
every guise and situation. Unsurprisingly, theatrical missionaries were as a
consequence kept busy.

WELFARE

While fairies shivered in a thin veil of material, other children swel-

tered inside theatrical animal skins. The demand for child performers
who were skilled in animal representation was vast enough to earn a
good livelihood for the purveyors of these children to theatres. There
was a spectrum of suppliers that ranged from proprietors of professional
training institutions who bound children by contract for many years
 Laboring Fairies 63

and small scale, individual entrepreneurs who worked from home in the
poorest districts. One Missionary account gives valuable insight into this
domestic industry:

She was of middle age, and had three miserable little children dependent upon
her, as her husband had absconded. These, with several others whom she bor-
rowed as business required, provided a good living, as she supplied several of
the low theatres with imp children, used in pantomimes and plays to repre-
sent huge frogs, cats, and other animals, also angels and goblins. She was a
large consumer of gin; and it was well known that she gave abundance to her
children, to stop their growth, as they decreased in value as they increased in
size. Employers at the theatres used to come to fit the skins and to instruct the
children in their duties. These were of the most ludicrous kind, and her boy of
six did the monkey so well that for two Christmas seasons he earned a pound
a week.110

Wage rates for skilled children earned higher commission for their suppli-
ers. Although the children were also beneficiaries of the greater earning
capacity of animal impersonation, the work came with certain provisos.
Firstly, animal outfits were tailored for a very close fit. One adult per-
former likened his animal costumes to “a wig for the body.”111 “The tight-
ness of the skin and want of ventilation endangers, if the character has
to be maintained long, a sense of suffocation, impeding the child’s natu-
ral respiration.”112 The practice was made all the more uncomfortable by
the “hot, dry, airless and choking emissions from on-stage lighting and
having to perfect the movements of the animal in a lifelike manner.”113
This level of skill required prolonged, intensive instruction, and rehearsal.
Profit-minded employers were keen to keep financial outlay to a mini-
mum, therefore, a child previously trained and experienced in this art form
would be continually reengaged. Although this secured the child regu-
lar work, the benefit was somewhat offset by cost-cutting exercises that
proved detrimental to the welfare of the growing child. Fitted skins were
difficult to obtain and costly to produce.114 Replacements were kept to a
minimum by forcing children into skins that they had outgrown. One
London missionary reported that these children were made to act their
parts the same while forced into a cramped position. He observed one boy
being put through this and witnessed it “causing him torture.”115 Animal
representations were physically demanding in their own right without this
additional challenge.116 For instance, monkey representations required one
boy to “swing himself from branch to branch of a tree, to hang by one
hand, sit up on his haunches and crack nuts etc.”117
64 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

Missionary accounts provide insights into those anonymous individu-

als who operated at subsistence levels to prepare animal impersonators for
the stage:

One afternoon the Missionary approached the door, which was partly open,
and was startled by the stifled sobbing of the youngest,—a tiny girl of not quite
five years. Upon entering the room he saw that the sobs proceeded from a blue
fiend, which was wagging its forked tail and shaking its bat-wings upon the
table, the woman standing over the creature with a cane. “This is shameful,”
he exclaimed, taking the fiend into his arms; and then he burst the cord, and
set the child free.118

These undesirable modes of theatrical costumes were regular features in

spectacular productions, pageants, and pantomimes and children featured
heavily in these. Such garbs can be seen to have encumbered the com-
fort and movement of stage children in a number of ways. Huge papier-
mâché heads that helped to transform children into characters such as,
imps, goblins, and monsters proved a great source of entertainment for
those watching the proceedings.119 For the ones who wear it, however,
this headgear obscured their sight and hearing and impeded their ability
to carry out their duties on stage, particularly in circumstances when the
opportunity to actually rehearse in costume was truncated. Loose train-
ing clothes were worn during rehearsal weeks and the stage costume was
usually first worn, in full, during the dress rehearsal.120 “Sometimes when
children are put into properties for the first time, they get into singular
difficulties, walking on in wrong places, and getting stranded in out-of
the way corners in a most helpless state.”121 Employers unrealistically
expected children to credibly act their roles in costumes whose design
actively prevented them from doing so. The experience of one child high-
lights such difficulties:

What are you doing here? Yelled the manager to a largish specimen of the
carrot tribe, which was aimlessly gyrating in the centre of a fairy water scene.
“Please sir I’m a carrot and I’ve lost the other one,” said a feeble voice from
inside. “Off you go,”—responded the excited manager—“Carrots are not in
this scene.”122

The fashion for huge productions meant that the rehearsing of large casts
was reminiscent of a complicated jigsaw puzzle necessitating the staggered
rehearsal of each section before being pieced together as a whole.123
Figure 2.2 Rehearsing for a Pantomime, The Graphic, December 25, 1885.
66 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

The first dress rehearsal was sometimes an alarming experience for

young children:

The principals with whom they have been brought into contact at rehearsals
are no longer the men and women of everyday life, but creatures of surprising
aspect—erratic as to hair, abnormal as to feature and sensational in complex-
ion . . . At first the children are much puzzled and somewhat scared and quiet
and curiously awed by so close association with such terrible and important
beings.124

The trade newspaper The Stage evocatively described one vignette a

journalist had witnessed:

The children were instructed to fall down in amused terror at the approach
of the boy, but when on the first night in place of the friendly youth there
appeared an enormous cat with glaring eyes and bushy tail which mewed and
caterwauled in an awfully and terribly realistic manner, the two poor mice
were seized with abject terror and screamed right lustily, and literally kicked
with fright while the audience roared with laughter. The little ones refused to
face Grimalkin again and the mice were cut out of that scene.125

Although this is a lighthearted account it is worth noting that the lost

earnings of both children, from a large pantomime production, could
well have been of considerable cost to the winter income of their families.
Particularly, given the unpaid time and effort implied by preperformance
preparations.
Rehearsals demanded commitment in exchange for the prospect of
future earnings, but this was not guaranteed.126 This is made clear from
the testimony of a young ballet girl: “I beg to say that it is true about
rehearsals. We have rehearsals from ten in the morning until five, then,
sometimes in the evening.” A second girl claimed that “It is not generally
known that we have to practice for four to six weeks . . . as soon as rehearsals
are complete we have a night or two before the production to go to the the-
atre at twelve o’clock at night and rehearse to five or six in the morning.”127
Ellen Terry also recalled that as a child “rehearsals lasted all day, Sundays
included, and when there was no play running at night, until 4 or 5 the
next morning . . . sometimes I could hardly keep my eyes open when I was
on stage.”128 How this translated into actual terms of work is apparent
from the children interviewed by Barlee:

With delicate children, it is wonderful indeed how their constitutions stand the
exhaustive hours of their work, especially before they have arrived at the stage
of wage–winning, when their food is of the scantiest kind and quality. On
 Laboring Fairies 67

asking one of these children to give an account of her hours of labor—and it is

in busy season a fair sample of most such exercises—she said, “We go ma’am,
at ten in a morning on rehearsal days and practice until three.” (There ain’t no
seats to sit down on was the information she volunteered.) . . . Then from four
to seven we rehearse again . . . then the theatre opens and we have to be alive to
do our parts nice. It closes after past eleven at night. “And how glad you must
be to go home to bed!” “We haven’t always done then ma’am. Sometimes we’re
wanted to stay and rehearse again.” The last repetition is, however, I fancy an
extraordinary occurrence; at least it is hoped so.129

Setting aside any additional demands created by post-performance rehears-

als, the everyday workload was in itself time absorbing and labor intensive.
Demands increased along with the industry’s wide adoption of the long run
in its bid to cater to burgeoning mass spectatorship. Spectacular productions
and pantomimes were particularly suited to this format and included large
numbers of children. These productions could run for months at a time
with each performance lasting for several hours. Pantomimes were particu-
larly lengthy. On Boxing night 1904 a new record was set by Mr (Arthur)
Collins as The White Cat ran from “half-past seven until twenty-five min-
utes to two on Tuesday morning.”130 More typical was one production of
Cinderella that featured large numbers of children who saw the curtain rise
at half-past seven and its final fall at midnight.131 Children spent a pro-
tracted period within the workplace and this alternated between perform-
ing on stage and waiting backstage. In 1889, the Archbishop of Canterbury
acknowledged that child entertainers “were occupied 15 hours a day at their
books, rehearsal and performances before the audience.”132 What percent-
age of the working day was spent “at their books” is debatable. Schooling
or the lack of it was at the heart of the latter part of the nineteenth-century
debate concerning stage employment. Childhood historians have argued
that education legislators were successful in their undertaking to alter the
late Victorian child’s identity from worker to scholar. However, this largely
overlooks the situation of child entertainers and the fact that legislation on
education had little bearing on their particular status as workers.
Contemporary commentators support the notion that education laws
were ineffective when it came to the schooling of this group of chil-
dren. Millicent Fawcett echoed the thoughts of the National Vigilance
Association (NVA) when she claimed:

Some say that theatre children ought not to be interfered with because their
employment is at night after school hours and therefore does not interfere with
their education . . . but this is not true. The rehearsals, the practising and some
of the performances take place during the school day during school hours.133
68 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

Children and their families, particularly from the poorer quarters, were
accused of aiding and abetting employers in employment that kept them
from school. “A large number of this class of children in any circumstances
escape by various strategy the clutches of the School Board altogether.”134
Those who were well placed to profit from the employment of child per-
formers vigorously counterargued this point. Actor-manager Henry Irving
claimed that “it was not by any means impossible for them to get a con-
siderable amount of schooling.”135 Manager Augustus Harris told that he
knew of “four distinguished actresses who owed their success very largely
to the fact that that they were brought up in the theatre which was to
them both nursery and a schoolroom.”136 This though contrasts sharply
with recollections from Ellen Terry of the respected theatrical family. She
recalled that as a leading child actress, she never went to school.137 One
way that some larger employers deflected criticism was to announce provi-
sion of a schoolroom in their theatres.138 However, from what we know
of the cramped and noisy atmosphere backstage this setting would not
have provided an environment conducive to study. Also, the demanding
regime of theatrical work left little time or energy for backstage learning.
Children were sent out of the theatre during periods when they were not
required; therefore it is difficult to envisage how any useful or regular pat-
terns of education was established backstage. Similarly, it was not viable
for children to use their free time between rehearsal and performance to
attend their local schools. Not only would it be difficult to explain spo-
radic attendance but travelling back and forth on public transport, would
dilute their take home pay and walking was costly both in terms of time
and energy.
As the popularity of child performers grew demand meant that tour-
ing became a prominent feature of their work. This brought additional
problems of its own “It must be confessed that their life in the numer-
ous touring companies that now exist is anything but a happy one.”139
Among the labor force of theatrical children those on tour were the least
likely to have access to education, free time, or protection. Their work-
load was exacerbated as the usual Sunday rest day was spent traveling to
the next town. Although non-touring children had to fend for themselves
during the times, they were turned out of theatres or when traveling
home late at night, at least they operated in a locale familiar to them.
Touring children played in a series of anonymous venues far from the
support of family or friends. As Gertrude Tuckwell’s testimony high-
lights, touring children were some of the most vulnerable child laborers
of the late nineteenth century. “I heard not long ago of the case of two
 Laboring Fairies 69

London children left behind, almost destitute in Scotland, by the little

company with which they were travelling, because they had ceased to
be needed by their employers.”140 This statement is particularly telling
when we consider that it appeared some five years after the addition of a
clause in the 1889 Prevention of Cruelty to Children Act that was sup-
posed to address the situation of child performers. It is clear that while
children remained popular with audiences the industry was committed
to supplying this demand regardless of obstacles put before them or the
cost to the child.
Performances made by children remained obvious favorites among
audiences. Reviews regularly focused upon their appeal. For instance, the
children in one production of Red Riding Hood were hailed with “shouts
of satisfaction” from the audience.141 There was, however, some ambigu-
ity surrounding this level of success. On the one hand, such adulation
was a key incentive informing their initial entry into the industry. On
the other hand, children could become victims of their own popularity.
The most fervent audience adulation could add to an already overstretched
workload. In the industry’s eagerness to, provide the paying public with
what it wanted, employers indulged their audiences, sometimes at the
expense of their child employees. For example, one large troupe of children
who danced the, “infantile hornpipe evoked such loud manifestations of
approval that it had to be twice repeated.”142 Similar reports included the
dance of the dolls, a ballet performed by “Katti Lanner’s little pupils of
the National Training School of Dancing, [which] had to be repeated last
night, so gracefully did the children perform the figures of the dance.”143
Although as shown above, emotional reward was prized by child perform-
ers, it is not clear if these highly applauded impromptu repeat performances
were matched by monetary remuneration. Theatre managers were willing
to pay in excess of the going wage rate for children who took the public’s
taste.144 It is worth noting that child performers were usually bound by
contract that could dictate that their pay was set for several years at a fixed
fee.145 Although popularity increased bargaining power for trainer/agents,
any rising profit is unlikely to have found its way into the pockets of the
children. It is clear, though, that popularity led to unscheduled perfor-
mances and added to the already overlong workday. One daily regime was
described thus:

The audience who applaud the gaily clad adroit creatures who perform before
them know little of the many hours labor and practice that are represented by
a scene or a dance, and do not know that the artists have most likely walked
70 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

long distances to rehearsals, probably in bad weather, and that after protracted
exercise, they have to walk home again, weary hungry and seldom to any very
luxurious meal.146

NVA member Annette Bear was one of a minority of individuals who

recognized the adverse effect of theatrical working hours and conditions.
She described a group of post-performance children who were homeward
bound from London’s Crystal Palace Theatre:

Their weary way consisted of two train journeys and thence on foot, where they
would arrive about midnight supposing they had missed neither train. There
were perhaps a dozen children of all ages in our compartment. The younger
ones were dreadfully fagged and were evidently dead beat they leaned listlessly
against the carriage or against each other in attitudes of complete exhaustion.
I was totally unprepared to see the children so totally fatigued, more especially
as they had not had their usual afternoon performance as well as the evening
one on that occasion.147

Bear’s sentiments demonstrate that little had changed over the previous
five years to improve the lives of young “jobbing” performers. Back then
Barlee had witnessed similar scenes. “When dismissed after the theatre
classes, say between eleven and twelve pm, the poor children have to trans-
verse the streets: dry or wet, snow and cold, to their homes often a mile or
two away; and many a policeman in his nightly rounds can testify to find-
ing one or other of such wet, weary, little ones asleep on some doorstep, too
worn out to reach her home.”148
The prospect of relatively generous wages and the opportunity to per-
form before an adoring public were persuasive incentives for children to
tolerate the demands of the job and these inducements created a compliant
workforce. To reenforce deference “strict discipline was imposed in the
theatre.”149 This was promoted as a positive strategy, “the children hav-
ing inculcated into them the three principles of obedience, cleanliness and
punctuality.”150 They were “taught the best of all discipline—unquestion-
ing obedience to those in authority.”151
The theatrical child’s reward was to be allowed to perform before an
audience but this did not come without penalty. Time in the spotlight
was the incentive that extracted many hours of hard physical work from
the children. The strict disciplinary nature of training and rehearsal
led contemporary comment to liken this process to a military exercise.
Descriptions included “army,” “ranks,” and “drill.” Although narratives
regularly implied the harshness of the work endured by the theatrical child,
 Laboring Fairies 71

they invariably included a validation of it. When asked if the training pro-
cess was painful, one ballet mistress replied “well I am afraid that I must
admit it is . . . practice in the schools lasts from three to four hours daily and
to gain the suppleness of limb this is necessary, absolutely necessary.”152
Another observer justified the means by the end reward. “The expecta-
tion of the pretty dresses they are to wear and the importance attached
to the coming appearance, seem to deprive the necessary drill of all its
tediousness and monotony.”153 The industry enjoyed an oversubscribed
force of willing child labor and theatrical children were aware that there
were any number of replacements waiting eagerly by the stage door eager
to strip them of their income and celebrity. This knowledge ensured that
theatrical children learnt to, “obey the word of command.”154 Evidence
indicates the extent of conformity the industry was able to extract from
its child employees. “The children are so completely under the control of
their instructor, that any special work they are required to do is learnt in
a few lessons.”155
There was inordinate stress and responsibility for everyone involved in
heavily invested productions where fortunes could be won or lost. There
was no margin for error on stage where the merchandise was concurrently
forged and consumed. Children were all too aware of the pressure for
them to perform well. One backstage observer recalled the distress of,
“Four little maidens in an evident state of fluster . . . the reason being a
certain music had been forgotten, ‘Oh she will be so cross’ pleaded one
little damsel of seven.”156 This evidence is rather tame when compared
to more disturbing practices witnessed by George Sala in France during
the 1860s. “Child ballet-girl-rats d’opéra as the poor fated innocents are
termed at present, serving their apprenticeship under slaps and pinches,
and stripes from the ballet-master’s switch.”157 Similar concern in Britain
was justified. Some trainers ruled with a rod of iron and expected nothing
less than perfection.
Phyllis Bedells’ described her instruction under one particular ballet
mistress:

Cavalazzi could have inspired a log of wood. And she had a frightening tem-
per; if her pupils displeased her she frequently picked up a chair and threw it
against the wall. I have known her lay hands on two girls and knock their heads
together. After these bouts of fury she invariably flung out of the room, and we
heard her swearing in Italian. Her anger spent; she would return and with tears
in her eyes speak falteringly and quietly to us all, “Darleens, darleens, what for
you do theese to me?”158
72 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

Figure 2.3 MME. CAVALAZZI and pupil.—Mme. Cavalazzi was a famous

ballerina in her youth. She has been for four years in charge of the Metropolitan
School of Ballet Dancing in New York, and has just retired. She used some-
times to rouse a careless pupil smartly with her big stick Willa Sibert Cather,
“TRAINING FOR THE BALLET: Making American Dancers” McClure’s
Magazine, 41 (October 1913): 85–95, 92. http://cather.unl.edu/nf004.html last
updated May 2015.

Of course, the practices used in tutoring and rehearsal were beyond public
scrutiny as they were conducted behind the curtain. The face that the
industry presented to the public was veiled by secrecy, glamour, and illu-
sion. Also, the press were invariably complementary about Lanner and her
colleagues. Bedells provides a valuable first-hand account that gives an
alternative perspective on Lanner. “I can see her now, sitting in the prompt
corner, yelling at the corps de ballet, if she saw the slightest defect in their
work or if they were out of line.”159 Bedells’ personal experience of Lanner
also reveals the business women behind Lanner the celebrity:

She was not particularly nice to me; but I am very glad I came into contact
with her. There is no doubt that she was a great influence on the ballet of the
 Laboring Fairies 73

day . . . Madame Lanner was none too pleased at my being engaged, as she had
quite a number of her own pupils whom she naturally thought ought to have
been given the opportunity.160

One rare account supports Bedells sentiments and confirms Lanner to be

a particularly formidable character:

The home of the English ballet was ruled by Madame Katti Lanner and ruled
despotically. “Don’t let Katti Lanner have it all her own way”; said George
Edwardes to the author of Round the Ballet, the author decided not to, and
as we sat together watching a rehearsal he interfered-once. The old lady came
down to the footlights and peered into the darkened theatre, “It is not your
ballet now; it is mine!” she called imperiously.161

Clearly, fear mongering and actual violence played their part in the train-
ing “to perfection” of children. This helped employers to keep children in
check and was also underpinned by a widening of the fining system.
The key incentive that had child recruits flocking to the industry was
also used as a means to control its child workforce. The entertainment
industry offered late Victorian children a rare opportunity to earn, fin-
ing proved an effective tool of discipline especially for those coming from
poorer backgrounds. Lateness was a fineable offence that put much pressure
on the children. As Vanbrugh put it, “It is such a rushing, busy existence
that every moment counts . . . if you want to succeed be punctual. Careless
casual folk find life hard behind the footlights . . . and those who are content
to dawdle along murmuring, ‘It doesn’t matter if I am five minutes late!’ will
find themselves very badly beaten in the end.”162 Negligence at work was
also a fineable offence.163 Matters of personal hygiene were also covered by
the fining system. Whereas in the majority of trades a worker’s appearance
was generally unimportant, it became a priority in the theatrical indus-
try. Clearly, children recognized the implications of cleanliness for their
being allowed to perform and to earn. Even the baby section of the ballet,
according to one witness, could be found standing around back stage “in
little groups discussing the comparative cleanliness of their chubby little
hands.”164 It is worth noting here that in some of the larger theatres, the
fines that were used as a deterrent also incorporated an element of incen-
tive. Ivor Guest claims that at some theatres the “accumulated penalties
[were] distributed among the well-behaved at Christmas time.”165
From its insistence on cleanliness to the risking of life and limb on the
high wire the industry demanded much from its child labor force. The
moral welfare, education, and health of the theatrical child was repeatedly
compromised under the guise of entertainment. Throughout the period
that celebrated the sentimentalized ideal of childhood, the backstage iden-
tity of child performers remained that of an exploited worker. By accepting
a backstage identity the child worker was able to trade its accompanying
hardships and sacrifices for an illusionary, yet invaluable public and cel-
ebrated stage persona.
The content of the work which children undertook on the stage mir-
rored that which was assumed during training and rehearsal. However, it
was the presence of an audience which altered its nature and transformed
the child’s identity from that of employee to that of performer. The way
the stage-child was perceived by an audience had a huge bearing not only
on the child’s attraction to theatrical work but also to the widespread sanc-
tioning and continued employment of their labor. Lifelong actress and
former child star Marie Bancroft could hardly be described as a “jobbing”
performer. However, reminisces of her childhood reveal a difficult con-
tradiction between the emotionality and physicality of her work. “I was
of course much petted by the public; but oh! The work! My poor little
body was often sadly tired.”166 The magnitude of this dichotomy for less-
fortunate child performers provides much food for thought.
3. The Performing Child
and Its Audience

T
he previous chapters have established theatrical children as the
industry’s labor, raw material, and finished product and as such
they straddled the manufacturing, retail, and service industries.
Although children were part of the production process, they were also
present at the point of purchase and party to the consumer’s enjoyment
of the product. Because of this and the nature of the merchandise, child
performers, unlike other child workers, developed a bond with those who
purchased the product and their services. Of the connection between the
performer and the audience, Clement Scott sensed how “a communicative
electric chord runs between the two.”1 This implies an intimate relation-
ship between strangers. The connection was intense yet at the same time
transient and fleeting, lasting only for the duration of the performance
and among an assemblage of individuals who happened to make the audi-
ence unique to that occasion. The dramatic critic Clayton Hamilton was
of this mind:

Traits in theatre audiences differ from other kinds of crowds. In the first place,
a theatre audience is composed of individuals more heterogeneous than those
that make up a political, or social, or sporting, or religious convocation. The
crowd at a foot-ball game, at a church, at a social or political convention, is by
its very purpose selective of its elements.2

The common denominator that transformed a group of individuals into a

theatrical audience was simply a desire to be entertained. However, although
this yearning was collective, expectations of the same were manifold. The
success of the industry depended upon its ability to create productions that
were able to sustain a mass audience. Contemporary opinion claimed, “It
follows that the dramatist must be broader in his appeal than any other
artist . . . In the same single work of art he must incorporate elements that
will interest all classes of humankind.”3 Performer and spectator mutually
76 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

laid themselves bare to the open expression of a whole range of emotions

within the context of the production. This unusual bond allowed a col-
lective, public demonstrations of what, in the nineteenth century, were
often regarded as quite private emotions and these shared experiences were
sustained long after the falling of the final curtain.
The audience was a powerful medium that could hold the success or
failure of a production within the clapping of its hands. Contemporary
comment was clear on this:

It is high time that managers should be taught their position . . . they must
remember that it is we who are the customers and they are only the shopkeep-
ers. The stage waits upon the audience, and the audience rehearses its collective
and inevitable laugh. It performs. It communicates itself, and art is a commu-
nication . . . They are a thousand London people; and no genius, or no imbecil-
ity, amongst them has any effect upon that secure sovereignty of a number.4

Positive audience response translated into profit and this was the industry’s
ultimate goal and producers sought ways to manipulate the power of the
audience to work in their favor. Psychological interaction was key to mass
enjoyment of a production. One strategy regularly adopted was for a the-
atre manager, or indeed an individual performer, to pay a group within the
audience to initiate appropriate responses in order to stimulate the rest of
the audience and encourage them to follow suit:

Hired applauders [are] seated in the centre of the house. The leader of the
claque knows his cues as if he were an actor in the piece, and at the psychologic
(sic) moment the claqueurs burst forth with their clatter and start the house
applauding. Applause begets applause in the theatre, as laughter begets laugh-
ter and tears beget tears.5

Claquing clearly proved a popular and effective tactic. The practice was
adopted regularly enough for it to be satirized in the press. The Playgoer
reported:

For the convenience of the acting managers on first nights we append a scale
of claque charges corrected to date. Ordinary applause 5s . . . Frantic applause
£1 . . . Laughter 3s . . . Exclamation of delight 1s . . . Tears wiped away 10/6. Tears
wiped away and nose blown £5.6

It is worth noting that certain sections of the audience were also aware of
how highly the industry valued their interaction. Those so inclined could
 The Performing Child and Its Audience 77

actively use this knowledge to their own advantage. Groups (usually young
men) would approach managers or performers and threaten to react nega-
tively to the performance unless they received a sum of money. “At certain
of the music halls the gallery boys have a happy knack of blackmailing the
comiques whose chorus they sing.”7 Crucially, the popularity of individual
performers was key to their continued employment, and this was depen-
dent on audience approval or disappointment. Therefore, those performers
compromised by claquers were likely to subscribe to their demands. One
music hall comedian was reported to have “only weighed in a bob but this
could pay dividends for his future relationship with his audience.”8 The
industry’s deference to audience preference made the wide appeal of the
late Victorian child performer all the more valuable. The popularity of
child entertainers was systematically cultivated by producers to such an
extent that the lines between supply and demand became blurred. Supply
became the leading force in moving the market forward. A media-based
propagandist publicity campaign kept child performers in the public eye,
sustained audience interest, and generated a continued desire to watch
child-themed and child-centered productions.

PERFORMERS AND THEIR AUDIENCES

Phyllis Dare, recalled her childhood experience of the unashamed promo-

tion of young performers. During the course of one day she encountered,
“the representatives of no less than eighteen papers called to see me between
two and five o’clock in the afternoon.”9 Publicity-generated fan worship
equated with profit for theatrical employers. Further reminiscences from
Dare are testament to this:

For weeks after my appearance I felt like a freak, as so much publicity had
been given to my appearance. I seemed to be recognised everywhere—even
in all sorts of way out places. One morning for instance after rehearsal when I
was leaving the theatre we were almost mobbed by a crowd of several hundred
people who had collected outside the stage door and followed us down the
Strand.10

While maximum profit was a priority for employers and for some parents,
financial attainment was not usually the key draw for stage-children. An
audience provided the theatrical child with the means to adopt a pub-
lic persona and this facilitated the real benefits that came with the tak-
ing on of a fictitious identity. Popularity, adulation, celebrity status, and
78 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

possible social mobility were elements available to all child entertainers.

This applied to the famed child protégée down to the child super regard-
less of age, gender, or class. These rewards came at a price. Prospective
child performers first had to accept and conform to the backstage demands
of the work. Public perception that held performers in such high esteem,
meant that although child performers were fully visible to them on stage,
audiences were not best placed to recognize them as child laborers.11 To its
audience, the perceived working environment of a stage-child formed the
antithesis of connotations that constituted a workplace. Audiences sought
and found temporary respite from the trials and tribulations of work and
daily life within the world of entertainment. Contemporary observation
makes this clear:

To say that this performance amuses the audience could convey a very faint
and inadequate idea of their demeanour. They rock with laughter, the whole pit
swaying like a field of wheat in the breeze. Those who assert that the London
poor are a joyless class, incapable of merriment should see this crowd when
genuinely amused, and consider whether there is not some exaggeration in
description of their hopeless gloom.12

Because the theatrical industry was located in the world of leisure, audience
perceptions of performer’s lifestyles were based on illusion rather than on
reality. This was particularly true of young performers, not least because
theatrical children were employed in their greatest numbers as happy
or comical characters set in joyous, magical, or fairyland surroundings.
Additionally, any serious representations of childhood were theatrically
sanitized versions of real-life experiences. This is perhaps not surprising
given a contemporary consensus within the industry that, “The public
wanted to be entertained and to have its emotions exercised—it certainly
did not want to be required to think.”13 One commentator shows that this
understanding worked well for both the audience and the industry:

And since the crowd is partisan it wants its favoured characters to win. Hence
the convention of the “happy ending,” insisted on by managers who feel the
pulse of the public. The blind Louise, in The Two Orphans, will get her sight
back, never fear. Even the wicked Oliver, in As You Like It, must turn over a
new leaf and marry a pretty girl.14

It is clear from Ellen Barlee’s observations that audiences identified with the
characters on stage, yet, knew little of the children who represented them
or the realities of life for those children outside the parameters of the stage.
 The Performing Child and Its Audience 79

On witnessing audience reaction toward one child acrobat Barlee thought it

strange that “an audience composed principally of persons who were them-
selves parents, could countenance such performances. Yet the cheering was
tremendous.”15 However, the audience was less informed than was Barlee
about the physical toll this performance took on the child. They were left
unaware that the performance left the child “frightfully exhausted; her face
was flushed a deep crimson . . . she trembled in every limb, while it was some
time before she could speak . . . so great had been the physical efforts she had
put forth . . . The little girl was an orphan whose training had commenced
in infancy.”16 Theatrical producers relied upon audience misconceptions
like this as they were crucial to the perpetuation of theatrical child labor
and the industry’s ability to profit from its child employees.
The more child performers took the public taste the more the industry
exploited their profitable popularity. For the theatrical child this translated
into a busy workload. This was particularly true of children employed to
play principal characters.17 Such parts placed a great deal of responsibil-
ity on the performing child. Often the reputation of the production was
riding upon the talent of its central characters. Children needed to live
up to the expectations of both their employers and their audience. Added
responsibility was accompanied by longer rehearsal hours. For example, as
Richard Foulkes has observed, a child hired to play the part of Alice from
the works of Lewis Carrol was required to learn “no less than 215 speeches.”
Rehearsals plus nightly shows with a “second performance, on matinee
days which lasted till after half past ten at night” comprised a demanding
schedule.18 Each performance of the same production was unique to its
ever shifting audience composition.19 This allowed the industry to repeat-
edly resell the same product to the public while the ever changing dynam-
ics of its audience disguised the effect that this was having on the workload
of the theatrical child worker.
The missionary, Pearl Fisher (possibly a pseudonym), was aware of the
demanding nature of this form of child labor:

Many are trained to the profession from babyhood. There are those who have
been taken on the stage in “long clothes”, children who at the age of six years can
say they have been four years in the profession, children who at the age of nine
have already crossed the Atlantic four times to perform in the United States!20

She also told of the child who was advertised as the “The Tiniest Dancer in
the Universe” who, “is now only six years of age, has been in the music hall
profession four years, [and] can earn by three performances nightly from
80 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

a guinea to thirty shillings.” Fisher offered further examples that included

“Louie a bright-faced little thing . . . Only ten years of age and with her is
her brother of six, both on the stage, ‘You won’t have to play often,’ I said,
‘Twelve performances in the week, sir.’ It seemed to my mind a cruel and
killing work for such a child.”21
The hectic schedule of child actress Vera Beringer was stimulated and
sustained by her popularity with her audiences.22 In 1888, while nine years
of age, Beringer was cast in the lead role of The Real Little Lord Fauntleroy.23
Originally scheduled for a run of five matinees, the production opened at
Terry’s Theatre London on May 14, 1888.24 In reality, apart from two short
recuperation holidays, Vera Beringer continually played the part of Lord
Fauntleroy both on tour and in static productions from May 14, 1888 to
January 11, 1890.25 Her retirement from the stage was announced toward
the end of that year.26 The reason given for this was to allow the child to
receive an education. This might well have been an important consider-
ation, however, it is useful to note that Beringer’s acclaimed reviews were
becoming more muted. One critic suggesting that she appeared to “have
lost her bloom.”27 The observation from Lewis Carroll, one of Beringer’s
staunchest fans, revealed “Vera is losing her spirit and naturalness a little.”28
Once the reality of theatrical work became apparent on stage, it dimin-
ished a child’s allure and potential profit margins. Responses to Beringer’s
retirement are telling. “She will take a benefit at Christmas as a sort of
farewell to childhood, and to provide the school fees.”29 “We cordially
trust that Miss Vera Beringer may have a good ‘rest’ at school and may in
young womanhood gain fresh histrionic honours.”30
That same year the death of Leicester Windust, principal actor with an
all-child touring company, was reported in The Stage. Although the cause
of his illness is not made clear, it is telling that his only obituary praises the
fact that, until days before he died, Leicester had missed not one of almost
a thousand performances in the previous three years.31
Although Leicester’s death might not have been directly related to his
work, realistically the sustained demands made upon him had the poten-
tial to leave even a physically fit child vulnerable to illness and fatigue.
This is something that was not readily evident to the public given that
their general understanding of theatrical work was based on media’s pro-
motion of the public personas of stage-children.
Entertainer, Belle Bilton, joined the profession at 13 years of age. She
was so often “interviewed, photographed, [and] publicised through post-
cards” that she became widely known to her public, yet, few would identify
with one contemporary claim that “what should have been the rest of her
 The Performing Child and Its Audience 81

girlhood, became a tough apprenticeship served in provincial shows and

pantomime.”32 On stage, the child performer both packaged and sold an
idealized notion of childhood, yet the audience, through individual inter-
pretation purchased its tangible existence. Children may not have neces-
sarily understood the varied motivations that informed the public’s desire
to see them, they did though enjoy the combined response that their per-
formances evoked.

THE CHILD’S PERCEPTION OF AN AUDIENCE

Although clear parallels can be drawn between theatrical child labor and
other child occupations, one aspect of the former remains distinct to the
theatrical child. This was the relationship between the child performer
and an audience. Interaction between the two had a major effect on the
perception of theatrical child labor at a time when educational legisla-
tion had, in the words of James Walvin, “effectively ended the nation’s
commitment to widespread child labour.”33 Audience appreciation of a
child’s performance both condoned and encouraged the continued use
of children as entertainers. This is not to suggest that the majority of
child performers were subordinate and abused victims of preying employ-
ers and ruthless parents. Plenty of evidence suggests that this group of
children exercised agency and were compliant in their continued employ-
ment. One successful actress typically demonstrates high levels of theat-
rical ambition among children, “When I was a trifle over 13 years old I
was smitten with stage fever. It wasn’t a mild attack either. I was perfectly
mad to be an actress.”34 Clearly, because the reality of theatre work was
carried out in the unknown, in an untouchable world backstage, to the
outsider, performing appeared to be an extremely attractive pastime. It
was not until children stepped behind the curtain that the true nature
of the work was revealed to them. Celebrity and glamour were born out
of audience misconceptions created by the industry and it was in a child
performer’s own interest to keep alive this false impression of the work.
Although theatrical employment generated financial gain, it also offered
its workers a priceless commodity—emotional reward. During a perfor-
mance, stage-children would sing the same songs, dance the same steps,
and speak the same lines that they had practised innumerable times in the
private, backstage domain. When theatrical children alighted on to the
public stage it was still in their capacity as employees, yet, on stage the
whole nature of their work was transformed. The key to this conversion
82 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

was the presence of an audience. Once in front of their public the child’s
identity shifted from that of worker to performer. This was the key that
coerced the child into accepting its demanding laboring duties. While
the full nature of stage-children’s labors stayed hidden under a “veil of
secrecy,” the envy and adulation of the audience remained theirs. One for-
mer child actress offers an insight into the extent to which performers val-
ued and even craved audience approval. “I had sometimes, during those
sparkling days, wondered what it would feel like if that gossamer illusion
ceased and I found myself without the mantle of love given to me by that
public.”35 The desire to be appreciated and elevated from the crowds was
both classless and universal. “To be ‘Stage-Struck’ is as common among
the uneducated as among the educated.”36
Oral testimony has revealed insights into the attraction of so many
poorer children to the stage and suggests that monetary reward, though
important, was secondary to the agency attached to the work. For those
children used to being seen and not heard within the home, the stage
was a place to shine. In the full glare of the spotlight the stage-child was
the center of attention. The paying public watched and listened atten-
tively to the children on stage and rewarded them with their enthusiastic
responses. The work permitted disadvantaged children to be “taken from
the crowded rooms or the courts where they prowl about in the evening.”37
Then at least for the time they spent on stage, they became a “proud and
happy lot.”38
Audience appreciation might appear to have been an obvious lure to
the less advantaged child. However, it is worth noting that while children
from the better-off classes would have enjoyed a more comfortable exis-
tence, they could just as easily have been starved of parental attention.
Thad Logan has shown that the parlor in the middle-class home was “the
designated scene of culturally mandated domestic bliss, it was an appropri-
ate setting for a reunion each evening of mother, father and children . . . In
households that could afford a nurse, however, children for the most part
were neither seen nor heard in the parlour.”39 Sarah Mitchell has shown
that “parents in better circumstances were supported by nursery maids,
governesses and boarding schools. The idealized loving mother probably
only spent an hour or two with her children each day.”40 An exception to
this was the previously mentioned practice of “at homes.” Barlee observed
how, “in private society of a high and refined class, private theatricals are
the favourite pastime of the hour.”41 “At Homes,” took place in the parlor
setting and so offered middle-class children a rare opportunity to capture
the attention and approval of their parents and guests who watched them
 The Performing Child and Its Audience 83

perform. This small scale, yet much prized attention, was multiplied a
thousand times when children transferred their “at home” performances
to the public stage and its mass audience. Applause attention and adula-
tion were huge inducements to child performers, and all but guaranteed
their compliance with the backstage demands of theatrical work. Adults
concerned themselves with the economic rewards of theatrical work and
in particular the destination of the child performer’s wage.42 Both employ-
ers and campaigners against child stage labor emphasized the significance
of wages in labor supply. Neither side, however, appeared to recognize
the performing experience from the child’s point of view. Although what
was purchased with the theatrical wage could significantly influence the
child’s standard of living, the child itself usually had little control over
what was bought. Setting aside a minority of child actors from privileged
backgrounds, the majority of stage-children handed over their wages to
their parents.43 Therefore, although for adults, the child’s wage was cru-
cial; for the children themselves financial reward was often only a second-
ary consideration.
While their economic worth was up for public discussion perform-
ing children took pleasure in having their emotional worth reaffirmed
through appreciative applause. The childhood experience of actress
Hermione Gingold demonstrates that a receptive audience could be both
seductive and addictive to an aspiring stage-child. Remembering her first
impromptu performance on a visit to a sea-side show she wrote, “they
invited children in the audience to come up on their platform, and I raced
up to sing a song . . . The applause went to my head like champagne. . . . from
that moment on I devoted all my time to begging my parents to allow me
to go on stage.”44 To a child this was a priceless commodity and one that
can be difficult to articulate to nonperformers. In her autobiography child
actress, Irene Vanbrugh, described the experience as “intangible . . . that
lovely burst of applause which is so much more than the clapping of hands.
It makes you believe in fairies.”45 The actual performance was the sole
aspect of the work over which the child had some control and might find,
on a personal level, most rewarding. Stage personas enabled children to
cling to the symbols of an “idealized childhood” through the characters
they represented.
Child-themed productions, such as pantomime, allowed young perform-
ers to inhabit the world of fairyland and fantasy. The popular spectacular
productions of the day gave children the opportunity to wear costumes
that in reality they could only dream about. Numerous newspaper reviews
made much of the magnificent attire worn on stage.46 As one observer
84 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

shows the prospect of wearing beautiful outfits often served as an incentive

to rehearse. “Before they make their public appearance there is a long and
tiresome training to go through . . . the expectation of the pretty dresses
they are to wear and the importance attached to the coming appearance,
seem to deprive the necessary drill of all its tediousness and monotony.”47
During the campaign against theatrical child labor, detractors acknowl-
edged the attraction of beautiful costumes although they viewed this as
being disadvantageous to the children. For example, a report in the Pall
Mall Gazette suggested that:

Another drawback is that amid the tinsel splendours of the stage they acquire
a taste for finery which later on leads to all kinds of mischief, and unfits them
for work in any other station in life. The acting and posing deprive them, in a
great many cases, of the naturalness of their teens.48

The reality was that children spent only a fraction of their time adorned in
beautiful attire. During protracted rehearsal hours young girls wore “short
shabby ballet or ordinary skirts and loose linen or flannel knickerbockers.”49
What detractors did not recognize was that the costumes alone were not
the key attraction. Stage-wear facilitated children’s transformation into the
characters that could reduce audiences to tears or evoke laughter. On stage,
children were able to adopt the personas that audiences loved, admired,
sympathized with, or were amazed by. As one writer observed, this was
crucial to the success of a production:

The primary purpose of a play is to give a gathered multitude a larger sense of

life by evoking its emotions to a consciousness of terror and pity, laughter and
love. Its purpose is not primarily to rouse the intellect to thought or call the
will to action. In so far as the drama uplifts and edifies the audience, it does so,
not by precept or by syllogism, but by emotional suggestion.50

Children were particularly proficient in the art of evoking a range of emo-

tions from the late Victorian audience:

The stage child is much admired by the audience. Its pathos makes them weep;
its tragedy thrills them; its declamation as for instance when it takes the centre
of the stage and says it will kill the wicked man, and the police, and everybody
who hurts it stirs them like a trumpet note; and its light comedy is generally
held to be the most truly humorous thing in the whole range of dramatic art.51

This ability to provoke such responses gave children influence and control
over the masses who were beguiled by their performances. “It’s the power
 The Performing Child and Its Audience 85

of moving others by my pathos . . . of seeing hundreds of faces change and

soften as I speak. I would not give up the stage for anything on earth, no,
not to save my life from hell.”52
Children performed before a collective audience for collective applause,
but according to contemporary comment, audiences identified with a per-
formance in two ways: “The first is by imitation of what we have already
seen around us; and the second is by suggestion of what we have already
experienced within us.”53 Therefore, a child’s performance had the poten-
tial to satisfy a variety of audience needs. Those who watched ranged from
the innocent onlooker to the more sinister spectator. Exactly what the
child represented at any given performance was determined by the specta-
tor’s own interpretations of the child’s gestures, dress, and dialogue. This
ensured that an audience left the auditorium contented and with a mind
to revisit the theatre.

THE AUDIENCE’S VIEW OF THE

PERFORMING CHILD

Perhaps the simplest relationship between audience and performer was

that of the children who made up both. The reshaping of production allied
to commercial incentives brought families into theatres on a scale never
before seen. Trips to the theatre became integral to the emergent social life
and culture of Victorian children. “It is a good sign when the dress circle
is filled with children night after night.”54 Enjoyment of child-themed
and child-centerd productions presented middle-class child audiences,
in particular, with situations they could directly relate to. Child-focused
productions often drew on the world of the nursery in spectacular perfor-
mances that brought toys to life on stage. Typical presentations included,
The Dance of The Dolls ; The Grand Ballet of Toys ; and The Menagerie of
Noah’s Ark.55 Scenes like this had the potential to spark the imaginative
powers of children who watched in ways that could enhance play with
their own toys at home.56 This helped to secure a rising generation of
future theatregoers.
Children were extensively hired to play out fantasy roles and were
called upon to represent toys, fairies, animals, and such like. Yet, when
children were required to play the role of children, their stage characters
were sometimes depicted as defenceless targets of adult neglect or cruelty.
Crozier has demonstrated how, during the 1880s the child was repre-
sented on the stage as being vulnerable and in need of protection.57 Away
86 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

from the stage, Behlmer has shown the 1880s to be a time when “anti-
cruelty groups emerged and reflected a growing public concern for child
welfare.”58 Late nineteenth-century child protection work was based on
a complex set of fundamental interests. Reform movements whose ethos
was the protection of children endeavored to universalize a bourgeois
family model. The theatrical world’s representation of this was satisfy-
ing to those who accepted for real the social and imaginative construct
of childhood at that time.59 The ideology of separate spheres, portray-
ing Victorian women as essentially domestic creatures, emphasized the
importance of the physical and emotional bonds between mothers and
their children.60 For middle-class women, outings to the theatre in the
company of their children to watch other children could be seen as an
extension of their domestic role.61 The central place given to children on
the stage and the nature of the entertainment itself, all served to reinforce
a woman’s status as mother, wife, and as the mainstay of her domestic
world. Membership of an audience did not simply enhance the gendered
identity of women.
The emphasis on the breadwinning role of husbands and fathers, whose
main concerns lay in the public world of work, distanced them from their
offspring. However, the theatre offered a public space in which men could
establish a bond with children. The new fashion in family entertainment
made the purchase of theatre tickets a vehicle both for paternal display of
a man’s familial achievement and—thus, as Tosh argues—of his full entry
into manhood.62 Wry contemporary commentary is telling:
Click-click go the box-keeper’s keys and paterfamilias, his wife and daughters
enter in solemn procession to take possession of the seats probably booked
for three days. Materfamilias is generally stout, and in point of fact takes a
chair and a half, which causes her eldest daughter to encroach upon her sis-
ter’s share . . . the row being completed by the head of the family who, be it
remarked, is as much distinguished by body as well, that gentleman thus put-
ting himself in a position to defend his party from all possible or impossible
assailants.63

Taking the argument proposed by Eric Trudgill it is clearly evident that

Victorian men found an escapist sanctuary from their responsibilities
through relationships with children:
The child offered ease and repose from the troubles of the day, a realm of trust,
affection, playfulness and innocence in which the adult man was king; in the
nursery world he faced no insuperable problems, no agonising doubts, rather he
 The Performing Child and Its Audience 87

could luxuriate in the absence of adult standards, in his freedom from misgiv-
ing or external criticism about his conduct and character, in his power to win
admiration by a superior strength and cleverness64

Moreover, in attending the theatre, albeit across an auditorium, men were

connected with child performers and the many meanings embedded in
their stage personas. Judith Walkowitz has argued that, “The inclusion of
children appealed to audiences because it fore-grounded issues of child-
hood and highlighted the role of the child. Mid- to late-Victorian culture
articulated a new constellation of feeling and identification with the plight
of the child.”65 However, alongside this recognition was a developing com-
mercialization of childhood that fueled the sentimentalization of children.
As Mavor put it:

For the Victorians, the charm of buying childhood grew out of an active imag-
ination that envisioned one’s early years as a lost utopia; a bower to retreat to,
a secret garden that every middle-class person could enter through children’s
books and other child-centred products. The material culture of Victorian
childhood produced souvenirs of a time and place that never was—a true
Neverland.66

As shown above, performing children were particularly adept at evok-

ing emotion from an audience. They could, as Steedman suggests, enable
the watcher “to both recall and to express the past that each individual
life contained.”67 This was something that was recognized at the time,
“Pantomimes [are] for the youngsters, who home for their holidays, can
hope to grow up year by year with the original objects of their infantile
delight.”68
Of nostalgia, Kincaid has said, “you can’t go back . . . but you can bor-
row an illusion so powerfully valid it at times overwhelms reality.”69 Such
was the power of the stage-child over its audience. The theatrical indus-
try displayed children in ways which supported, intensified, and exploited
the sentimentalized notion of a universal experience of childhood.70
Pantomime was a particularly evocative medium with which to induce
and indulge nostalgic and sentimental thoughts:

Clown, to pater and materfamilias, and others, was a source of genuine enjoy-
ment; and though they may have passed the sere and yellow leaf of age, the
laughs and hearty merriment of their grandchildren, gathered around them,
made them think of other days, when they were young themselves.71
88 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

Catherine Robson suggests, though, that this engagement with one’s

personal history was not undifferentiated. In particular, because men’s
childhood was feminized, in revisiting it, men would focus on girl chil-
dren thus, “watching” was frequently gendered.72 The Victorian the-
atre, more than any other public space, offered men the opportunity
to gaze at girls. The theatrical child labor force was overwhelmingly
female. “While the name of the little actress is legion, the boy-actor is
quite a rara avis.” 73 Roles for boys were usually played by girls and boy
characters were often feminized, the most obvious example of this being
Lord Fauntleroy.74
Likewise, in their roles as animals, imps, and fairies, child performers
were able to satisfy a particular need within a Victorian audience. Only a
child could convincingly represent the tiny inhabitants of theatrical fairy-
land. Fairy themes were a particular favorite with the Victorians. Fairies
abounded in paintings, literature, and in dramatic productions. Jeremy
Maas has explained this fascination:

Fairy painting was close to the centre of the Victorian subconscious. No

other type of painting concentrates so many of the opposing elements of the
Victorian psyche: the desire to escape the drear hardships of daily existence;
the stirrings of new attitudes towards sex, stifled by religious dogma; a passion
for the unseen; the birth of psychoanalysis; the latent revulsion against the
exactitude of the new invention of photography.75

Various explanations have been offered for the Victorian penchant for fairy
themes.76 Nicola Brown argues that “the fairy was a constant presence in
Victorian culture because it provided a relief from and a consolation for
the Victorians’ overwhelming consciousness of the modernity of their
world . . . dreaming of fairies allowed them imaginatively to escape from
their world while at the same time picturing it in a magical form.”77
The allure of the stage-fairy for its audience was decidedly palpable.
Entrepreneurs from the entertainment world seized this potential draw.
One manager made this clear during a meeting with his peers. “The little
fairies and goblins aforenamed, are as essential to certain forms of dra-
matic art as ever cherubim’s were to the canvas of an old master, or as all
types of child-life are to the modern painter.” 78 The popularity of fan-
tasy and fairyland cannot be denied and whereas illustrations, paintings,
and stories might fire the imagination, theatrical representations could
seem to bring fairyland to life. Spectators were actively encouraged to
 The Performing Child and Its Audience 89

suspend their disbelief and accept the existence of fairyland while in the
theatre. This was something late Victorians were more than willing to do.
“Haunted also by the fear that industrialism was eroding ancient tradi-
tions, citizens took up fairy and more particularly folktales as symbols
of both childhood innocence and English culture.” 79 Child performers
contributed greatly to the audience’s ability to suspend disbelief in order
to achieve these aims. The stage-child characterized fairies in a way that
could never be convincingly replicated by an adult performer in the same
role. Tiny children were suitably attired to represent the inhabitants of
wonderland and they tip-toed around the elaborately dressed stage that
had been transformed into a magical setting. Increasingly sophisticated
technology enabled characters to miraculously appear or disappear on
cue. Similarly, by the wonders of mechanical invention, audiences wit-
nessed for themselves stage-fairies dressed in wisps of gossamer, flying
high across the stage.80 Nothing could be further from the audience’s
understanding of work than nymph-like creatures. Nicola Brown empha-
sises the idea of a fairy as:

The being who never works and whose time is spent in idle play. If they are
thought of as “lively elves”, the child labourers can be no more than playing,
their tasks thus rendered effortless and pleasurable—just as if they were tum-
bling in and out of flowers, or flying from bower to bower on their gossamer
wings.81

This understanding of fairy pursuits as the very antithesis of work fur-

ther distanced the audience from the reality of the stage-child as laborer.
Moreover, in fantasizing children in these ways, the child addressed a range
of needs within the audience. Taking account of Carol Mavors’ findings,
not all of these were necessarily ingenuous:

As “pure little girl” she was supposedly not sexual. Yet, given the work of Freud
and Foucault the “cult of the little girl,” the artistic treatments of her image,
the uneasy law of the period, and so forth, we cannot read her as anything but
sexual.82

This is perhaps an oversimplification. Clearly, Victorian adults valued chil-

dren in different ways and for a variety of reasons. Nevertheless, sexualized
constructions of the Victorian child do have currency and are significant
in terms of the relationship between performers and audiences. While
child performers helped reinforce the wonderment of this mythical world
90 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

for their audiences, certain spectators were drawn to fairy representations

for quite different reasons. As shown through contemporary comment,
there was a voyeuristic element attached to fairyland. This is perhaps best
explained by Schindler’s thoughts on the techniques used by the artists of
various fairy-themed paintings:

Fitzgerald’s fairies dressed in elaborate finery, possess a child-like bemuse-

ment as they move with tremulous bravado through a lush exotic floral world.
Simmons, Heatherley, and Grimshaw present a more forthright eroticism in
their depiction of the sylvan creatures. Their paintings usually focus on a
single nude female figure, framed by a natural setting and occasionally sur-
rounded by a fairy court. In some of these works, the inclusion of a toadstool
adds a phallic detail to the erotic subtext. These works have a dreamy cast
to them as the fairies go about their business, unmindful of their human
observers.83

The erotic interpretation that Schindler attributed to the canvas was by

some artists, transposed onto the all-child fairy ballets that were a regular
feature of Victorian theatre:

[A] Brutal person in the stalls had the audacity to admit that since the passing
of the Criminal Law Amendment Act [which raised the age of consent for girls
from thirteen to sixteen], he had ceased to take any pleasure in the children’s
ballets.84

Clearly, the industry was aware of this allure, and this was something cho-
reographers were not afraid to exploit. A description of one spectator indi-
cates how this translated to some audience members. “Julian gave himself
to the illusion created by the skill of Katti Lanner, ignoring entirely the
real care of the dancers, and choosing to consider them as merely driven by
wild impulse, vagrant desires of furious motion, and the dashing gaiety of
keen sensual sensation.”85
In keeping with this, Tracy Davis has observed that “there existed
a recognised encoding borrowed from and supported by the contem-
poraneous language of sexuality.”86 Meanings, she argues, “do not
reside in images . . . they are circulated between representation, specta-
tor, and social formation.”87 Those patrons possessing the knowledge
and understanding of underlying sexual allusion could read quite dif-
ferent interpretations into a seemingly conventional performance. The
Victorian theatrical industry provided a voyeuristic opportunity to view
children erotically. As far back as the late 1860s, theatre managers had
 The Performing Child and Its Audience 91

“discovered that the size of their audiences was often in inverse relation-
ship to the length of their dancers’ skirts.”88
Sexual connotations were used to sell performances. One clear example
resides in an advertisement for a Glasgow pantomime:

Do not forget the Coliseum. You will find there the display of a pantomime and
the excitement of a Panorama. There is also music and “The Masher” may do
worse than take his “sisters and his cousins and his aunts” into Walter Wilson’s
Wondrous World of Witchery. They will be pleased and so will he be if he keeps
his eyes on the Hebes! 89

On the one hand, audiences were presented with a sweet, pure, innocent,
and vulnerable child, yet on the other, the child performer was sometimes
accused of possessing a “knowingness” about her.90 Performing children
were taught to accompany every word by studied gesture and were made
to practice the various expressions of passion, pride, contempt, love,
hatred, and pleasure, until each one could be assumed at command.91 It
was common for stage-children to be described as being emotionally older
than their years and this left them vulnerable to inappropriate attention.
Michael Booth observes that sexual harassment and exploitation were
apparently more of a danger for the poorly paid, struggling working-class
actress, dancer, or chorister than for the middle-class recruit attempting
utility roles as the first step on the ladder.92
For the most part, because of their age and the ways in which they
were depicted, children were less likely to be associated with the low-
ness of the profession. Indeed, the very presence of large numbers of
children in the theatre and in particular, the increasing significance of
middle-class child performers served to raise the status of the profes-
sion and over time, the respectability attached to children was dissemi-
nated as they entered the adult sectors of the theatre. Nina Auerbach
suggests that to her audience the child was always present in Ellen
Terry’s performance, even in adulthood. “This theatrical lust of inno-
cence, bestowed on Ellen Terry, a childhood brimming with knowl-
edge, but in the end audiences yearned to make her a child forever.” 93
Successful child performers could carry their celebrity status and the
respect this earned them into their adult careers as well. This asso-
ciation of children with virtue and the innocence of their theatrical
involvement could itself, though, add to the vulnerability of child per-
formers. Assumptions of the purity of child performance gave the the-
atre an aura of respectability that would make it inconceivable, to most
92 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

members of the audience, that the children they took such pleasure in
might be vulnerable to moral corruption.
Louise Jackson suggests, “Reformers were concerned with the devel-
opmental impact of [children] entering the adult world too soon [and]
of gaining premature knowledge that might lead to moral corruption.”94
Stage-children were well placed for untimely introduction into the adult
world and perhaps more vulnerable than most. To some of those campaign-
ing against the presence of children on stage, child performers were viewed
as having prematurely lost their innocence because of their association
with the theatrical world. Away from their stage performance, child enter-
tainers were at times placed in potentially vulnerable situations. Children
spent much time back stage with large numbers of adults, and concerns
were also expressed over the intentions of visitors to the green room and
those who loitered at the stage door. For certain sections of the audience,
regardless of however innocently the child was presented, its performance
held sexual connotations.
Given the supposed “knowingness” and “gestures” demonstrated by the
performing child, sexual interest in child performers cannot be discounted.
The likelihood of theatrical children being sexualized by some sections of
the Victorian audience is borne out by Ellen Barlee’s when she commented
that “the calling of a ballet girl is in itself a recognised lure to the depraved
of the other sex, until the poor creatures like birds in the net of the fowler,
and few escape the meshes laid to ensnare them.”95
Manufactured performances by children could disguise and legitimize
what might have been seen as taboo in the adult world. This was espe-
cially true of all-child companies, where children often portrayed adult
roles. Davis has suggested that even if some playgoers sensed improprieties,
they were “unable to articulate precisely what and why conventions were
improper.”96 The socially constructed “idealized childhood” was steeped
in images of purity and innocence. However, James Kincaid maintains,
“Purity was in any case, defined by and thus riddled through with sexual
desire in Victorian England.”97 Furthermore, he argues, “The special his-
torical construction of ‘the child’ during this period and slightly before
made it available to desire in a way not previously possible.”98 No child was
more openly accessible to public desire than the child performer. Watching
the stage-child from the anonymity of the audience in a darkened audi-
torium, the Victorian observer was well placed to project escapist sexual
fantasies upon the unwitting child performer.
As depicted in the earlier paragraphs, cultured representations of child-
hood offered in photographic images helped to shape the sentimentalized
 The Performing Child and Its Audience 93

child. However, contradictorily photography was also used to construct

a sexualized identity for Victorian children. As Auerbach put it, “The
Victorian boom in child pornography and child prostitution suggests that
official horrors were underground passions.”99 This notion had particular
connotations for children working in the theatre. Holland has argued that:
In the nineteenth century, a new rationalism, which set out to record and
improve children’s objective conditions, and a romantic notion of childhood
as a holy state, undistorted by contact with adult sexuality or commerce, were
a stimulus to the photographic industry.100

For stage-children however, commerce and, frequently adult sexuality, lay

at the heart of the product they were paid to produce. Thus, in delivering
imagery of romanticized childhood, their own innocence and quality of
life was compromised.
When the theatrical season drew to a close with a loss of the child’s
income in prospect, young performers were hired out to photographers.
Actress and popular photographic model Gladys Cooper recalled that
from the age of six she regularly visited Downey’s photographic studio.
“He would ask my mother as a great favour, to let him try different studies
of me, and as she was always presented with some of the copies, she raised
no objections.”101 Commercialization of childhood created an increased
demand for child photography. Margaret Harker recalls one photogra-
pher’s studio where “a whole wall of the gallery in his Tunbridge Wells
studio was devoted to his child portraits.”102 This is not surprising, con-
sidering that child images were used to sell all manner of consumer goods
that were aimed at every market. Increased demand created employment
opportunities for theatrical children which supplemented their theatri-
cal earnings. Childhood photography did not, though, consist solely of
the “chocolate box” image. Ellen Barlee voiced her concern over children
being employed by photographers to “pose nude in classical groups or
subjects.”103 This practice was commonplace. Eric Trudgill has shown
that “from the 1870s to the turn of the century there existed a fashion
for representing nude little girls in pictures and photographs.”104 Of this
Kincaid argues “The incessant nineteenth-century (and modern) child
photographing seems to be a form of the erotic urge and the photograph-
ing can, in turn be related to the close connections between paedophilia
and voyeurism.”105
Perhaps the most well-known individual to indulge in this fashion
during the late nineteenth century was the author Lewis Carroll.106
Carroll is of particular interest to this study because of his liking for
94 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

and relationships with child actresses and his use of these children as
photographic models. Carroll’s photographic pursuits placed the theatri-
cal child/model’s own experience of childhood in direct conflict with
the widespread ideal of what a childhood should be.107 “It has been sug-
gested that within the world of postcard collectors the motives of pub-
lishers have to be questioned.”108 Given that both the photographic and
theatrical industries shared the same workforce of child labor and were
both exploiting images of children and childhood for economic gain, it
is plausible to suggest that the motives of some theatrical managers were
also not beyond question. Moreover, photographs were used to sell the-
atrical productions and “many provincial photographers operated from
studios within easy walking distance of theatres and some within the-
atres themselves.”109 One report shows the potential vulnerability of child
performers. This concerned the case of an 11-year-old actress who, with
a friend and dressed in their pantomime costumes, visited a studio to
have publicity photographs taken. Under false pretences, the photogra-
pher arranged for the girl to visit him again but this time alone. On the
second visit, she was sexually assaulted by the photographer. Her mother
was subsequently offered money by the 44-year-old married man to keep
quiet about the incident. In this instance the mother could not be bought
and the photographer received a six-month prison sentence.110 Given that
this period witnessed the rise of the stage mother and that some of these
women were thought to be unscrupulous, the potential for abuse cannot
be discounted.
Young female performers were regularly exposed to sexual innuendo
within their workplace. Barlee tells how they were forced to bare “the
coarse jokes of various male habitués . . . who discussed her appearance,
shape and physique.”111 For young performers, in particular, the body
became an instrument of expression and in the backstage theatrical world
various states of undress became the norm and for some it was a natural
progression to find themselves posing for nude photography.112 For those
youngsters who remained uneasy in such situations, there were ways and
means of obtaining their cooperation. Strategies were deliberately adopted
to coerce young subjects into compliant posing. One backstage artist
made no secret of the methods he adopted. Children of a certain age are,
with few exceptions, not difficult to deal with. “You can bribe them by
buns and encourage them by caresses. You may tempt them with toys and
threaten with impossible punishments.”113 The fact that some employers
saw it necessary to resort to such methods demonstrates that there were
some aspects of the work that children were uncomfortable with. However,
 The Performing Child and Its Audience 95

the fact remains that the pool of available theatrical child labor invariably
exceeded its demand. Moreover, many children were re-employed each
year. The lure of applause glamour and income held the sway to offset the
less-pleasant aspects of the industry and secure for it a compliant work-
force. When the general public entered a theatre they became an audience,
which in turn, transformed the theatrical child laborer into a performer.
The performer–audience relationship ultimately led to the exploitation of
the child both on and off the stage.
The relationship between child performer and an audience was com-
plex. The whole nature of the theatrical child’s work was transformed by
the presence of an audience. “However excellent the cast, splendid the set-
tings and attractive the costumes, self-evidently, none of these are of any
consequence if there is no audience to appreciate them.”114 Paying specta-
tors were the defining factor that made this form of child labor distinc-
tive from other child work. The relationship was, however, reciprocal.
Audiences thronged the theatre with an enormous expectation of enter-
tainment. It was the job of child entertainers to deliver this. The child
performer provided visual, aural, and mental stimulation regardless of the
age, class, or gender composition of audiences, watching children evoked
emotional responses. The child performer found the reaction of the audi-
ence equally emotionally rewarding because a responsive audience left the
child feeling important, appreciated, loved, and empowered. The benefits
received during a performance vindicated the many hours of backstage
labor and potential abuses.
By the last quarter of the nineteenth century, performance was increas-
ingly recognized as a profession and associated with “star status.” This
section of the leisure industry was linked to glamour and excitement,
even though for the majority of performers this was more apparent than
real. Although audiences saw the most visible aspect of the industry, in
fact, their perception of the performing child fell far short of the back-
stage reality. The public notion of the industry comprised a double-edged
sword. On the one hand it allowed theatrical children a degree of social
standing, and on the other hand the desire to watch these children per-
petuated backstage exploitation of their labor. In the mind of the per-
forming child the audience responded to a performance en masse. The
children were not fully aware of their own vulnerability as they were
paraded in front of the public gaze. Audience response, however, was
individualistic with each member attaching his or her own understand-
ing of the child’s performance to meet with his or her own instinctive and
distinctive needs.
96 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

The child performer provided an intangible commodity that was pack-

aged and consumed simultaneously during the performance. Performer
and audience shared a particular moment that was exclusive to each perfor-
mance. This was a transient product that could never be exactly recreated
again and the relationship between the two shaped a mutual and inexpli-
cable bond of appreciation and enjoyment that was so strong it left each
party longing for a repeat performance.

Figure 3.1 Pantomime Tastes at Three Periods of Youth, The Bystander,

December 23, 1907.
 The Performing Child and Its Audience 97

Those concerned about the presence of children in the Victorian theatre

recognized the importance of this bond in the perpetuation of the use of
child labor. Campaigners argued, “Stop the demand and the supply will
soon cease. Stop the managers’ supply and their demand for children will
die a natural death.”115 They did not, however, understand the significance
of audience response in the construction and maintenance of the child per-
former’s identity. This was something that was to prove a stumbling block
in both the campaign to take children off the stage and in the successful
implementation of subsequent legislation to limit child involvement, as
presented in chapter 4.
4. Performing Their Duty:
Child Savers and the
Theatrical Child

A
clear consensus emerged during the last quarter of the nineteenth
century among employers, child performers, their families, and
the wider public, who made up the audience. A belief that employ-
ment of theatrical child labor was both desirable and necessary was the
uniting factor for these groups. The hunger to be entertained by children
was encouraged and fed by the reciprocal relationship between contempo-
rary culture and the theatre. The industry’s recognition of the child as a
valuable commodity meant that all aspects of Victorian performance incor-
porated children in some way. Whole new areas of theatrical genres were
developed to meet consumer demand and thus maximize profit potential.
The key implication of all this was a massive increase in the number and
visibility of child employees.
The popularity of young performers informed the majority view but this
did not entirely go unchallenged. In the latter decades of the nineteenth
century a campaign was initiated that sought to end the employment of
children in theatres. This campaign had two distinct phases. The first,
which began in 1884, lasted for five years and focused on changing public
opinion about the place of children in the theatrical labor market. This
worked to ensure that existing legislation would be applied to outlaw the
employment of child performers. The second phase sought to have stage-
children included in a wider new legislation around child welfare. Both
strategies were met by the mobilization of theatrical interests in defense
of child employment. It is useful to note that in ensuing debates, all con-
tributors used the theatrical child as a trope to muster support for their
respective campaigns. Whatever the rhetoric, the interests of the actual
child were usually incidental.
100 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

This chapter aims to reinforce the argument that child labor was of cru-
cial importance to the entertainment industry during the late nineteenth
century. Every attack on its use was countered by a defensive response
against a background of aggressive promotion of theatrical interests. The
energy and resources the employers invested in the continued employment
of stage-children reflects their worth as a commodity. As with any capital-
ist enterprise profit was the main objective of theatre owners and at that
moment, child labor comprised an input of production that had no sub-
stitute. As the embodiment of Victorian childhood, stage-children were
valuable in a number of ways to a variety of adults. This, extended to those
who called for an end to theatrical child labor.
Historians have paid only limited attention to the situation of child
labor on the Victorian stage, but what research has been undertaken focuses
attention on the campaign led by the National Vigilance Association
(NVA). While this approach is hardly surprising, given the very public
nature of the Association’s crusade, it also has consequences relative both
to the questions asked of the historical evidence and to its subsequent
interpretation. There are three main areas of concern with regard to pre-
vious approaches to the study of theatrical child labor. Firstly, there has
been a tendency to conflate social purist campaigners with others who
were actively involved in charitable work with stage-children. Secondly,
such approaches take no cognizance of the fact that concern about the
welfare of theatrical child workers predated the social purists’ campaigns
and continued long after the NVA had lost interest. Thirdly, historians
have located debates in a struggle between two opposing camps, with the
NVA and theatrical interests embroiled in a tug of war over the passive
child victim. This approach is crude. Although theatrical employers had
much invested in theatrical child labor, they constituted only one sector of
a complex group who had vested interests in the continued employment
of theatre children. Overall, work to date, although important in high-
lighting the issue has not fully engaged with the complexities made visible
through more in-depth research.
The theatrical missionary Ellen Barlee was described by Kathleen
Heasman as one of those evangelical women having a real presence in
Victorian voluntarism.1 Although a renowned social investigator and phi-
lanthropist, it is for her writing of religious tracts that she is perhaps best
remembered. Her association with child performers came to wider public
attention when she penned Pantomime Waifs; or, a Plea for our city children,
published in 1884.2 Her survey comprises the most comprehensive primary
source available to researchers in this area. Barlee had firsthand experience
 Performing Their Duty 101

of witnessing the working lives of children backstage. Her book gives a rare
voice to the children albeit through her own editing. Given its religious
perspective its content appears to present a relatively balanced account
when tested against a range of additional primary evidence. The book has
been quoted in past studies of theatrical children, but its ethos and the
intent behind its publication have often been overlooked or misinterpreted.
Timing goes some way to explain this confusion. Pantomime Waifs was
becoming more widely known in 1885, just as the NVA’s Preventative and
Rescue Subcommittee began to publically voice concern over the employ-
ment of theatrical child labor. Consequently, Barlee’s investigative account
has been cited by academics in conjunction with the social purist cam-
paign.3 This is understandable because during the second and the most
public phase of the campaign there was some overlap of involvement in
both camps by high-profile individuals. Lord Shaftesbury, for instance,
had links with several parties that showed concern about this group of
children.4 During the latter phase of its campaign the NVA attached its
specific demands to a general campaign by the Society for the Prevention
of Cruelty to Children (SPCC). NVA members jumped on the back of
SPCC calls for the passing of the Child Cruelty Prevention Bill (CCP).
Lord Shaftsbury had written the preface to Barlee’s Pantomime Waifs and
he recommended this reading to SPCC founder, Benjamin Waugh. As a
consequence, theatrical children were given a particular place in the pro-
posed CCP Bill. The NVA worked unremittingly to ensure that child per-
formers were included in the ultimate legislation. Thus, Waugh acts as a
hinge that unites Barlee, NVA campaigners, and his proposed legislation to
protect all children from cruelty.5 It is plausible to assume that the paths of
Barlee and Fawcett might have crossed more directly as they moved within
interrelated circles. For instance, Barlee’s general philanthropic concerns
were shared by a number of women in the Langham Place circle connected
with the Social Science Association. As Kathleen McCrone has reported,
this group brought together a wide range of reformers, including the Earl
of Shaftesbury and Henry and Millicent Garrett Fawcett.6 Evidence also
shows that Fawcett did consult with the founders of the Theatrical Mission
of whom Barlee was well acquainted. However, Fawcett’s words do not
convey any sense of a close working relationship:

Mr. and Mrs. Courthope Todd, devote their whole lives to the services of chil-
dren and young people employed in theatres. They did not permit me to quote
particular cases . . . but have formed the very strongest opinion as to the bad
moral tendency of theatrical work upon children and young girls.7
102 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

An additional loose connection is evident from a positive review of

Pantomime Waifs printed in the Pall Mall Gazette on February 14, 1885.
This was just five months before W. T. Steed’s serialization of the “Maiden
Tribute of Babylon” that was linked to Fawcett’s involvement with the
Criminal Law Amendment Act 1885. Nevertheless, a closer examination
of Barlee’s work reveals a clear division between her associations with the-
atrical missionaries and Fawcett’s work with the NVA sub-rescue commit-
tee. Distinctions between the two, in terms of interest, motivation, and
responses to theatrical child labor are palpable.
Barlee was typical of middle-class women who benefited from the oppor-
tunities that arose from involvement in public work around child welfare.
A prolific writer of religious tracts she was, as Helen Rogers put it:

One of the women to take up the call for “sisters of charity”, resolving to inves-
tigate and publicize the causes and remedies of distress. Like other philanthro-
pists, she believed the “romances” of the poor could be used to cement the
“Christian bond of love” between rich and poor, and their life histories formed
the basis of her books and journalism.8

Figure 4.1 Image of Ellen Barlee, from author’s private collection.

 Performing Their Duty 103

Barlee’s writing style was undoubtedly sentimental, and Pantomime Waifs

was just one of a large number of her publications written with the inten-
tion of disseminating the harshness of life associated with the poor. She
asserted that “tears are oftener shed over the highly-painted scenes of fic-
tion than over the living representatives of misfortune and oppression”9
This could imply that her writing was prone to exaggeration yet Barlee
claimed to minimize what she had observed for fear that her testimony
would be considered unbelievable.10
Supporting evidence drawn on for this study does suggest that the
content of Pantomime Waifs was clearly underpinned by firsthand investi-
gation into the lives of those she chose to write about. One of her contem-
poraries Jessie Boucherette testified that Barlee was “Well acquainted with
the suffering which prevails among our female population.”11
This approach also applied to her investigation into the backstage lives
of theatrical children.
In addition to her own wide-ranging experience Barlee was able to draw
upon the earlier work of Lord Shaftesbury to which she was allied. This
related specifically to the training regimes of child gymnasts and acrobats.
Long after the 1879 Dangerous Performances Bill was passed to protect
children in circuses from cruelty, the treatment of these young performers
continued to be a source of concern and debate.12 Five years on and the Act
was proving to be inadequate and ineffective:

The fact remains patent that the training necessary to supply the large demand
for contortionist exhibition still goes on, and must be performed in secret,
where probably, in consequence, a greater amount of cruelty is practised even
than before, when legally recognised.13

While the legislative route was proving ineffectual in its protection of

acrobatic children, preliminary interest in the needs of all child perform-
ers was evolving in missionary circles to which Barlee was affiliated.14 Ten
years before the NVA’s first protestations about the industry’s employment
of children, theatrical missionaries had identified and begun to address
their needs.

THE THEATRICAL MISSION

A synopsis of the Theatrical Mission is provided by Pearl Fisher:

In 1873 an effort was put forth by Mr. Howke and some Christian ladies to
gather the performers at the Crystal Palace pantomime by means of Gospel free
104 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

teas. In 1876 Mr. C.E. Todd, then studying for orders, visiting one of these
meetings felt led to write a selection of texts . . . to a young actress; and later on
he wrote to others. Replies were received from some which showed that the
spirit in which the letters were written was appreciated . . . Gradually the work
grew, Christian ladies volunteered to write monthly letters and today about
600 ladies are so serving Christ, writing to over 1500 members of the ballet and
chorus and upper-class actresses month by month.15

In the absence of family and friends, the intention of the letter mis-
sion was, “to send a personal letter each month, asking for a reply if any
assistance was needed.”16 Some ten years after its creation Pearl Fisher
reported that:

600 ladies write to young women and children each month while gentle-
men and married ladies undertake correspondence with the lads who are
asking for these friendly notes. The aim is to furnish every chorus and bal-
let lady, every theatrical and pantomime child, male and female, and even
upper class actresses also—should she so desire it- with some friend who
will engage to write at least once a month, whether replies are received or
not; seeking to help this with earnest and friendly Christian council (sic).
Visitation in homes or Hospitals—especially in cases of accident and sick-
ness which are numerous. endured by the little ones who are compelled to
perform for their amusement.17

Theatrical employers refuted any claims that touring children were in

danger and left to their own devices. One of the largest impresarios,
Augustus Harris publicly stated that “They [touring children] were sent
to such places as Glasgow, under the care of mothers, who looked after
so many children each.”18 There is little evidence to support this. As an
unregulated and itinerant labor force, the numbers of children on tour
at any given time were indeterminate, and thus this sector of the work-
force was rendered particularly vulnerable. As Kathleen Heasman pointed
out, touring children “always stood the chance of instant dismissal in a
strange town if they were ill or if the show was not a success.”19 The Letter
Mission had access to a nationwide network of theatricals and its central-
izing effect placed it in a unique position to identify members of an other-
wise obscure workforce of vulnerable young women and children. As such
it is difficult to overestimate the value of this project to those individual
youngsters who were in need of help. Barlee records how much children
and their families were “appreciative” of the service and not simply during
times of crisis.20
 Performing Their Duty 105

Figure 4.2 The Theatrical Mission, The Graphic, June 17, 1893; issue 1229.

The letter mission was expanded to incorporate everyday practical help

with the opening of a theatrical mission institute.
The mission relied heavily on charitable donations and fund-raising
activities.
Regular contact with stage employees had revealed the particular prob-
lems they faced. As issues arose remedies were proposed. To use Davis’s
words:

The influx of women into the theatre did not cause theatrical charities to be
formed, but the two phenomena are related. Following a decade when the
number of actresses increased by 90 per cent, crucial issues of housing, protec-
tion of girls and young women, and recreational facilities for children, women,
and families were tackled by the Theatrical Mission.21

The Mission offered theatrical children a warm and safe environment at

those times when, their employers left them to the streets and their own
devices.22
One of the most valuable services the Mission offered was the provision
of inexpensive meals. It was a commonly held misnomer that all children
were fed at the theatre. Barlee refuted this:

They bring with them such scraps as they can provide themselves with, and eat
them in the streets . . . when they can earn higher wages the coffee houses allure
them . . . and in the company who, recognising their calling, treat them with
too ready familiarity.23
106 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

Figure 4.3 Sketches at the Bazaar for Macready House Theatrical Mission,
The Illustrated London News, December 10, 1887.

Missionary efforts did much to ease this problem but some five
years after the publication of Pantomime Waifs, Mary Jeune suggested
that provision was still falling short of need.24 As David Rubinstein
has demonstrated, this came in the midst of much wider concern in
society for the general health of the nation’s children. “In 1889 the
first of three surveys carried out for the London School Board showed
 Performing Their Duty 107

Figure 4.4 The Theatrical Mission, The Graphic, February 26, 1887.

that nearly 44,000 undernourished children attended their schools pro-

viding statistical reinforcement of claims widely publicised during the
Board election of 1888.” 25
Jeune’s plan did not detract from the services provided by theatrical
missionaries. She did though make an astute point at a time of increas-
ing secularization in an industrialized and urbanized society, when she
108 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

acknowledged “the curious mistrust English working people have of any

institution founded on a religious basis or attempting to introduce religious
teaching in its work.”26 Jeune planned a more materialist, worldly service:

Some people believe that the children have food . . . provided for them at the
theatre, but this is not so . . . one has no guarantee that they get enough of the
wholesome food that children engaged in such work undoubtedly require.
Three or four children club together to get their dinner from some coffee-
house near the theatre, but from what I know of these places I do not think
them fit for such young children.27

Regardless of whether some children were slipping through the missionar-

ies’ net, their provision of creature comforts decidedly surpassed what was
being done by theatrical employers. Jeune’s plan calls into question claims
made by managers of larger venues about existing provision for young
employees. Augustus Harris stated that child performers had their meals
at the theatre and were also given time for recreation.28 This does not seem
to have been the case if we consider Jeune’s proposal:

I know from large experience how very cheaply children’s dinners can be pro-
vided and I feel sure for a good deal less money than the children give daily,
much more harmless and wholesome food might be provided; and if such a
plan was carried out I would soon find more volunteer help than they required,
and if Mr Harris were to announce that he proposed to carry out such a scheme,
and would provide the room. I would undertake to promise that it would never
afterwards have to give him a moment’s trouble or anxiety, or cost him a penny.
I think if any one considers for a moment that since the children always have
to go out for their food, often in wet and showery weather . . . the risk to their
health is very great and with so small an outlay the danger might be obviated,
it would not be difficult to carry out my suggestion.29

Employers were reluctant to give over valuable backstage space to any vol-
untary food scheme that might disrupt work on the shop floor. That said,
on occasions employers were prepared to make exceptions on this matter
when it suited their own needs. This selective provision of food was also
hierarchal. Phyllis Bedells’ childhood recollections provide a rare insight
in to this:

During the last week of rehearsals for a new production when we had to be in
the theatre for long stretches at a time . . . food was provided in the foyer at the
back of the circle for the corps de ballet and stage staff, Principals were given
excellent meals at the Queens Hotel, next door where a large table was kept laid
for any of us who were able to slip out of the theatre for half an hour.30
 Performing Their Duty 109

It was usual for some theatre managers or principal performers to hold a tea
party backstage for child cast members. However, these were annual events
and unlike Barlee’s more anonymous work these were much publicized acts
of philanthropy.
Jeune’s reservations about the religious implications of the Mission’s
provision may have been excessive and also tenuous. It is important at this
juncture to acknowledge the existence of significant forerunners to Jeune’s
proposed lifeline. The work of William Forbes from London’s Graffton
Road chapel was an invaluable contribution to this cause. His tea-parties
for child performers were a free and weekly occurrence that combined
bible instruction with a “sit down tea” of “liberally supplied food” to hun-
dreds of children.31 Barlee had also set a precedent for Jeune’s scheme
through her organizing of weekly, backstage tea parties for children.32
Clearly then, religious-based provision was well established, and taken up
by those it targeted.
Positive relations had been developing for some time between church
and stage.33 The mass commercialization and popularity of performance-
based leisure prompted a shift in respect for and worship of the clergy.
Celebrities and theatres were proving to be a bigger draw than were

Figure 4.5 Treat to the Children Engaged in the Pantomime at Drury Lane,
The Illustrated London News, December 17, 1883.
110 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

preachers and the pulpit. This was something the church was keen to
address and working relationships were forged between the two institu-
tions in the form of the Church and Stage Guild [1879] and later of the
Actors Church Union [1899] 34
The Church and Stage Guild was made up of members from the dra-
matic profession and the clergy whose aim it was to:

get rid of prejudice against stage and theatre and vice versa, to promote reli-
gious and social sympathy between members of the Guild and others and
to assert and vindicate the right of religious people to take part in theatrical
amusements, whether as performers or spectators.35

Only one year on from the formation of the Stage Guild it was claimed
that “society is at last opening its charmed doors, clergymen and actors are
shaking hands.”36 By 1897 integration and assimilation of both camps was
being hailed as triumphant. “Actors have become clergymen, and clergymen
actors.”37 Alliance with the Church was useful to the theatrical industry as
it reinforced the tag of respectability it had worked hard to acquire.38
More forceful detractors refused to acknowledge the successes of the
Mission. One journalist termed its workers as, “these self-constituted the-
atrical missionaries” and further claimed:

Our plain opinion is that this appearance of seeking the welfare of stage-chil-
dren is somewhat awkwardly put on to cover a sort of light skirmish against
the profession, in its roots body and branches. We will say no more of these
exaggerated puritans and their aspirations against the drama.39

Such negative claims about the Mission’s hidden agenda are countered by
its willingness to help large numbers of those who remained in the indus-
try. As Davis points out:

If the Mission’s purpose was to denounce the theatre and dissuade people from
the stage it was hugely unsuccessful for theatrical workers and their families
used the facilities and returned to their work places by the thousands. In 1890,
attendance was 18,000, with twice that number visiting during the Christmas
season. Library loans rose to 5,000 annually.40

It would be a mistake to think about theatrical missionaries as purely

preachers. They had early realized that sermonizing was not the most con-
ducive strategy and they always took a cross-denominational approach:

The authorities regarded it almost as a matter of honour not to undertake any

proselytising. Their first object is to get the trust and confidence of the girls,
 Performing Their Duty 111

and then they find the opportunity to drop the right word in at the right sea-
son; and being the right word, it is sure to have its due weight whether uttered
by Roman Catholic, Dissenter or Methodist.41

The increasing numbers of children passing through the Mission doors;

5,500 children were admitted in its first year, is indicative of the chal-
lenges faced by children employed to entertain for their living.42 In the
light of apathetic employers and a failure from other bodies to recognize
child entertainers as exploited workers, missionary achievements were
outstanding given that the commercial provision of performance-based
entertainment was vast, varied, and nationwide. The nature of the busi-
ness produced a widespread, diverse, itinerant workforce with an ever-
changing dynamic. This posed problems with regard to collating evidence
about or addressing work-related problems for young entertainers. These
were the same conditions that also made it difficult to effectively regulate
theatrical child labor through legislation. Missionary work lay the foun-
dations for secular provision of similar services in the form of Girls Clubs
that came much later.43

ELLEN BARLEE

Ellen Barlee’s commitment to performers was especially child focused

and practical. Barlee drew on knowledge of theatrical employment that
had been amassed by the Theatrical Mission movement and applied this
to identifying and addressing the specific needs of performing children.
Despite the rhetoric of celebrity and glamour that surrounded the theatri-
cal world, Barlee grasped the realities of the work for its child employees.
Typically, she described their life away from the spotlight:

Some poor weary ballet child . . . All the evening she has been either shivering in
her gossamer dress in the green room . . . or dancing till every limb feels strained
with the exertion. Then when her work is over, throwing off her tinsel clothing
and donning her ordinary attire she turns her head back on the bright lights
of the theatre, and wends her way through the cold, muddy streets . . . until she
reaches her home in some garret. It is almost one o’clock [before she] creeps
into bed.44

Although Barlee would have preferred children not to have been employed
in theatres, her thinking was in line with the doctrine of the Letter Writing
Mission. “Christ may be served and glorified in any work provided their
112 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

labour is honest and true and they are bid to shape their conduct to his
approval and that of their own conscience.”45 Barlee accepted that these
children needed to earn and as such she was not particularly intent on per-
suading them to give up performing.46 She did, however, encourage them
to embrace and adhere to the word of God while working in the profession
and hoped, as a consequence of this, they might choose alternative modes
of employment.
Moreover, Barlee was adept at packaging her evangelical message in
ways that would appeal to theatrical children. For example, she approached
the manager of the Crystal Palace Theatre ; a major employer of young the-
atricals, to offer her services as religious instructor to his child employees.
This was agreed to with one proviso:

That I would promise not to set them against their calling; and thus it
came to pass, as narrated, that I found myself the centre of a pantomime
tea party . . . I improvised a tale of a little ballet dancer, who, falling from a
trapeze had met with an accident, which eventually resulted in her death.
During the child’s illness, a lady, however, visited her, and carried her, the
good news of salvation through Christ, the little one accepting such an offer
in all the freshness of her hearts faith. Never was there a more earnest atten-
tive audience; many of the children were moved to tears.47

Barlee’s experience was rare in being able to witness the backstage per-
sona of the child performer. Although acutely aware of the difficulties
that theatrical work placed on children she did recognize that they also
had some agency. Very often the children were prime movers in ini-
tiating their theatrical careers.48 According to Barlee “children soon
learn [ed] to measure their own abilities and worth, and trade with their
talents.”49
For example, when one manager lowered the wage rate of 60 boys who
he employed to simulate ocean waves, the boys took a united stand:

They took their places under the canvas sea and when the prompter gave the
signal for the storm, the water was stagnant—instead of the ship striking it was
the waves that struck . . . We won’t move a peg unless you pay us a shilling a
night, for it wears out our corduroys so.50

Waves seemed to be especially prone to industrial action. A large number

of boys who represented waves also went on strike during a pantomime
production of “Beauty and the Beast” at London’s Theatre Royal.51 These
instances support Barlee’s claims that child performers did have some
 Performing Their Duty 113

agency. Her knowledge of the children was in direct contrast with that of
the NVA that portrayed theatrical children as purely passive victims.
While both the NVA and Barlee shared some of the same concerns
about theatrical children, the solutions they sought were manifestly dif-
ferent. Fawcett’s supporters aimed to stop the industry from employing
children, while Barlee intended to dissuade the children from wanting to
work there. Crucially, Barlee worked within the confines of the theatrical
world in order to improve the working conditions of its child workers.
NVA members sought to work against the industry.

THE NATIONAL VIGILANCE ASSOCIATION

The NVA’s initial interest evolved from its concerns about the perceived
immorality of music halls and theatres and the moral welfare of children
who worked there. However, as the industry was not given to revealing
any of its backstage operations it is unlikely that even theatre-going NVA
members would have been familiar with its methods of production. Barlee,
on the other hand, having been a regular backstage visitor, at least gained
some personal insight into the private face of the industry and the needs of
the children within this. The NVA’s belief that the eradication of theatri-
cal child labor was the most effective way of resolving morality issues was
based in part, on assumption.
The belief that the public would respond positively to a campaign
that stressed the vulnerability of children was based though, on expe-
rience. Widespread support for the Maiden Tribute campaign and its
subsequent success not only meant that campaigners were extra vigi-
lant in seeking out vulnerable girls, but also gave them a sense of confi-
dence that the public would support their endeavors. This assuredness
encouraged the NVA to call for the abolition of theatrical child employ-
ment. In the light of their recent success with the campaign to raise the
age of consent, some members perceived stage-children as an obvious
weapon with which to attack the industry. In so doing, they believed
that Victorian concerns about the vulnerability of children would guar-
antee success. However, when campaigners identified theatrical children
as in need of moral rescue they did not envisage the wall of opposition
they would face.
As shown above, theatrical missionaries had been accused of being pri-
marily, theatre-hating moralists who were using children as a means to
attack the industry. When the NVA took up the cause against theatrical
114 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

child employment, they faced similar accusations. One journalist argued

that the object of NVA campaigners was “not to protect children, but to
molest managers (those servants of Satan) and, ultimately to strike a blow
at the acted drama.”52 However, unlike Barlee and her fellow Theatrical
Missionaries who worked within the confines of the industry to achieve
their aims, NVA strategies were in direct conflict with the interests of the
industry. Therefore, as will become apparent, theatrical bosses drew on a
wider network of influential allies, all of whom had a vested interest in the
continued use of theatrical child labor.

MORAL DANGERS

In contrast to the highly visible activities in front of the footlights, back-

stage remained a somewhat unknown entity. The secluded environment
coupled with concerns highlighted by the Maiden Tribute affair alerted
NVA members to the industry’s potential for harboring corrupt influ-
ences and practices.53 Compulsory education had separated the realms
of adulthood and childhood. Late Victorian period children were located
in the schoolroom that took them from the streets and away from the
adult domain of the workplace. NVA campaigners took this ideal to argue
that it was unhealthy for stage-children to spend so much time in the
company of adults especially within the realms of the theatre. Socialist
H. W. Hobart wrote:

If it is bad for the children to play in the streets because of the tendency to learn
evil, it will not improve them to have to mix with grown up persons in the
Green Room. Children are undoubtedly very precious and constant association
with adults under such conditions is calculated to be more harmful than casual
intercourse. That they do readily ape the man everyone who has seen them on
stage will admit.54

The entertainment industry was fiercely protective of the respectable fam-

ily audience it had long sought and secured, and so was quick to play down
anything that might link the theatre with immorality. One theatrical trade
journal typically claimed that:

As for moral associations, there is nothing in a well-conducted theatre that

could do these youngsters the least harm, as there is nothing that could scan-
dalise the most vigilant of the “vigilance” committee men who were familiar
with the methods of theatrical production.55
 Performing Their Duty 115

The industry also suggested that the presence of children in the theatri-
cal adult world was in itself a regulator of adult behaviour. “There is one
curious thing which may not be known to the Highly particular sect—no
manager, actor, or actress would use a profane or coarse word among the
children; such an offender would be scouted by the roughest member of
any company and condemned by the very stage-carpenters.”56 This flies
in the face of claims from one young dancer who recalled that even one
of the most respected theatrical child employers made, “the air thick with
his oaths.”57
Lewis Carroll did not see this as a problem. He argued that the very
nature of childhood was a safeguard against any corruption of young
performers:

Ignorance of the ways of the world, and of the meanings of most of the words
they hear, is a protection enjoyed by young children, and by them only. The
evil itself is undeniably great—though less, I believe, in this age than in any
previous one—but it is almost wholly limited to the adult members of the
company and of the audience.58

Theatrical employers enjoyed wide support from their allies in parliament.

Typically, Louis Jennings, Member of Parliament, refuted campaigners’
assertions of immorality:

[They] Imagined that behind the scenes awful orgies were carried on. The fact
was that behind the scenes of the theatre was a place of business which was well
looked after; and admission behind the scenes of some of their great theatres
was almost as difficult to obtain as admission to Buckingham Palace.59

The obscurity of backstage life that Jennings claimed served as a safety

measure against abuse, could equally though, provide the anonymity that
potential abusers required. Those who were invited through the stage
door entered at the discretion and moral standards of each individual in a
position to allow them through. Ultimately, it was this that governed the
degree to which young performers were put at risk or safeguarded from any
possible harm and not the venue, production, size or class of theatre. For
example, one porter at a Manchester Theatre claimed that “to pass through
the iron door which at the Theatre Royal separates the stage from the audi-
torium is for the ‘unauthorised person’ not less difficult than for a camel to
go through a needle’s eye.”60 Yet, of another theatre, a young actress main-
tained that “Gentlemen find that a coin will easily pass them through the
stage door.”61 It was claimed that “one Gaiety stage doorkeeper . . . made so
116 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

much money in tips for arranging appointments for mashers with the girl
of their choice, that he later owned a street of houses.”62
Accusations of backstage immorality and its possible effects on chil-
dren were taken seriously by some. George Shipton from the Education
Commission, broached this subject when questioning Millicent
Fawcett. “I suppose your committee have found that it is a fact that
in nearly every theatre in London the practice is adopted by manag-
ers to allow swell people to go on at the back of the stage and talk to
the girls during the performance?” Fawcett agreed that “there was no
restriction placed by the manager on entrance to the Green Room.”
Shipton further enquired whether she had “evidence that girls occasion-
ally complained to the managers that these swell people had interfered
with them and talked to them when they had not desired it.”63 Unlike
Barlee, Fawcett had little firsthand knowledge of the experiences of
theatrical girls. Unsurprisingly, she could not supply Shipton with spe-
cific examples. It is doubtful, given the NVA’s detached approach that
its members would accrue the same insights into the industry which
the missionaries’ hands-on-methods had established. This is not to
infer that there was no cause for complaint; George Shipton offered
an example of “girls who have complained and the manager’s reply was
that ‘square girls’ did not pay and if they did not like it they could go.”64
Girls were unlikely to protest given, how highly their dependent rela-
tives valued a theatrical wage. Additionally, as part of an oversubscribed
labor force, young girls were aware of their expendability. Additionally,
many of these girls worked under legally binding contracts that com-
pelled them to accept and complete engagements that were allotted to
them and which prohibited them, over several years, from seeking work
independently. Failure to comply could and as evidence shows, did,
incur a fine from the courts.65
Backstage “visitors” were only one of several issues of moral concern
voiced by NVA campaigners over theatrical child labor. The industry
was in the business of providing escapist entertainment for its patrons,
which required its employees to work unsociable hours. Late finishing
times were problematic for all children, even those employed in theatres
that might be working to the highest of moral standards. This did not go
unacknowledged at the time. “Hundreds of pantomime children go home
in the dark and alone. They get into bad company, and the morality of
the stage is not proof against the immorality of the streets.”66 Yet, it was
the demands of the industry which placed the children in the predicament
in the first place.
 Performing Their Duty 117

High profile producer Oscar Barrett claimed to have provided “safe

and sufficient transit for the children to and from their homes.”67 On the
other hand Annette Bear’s eye witness account of Barrett’s, homeward-
bound employees contradicts his version. Bear told of several children she
encountered on a late night train:

None of them had anyone to meet them at The Palace . . . One seven year old
had to catch a third train alone. Nobody ever came to fetch her and she was
frightened of going through the streets alone. “I suppose then,” I said, “you run
all the way.” “No I don’t” she replied, “I am too tired, my legs ache.” Her head
dropped and she fell asleep.68

Similarly, Millicent Fawcett recounted the tale of one child “who was
engaged at the Crystal Palace ballet . . . and used to come home at night by
herself and had to walk from Ludgate Hill Station . . . She was attacked twice
in the street, and was exceedingly frightened and alarmed.”69 Children left
the theatre wearing their own clothes but often they remained in full stage
makeup. Rouged cheeks and red lips drew attention to an already vulner-
able group of children and highlighted the celebrity status that made them
public property.
Once the children left the security of their stage personas behind, the
emotional reward they so craved could bring unwelcome interest, espe-
cially when the child was clearly still performing. One observer witnessed
a 12-year-old actress on the rail platform after a late night show who was
singing, “I’m out on the spree.” When asked how she was to get home she
told how she, “hoped a gentleman might take her.” 70 Regardless of whether
or not they sought this attention, clearly, being left to travel home at such
late an hour posed problems particular to this form of child labor. Those
who supported the industry though, dismissed this sort of criticism and
typically countered that if children were not “playing in the pantomime,
many of the children would be spending their lives in squalid garrets and
gutters.”71 “Do you imagine they would be put to bed at seven if they had
not to go to the theatre?”72 Whatever the truth of this is, it is clear that
the commodity value managers put on the children as workers had no
currency beyond the stage door. This emphasizes the importance of the
services offered by the theatrical missionaries to theatrical children; both
supporting them within the profession and in encouraging them to pursue
alternative employment.
Although campaigners claimed that theatrical child employment
“unfits them for work in any other station in life,”73 theatrical missionaries
118 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

disagreed with this thinking and recognized that skills associated with
performance were both valuable and transferable:
Not a few, comparatively, of these [young theatrical girls] have entered
Hospitals, have been thoroughly trained, and are now particularly successful
Nurses. It would seem, indeed, that Nursing demands many of the qualities
which go to make the successful player, such as sympathy, tact, intelligence,
readiness to take cue, and self-repression.74

From the outset, however, Fawcett challenged any argument that suggested
that theatrical training could prepare children for respectable employment
as adults:
I do not deny that in a few cases this may be so; but the children are employed
in hundreds, while those of them who can obtain engagements in theatres after
they are grown up are counted by tens. The vast majority of these children
are, therefore, too often unfitted by theatrical life for the humdrum routine
of ordinary industry, without being able to pursue the calling to which their
childhood was sacrificed.75

Lifelong actress Ellaline Terriss claimed the theatre to be “the greatest

reforming influence street children can get [it] gives them friends in sta-
tions far above them to help them to higher ideals.” 76 Some supporters
maintained that theatrical experience was, in itself, an educator of its child
workers.77 NVA supporter, Sophia Beale found this an unacceptable notion,
“as rate payers paid for schools many believed that rate payers should decide
where morals are taught.”78
Even though the NVA focused its campaign on the moral welfare of
theatrical children and despite this being located within the wider climate
of moral panic, its cause attracted only limited support. This was, in part,
due to difficulties in penetrating the industry’s formidable defenses. When
the expected tide of moral outrage against the use of child labor in theatres
failed to materialize, campaigners were forced to rethink their strategy.
The idea that the industry could be undermined by publicizing the situa-
tion of stage-children persisted, but the emphasis shifted away from moral
concerns to use of existing legislation.

EDUCATION

The introduction of compulsory education had assisted in the recon-

struction of childhood as a period of learning rather than one of labor.79
 Performing Their Duty 119

However, the statutes had done nothing to limit the employment of child
performers. In part, this was because legal constraints did not fully cover
theatrical work. Theatrical methods of production differed from that of
general industry; therefore those who drafted the protective legislation ear-
lier in the century could not have predicted the specific needs of theatrical
children nor the industry’s modes of operation.
Most obviously, perhaps, education laws did not concern the under
fives as it was not envisaged that industrial employers would want to
employ children so young. Theatre managers regularly and legally
employed children who were under school age.80 Although of little
use to other industries, children of tender years proved to be popu-
lar with the audience and, therefore, profitable assets in the business
of entertainment. Theatrical employers hired children of all ages and
claimed that they were exempt from the 1876 Education Act, because
it allowed:

Such employment during which school is not open, or otherwise does not
interfere with the efficient elementary instruction of such child; and that the
child obtains such instruction by regular attendances for full time at a certified
school, or in some other efficient manner.81

It is understandable that the public might accept this, given that the vis-
ible side of theatre employment, the performance, at least appeared to
comply with the law. This clause was used by theatrical employers to
enable them to employ children, both under and over ten years of age,
regardless of their obtaining the required standard of education. Noting
this, the NVA argued that if the laws were altered to better accommodate
the education of these particular children then they could be freed from
moral and other dangers.82
If the education campaign was to surpass the limited achievements
attained by its moral crusade the organization had to demonstrate how the
legislative umbrella, designed to cover all children, failed to protect those
working in theatres. In order to show the effect this had on theatrical chil-
dren the NVA embarked on, what Fawcett described as:

A careful and systematic inquiry from the teachers of Board Schools and other
public elementary schools, and from School Board officers, as to their opinion
about the effect theatrical employment had on the health, education and moral
character of the children.83
120 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

As Fawcett observed, testimonies from head teachers revealed that

demands made by the industry on theatrical children severely affected
their education:

[Theatre children] seem very tired in coming to school, and I have never exacted
the same amount of work from them as I did from the other . . . a child of twelve,
who acts every night in “Harbour Lights” . . . comes regularly to school, but
is “fit for nothing from fatigue.” . . . [Teachers] cannot speak strongly enough
of the mischief to the children, mental, moral and physical, resulting from
their early engagement in theatres and pantomimes . . . “There is no doubt their
health suffers.” . . . “I think decidedly their health suffers; the late hours and
extra strain are far too much” . . . in fact no teacher whom we have consulted
has answered differently.84

Campaigners claimed that the demands of theatre work left children too
fatigued to receive an education and that schoolroom activities were seen
as dull and unprofitable to children accustomed to the glamour and money
offered to them by the industry. This coupled with widespread truancy
among theatrical children led the NVA to conclude that the theatrical
industry all but ended a child’s education.85
One explanation of how the continued absenteeism of so many chil-
dren went largely unquestioned was that the demand for child performers
was highly gendered. This was advantageous to theatrical employers in a
number of ways. Although boys were hired to appear on stage, especially
in battle and fighting scenes, where it was possible girls were used. The
preference for girl performers extended to the practice of dressing them as
boys and using them to play male roles. Several reasons were given for this
practice. For example, the Pall Mall Gazette reported:

Girls are most in demand, for they are most amenable to rules and regu-
lations and are most easily managed. They are quicker in picking up the
business, and they are not nearly so troublesome or noisy . . . No discipline
seems to keep a boy in order. He is more plague than profit, and therefore
the gentler, quicker and less boisterous representative of the softer sex is far
preferable.86

Another report stated that “the drilling of the youths and maidens who
contribute so largely to the fun and grace of the spectacles . . . the process
is one that requires patience and painstaking, especially with the mascu-
line recruits, girls always learning everything much more quickly than the
stupider sex.”87
 Performing Their Duty 121

One more aspect, unlikely to be publicly expressed, was that employ-

ment of girls was less likely to come under official scrutiny, thus making it
easier for the industry to employ children outside the confines of the law.
Anna Davin has observed that in Victorian schools there was a general
acceptance of female absentees and notes that there was:

A double standard in schools for boys and girls which undermined the formal
equality of educational provision. In Board Schools the lower attendance rate
for girls if noted at all was attributed to home cares with no suggestion of how
to improve it. Visitors were sent out to search for truant boys yet the absence of
a girl was not viewed as truancy and their homes were not searched in the same
way. Their relative immunity sprang from the notion that they were necessarily
required at home more than boys. A mother’s domestic overload invariably fell
on the shoulders of her daughter. The usefulness of school was perceived as dif-
ferent for girls than boys by those concerned with the provision of elementary
education whether at the level of the individual or of social or national interest.
Boys were to be workers and citizens; girls’ intended future was domestic.88

The issue of education provides a clear distinction between the expecta-

tions of Barlee and Fawcett with regard to the needs of child performers.
Fawcett claimed that “endless excuses are invented to explain the absence
of a child from school because the parent is ashamed to say ‘Lottie is going
to the theatre, and I am living on her wages.’ A favourite invention in these
cases is to say that the child is suffering from scarlet fever or some other
infectious disease; this has the double advantage of frightening away the
teacher and School Board officer, from visiting the missing child.”89
Barlee was much less concerned than was Fawcett about how employ-
ment in the entertainment industry restricted a child’s education. She
firmly believed that public money spent on teaching academic subjects
to schoolgirls was wasted. For her, a girl’s destiny lay almost certainly in
household employment:

Care should, I think, be taken not to instill too much independence of action
into a being whose sphere in life is defined as one of subjection, obedience and
ductility and whose position from the cradle to the grave, as daughter, wife or
servant, subjects her to the will of another . . . A forced cultivation of intellect
gives them a taste and yearning for books and mental pleasures, which invari-
ably engenders distaste for work, the practical handwork, I mean, that falls to
a servant’s lot.90

She argued that industriousness could bring fulfilment. She cited her own
housemaid to support her claim. She never bothered herself with reading
122 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

books anymore, “You see I have not time for it now, but then I was born to
be a housemaid, and I won’t let anybody beat me at that.”91 Barlee remained
steadfast in this view. Her preferences for domestic work over and above
theatrical employment for girls is evident in her recollection of one five-
year old child who had thanked her in later life for being “redeemed from
the stage [and] . . . placed in an orphanage to be trained as a servant.”92
Barlee and her fellow missionaries did not turn their backs on children
who worked as entertainers but it is clear that they saw it as a personal
triumph if they successfully recruited them into alternative occupations.
This attitude and approach was challenged in an Australian newspaper
that published a scathing review of Barlee’s Pantomime Waifs:

Then for sums paid for proficiency in this art are “incredulous”; whereas the
earnings of the black-lead packer are “infinitesimal.” But a poor little child who
was a demon, and had to yell out loud (what character could a child assume
with more pleasure?) came under Christian influence and now receives two-
pence-halfpenny a gross for wrapping black-lead in paper parcels. This child
was, according to description, a very good and jolly child who aided a sick
mother. How she can help her poor mother now on a miserable fee, which
scarcely supports life, we do not understand.93

It is not clear if Barlee’s motives for steering young girls toward domestic
service were purely altruistic. Her brother Sir Frederick Palgrave Barlee,
was the Western Australia Colonial Secretary who was involved in the
administration of British immigration to that country.94 In 1885 he noted
Australia’s great need for general servants who could also cook. This
was a need that Ellen Barlee and her sister Louisa sought to fulfil.95 As
“female emigration agents in London,” the pair actively recruited young
females to go to Australia.96 Barlee had access to a ready market for British
domestic workers abroad and funding for the passage of young perform-
ers, through an emigration fund held by the Theatrical Mission.97 In the
year following the publication of Pantomime Waifs, Barlee wrote to the
Western Australia legislature recommending the setting up of a home to
train girls as domestic servants.98 This connection adds an important and
previously ignored dimension to any analysis of Barlee’s relationship with
her “pantomime waifs.”
Barlee’s close association with theatrical children informed her recogni-
tion of the economic imperatives that tied them to the stage. Barlee’s aspi-
rations for stage-children, coincided with her work as a procurer of girls
and young women to furnish the Australian labor market. However, she
clearly failed to understand that a key advantage to female child performers
 Performing Their Duty 123

was the potential the work gave to escape from the inevitability of servi-
tude within their own families or as paid employees. It is possible only
to speculate about whether it was her beliefs regarding what was best for
the children themselves or for her emigration agency, that most informed
her insistence that neither the stage nor formal academic education, were
useful preparation for respectable womanhood. More importantly, her
views could not but have shaped her interpretation of child labor. This
raises questions about her impartiality as a personally disinterested spokes-
woman for stage-children.
In direct contrast to Barlee and her supporters, the NVA sought to use
educational legislation to circumscribe the power of theatrical managers by
trying to make them accountable in the same way as other employers. The
industry was quick to respond. A common counter argument was echoed
in the press:

We do not under-rate the value of education to the masses; on the contrary, we

hold it vital to the interests of modern civilisation. But once a year the educa-
tional tendencies of the theatre may safely be allowed to act co jointly with or
entirely take the place of those of the school room.99

This argument supports a common fallacy that theatrical employment

was too short-lived to harm a child’s education. However, the dismissal
of theatrical child employment as a once a year activity is disingenuous.
To theatrical employers children were primarily a source of profit and any
“professor of theatrical dancing, [undertook] to get engagements for the
child . . . as frequently and as continuously as possible.”100 Furthermore,
even those children actually employed once a year in pantomime were
rehearsed for six weeks before being engaged for up to three months of
the theatre season. Any defense that failed to take account of this provides
further evidence that the educational needs of stage-children were second-
ary to those of the industry.101
Employers were adept at understating how often and how many chil-
dren were employed and for how long their engagements lasted. A number
of factors, relative to the Education Acts, allowed them to manipulate their
use of child labor. Firstly, it was claimed that performances took place out
of school hours. This was not strictly true because during the late 1880s
the industry had introduced matinees that took place in schooltime.102
Secondly, children were employed in their largest numbers during the
pantomime season, and this was a time that managers claimed exemption
for, because pantomimes were produced during the school holidays. NVA
124 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

scrutiny of theatrical practices showed that managers were reluctant to

reveal the mandatory six-week rehearsal period that operated within school
hours. Thirdly, for touring children schooling was not a viable option,
especially with regards to the grueling schedule of “all child companies”
who on non-performance days were traveling to their next venue. NVA
publicity did much to highlight the hard physical nature of the work and
the late nights that rendered children too tired to attend their classes but
this was countered by mass publicity that widely associated the child’s
contribution as an extension of his or her playtime. Consequently, par-
ticipation did not appear to contravene the law that allowed light casual
work after school. This not only enabled theatrical child employment to
continue but also fueled its demand.
It must be appreciated that during a two-year period (1885–87) of NVA
investigation and promotion of its findings, the most apparent change in
circumstances, for theatre children, was an increased demand for their
labor. Consequently, the NVA looked to the London School Board for
support in its efforts to challenge the industry:

The School Board for London introduced a deputation from the NVA . . . urging
upon the Board the importance of enforcing the provisions of the Education
Act of 1876, so as to prevent the employment at pantomimes . . . of children
under 10 years of age . . . [The NVA] felt that the time had come to draw the
attention of the Board to the question of the moral and physical peril involved
in the life of pantomime children. They had reason to believe that the danger
to health, education and morals to children engaged in factory work was as
nothing compared with that involved in the work of the pantomime. They
alleged that the late hours, the polluted atmosphere, the sudden changes of
temperature and clothing, the long periods without food frequently suffered
by the children, the weary walk home at the coldest of the night cause frequent
illnesses, resulting in many cases in consumption and rheumatic fever, and
even in premature death. Sometimes, parents thought it worthwhile to with-
draw their children altogether from the Board Schools and enter their names
and pay a higher fee at some venture private school, where attendance was
not enforced, and where it was easier to conceal or escape the penalties on
nonattendance.103

Although furnished with this information, the Board made no active

attempt at a practical solution. About six months later NVA members orga-
nized a meeting designed to strengthen their movement. It was here that
Mrs. Ormiston Chant claimed that there were known to be 10,000 chil-
dren employed in connection with pantomimes throughout the country.104
 Performing Their Duty 125

At the gathering, members proposed to outlaw employment in theatres of

young children by reference to the 1870 Education Act that forbade the
employment of children under ten, London School Board member, Miss
Davenport-Hill, vowed to persuade her fellow Board members to “put that
clause into operation.”105
In 1885, Fawcett had asked her readers to “urge on representatives in
Parliament and on the School Board, the necessity for the absolute pro-
hibition of the labour of children in theatres, just as their labour is now
forbidden in factories, workshops and agriculture.”106 Clearly, the Board
elected in that year was reluctant to take action against theatrical employ-
ers and by the end of their term in late 1888; they had failed to act, at the
end of 1888 Fawcett appealed to the new School Board to be much more
zealous than the old one in the exercise of its powers; and besides that, we
want, in the words of the Royal Commissioners on Education “the State
to step in between these children who are employed in theatres and those
parents whose cupidity seeks to make a profit out of their employment.”107
The findings of the Education Commission were published at that time
and although Fawcett had contributed evidence to the enquiry, theatre
children formed only a small part of a larger, general investigation into the
education of all children.108 The growing public focus on the welfare and
education of all children put pressure from the electorate for the Board to
execute its powers. Timing of NVA demands about child performers was
perhaps more influential than the demands made. Within one week of
Davenport-Hill attending the NVA meeting, the London School Board
had sent out the following letter to each theatrical manager:

The attention of the By-Laws Committee of the School Board for London has
been drawn to the neglect of the provisions of the law respecting the employ-
ment of children. I am accordingly directed to send you a summary of the law
relating to the attendance at school of children between the ages of five and 14,
and to the employment of such children. I am to state that it will be necessary
for the School Board of London as the local authority, to enforce the law in the
cases of all children within the metropolitan area who are illegally employed,
the expense of their general well-being whether in theatres or other ways, and
I am directed to send this timely intimation to managers of theatres to prevent
inconvenience in their business arrangements.109

Employers however, paid little heed to this warning; nor did it seem that
they needed too. Despite intensified pressure from NVA members for
the School Board to act in accordance with the letter, it was a further
18 months before they moved toward enforcement. The Board’s prolonged
126 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

inaction caused some skepticism among campaigners. Concern was voiced

over both the Board’s commitment to the cause and with whom their sym-
pathies lay:

Under the Factory Act, prosecutions can be undertaken by any one of the pub-
lic and the power is not abused . . . I only know that, as a matter of fact, children
have largely been employed in theatres during the past winter, as well as in
previous years, in contravention of the law, and that no prosecution has taken
place, though we have endeavoured, as far as possible, to bring the facts before
the Board.110

This incredulity is understandable given the National Union of Teachers’

findings from its later enquiry into school attendance and child
employment:

The School Attendance Committees are too often composed of persons who
have little sympathy with education, and some of whom themselves employ
children illegally during the busy seasons . . . Sometimes they are directly
hostile to education, and often their popularity is at risk with their humble
neighbours. The very men whose interest it is to employ children without
authorisation have been frequently the persons appointed to the membership
of School Attendance Committees and Boards.111

Clearly, this double standard was a long-standing practice. When pub-

lic debate around the unlawful employment of theatrical children was
at its height, it was reported that a member of the “Westham (Sussex)
School Board was charged with employing factory children disqualified
from employment by reason of not having passed the required standard
of education”112 What is perhaps less well known is that “bankruptcy and
felony [were] the only two reasons for which a member of a School Board
may be declared unseated.”113 Consequently, the individual was able to
retain his place on the School Board; a decision which all but sanctioned
the illegal use of child labor at the expense of children’s education. The
reluctance of School Boards to exercise their powers was not always based
on self-interest. There were additional mitigating circumstances that hin-
dered the execution of duties. For example, one inspector claimed that:

It may, however, safely be said that in most cases the attendance officers have
too large a district and are too badly paid to secure a thorough investigation of
all the cases brought to their notice . . . while it is practically understood in some
parts of the district that two absences weekly will be allowed without inquiry
as to the cause, and so these absences become the rule.114
 Performing Their Duty 127

However the NVA’s continued badgering of the London School Board did
bring to an end the years of apathy demonstrated by previous boards. In
1889, the London Board embarked on a series of prosecutions against the-
atrical employers.
It was itself an achievement in having these cases heard in court.
However, even this feat fell short of NVA expectations because of the
reluctance of magistrates to convict.115 The magistrate presiding over one
prominent case said that he would be:

Sorry to see any impediment thrown in the way of children obtaining some-
thing to enable their parents to maintain them, if such an arrangement could
be made without interfering too much with their education . . . the law did not
require children to be taught at a Board school, therefore, if children were
employed, and in the meantime their education was efficient, that was all the
law required.116

Managers claimed exemption under Section 9 of the 1879 Education Act,

“That such employment during which the school is not open, or otherwise
does not interfere with the efficient elementary instruction of the child;
and that the child obtains such instruction by regular attendances for full
time at a certified efficient school, or in some other efficient manner.”117
On occasions when a magistrate recognized that the demands of theatre
work were likely to affect a child’s right to an education, the punishments
meted out were hardly a deterrent.
Even when convicted, the open defiance shown by employers provides
clear evidence of the profitability of children as entertainers. The London
Board charged Manager William Morton with illegally employing three
children under the age of ten years. In addition to their six evening perfor-
mances, the children appeared twice weekly during school hours. Morton
had defied an earlier warning notice and had even displayed the document
outside his theatre with an added note stating he intended to continue to
employ the children. This public flouting of the law could well have been
a maneuver to gain the support of theatregoers against those attempting
to spoil their pleasure. Morton questioned whether employment for two
afternoons a week over such a short period was really employment within
the meaning of the Act.118 In an attempt to exonerate himself from blame
he maintained that the parents had claimed their children to be over ten
years of age. Morton was fined a total of £1.1s including costs.119 His claim
that he would never employ children in the future as they caused far too
much trouble seemed unlikely.
128 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

In a later prosecution of the Crystal Palace Theatre William Gardner

was charged with employing seven children under the age of ten years and
nine children over ten years, without acquiring the required standard of
education certificate from the School Board.120 Oscar Barrett, the theatre’s
manager, was also summoned for employing several children without hav-
ing obtained necessary certificates. Because of the numbers involved it was
decided that one child would be taken as a sample case. This concerned
11-year-old Bessie Trevesic. The Bench convicted in this case saying that
the child was not sufficiently educated under the Act and a fine of 2s 6d
was imposed with 13s costs.121 Barrett had opened a school at his theatre
the day after the School Board holidays had come to an end. Although
too late to benefit Miss Trevesic the court viewed its opening as a posi-
tive step. In the light of this, it was decided that his other cases should be
adjourned. By the first week of February the theatre school had employed a
certificated head teacher and it was claimed the children were receiving an
efficient education. A compromise was reached where the summons would
be withdrawn as long as those particular children, aged between five and
13 years were withdrawn from production.
The order to dismiss the children would no doubt have inconvenienced
Barrett but replacing their labor would have been relatively unproblematic.
Barrett obtained his children from Signor Francesco, who, like so many
dancing instructors, was able to supply any number of trained children to
theatre managers at any given point in time.122 Once Barrett had provided
a theatre school he was at liberty to take on another troupe of children
to replace those he was obliged to dismiss. Given, as shown earlier, the
capacity of pantomime profits to finance a theatre’s productions for the
rest of the year, the 15s 6d penalty for the illegal employment of 11-year-
old Bessie Trevesic would have been of little economic detriment to this
successful manager. On the other hand, this sum equaled more than two
weeks’ wages for some young performers. Thus, School Board prosecu-
tions proved to be decidedly more problematic for stage-children and their
families than for their employers.
The 1876 Education Act established that it was parental duty to send
children to school. On this premise, the London School Board, through
the courts, targeted parents of theatrical children. The Teachers’ union
did not believe that the targeting of parents in this way was an effective
strategy. “In dealing with children illegally employed the School Board
Committees begin at the wrong end. It is the receiver and not the thief,
the employer and not the employed, that should be prosecuted. The wages
of the child more than pay the parent’s fine, but the employer, who takes
 Performing Their Duty 129

a child at 3s. 6d, instead of a big lad at 7s, pockets the difference and goes
free.”123 It was reported that the Lord Chief Justice at the time did not
champion either party:

Considering what a life it must be for such infants there was not much to
choose from between the people who employed them and the parents who, for
the sake of money, bound them over for the purpose.124

This fitted with NVA thinking. Its members did not discriminate between
parents and employers. In Fawcett’s view:

To allow parents to depend on the earnings of their infants is one of those cruel
kindnesses akin to indiscriminate alms giving and other pauperizing influ-
ences . . . it weakens parental responsibility and obscures the fact . . . that it is the
duty of parents to support their children, and not that of children, during their
tender years of infancy to support their parents.’125

NVA supporters countered their challenges, thus. “All the sentiment which
good people so often utter, that we are so hard hearted as to wish to take
the bread out of the mouths of starving children should be translated in
to the rather different statement that we wish to take the gin from the
mouths of the drunken parents.”126 This thinking was in direct contrast
to the Missionary mindset. “A large proportion of the children receive
their own earnings and many being homeless find and pay for their own
food and lodging . . . others are the whole support of invalid mothers to
whom . . . really changing the order of Nature, give protective care.”127
The NVA was unrelenting in its belief that parents were unscrupulous
work-shy drunks and continued their drive for prosecutions. This included
the parents of Gwendolin Quantrell who were brought before Marlborough
Police in January 1889 because their daughter had attended school only 28
times out of a possible 63. They received a 6d fine with 2s costs. Three
similar cases were also heard on the same day.128 Considering the true value
of a theatrical child’s wage to many families, fines were financial penalties
they could ill afford. Theatrical missionaries provided practical solutions
to ease the working conditions of theatrical children because they appreci-
ated the importance of a child’s theatrical wage. The NVA showed a clear
disregard for the implications of the prosecutions it instigated. This was
particularly true of parents of children whose theatrical earnings “paid the
rent.”129 Choice, with regard to whether or not to send children to school,
was not a luxury readily available to many parents of child entertainers.
Apart from the obvious financial need of the child’s wage, it is important
130 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

to note that contractual obligations to employers severely limited parental

choices. These legally binding contracts could tether children to employers
for ten years. Parents were often in a no-win situation. If they sent their
children to school they could be taken to court by theatrical employers. If
they set them to work at the theatres they risked being summoned by the
School Board. Either way they faced financial penalties and this helps to
explain compliance with their children’s employers. This is something too
that theatrical missionaries appreciated but the concept remained alien to
Fawcett and her supporters:

The more vigorously the School Board and their officers do their duty in
insisting on regular attendance, the more surely those profiting from children’s
labour say to their parents, “you must take your child away from the Board
school or other certified efficient elementary school and send them to a private
school.” These private schools sometimes exist as a sort of dependence to a the-
atrical dancing school; the fees are 10d to 1s a-week, for the reason that when
the fee is over 9d the school ceases to be an elementary school as defined by the
Education Act, and the children attending it are therefore removed from the
jurisdiction of the School Board.130

NVA supporters suspected that attendance at affiliated schools “was

not enforced, and . . . it was easier to conceal or escape the penalties on
nonattendance.”131 This is plausible as it would not only have provided the
industry with a more flexible workforce of children but also put an end
to inconvenient and costly court appearances. Consequently, the threat
to employers of having child performers removed from a production was
alleviated as was the outlay of fines for their parents.
Managers consistently sought to isolate their child laborers from public
gaze in order to maintain the illusions presented on stage and to keep the
reality of the work hidden. The seclusion of affiliated schools further dis-
tanced theatrical child labor from the unwelcome attention of social purity
campaigners and public awareness. The establishment of schools within
theatres, while apparently addressing educational concerns, gave managers
complete protection from outside interference.
The most successful producers employed the greatest numbers of chil-
dren, more often and for the longest periods. This created a workload for
children that seriously encroached on both the time and energy they could
devote to study. Attendance, even at a compliant affiliated school, could
prove demanding for the physical, mental, and emotional commitment
the industry required from its children. Affiliated schools were thought to
be so educationally disadvantageous to theatrical children that spasmodic
 Performing Their Duty 131

attendance at a Board school was thought preferable to full-time at a the-

atrically provided establishment:

Many of the School Board officers, including teachers, visitors, and inspectors,
wink at very irregular attendance on the part of theatre children, and have even
allowed such children, under ten, practically to take half-time who have not
been allowed it by . . . the Board, because they are reluctant to drive the children
to the sham education of these private schools.132

Fawcett drew attention to a Board Inspector’s report on the school at the

Drury Lane Theatre. Noting that the theatre had a labor force of 150 to 200
children the inspector found only 15 children to be in attendance. Of the
school itself he observed:

The premises are wretched and even dangerous. Persons are constantly at work
just outside the canvas walls of the schoolroom, and often the noise is so great
as to drown the voice of the teacher. Most of the children appeared to suffer
from cold on the day of my visit. There are only one set of registers, and only
one set of reading books.133

Harris’ school and the education he provided fell short on many counts
and did not meet the minimum standard of efficiency. An indication of
Harris’ attitude toward the education of his child laborers and the school
inspectors is evident from his statement during a deputation of theatrical
representatives to the Home Secretary’s office. Harris flippantly quipped
that the school inspector had “found the desks were the wrong shape; that
was altered, and the education was correct.”134 This was received with
much laughter from those at the deputation meeting.
Proprietor Katti Lanner defended the education received by the pupils
affiliated to her National Training School of Dancing who were regularly
employed at Drury Lane, thus:

The children were at school from 9 (or, in the case of the younger ones, half-
past 9) till a quarter or half past 12. The rehearsals were taken between that
time and a quarter to 2. At 2 the children returned to school, and at half past 4,
if necessary, the rehearsals were resumed. On the occasion of morning perfor-
mances the children attended school till 1 and took their books with them to
the dressing rooms for the purpose of learning the next day’s lessons.135

From previous accounts the hours Lanner suggests that were given over to
training seem remarkably few. However, even accepting her claims to be
correct, this was still a punishing schedule considering that children would
132 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

not leave the theatre before ten at the earliest and often not till midnight
before embarking on a long journey home. Speaking on the education of
theatrical children in general, Fawcett further claimed that “out of an esti-
mated number of something like a thousand children employed in theatres
and music-halls in London alone, school accommodation has been pro-
vided at the theatres for considerably less than forty.”136
It is difficult to accept that theatre schools could provide much of an
education. Notwithstanding the “incessant noise,” at a basic level, the
cramped backstage conditions could come nowhere near to meeting the
Education Commission’s general recommendations to the new School
Board. For every pupil this included “suitable premises, airiness and
lightness of site and a reasonable extent of playground . . . and 10 square
feet . . . minimum, space for each child.”137 The Education Commission
recognized that there were two ways to allocate pupils the recommended
space; one was to enlarge school buildings and the second to enroll fewer
pupils in smaller schools. Neither of these options was feasible for the-
atrical school space. The first incarnation of Drury Lane theatre school
for example consisted of “part of the paint room partitioned off by can-
vas scenery.”138 Backstage was essentially a place of work with, every foot
allocated to the numerous and indispensable departments of production.
Therefore, expansion of school space was extremely unlikely. Reduction of
numbers on the register of a backstage school was also not a viable proposi-
tion. This was not lost on the satirists of the day.

Figure 4.6 Advancing a Stage Funny Folks (London, England), Saturday,

January 22, 1887. Embedded text, top: “Mr. Augustus Harris has opened a school
for the Pantomime Children in the Painting room of Drury Lane Theatre”—
Topical Times . . . “Mr. William Holland has started a soup kitchen at the Albert
Palace Children at Battersea”— Standard . Embedded text, bottom: If this sort
of thing grows, free schooling and free feeding, parents will be eager to get their
children “on” in the Pantomime as to get them into the Blue Coat School. It will
have to be done by voting papers and personal canvases.
 Performing Their Duty 133

Child performers were, first and foremost, employees and production

needs dictated their numbers over and above names on the school register.
Factory children would never have been expected to learn the three Rs on
the shop floor; yet, this was precisely what was expected of theatrical chil-
dren. This is something that strengthened Fawcett’s argument:

The employment of children under ten is now absolutely prohibited with

regard to all agricultural and manufacturing industry . . . A child of less than
fourteen must not be employed unless he has passed the Sixth Standard. But
this prohibition and these restrictions are not put into force with regard to
children employed in theatres.139

The theatrical industry’s apathy toward the schooling of its child employ-
ees severely restricted the right of child performers to an education. The
industry’s adoption of this strategy placed child performers in a unique
position among their peers. The widely held change that for the major-
ity of children had come to separate childhood from adulthood and work
from the schoolroom was alien to the theatrical child.
This situation permitted the theatrical industry to continue employ-
ing child labor and while this did not sit well with the idealized notion of
childhood, it must be said that it also provided children with an increas-
ingly rare opportunity to earn. Apart from its waged benefits, the chance
to perform brought the adulation craved by child entertainers, as also
the reflected status and celebrity enjoyed by their families. The work
might have had further liberating effects, particularly for working-class
performers. Of working-class girls in general, Eric Hopkins has written,.
“In the home they took second place to the boys who had preference
in many ways . . . They were expected to take a full part in the house-
hold chores . . . and to help nurse the sick . . . their pay was usually half
that of their male counterparts.”140 The gendered and demanding nature
of theatre work freed performing girls from domestic drudgery both at
home and in service. Theatrical wage rates and associated celebrity raised
their economic worth and their status within their home. Further advan-
tages are demonstrated by Nina Auerbach’s observations of a young Ellen
Terry. “The stage had given her the power to caper around as a boy,
to play godly games with others’ laughter and tears . . . a mercurial boy/
girl who laughed at piety and whose body could carry her anywhere.”141
These were the sort of benefits that ensured the cooperation and support
of performers and their families in the entertainments industry’s battle
with activists.
134 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

NVA campaigners needed to rethink their strategy and turned their

attentions to the targeting of consumers as a way of putting an end to the
employment of theatrical children. This though would invariably prove
problematic. An audience purchased a commodity which to them was cre-
ated and consumed simultaneously during the performance. Consequently,
audiences identified theatrical children in relation to their public persona
and not as the laborers’ that campaigners portrayed them to be. NVA
members would have had to alter theatregoers’ perceptions of theatrical
child labor and make a convincing case, to persuade each one to forfeit the
individual pleasure he or she derived from watching a child upon the stage.
Regardless of motivation, this would prove a complex and difficult task to
embark on. In addition to the support of child performers, their families,
and the audience, the industry had a wide network of powerful allies who
provided collaborative support in ensuring the continued employment of
stage-children. Playwrights and theatre critics joined the debate in defense
of theatrical managers. “There are some people so strangely constituted
that they do not appreciate the stage-child; they do not comprehend its
uses; they do not understand its beauties. We should not be angry with
them. We should rather pity them.”142
A large contingent of those who relied on the industry for their own
livelihoods belonged to literary and journalistic circles and this was advan-
tageous to employers, in getting their arguments both widely publicized
and promoted. This is something Fawcett acknowledged:

Its leaders have considerable power of influencing the press, and providing, as
it does, so largely for the amusement of the public, a thousand pens are ready
to leap from their inkstands in its defence, if there is any idea of an attack being
made upon it.143

Fawcett was right to voice concern. The positive power of the press was
a crucial confederate. This is best demonstrated by drawing on the result
of a contemporary campaign set around a comparative casual female
workforce.144
Of the success of the 1888 Match Girls Strike, Judith Walkowitz
observes:

To contemporaries, the “notable” victory in 1888, of the match girls against

Bryant and May demonstrated how, with the aid of a “sympathetic” press and
public opinion, “the poorest and most helpless portion of the industrial com-
munity” could triumph over, “the wealthiest and most powerful firms” in the
metropolis.145
 Performing Their Duty 135

Conversely, if the same support was misplaced the outcome for the child
worker could be disastrous. Of course, the press had little to lose by sup-
porting the Match Girls, on the other hand the theatrical industry gener-
ated lots of business for the press and so, for the most part, theatrical bosses
could rely on their support.146 Not surprisingly, the press embraced the case
for the continued use of theatrical child labor. Much propagandist work
was undertaken by the press in favor of the entertainment industry.147
The professions of journalists, critics, and playwrights were inter-
changeable and dependent on each other for favorable reviews they would
write positively of each other’s work even if was not particularly good.
This reciprocal relationship had the potential to provide a safety net for
the entertainment industry. One critic of this voiced concern when claim-
ing that “an entirely free and independent press never did, does not and
we cannot accept ever will exist.”148 Evidence supports this. “Sir Henry
Irving presiding over the 35th anniversary dinner of the newspaper Press
Fund made a toast to the ‘Prosperity of the Newspaper Press Fund’ . . . The
politician and the actor divide between them the distinction of supplying
the most constant material for the most intimate and searching vigilance
of the newspaper press.”149 The industry used the press to its advantage at
every opportunity. At the height of debates on theatrical child employment
Harris singled out Fawcett for particular public ridicule. An open debate
between the two was carried out in a series of letters to The Times. Here,
among other things, Harris labeled Fawcett’s campaign as being overzeal-
ous and wrote that her claims against him were “wild unfounded and
libellous.”150 When Fawcett challenged him to prove that even one of her
statements were false, he defected his inability to answer with personal ver-
bal attacks on her. “Not I alone but everybody who has truly investigated
the matter is an unbiased spirit who has come to the conclusion that Mrs.
Fawcett’s assertions only exist in her energetic imagination.”151 Without
the collaboration of the press and other interests outside the immediate
nucleus of the theatre itself, theatre managers could not have so compre-
hensively countered such a sustained campaign against the employment of
performing children.
As Judith Walkowitz has observed, NVA supporters led an onslaught of
public condemnation on what they saw as the immorality of the stage.152
The missionary camp on the other hand were in no doubt of the enter-
tainment industry being a powerful and established force to be reckoned
with. “That theatres exist and will exist, flourish and will flourish as the
favourite pastime of any overworked population must be accepted as a
patent fact.”153 This mutual understanding between the theatre and those
Figure 4.7 Holiday House, Woman’s Herald, August 8, 1891; issue 145.
 Performing Their Duty 137

spreading the word of God helped in the industry’s quest for respectability
and its fight against NVA’s claims of immorality.
Widespread support for the industry allowed theatrical bosses to adopt
strategies that hindered or blocked each avenue of contestation chosen by
the NVA and its supporters.154
Clearly then, while thousands of children continued to knock on the
door of the Theatrical Mission and its provision had expanded to opening
an orphanage and a convalescent holiday home for young performers NVA
members were, once again, looking toward yet another strategy to put an
end to the employment of child performers.
In 1889, acutely aware that the previous attempts had made little real
impact, the NVA turned to new legislation as a vehicle for its aspirations.
Further evidence of the value of children to the entertainment industry
is to be found in the strength of opposition to this new assault on their
employment. This new campaign, the response to it, and the outcomes for
all concerned, are explored in chapter 5.
5. Protective Legislation and
the Theatrical Child

T
hroughout the years of NVA’s theatrical agitation, the London
Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children (LSPCC) was
conducting a separate, concurrent campaign around child welfare.1
Through the winter of 1885–86, the LSPCC Law Committee drew up a
Bill for the Better Prevention of Cruelty to Children. If passed, this Bill
would allow the British law to intervene for the first time in relations
between parents and children. Police would be able to obtain warrants
to enter homes where children were thought to be in danger and would
be given the power to arrest anyone found ill-treating a child. This repre-
sented a major challenge to Victorian understanding of property rights and
the sanctity of private domestic life. As will become clear, it was the issues
around the employment of theatrical children instigated by the NVA, that
came to dominate the much debated Bill.
Five years of NVA campaigning had failed to secure protection for
theatrical children through existing child laws. However its very visible
campaign had brought controversial practices associated with theatrical
child labor into the public arena and as a consequence, the NVA had come
to believe that theatre children could not be passed over in any new child
legislation. Having exhausted most avenues open to furthering their cause
through the existing legislation, social purity campaigners recognized the
LSPCC’s Bill as a possible breach in the entertainments industry’s defenses.
In 1888, the association pressed for child performers to be specifically
included in the proposed Bill with aims of outlawing their employment.
The LSPCC had found an early ally in Lord Iddesleigh who, in
1886, agreed to introduce the Bill in the House of Lords. However, he
died before he was able to fulfill this promise. The Society never again
received the sort of unconditional support offered by Iddesleigh and in
subsequent attempts to have the Bill read several issues were contested by
various bodies.2 Undeterred, in spring 1888 a rapidly expanding London
SPCC “had transformed child protection into a major social issue. Largely
140 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

because of this activity the question of children’s rights now permeated

a broader public conscience.”3 After certain concessions and with clauses
agreed upon, in February 1889 an even more radical version of the origi-
nal bill was proposed by A. J. Mundella. This achieved a second reading
in the House of Commons on April 4, 1889. The now named, National
Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children (NSPCC), launched a
massive campaign to defend the Bill that went to a committee stage in
June and July. Even with growing support for the Bill the NVA recog-
nized as unrealistic its expectation to end all theatrical child employment
and modified demands by calling for the inclusion of a clause in the
NSPCC Bill specifically for theatrical children requesting that:

The employment of children in theatres be brought under the factory acts

as had been recommended unanimously by the Royal Commission on the
Education Acts. To prevent the employment of children under ten altogether
and only allow the employment of girls under 16 and boys under fourteen up
to seven o’clock—that is to say only for afternoon performances.4

NVA member Charles Mitchell went on to explain that this fell short of
expectations.
“We would prefer total prohibition of child performances such as
exists for example in some of the American States.”5 This was misguided;
although more comprehensive preventative laws were in place in the United
States, American theatrical employers adopted similarly evasive strategies
to their British counterparts and continued to illegally employ theatrical
children. Also, as foreign troupes were not covered by the law in either
country, American children frequently performed in Britain and British
children were regularly engaged overseas.6 However, years of previous
unfruitful campaigning brought a realization that the requested total ban
would be too much too soon. Crucially, the NVA acknowledged that they
would need to make some allowances. Members agreed that it might be
acceptable “for the employment of one or two children in an ordinary play
for bona fide dramatic purposes,” and that “provision should be made for
the granting of special licenses’ in these exceptional circumstances.”7 This
latter compromise gave the association the best chance of achieving some
of their aims. Conversely, the theatrical clause proposed by the NVA was
to become the Achilles heel of the whole SPCC Bill. As will become appar-
ent, the cooperation of influential associates and mass support from a wide
range of people who depended on the success of the entertainment indus-
try proved a serious threat to SPCC demands. So much so, that among its
members and supporters there was deep concern that the unwillingness of
 Protective Legislation and the Theatrical Child 141

the House of Commons to support the theatrical clause would imperil the
whole Bill.8 Fears were intensified by awareness of widespread contempt
for the NVA’s moral purist stance against the theatre.
Benjamin Waugh claimed that “The NSPCC is not just another chil-
dren’s charity. It is an organisation which will fight to obtain the citizen-
ship of every child and justice for all children.”9 If we take Eric Hopkins’
argument, the significance of this statement for child performers cannot
be overstated. “Revelations of cruelty . . . coupled with restrictions on the
length and nature of child labour did bring a change in attitude and a greater
realisation that children . . . had to be treated differently. The forming of
the NSPCC in 1889 and the passing of the 1889 Prevention of Cruelty to
Children Act are a sufficient indication of attitudes.”10 Prominent theatre
impresarios and their supporters insisted that such laws need not apply to
children employed to entertain. Augustus Harris was one of the most vocal
objectors to the proposed clause. He claimed that “theatrical children were
entitled to exceptional treatment; they were not in any sense like the chil-
dren who were protected by the Factory Acts. Their labour was not a hard-
ship but a pleasure.”11 This is a crucial consideration because it is indicative
of widely promoted and accepted thinking that child entertainers did not
warrant the same rights as other children. NSPCC members were in agree-
ment with NVA thinking that no children under ten should be employed.
However, in the face of the powerful opposition from theatrical interests,
its leader Benjamin Waugh was willing to sacrifice the theatrical child’s
right to protection in order to secure the same for all other children.12
The NSPCC had shown great tenacity in its continued fight to imple-
ment an exceptionally radical proposal to instate a law that would intervene
in the previously sacrosanct privacy of the family and override parental con-
trol.13 That it should yield to pressure from a single industry over its misuse
of child labor in a climate averse to child employment is undeniably telling.
Despite the NVA having modified its demands and in the face of the ideal-
ized entitlement to childhood embedded in the broad public psyche, the
rights of theatrical children continued to be seen as expendable. Moreover,
the strength of opposition to the NVA-requested clause emphasizes the
power of the theatrical industry and the fundamental contribution chil-
dren made to its success. Ultimately, even the watered down clause sought
by the NVA proved unachievable. An amendment to the Bill specifically
concerning theatrical children was passed by the House of Lords and sub-
sequently by the Commons. This stated that “children between seven and
ten years of age could be employed on the stage provided they applied
for a license to do so.”14 Although this control was introduced, it fell far
short of the NVA’s original aspirations and as shown below, made relatively
142 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

little impact on employers’ ability to recruit children to the stage. What

follows is an examination of how the industry was able to secure special
dispensation in the Children’s Charter when existing Acts prohibited child
employment in any other form for children under ten years of age and the
consequences of this for all parties concerned.

THE THEATRICAL INDUSTRY AND

THE CCP BILL

As prominent and wealthy members of society, large theatre owners, suc-

cessful managers, and popular actors were themselves part of influential
networks that could prove useful in both mobilizing support for and rep-
resenting theatrical interests. This influence could be informal through
participation in the series of social activities that were part and parcel of
Victorian middle-class culture but informal connections could also be
structured into more formal sites.
Once leading figures had become successful in the theatrical world they
increasingly sought and were awarded prestigious positions in the public
sphere. Augustus Harris for example, became a member of the London
County Council in 1890, served as London Sheriff (1890–91) and was
subsequently knighted.15 Moreover, as J. P. Wearing put it “Harris had the
knack of surrounding himself with clever assistants and friends.”16
A crucial catalyst in the rise and rise of theatrical luminaries was their
membership of the many private gentlemen’s clubs that flourished in nine-
teenth-century London and facilitated masculine intercourse across a range
of professions.17 Linkages were also ensured and bolstered by “an astonish-
ing boom in freemasonry.” By 1894, there were 382 lodges in London
alone. The first Lodges where membership focused on those in the music
or theatrical professions, were formed from about 1870.18 London’s largest
employer of theatrical children Augustus Harris was “initiated as a freema-
son in Edinburgh at a special meeting of the St Clare Lodge on 6 March
1875, passing through all three degrees in a single night . . . In the autumn
of 1885, Harris conceived the idea of forming a lodge that would meet
in a specially furnished Masonic temple within the Drury Lane Theatre
itself.”19 The fact that Harris found space within his theatre to house a
Masonic temple that he “sumptuously fitted out,” is indicative of where
his priorities lay regarding business needs and those of his child employ-
ees.20 As shown above, when Harris found it necessary to open a school-
room within his theatre, the children were taught in dangerous and noisy
 Protective Legislation and the Theatrical Child 143

conditions behind a canvas screen, in a clearing of the paint room. The

children received their schooling in these conditions throughout 1887 and
1888, and this was set to continue until the situation was brought to light
by a School Board officer. About four years after the school was opened,
Harris eventually permitted children to be taught in his “very warm and
comfortable,” Masonic Room.21 This was given a very public profile.

Figure 5.1 The Employment of Children in Pantomime, The Graphic, March

23, 1889.
144 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

Many years later, Miss Edith Collins who was the first teacher to instruct
the pantomime children at Harris’ school recalled how the school room
floor “often had to be cleared of champagne corks left from a Masonic din-
ner held on the previous night, before lessons could begin.”22
It is not surprising though that Harris would address the needs and
comforts of his fellow masons over and above the education of his child
employees. Firstly, his demands on the labor of his child workforce left lit-
tle time for them to study and secondly, theatrical employment was based
on talent and gaining an education did nothing to add value to a theatrical
child’s labor.
On the other hand, freemasonry membership among theatricals pro-
vided the industry with a “ready access to the rich and powerful in govern-
ment and the professions.”23 Henry Irving for example, “ran the Beefsteak
Room backstage at the Lyceum as a neo-masonic pressure group, using its
regular largely all-male gatherings, thickly peopled with influential mem-
bers of the Order, to elevate the status of drama in the minds of the British

Figure 5.2 The Original Masonic Temple, Drury Lane Theatre, circa 1886.
Source: The Drury Lane Lodge 2127, http://myweb.tiscali.co.uk/ajgoater/history.
 Protective Legislation and the Theatrical Child 145

establishment.”24 Masonic alliances forged at meetings were reciprocal and

confidential and, as will become apparent, when the campaign against
theatrical child labor was at its height, members such as Harris and Irving
were able to draw on the support of a wide range of powerful and influen-
tial fellow masons.
Freemasonry also incorporated a philanthropic element that was a neces-
sary aspect of Victorian middle-class responsibility and status and evident
in all sectors of public life.25 This sort of involvement was a powerful uni-
fying point within lodges but was, for the most part, hidden from public
gaze. Gaining support from the wider community demanded more vis-
ible displays of philanthropy that theatrical interests were very well-placed
to provide. Theatre managers emphasized their public spiritedness and
respectability by magnanimous philanthropic acts. They frequently, put
on free performances for invited audiences of underprivileged and disabled
children, the old, and the infirm. Typically, one large theatre owner had
“3000 children to be his guests at a performance of Cinderella.”26 Managers
often staged benefits that were used to taunt those who criticized the indus-
try, whose most vocal critics were singled out in the press for particular
ridicule. Typical comment included “Narrow minded lunatics and bigots
please note. The Directors of the ‘Empire’ have forwarded a cheque for
£880.11.10d to the Lord Mayor for distribution to the poor.”27 “I wonder
what Mrs. Chant and her friends will say to the result at the Empire on
behalf of the poor of London. Over £1200 . . . was the sum.”28 In addition
to amassing support from all quarters, the industry was also pro-active in
defending its use of theatrical children and countering the claims made
against them.
This sort of positive publicity for acts of community generosity clearly
bolstered theatrical profiles but the ability of theatrical interests to muster
support in their opposition to the proposed inclusion of stage-children in
the PCC Bill, is more telling. Members of working men’s societies across
London supported the continued employment of children in the theatre.
Representatives of 15,000 London workers met with Augustus Harris to
voice their opposition to the NVA’s proposed clause. The Secretary of the
East London Sugar Workers and Labourers Council, who led the delega-
tion, argued that, if passed, “thousands of hungry little ones would be
thrown upon the streets the next hard winter.” He criticized the Bill’s pro-
moters who had made no movement to “set on foot (as far as he knew)
to make up to these girls and boys for the necessaries and extra comforts
which their own earnings, up to the present had helped to procure.”29 He
was further reported to have said:
146 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

Hundreds of these men were the parents of children employed in theatres and
music-halls and were happy to have them so employed. The earnings of these
children came in to supplement the earnings of the parents at a specially (sic)
hard season of the year, and in many cases the addition meant all the difference
between comparative sufficiency and absolute want.30

That the delegation represented so many working fathers of theatrical

children calls into question Fawcett’s claims that the majority of these
parents substituted their children’s theatrical labor for their own.31
Further evidence that Fawcett and supporters failed to understand the
economic circumstances theatre children came from is reflected in her
critique of parents who allowed their offspring to travel home alone late
at night. Fawcett interpreted this as parental neglect. Conversely, Barlee’s
direct, individualized approach established an alternative explanation that
emphasized how parental decisions on this matter were governed by neces-
sity rather than by choice. One woman able to afford to accompany her
child at a cost that would make such an option prohibitive for most serves
to illustrate this point:

On one occasion, when she had an engagement and constant rehearsals at a

considerable distance from her home, her mother always went with her; the
deduction from her wage for double omnibus fares being 8s a week, but often
has taken as much as £1 to 30 shillings.32

Theatre managers could also draw upon the support of many thousands
of people who were dependent on the industry for their own living. In
addition to the individual needs of families, there existed a wider, mass
need, and desire for the sustained and systematic hiring of theatrical
children. Never more so than among those who were employed directly
within entertainment venues and who relied solely on the success of a
production, for their own livelihoods. Theirs was a precarious employ-
ment at the best of times. Setting aside individual failings that could
result in dismissal, the dangers associated with working in such a haz-
ardous environment made life highly contingent. Fire was a constant
risk. In addition to individual accidents collective disaster could displace
workers overnight:

“London. The Alhambra Theatre destroyed by fire. No Victims,” that was

the startling announcement which I read in the telegraphic intelligence of
the Fanfulla. But, respected Fanfulla, many scores of victims must neces-
sarily be made through the burning down of the great theatre in Leicester
Square. It is towards Christmas-time that, “the ants behind the baize” are
 Protective Legislation and the Theatrical Child 147

most laboriously busy. Scene painters and scene shifters, stage carpenters and
property men, supernumeraries, ballet girls and “extras” are all toiling and
moiling every night and day with the intent of diverting you and your chil-
dren at Christmas-time; and all for a little bit of bread. The burning down of
a great theatre means not only the throwing out of employment of a great tribe
of industrious and harmless folk but the destruction of workmen’s tools and
the dresses of poor young women and the spreading far and wide of misery
and destitution.33

The Theatrical Mission was again vital at such times.34 Nevertheless,

anything that closed a production, from poor reviews to the sort of
disasters described here, could have devastating consequences for the
multitude of financial dependents who had emerged from the com-
mercialization of entertainment. Equally though, positive developments
could bring firm benefits to the same needy, mass workforce, and its
dependents. Child entertainers did just this during the last two decades
of the nineteenth-century. Child performers were market leaders within
the profession. As particular crowd pleasers and profitable assets, chil-
dren helped to keep profits buoyant in a notoriously uncertain industry.
Therefore, as supporters of anything that could help to maintain profits,
those directly employed in theatres were enthusiastic advocates of theat-
rical child labor.
Marie Bancroft for example, drew on her long experience as a child and
adult actress when she wrote in defense of what she termed “the continued
employment of little children in the theatre.”35 Her comments clearly com-
prised a response related to the issues of morality, education, and earnings
of theatre children highlighted by NVA campaigners:

As to the employment of little children in theatres, I fail to understand what

baneful influence there can be in their atmosphere to affect their moral nature
of any child. My experience of our theatres is that children there are so petted
and made much of, so corrected and cared for, that when the run of a play in
which they have been employed, comes to an end the little creatures often cry
bitterly at the thought of being taken away, probably in their hearts dread-
ing a return to squalor, neglect or rough treatment. I have seen such children
kindly cared for in various ways and have known the poverty of their parents
relieved by subscriptions, and, in many cases, weekly allowances from very
meagre purses often when the money could ill be spared I have also known
actresses so teach some of these children that by the time their term of service
is ended they have been able to read and spell fairly well—surely a comparison
to many neglected ones outside the playhouse . . . What is more touching on the
stage than the prattle of a clever child; what more refining in itself? . . . As one
148 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

who has been a “stage-child” herself and who well remembers the value of her
little earnings, let me plead now for those in a like position, for I hope that my
voice may be regarded in some way as an expert.36

It is difficult to accept Mrs. Bancroft’s interpretation of theatrical child

work, given that it contrasts sharply with the events of her stage-childhood
as recalled in her published memoirs:

I wish I could recall a happy childhood; but alas I can remember only work
and responsibility from a very tender age . . . trudging by my father’s side in all
weathers to the theatre, where I had to play somebody else’s child . . . my poor
little body was often sadly tired. I was roused many a time from sound sleep
to go upon the stage and sometimes, in my half wakefulness, would begin the
wrong recitation. At the age of five I recited “Ode to the Passions,” . . . My poor
little arms and legs were so red from the cold . . . for a long while my health
was delicate.37

Bancroft’s conflicting accounts were seized upon by campaigners and

the two versions were juxtaposed within the pages of the Vigilance Record
where it was reported that:

We do not think we need add many words to the above touching and signifi-
cant extracts. They form collectively, one of the strongest arguments against
the employment of infants on the stage which we have ever seen in print.38

It was also pointed out that Mrs. Bancroft’s childhood experience was as
a performer from an established theatrical family. She had two parents to
teach her the profession and to safeguard and accompany her on engage-
ments. Often her mother and father played alongside her in the same
production:

Very few of the hundreds of stage infants employed in pantomimes, &c, have
this, all suffer from the hardships so graphically described by Mrs. Bancroft.
They have the unhappy childhood, the deprivation of leisure, the deadly sleep-
lessness after over-labour, the journeys “in all weathers” to the theatre, the
“poor little body often sadly tired,” the legs and arms pinched with the bitter
cold the words drilled into the young head night and day.39

Whether or not Bancroft was deliberately selective in separating her adult

perception of child employment on the stage from her own experiences
can only be speculated. What is clear is that she drew on her long con-
nection and status within the industry as a vehicle to try to discredit criti-
cisms from the NVA and to amass support for challenges to the Bill.40
 Protective Legislation and the Theatrical Child 149

Bancroft was just one of a series of correspondents who, through letters to

the press, debated issues of theatrical child employment and its place in
the Children’s Charter. Supporters on both sides of the debate engaged in
this public exchange. However, while this method of deliberation formed
a central part of the NVA’s campaign, the industry had access to more
productive modes of action.
At the height of the debate Augustus Harris and Henry Irving led a
deputation of “managers and others” who met the Earl of Dunraven, “with
a view to throwing some light on the subject of the employment of children
in theatres.”41 It is important to note here that the deputation included rep-
resentatives from the London School Board who, according to Harris, had
investigated Mrs. Fawcett’s claims about theatre children and found them
“to be fabrications.”42 Harris argued that School Board members “bore
witness to the improvement in the appearance and manners of the young-
sters after becoming connected with those places of amusement (theatres)
for a little time.”43 It is worth noting that the opinion of School Board
officers did not necessarily represent the majority’s view. George Behlmer
shows that during the same period another deputation of the London
School Board claimed that “38 of the board’s 53 members supported a res-
olution prohibiting children under ten from employment on the stage.”44
However, as was the case in the theatrical world, significant numbers of
School Board officers were also Freemasons and it is plausible to assume
that this might have had some bearing on the inclusion of those two men
in the deputation.45 Freemasonry alliances might also partly explain why
neither “School Boards nor Attendance Committees [had] the courage to
carry out the manifest requirements of the law.”46
In addition, Board officers were elected by ratepayers. It was reported that
one manager, found guilty for unlawfully employing theatrical children, was
quick to remind them of this. “As a large rate payer he thought his treatment
from the School Board was extremely unfair.” The implicit pressure associ-
ated with re-election, is evident in a comment contributed to an investiga-
tion into the reluctance of School Board officers to prosecute employers.
“He is a voter, a guardian, a town councilor. Perhaps, as I have known more
than once, a J.P, and it would be unneighbourly to interfere with him.”47
Harris’ deputation then comprised a tight knit, unified community of pow-
erful allies. The group was met by a sympathetic audience in the Home
Secretary’s representative Mr. Stuart-Wortley, Memeber of Pariament:

Such a deputation as the present, introduced by persons whose names of them-

selves were a guarantee for humane treatment and enlightened management,
150 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

was one which could not be disregarded, and whose wishes and statements
were entitled to very much weight. They could not leave out of sight the fact
that behind the deputation of managers there was and must be much weight of
public opinion, because the stage was, after all to a great extent what the public
made of it (hear hear), and the treatment of persons employed upon the stage
was in the long run regulated by public opinion. The question was whether
public opinion would support anything like a crusade against the employment
of children in pantomimes. He had himself very great doubt that they would
support anything of that kind. Undoubtedly the public would require that
these children should be very well treated. (Cheers).48

The Earl of Dunraven responded positively. By July he was reported to have

stigmatized the NVA for the “sour Puritanism that wittingly or unwit-
tingly, has not stuck at slander or fabrication to bolster up a crusade which
to the practical man appears in the true light of a persecution.”49 Dunraven
opposed NVA’s calls for a clause in the Cruelty to Children (Prevention)
Bill, to prohibit children under ten from theatrical employment. He rea-
soned that a child working in the theatre “would hardly come under the
heading of cruelty.”50 During a House of Lords debate he strongly argued
on this point:

There was not a particle of evidence that there had ever been any cruelty inflicted
on children who worked in the theatre . . . A prohibition of this kind . . . involved
gross calumny on those who employed these children [and if] prevented from
playing in theatres, hardship and injustice would be inflicted on the children
who played and their parents and friends.51

Dunraven claimed that the prohibition of theatrical child labor would

infer that “the kind of work performed by children in theatres is attended
with absolute physical suffering amounting to cruelty and that even if the
House of Lords were ‘unanimous in considering it advisable that children
under ten should not be employed in theatres,’ the proper course to pur-
sue is to deal with the matter by an amendment to the Factory Acts or by
legislation of a similar character.”52 Dunraven was a powerful and cru-
cial ally to theatrical employers. Interestingly though, his allegiance with
theatrical interests may not have rested, solely, on his acceptance of the
managers’ persuasive arguments. Irving, Harris, and Dunraven were fel-
low Freemasons with Irving and Dunraven belonging to the same Masonic
Lodge. The reciprocal and lasting bond they shared is evident from their
Masonic friendship.53 Equally strong support for the industry was to
be found in the House of Commons. For example, Henry Labouchere,
 Protective Legislation and the Theatrical Child 151

Member of Parliament, was a vehement supporter of the industry’s contin-

ued employment of children. His driving force in the House of Commons
equaled that of Dunraven in the House of Lords regarding the passing of
the theatrical child clause in the Children’s Charter. In one 1889 parlia-
mentary speech, Labouchere had said:

Why should you make one law for theatres and another law for factories? The
reason was that a theatre was not a factory, and that a factory was not a theatre.
(Cheers and laughter) One could not imagine that a child would want to go to
work in a factory. The work was very hard there, but in a theatre it was exactly
the reverse. In fact a theatre was a sort of kindergarten . . . the only injury to
children was to their stomachs from too many sugar plums and cakes.54

This is not to say, though, that Dunraven’s and Labouchere’s espousal of

the industry’s case went unchallenged. However, from the outset it was
clear that even those who sympathized with the NVA did not share in its
opposition to the theatre. As one observer put it:

Without bringing any charge of immorality against the stage, many people
held, to use a common figure of speech, that the surface of the stage was a
slippery surface. In their view, therefore, some limit ought to be placed on the
employment of young children. It was, however, in no way intended to cast a
reflection upon the theatrical profession.55

The industry’s convincing portrayal of the theatrical child at play, meant

that even those allied to NVA thinking on child labor could not see a place
in the Bill specifically for theatrical children. A degree of ambivalence was
introduced into the debate by Lord Norton, who argued that “premature
employment was cruelty and thus theatre children needed to be excluded
from the theatre under this age.”56 On the second reading of the CCP Bill
though, in the House of Lords, the Earl of Mar, inverting the argument
of Norton, claimed more forcefully that retention of the clause to exclude
under-tens from the stage would “promote a certain amount of misery, if
not actual cruelty to the little ones.”57
The dual view that subsequently came to dominate thinking on the
issue is evident from a statement made by the Archbishop of Canterbury.
“No cases of personal cruelty had been proven against the industry . . . [But]
children should not be put prematurely to very hard work.”58 It was about
this latter aspect of the work that even those who supported the continu-
ance of child labor felt most ambivalent. Benjamin Waugh argued that
including stage-children in the CCP Bill was not appropriate. He claimed
152 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

that “his society had taken the greatest trouble to ascertain whether there
had been any cruelty to children in theatres and had failed to find a single
case.” Waugh dismissed an alternative argument that children needed to
begin stage careers early in life and equally rejected the notion that to limit
theatrical child employment, meant depriving the very poorest of income:
Theatre managers, like all other men of business, seem to take the material
most ready for their purpose, and neither the appearance, the behaviour, nor
the conversation of gutter children, nor even of the hungry and destitute, is
favourable to theatrical performance . . . pantomime children are chosen from
the comparatively better-off classes, and solely in the commercial interests of
their employers.59

What Waugh failed to see was that, unlike other manufactures, the the-
atrical industry’s child labor was also its raw material. Further, Harris
himself had boasted that theatrical employers, “took ragamuffins but
manufactured them into respectable members of society.”60 Even though
Waugh remained adamant that children under ten should not be in any
form of paid employment he argued that license provision would deal with
exceptional individual cases for child performers.61 He was equally insis-
tent though that the clause asked for by the NVA be denied.
As the debate grew in intensity the NVA increasingly emphasized
performance as labor. Socialist H. W. Hobart stringently argued on this
point. “What we are immediately concerned about is the material effect
on the children, and we object to the enterprising theatrical manager just
as we object to the factory owner getting cheap labour at the expense of
their general well-being.”62 Furthermore, Fawcett highlighted the opposi-
tion faced by Lord Shaftesbury before the eventual implementation of The
Factory Act, in 1844 and argued that just as those who “condemned him
[Lord Shaftesbury] were wrong,” their own objectors would come round
to their way of thinking.63
In response, theatrical supporters deliberately focused their defense on
the public face of the work and argued this was the sum of the theatrical
child’s labors:

The manager is under no temptation to make children work six, eight, twelve
hours a day. It would not profit him: he has no such work for them to do. Half
an hours active work (if work it can be called), which may possibly involve
a couple of hours attendance at the theatre, is all he requires of them. The
manager . . . is directly interested in keeping his little troop physically fit. They
must be bright, alert, and well-disposed if they are to do their work properly
and please the public.64
 Protective Legislation and the Theatrical Child 153

This portrayal was useful in deflecting calls for theatrical children to

be brought under the factory acts. Those who were reluctant or unable
to acknowledge the true nature of theatrical work challenged any anal-
ogy drawn between industrial and theatrical work. Keen to disassociate
theatrical employers from past criticisms leveled at earlier industrialists,
pro-lobbyists claimed that it had been “proved in more than one public
investigation that stage-children are well cared for bodily and mentally,
revel in their work, and are the envy of their less fortunate comrades.”65
To quote from an 1883 statement it is clear that thinking on theatrical
child labor had changed little throughout the NVA’s campaign:

Now let us see what are the advantages offered to these children of misery
and starvation, of squalor and vice? They are taken in hand by kind-hearted
matrons, appointed for the exclusive purpose of looking carefully after them;
they are drilled some of them are taught to sing, some to dance . . . they are
obliged to come to the theatre in a neat and cleanly condition, which obligation
itself induces a general habit of orderliness and tidiness.66

This rationale prevailed and during the 1890s it was typically claimed
that “in comparison to many other employments for children it [stage
employment] seems to me to rank high—there is a great gulf between the
little . . . dancer, and the haggard half-timer ‘doffing’ in the mill.”67
Although the passing of the Bill fell short of the NVA’s revised demands
securing of the theatrical clause was the Association’s first positive
achievement in its long campaign. The implementation of the licensing
system was broadly seen as providing theatrical children with a protec-
tive safety net. However, given the propensity of theatrical employers to
circumvent existing child laws, it is surprising that NVA members did
not recognize that the industry would not limit its use of the license facil-
ity to isolated performances. The licensing amendment, pushed through
so forcefully by Dunraven, was advantageous to theatrical employers in
two ways. Firstly, its implementation appeased NVA supporters, which
not only took pressure off employers but also took the theatrical child as
laborer (its private persona) out of the spotlight. Secondly, it sanctioned
the industry’s employment of a child labor force too young to legally work
in any other industry.68 Thus, conclusions drawn by others who argue
that the legislation marked the end of widespread abuse and exploitation
of child labor in the entertainment industry need, at very least, to be qual-
ified.69 Clearly the licensing system did imply a considerable change in
the way in which children were recruited and retained for theatrical work.
However, continuities persisted and must be incorporated into analysis of
154 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

the implications of the 1899 legislation for both commercially provided,

performance-based leisure, and the performing child.

THE LEGACY OF THE 1889 “CHILDREN’S

CHARTER” FOR THE THEATRICAL CHILD

Consideration of the implementation of the theatrical clause of the

Children’s Charter highlights a number of complexities that have to be
included into any interpretation of its impact. The NVA hailed the Act
as a triumph but the practical consequences of the Act were contingent
and enforcement of the legislation was inadequate in most parts of the
country.70 Some of the courts issued the licenses carefully, in others the
procedure was little more than a token.71 Initial difficulties in the applica-
tion of the Act persisted much longer than could have been anticipated. In
part, the intentions of theatrical child law were compromised by ineffective
administration. “The factory inspectors frequently paid visits to theatres
when they received notice of the licensing of children and cases of the
infringement of the conditions of the licences are noted from time to time
in the reports of the Chief Inspector.”72 But there were many flaws in the
system of administration. “It is clear that in the great majority of cases the
employers of children did not forward copies of the licences to the inspec-
tors (if they troubled to obtain them at all).”73 Until after the passing of the
Act of 1894 the numbers of copies of licenses forwarded in any year never
exceeded a hundred for the whole country. After 1894, it varied between
238 and 623. Inspectors were constantly complaining that notice of the
licenses was received too late for any action (the law only required that
notice should be sent by the person obtaining the license within ten days of
its issue).74 In 1894, the Home Office endeavored to remedy this to some
extent in England and Wales by requesting the clerks to Justices of the
Peace to forward copies of licenses to the local authorities as soon as they
were issued. Further, the law merely laid upon the inspectors the duty of
seeing that the conditions of the license were observed. It did not authorize
them to interfere where licenses were not obtained at all. In such cases they
could merely urge the local police authority to take appropriate action.
Problems were multiplied in the case of touring children. About seven
years after the law had been introduced a report in The Stage confirms a
situation of confusion and apathy:

There still appears to be some uncertainty regarding the legal employment on

stage. On Monday Mr. James Perfect, Jun., manager of the Parkhurst applied
 Protective Legislation and the Theatrical Child 155

to Mr. Horace Smith to be allowed to employ two little colored children in

a performance of Uncle Tom’s Cabin to be given at his theatre, one of them
being three years of age, the other an infant in arms. Mr. Smith suggested that
no permission from him was necessary, as he did not see why children should
not walk across the stage of a theatre in the charge of their mother. Mr Perfect
explained that there was much difference of opinion of magistrates on the sub-
ject. The mother having been travelling all over the country in connection with
the theatrical profession and on applying for permission to take her children
on the stage it had as often been withheld as granted. Having referred to the
Act, Mr. Smith decided that he had no power to grant the application, as the
children were under seven, and the law, forbade that they should appear at any
place of public entertainment “for profit.” Some excuse may be made for actors
and managers not always knowing the legal side of the stage question, but what
about the magistrates?75

The Stage plainly laid the blame for the illegal use of theatrical child labor
on those issuing the licenses. However, no single body can be held solely
responsible for the obvious abuse of the law that left theatrical children
unprotected. The children cited above were several years below the legal
working age limit yet, by the mother’s own admission, up to 50 percent of
the magistrates she had applied to had sanctioned their labor. The refusal
of half the applications made, suggests that the woman could not have
been ignorant of the rules. Clearly, some parents were willing to circum-
vent the law in order to allow their offspring to earn. The testimony from
an older chorus girl working at Drury Lane theatre also challenges argu-
ments that if abuses and illegal employment did occur it was only in the
lower or smaller theatres. Augustus Harris was one of the largest employers
of children and was well respected yet he continued to employ children
who were under the legal age to work. She reported, that the cast in her
current production included “16 little girls aged from 6 . . . who get 10s and
half for ‘day shows’ or matinees.”76
A common argument for the granting of a license was that permission
had been granted by magistrates in previous towns visited. In 1898 for
example, an application for a license for a boy of eight years of age to take
part in a West-End production, brought the following response:

The child’s part consisted of reciting about a hundred lines. He came on about
8pm and left about 10.30pm, arriving home at 10.50pm. Mr. Plowden thought
it was too much to demand of a child of eight. Applicant explained that the boy
had been playing the part for several months passed on tour, that he was well
looked after, and that the piece was only to last for six nights. Mr. Plowden said
he was of the opinion that no child so young should be employed so long in a
156 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

task so hard, but having regard to the fact that it was only for a week, and solely
on that ground, he would grant the license asked for.77

A second magistrate expressed similar views. He “hardly approved of a

child of such tender years [seven and a half] being on the stage late at night.
Inspector Cheyney mentioned that the child had been performing for
12 months on licences granted in other districts. Mr. Marsham granted the
licence, remarking that a little girl of this age ought to be in bed earlier.”78
It is difficult to determine the degree of sincerity behind the disap-
proving utterances of magistrates who then went on to grant licenses that
sanctioned theatrical child labor. Lack of interest in touring children was
influenced by the nomadic nature of their work. If theatrical children were
seen as being problematic this was only a temporary state of affairs because
each magistrate was only required to grant a license for a maximum of six
days and “Some few magistrates and School Boards took a particular inter-
est in the work of licensing theatre children.”79
Few magistrates evinced some reluctance to take any responsibility for
the continued use of stage-children even though they held the power to
prevent it. One seven-and-a-half-year-old girl was granted a license by a
magistrate who then paradoxically remarked that “some time ago the Era
commenced an onslaught on child actresses. Why is it so silent now?”80
It seems remarkable that a magistrate who was reluctant to exercize his
own power should criticize a theatrical trade journal for its inaction on the
matter. This is particularly telling, given that this was stated about nine
years after the passing of the CCP Bill and five years after the Bill’s 1894
amendment.
Weak implementation of the law did not go unnoticed. Theatrical chil-
dren were still visible enough in number in 1896 for George Bernard Shaw
to complain:

Sir Matthew White Ridley is currently receiving £5000 a year, partly at

my expense, for looking after the administration of the laws regulating the
employment of children. If a factory owner employed a child under the speci-
fied age, or kept a young person at work ten minutes after the specified hour,
Sir Matthew would be down on him like five thousand ton of brick. If a fac-
tory was producing goods of vital utility and the rarest of artistic value, the
plea would not be listened to for a moment. In the name of common sense
why are speculators in club babies and the like to enjoy illegal and anti-social
privileges which are denied to manufacturers? . . . I suggest to the Home Office
that a rigid rule should be made against the licensing of children for any new
entertainment whatsoever.81
 Protective Legislation and the Theatrical Child 157

Clearly, even the limited protection secured for children was being flouted
by theatrical employers and many magistrates colluded in this.
Legal limitations on actual hours of work were equally compromised.
The 1894 amendment to the PCC Act stated that child performers had to
leave the theatre by 9 p.m. However, a clause gave discretionary powers to
magistrates granting child licenses. This meant that the degree to which
each child was protected depended upon an individual magistrate’s inter-
pretation of theatrical work. Young children who were granted a license
could find themselves lawfully working for longer hours over longer peri-
ods than much older children in other trades. As noted above, the granting
of a weekly license in each town had collectively permitted an eight-year-
old boy to be employed six nights each week for several months. He did
not leave the theatre until 10.30 p.m., and arrived home at 10.50 p.m.82
Despite NVA satisfaction that as much as could be achieved had been
achieved, the 1889 Act and its 1894 amendment may have made relatively
little impact on the industry’s ability to employ children. In 1896, an adult
dancer employed at Drury Lane Theatre was still minded to reflect that
she did not believe in “children coming on the stage so young. The little
kids they look half dead by the time to go.”83
This is not to say that children continued to be employed in the very
high numbers that were typical during the 1880s. There is insufficient reli-
able data to support even speculative estimates of actual children in work
during the 1890s and into the new century. However, a shift in the ways
that employers were using children is evident, and this affected the num-
ber of children needed for individual productions. For example, Augustus
Harris, who had pioneered the extravagant, spectacular pantomimes
that demanded large numbers of children, in 1896 declared a change in
approach, “[He] is now going to [aim] for perfection. No more troupe of
ballet for him. Little and very good is to be his rule. A beginning has been
made in Cinderella now on where he employs only 40 ballet girls.”84 Harris
may, of course, have been responding to the inconvenience of licensing
large numbers of children. Equally though, Crozier has shown that there
was a change in fashion in dramatic productions and also in the ways that
childhood was being represented on stage. By the end of the nineteenth
century “the taste for child actors was less prominent than before.”85
Nevertheless, in 1903 breadwinning theatrical children were still sig-
nificant enough in number and in importance to the industry to again
arouse public debate. This arose from a specific section of the Employment
of Children Bill 1902/1903, which was intended to prevent children, in
general, from working after 9 p.m. At first, the Government had no plans
158 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

to exempt theatre children from this law. However, the continued popu-
larity and profitability of child performers prompted theatrical employers
to contest this decision. As in 1889 a public campaign ensued although
on this occasion this was instigated by the industry rather than any anti-
theatrical body. Theatrical supporters adopted the same strategies used in
1889 in their agitation of 1903. Classical actress Ellaline Terriss summa-
rized arguments typically offered by the industry:

For upwards of four years the theatre in which I act has employed children
in every play we have produced their numbers varying from 20–80 at every
performance. It is wrong to class these children under a Bill with Hawkers and
judge the conditions under which they work with the child who earns a living
in a factory. Sir it seems to me a duty that I should not allow the breadwinners
of so many families to be thrown out of work by gentlemen who, however wor-
thy their notions must be totally misinformed as to the real state of thing . . . the
terms are so drastic that the movement becomes a double-edged sword, that
will, while stopping the children workers happily on the one hand assist them
to starve on the other . . . Actors support the employment of children . . . they
earn a great deal of money through work which is to them play, and let this
be thoroughly understood, play . . . single children have saved whole families
this winter . . . Theatre is the greatest reforming influence street children can
get . . . gives them friends in stations far above them in the way of position in
another and higher class of society.86

John Gorst, Member of Parliament, countered these claims thus:

What was really asked for by the clause was that theatrical managers should be
exempted from the provisions of the Bill, and that these young children should
be deprived of the Protection . . . so far as London was concerned the employ-
ment of children was merely a question of money. London managers employed
children because they were cheap. It was a question of cheap child labour.87

By the early 1900s, children had been prominent and popular on the
stage for in excess of twenty years and had become accepted in their own
right as a valuable part of performance-based entertainment. Their sta-
tus meant that employers could now argue that restrictions on child per-
formances would be a serious blow to dramatic art. The child’s artistic
value to drama was at the forefront of the industry’s rationale in 1903,
and providers of the legitimate drama headed the campaign. Henry Irving
claimed that he employed children “purely for artistic reasons and not to
save money. This is a point on which it is difficult to illuminate the minds
of some legislators.”88
 Protective Legislation and the Theatrical Child 159

The 1903 campaign differed from the 1889 agitation in that the main
voices of opposition came from legislators.89 Labouchere, who had been
such a vigorous defender of theatrical child labor in 1889 was by 1903 sid-
ing with the opposite cause:

Theatrical managers had been representing the theatre as a sort of paradise

for children; but as men of the world, Hon. Members knew that, that was
not the case. The hours were often very long with two performances a day,
from 2–11; with rehearsals, perhaps in addition. It was better to lay down a
general law that children should not be allowed to work after 9 o’clock . . . All
children under the age of fourteen were not permitted to work in factories after
nine o’clock . . . why should the Home Secretary step in with a clause to protect
and benefit theatres. Surely it is absurd to make that exception merely for the
amusement of persons who went to the theatre.90

The exemption clause was also a concern for the Standing Committee
on Trade; not in the least because it recognized the existing inadequate
legal position of theatrical children. The Chairman of the Committee on
Wage Earning Children argued that “the protection now afforded by the
Education Acts and the Act of Prevention of Cruelty is not sufficient.”
He expressed the hope that the statutory limitations of the Employment
of Children Bill “will not be weakened in any way.”91 However, although
opposition to theatrical child labor in the Houses of Lords and Commons
was more vocal in 1903 than in the previous campaign, its force was not
enough to defeat the industry. The government allowed the section of the
Prevention of Cruelty to Children Act of 1894 dealing with theatrical
children to be reenacted as part of the Employment of Children Act and
thus enabled licensed children to be employed in theatres during child
work hours, which were prohibited by the act and its bylaws. This decision
illustrates the extent to which the industry still occupied the influential
and powerful position that had previously secured itself a continuing child
labor force.92 That theatrical employers again sought and secured exemp-
tion from child law also indicates the importance of theatrical children to
the industry’s economy. One Member of Parliament who was against stage-
child employment was in no doubt of this. He claimed the revised law to
be “a commercial clause-to get profit out of these young children.”93
The Government’s decision to allow the theatrical clause was accom-
panied by a move to raise the minimum age for theatrical child employ-
ment. The 1889 Prevention of Cruelty to Children Bill had set the lower
limit for a licensed child at seven years. Much debate ensued. Ernest Gray
MP argued that “it was absurd to say that children of seven were required
160 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

in theatres and it was monstrous that justices should ever have granted
licenses to children of seven years.”94 The Home Secretary’s initial inten-
tion to raise the minimum age by two years was the cause of much debate.
John Burns MP believed that “manager’s profits should not be advanced to
the detriment of children of the immature age of seven or nine . . . even rais-
ing the age to nine is too low, it ought to be thirteen or fourteen at least.”95
However, as was the case with the 1889 CCP Bill, legislators were mindful
not to sacrifice the whole Bill for the sake of issues concerning theatrical
children. Even Ernest Gray expressed caution. “Any attempt to jump in
advance of public opinion would ruin the object they had in view. They
must be prepared to go step by step.”96 Home Secretary Mr. Akers Douglas
made what he said was a “reasonable concession” and said he could go “no
further than inserting an age limit minimum of ten instead of his request
of nine.”97 Ultimately, in 1903 the minimum age at which a licensed the-
atrical child could lawfully work was set at ten years. This said, special
dispensation was allowed for theatre children to work outside the hours of
9 p.m. and 6 a.m., which regulated child workers in other trades. This led
one to describe the Act as of “no use . . . local authority by-laws could vary
hours and permit employment for the convenience of theatre.”98
Between 1889 and 1903 clauses in child protective legislation allowed
the theatrical industry to legally retain a workforce of children, albeit not
one as young as employers had hoped. However, this did not put an end
to children under ten years unlawfully appearing on stage. In addition to
licenses being wrongly issued, either accidentally or intentionally, alterna-
tive strategies were also used by those with an economic interest in theatri-
cal children, which kept young performers on the boards. For example,
in 1905, at age five, (half the legal age) lifelong performer Sandy Powell
toured with his mother who had taught him to become a puppeteer:

Sandy worked on the stage manipulating a marionette figure, putting his head
through the curtain on to the shoulders of the doll and bringing it to life by his
skillful handling . . . Life at this time was certainly no bed of roses; there were
hard times and these were too frequent to ensure a stable and secure living.99

After two years of working their act and being mutually financially depen-
dent on each other, Powell’s mother Lilly, secured a tour of small variety
theatres in and around Manchester. It was in Manchester that a seven-
year-old Sandy made his debut as a chorus singer. Being three years under
the lawful age to apply for a license, Sandy was planted in the Gallery with
the rest of the audience who were quite unaware of his connection to the
 Protective Legislation and the Theatrical Child 161

act on stage. “His part was to join in the choruses of Lilly’s songs . . . Lilly
hearing his voice . . . would look up and make a gesture for the audience
to stop singing, and make signs at Sandy to stand up and continue sing-
ing . . . the audience loved his clear soprano voice.”100 The boy also appeared
as a stooge for Dr. Walford Bodie who was “described as a ‘mesmerist and
Electrical Wizard.’” Bodie was one of the biggest draws of the day. “He
claimed to alleviate suffering [and] . . . Cripples were brought to him in
the hope of a cure, and often sticks and crutches were displayed in front
of the theatre as proof of his remarkable ‘cures.’” This allowed Sandy to
earn without technically being employed. “For a few coppers each night he
would ‘volunteer’ to go on stage and pretend to be mesmerised.”101
For more than a decade the legislation of theatrical child labor contin-
ued to be governed by the 1903 Act.102 In 1913/14, the question of theat-
rical child workers was raised again. Denman’s Children’s Bill proposed
radical reorganization of employment and school attendance and included
plans to further regulate the employment of children in theatres.103 It
is clear from the industry’s reaction to this that children continued to
occupy an important place within the theatrical workforce. The loud-
est public protestations came from those with vested theatrical interests.
True to form, theatricals were keen to attract support from the public
and quickly initiated letters to The Times. As Neil Daglish points out,
public’s “right” to see child performers was emphasized upon, although,
in an otherwise supportive editorial, this argument was challenged by The
Times. “The public have no right, to any benefit or pleasure which causes
injury to those who provide it.”104 The Times’ correspondence came exclu-
sively from those at the top of the industry and covered arguments and
topics that had originated in the 1880s. A vehicle for debate came in the
form of child actress, Phyllis Bourke, then touring in John Galsworthy’s
new play The Mob, whose appearance in London was scheduled at the
height of Denman’s presentation of his Bill. An application for the child
to be on stage up until 10:15 p.m. each night was rejected by a London
Magistrate and this fueled the industry’s demands for theatrical children
to be exempted from the Bill.105
On that same tour Manchester Magistrates had allowed Bourke to per-
form until 11 p.m. This is indicative of the confusion and wide-ranging
differences of interpretation of the laws designed to protect theatrical
children.
Clearly, the sway of the industry was as dominant in 1914 as it had been
in 1889. Public theatrical agitation aroused concern that plans to regulate
theatre children might endanger the success of the whole of Denman’s Bill.
162 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

This, led Denman to ask Galsworthy to dissuade any more of his friends
from writing to the press because “he did not concede that the topic of
theatre children was ‘complicated and difficult’ and sought Galsworthy’s
response to the idea of ‘the law [concerning stage-children] remaining
pretty much as it is but with an alteration allowing the LEA in the theatre
child’s area of training . . . to possess the power of issuing licences which
would be valid nationwide’”106
Protests were not limited to letters to the press. Across the industry,
theatrical bosses showed solidarity in the face of further regulation of their
child employees. Theatre, music hall, and circus proprietors held meet-
ings headed by prestigious theatrical figures such as Sir Herbert Beerbohm
Tree.107 Denman, having first gained support from the Board of Education
on their granting of national licenses, met with theatre and music hall
representatives who agreed that this change would remove the problem of
random interpretation of the law by “idiosyncratic magistrates.” The the-
atrical contingent who met with Denman represented production needs
requiring some “5,000 children a year” a number which in itself indicates
the continued popularity of child performers.108 Their valued contribu-
tion to the financial success of a production is evident from the words of
the president of the English Dramatists’ Club, Arthur Henry Jones who
was representing 30 of the most prominent dramatists and authors. “It is
pointed out that the profit on the most fortunate tour in the provinces can
be converted into a serious loss by the prohibition of a performance in any
one city. This prohibition can be effected in the case of a play in which
a child under 14 appears, by refusal of the necessary licence by the local
magistrate.”109
Notwithstanding a child’s sustained financial worth to both its family
and employers, it is clear that the purpose of children on the pantomime
stage was, as was the case in 1880, primarily aesthetic.110 However Jones’s
estimation of how restrictive legislation of child labor would impact on the
dramatic theatre suggests that the contribution of children to the industry
had become much more than stage decoration. One writer argued that the
presence of children in a performance served to improve the well-being of
boys and girls outside the theatre:

It is to be noted that the banishment of children from our stage shuts the
door on much wholesome, popular domestic drama; the type of drama which
appeals most effectively to the British people; the type of drama which we
should be wise to encourage our masses to choose for their entertainment . . . the
presence of children on the stage is important in the development of a serious
 Protective Legislation and the Theatrical Child 163

national drama. Nearly all our modern plays are concerned with marriage and
marriage can scarcely be treated without more or less direct reference to chil-
dren . . . [it is in] the interest of our successive generations of English children
as a whole . . . as a powerful means of starting and stirring currents of social
thought and action . . . many plays dealing with social abuses necessitate the
presence of children on the stage. Vexatious restrictions on the appearance of
children may do a great indirect injury to English children generally by chok-
ing the formation of a sound body of public opinion on matters that greatly
concern their nurture and wellbeing.111

Such forceful arguments proved unnecessary. The industry’s concerns were

unwarranted because Denman failed to get his Bill passed. Thus, the legis-
lation of 1903 remained intact and ten-year-old child laborers remained an
accepted part of the theatrical workforce, up until 1918.
Although the 1918 Education Act raised the age at which unlicensed
children could be employed in theatrical performances from 11 to 12 years,
this section of the Act did not come into force until August 8, 1921.112 Four
years after Denman’s proposal, the granting of licenses for children to take
part in entertainments was taken from the jurisdiction of the courts and
transferred to the Local Education Authority. In 1919, the President of the
Board of Education appointed a Theatrical Children’s Licences Committee
to advise them on those rules that should be adhered to in the granting of
licenses.113 The Committee doubted if it would be possible for it to sug-
gest licensing conditions that would allow children to remain in theatrical
employment while also ensuring that their educational and welfare needs
be kept within the parameters of the law. The Committee’s conditions
covered, regulated hours of employment, a recommendation of 12 weeks of
holidays, limitation on matinees, the provision of health certificates, and
the licensing of matrons in charge of child performers.114
Clearly, after a quarter of a century of active campaigning on their
behalf, stage-children were still, for the most part, regarded in law and by
those responsible for implementing the law as a special case. The cultural,
economic, and social power of the theatrical industry was made visible in
the extent to which attacks on its rights to use child labor were successfully
resisted. However theatre owners and managers did not act alone. While
they were directly able to gain the support of influential individuals at
the highest levels of society their efforts to maintain the right to employ
children were also bolstered from below. Those many thousands of ordi-
nary people who made up theatre audiences that cut across class, age, and
gender, the multitude of men and women who depended on the success
of the theatrical industry for their livelihoods, the parents and guardians
164 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

of child performers, and even the children themselves all actively opposed
any limitation on employers’ rights to use child labor. Perhaps even more
importantly they colluded in circumventing whatever limited protective
legislation was introduced. As fashion and economic imperatives changed,
the theatrical industry both led and responded to changes in the use of
child labor. This reduced the need for stage-children and the industry
adjusted its child labor force accordingly. Nevertheless, those children who
remained in the industry were frequently as vulnerably situated as their
predecessors and indeed their successors.115
Conclusion

B
etween 1875 and 1914 the employment of theatrical child labor was
crucial to the success of commercially provided performance-based
leisure. The employment of child performers was at its height at a
time when child labor was seen legislatively and socially as neither neces-
sary nor desirable. The deduction is that this group of children were left
outside the protective umbrella which covered other child workers because
their labor was not recognized as such and/or because the work children
rendered was regarded as more important than their individual needs.
Prior to this study, the contribution of theatrical child labor to the theatri-
cal economy and the implications of the same for those children has been
largely overlooked by both theatre and childhood historians. As a conse-
quence, a significant section of late Victorian child labor does not figure
in the comprehensive studies that make up these two extensive historiog-
raphies. This work helps to address the consequences of omissions that
compromise our full understanding of theatre and childhood history. The
book also highlights a need for revision of some past conclusions, which
have been reached without taking account of a substantial, late nineteenth-
century child workforce across the nation.
These pages have established that theatrical entrepreneurs were both
master of and servant to their public. Although the industry governed
what its audiences eventually saw, this had to reflect contemporary soci-
ety’s tastes and interests. It has been shown that the rise of the entertain-
ment industry also saw a growing cultural focus on childhood. A gradual
acceptance of the specific rights and needs of children was accompanied by
recognition of their particular wants. The former were reflected in legisla-
tive and philanthropic activities, whereas the latter were embedded in a
commercialization of childhood that was linked to a sentimentalized cult
of the child. Clearly, the timing of these developments was crucial in the
fusing of two seemingly unconnected areas of study. Society’s fixation with
childhood was at its most comprehensive between 1875 and 1903 and coin-
cided with the moment when the theatrical industry sustained a position
166 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

of central importance in the economy and within society. Commercially

provided, performance-based leisure catered to a mass audience, which
cut across class, age, and gender. Theatrical entrepreneurs realized their
potential to develop, interpret, or invent popular childhood themes and
convert them into revenue through nationwide venues and wide-ranging
genres. Many of the child characters presented on stage symbolized the
nation’s aspirations for its future generation, and child labor was the cata-
lyst required to bring these to life for the audience and to turn audience
appreciation into theatrical profit.
The substantial contribution of theatrical child labor to the industry’s
success is clear from the evidence presented in this work. Unlike in most
other industries, theatrical children were not cheap substitutes for adult
labor. More importantly, there was no alternative labor that could effec-
tively take the place of performing children who were, in their own right,
essential to the industry. The value placed on theatrical children is vis-
ible in the strategies executed by employers to secure and sustain their
labor. The use of binding contracts, and heavy investment in long-term
apprenticeships and training, demonstrates the industry’s need for skilled
child workers. This confirms the key role of child labor within the theatri-
cal workforce. Its value of was reflected in the wage rates commanded by
performing children. Even allowing for gradations within children’s wages
and setting aside the exceptional earnings of adult stars, childhood was
the only time when performing wage rates exceeded those in comparative
trades. In addition to paying above the going rate for child labor, employ-
ers were also prepared to increase the wages of children who were popular
with audiences and therefore attracted larger crowds.
These already convincing arguments are supported by additional evi-
dence showing that employers went to remarkable lengths to ensure con-
tinued access to child labor, on terms which suited the industry’s needs
over and above the needs of its child workers. Employers both evaded
and flouted child-protection laws in ways that compromised the right of
theatrical children to education and left them vulnerable to the misuse
of their labor. In so doing, the theatre bosses drew on alliances with
some of the nation’s most powerful and influential figures and bodies—
alliances that were forged and reciprocally reinforced in the context of
the industry’s key position in the economy and society. These practices
flew in the face of prevailing notions of childhood and demonstrate the
crucial importance of child workers to the industry. They also highlight
the extent to which the needs of children could be sacrificed for the
benefit of adults.
 Conclusion 167

The question of how exploitation of such a visible workforce was

accepted by a society fixated with childhood has been comprehensively
addressed by showing the theatrical child to have had both a public and a
private persona. Within its dual being, the child occupied a series of fluc-
tuating identities each of which served the interests of a variety of others.
The industry’s ability to cater to the leisure needs of mass consumerism
was made possible by a vast workforce that relied on the industry’s success
for its livelihood. Performers, backstage workers, and a multitude of satel-
lite industries favored anything that stimulated the need for their services
or goods. This shows the stage-child to have provided that stimulus with
its ability to satisfy a wide range of audience viewing needs and its power,
extended to the entertainment of all-child audiences, to engage a future
generation of theatregoers.
Without doubt, the industry’s reaction to the audience preference for
watching performing children exposes its recognition of the stage-child’s
profitable potential. Its increased recruitment of theatrical child labor was
a consequence of intensified output of child-themed and child-centered
productions and the development of all-child companies. The constant
and regular featuring of children in long-run productions and persistent
promotion of child performers through extensive touring across the nation
were not just artistically based decisions but calculated marketing strate-
gies also for theatre’s most saleable merchandise. This trade in childhood
benefited a wide range of theatrical workers and suppliers who identified
the theatrical child as a crucial element in contemporary mechanisms of
supply and demand within the industry. To an audience, the same child
had a distinctly different purpose and was viewed from a contrasting per-
spective steeped in the child’s emotional worth and derived though the
child’s public persona and the host of characters it embodied on stage.
Audiences were beguiled into seeing only the chimera of childhood.
A passion to watch children perform unwittingly fueled the creation of
a vast, workforce of children across the nation, whose labor went largely
unprotected and often exploited.
The dual worth of the child as a source of profit for the industry and
as a source of pleasure to the audience was matched by its importance as a
family resource. The theatrical child as worker provided monetary reward
while its role as performer brought emotional remuneration. The needs
and wants of the theatrical child and its family were met by the benefits
derived from both its private and public personas. Child-protective legis-
lation had diminished the opportunities for children to undertake other
paid employment, with no provision to make up for the deficit in the
168 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

family budget. Theatrical work offered a rare opportunity for children

to earn and to contribute to the domestic economy. The theatrical child
labor force was relatively classless, with some children having to work and
others merely wanting to, and as such, the destination of and value placed
on the child’s wage depended upon the financial circumstances of its fam-
ily. What all stage children experienced, however, was the adulation of
the audience and an associated sense of self-worth and elevated status.
Performing children became a source of pride for families, who reveled in
this early form of celebrity.
The identities young performers inhabited in the public arena rein-
forced prevailing notions of childhood while hiding private realities. Not
only were theatre children laborers when, at least in theory, they should
have been scholars, their job was to satisfy the leisure needs of the public
which meant they had to work while others were at play. This dictated
unsociable work hours and late finishing times. The job was physically
demanding, and backstage working conditions contrasted sharply with
what was presented on stage. This said, the profession that confined the
childhood of its young workers also held liberating potential.
The gendered nature of recruitment led to the emancipation of girl per-
formers from their domestic duties at home. Although touring was physi-
cally challenging and a potentially dangerous activity, it offered a chance
to those who might otherwise never have left the district they were born
in, to travel all over the country and abroad. Theatrical children also came
into close contact with and worked as part of a team with a wide range of
people from all classes. These two possibilities offered child performers an
education in life and opportunities not open to those children confined to
the classroom. A lack of schooling was not a barrier to advancement in the
field of performance. With talent, an uneducated child from the poorest
of families could reach the pinnacle of the profession and achieve social
mobility. The pool of child labor always exceeded the industry’s needs;
therefore relative to the numbers seeking work, few achieved adult star-
dom, although for many, the industry continued to provide a living wage
into adulthood. For countless others stage careers ended the moment the
child ceased to be of value to the industry.
Satisfying all the above needs compromised the theatrical child’s expe-
rience of childhood. Those deriving some sort of return from the chil-
dren’s work were unwilling or unable to acknowledge their vulnerability.
Moreover, the minority group that did express concern over the effect of
theatrical work on children also recognized the value of child labor to the
industry. As a consequence, although theatrical children could benefit
 Conclusion 169

from calls on their behalf for protection, some campaigners also used the
value placed on the theatrical child as leverage to satisfy their own broader
ends. At the core of the NVA’s campaign was a deep-seated disapproval of
the perceived immorality of commercially produced, performance-based
leisure. Targeting of the much prized theatrical child struck at the heart
of the Victorian entertainment business and guaranteed Millicent Fawcett
and NVA supporters a public platform from which they could attack the
industry. However, campaigners had underestimated the power of theatri-
cal interests and the depth of support they were able to draw upon.
Benjamin Waugh and fellow champions of children’s rights neverthe-
less recognized the particular value of the theatrical child as a bargain-
ing tool. While the NVA used the trope of the laboring child against the
industry, Waugh and his supporters, understanding the futility of direct
confrontation with theatrical interests and anxious to secure the passage of
the CCCP Bill into law, prioritized theatrical employers’ needs over those
of their child employees. In so doing, the NSPCC sacrificed the interests
of those children who were most vulnerable under existing laws, effec-
tively excluding them from new protective legislation. This strategy was
rationalized by reference to the welfare of children across wider society,
but significantly ensured Waugh and fellow campaigners the tools they
sought to pursue their own professional and political agenda. This is not to
devalue the Society’s achievement in securing such radical legislation. The
pragmatism demonstrated in the strategy pursued does, though, offer fur-
ther evidence of the influential position of theatrical interests in Victorian
society and of the perceived crucial contribution of stage children to the
industry’s continued prosperity.
With theatrical child labor left largely outside the protective laws and
parties with vested interest willing to circumvent what little protection
did exist, it was philanthropic endeavor that provided theatrical children
with a safety net. More than 20 years before the passing of the CCCP
Bill, theatrical missionaries had steadfastly offered support to young per-
formers. This long-term close association with theatrical children had
informed a clear understanding of their needs and the problems they
faced. Missionaries recognized how widely valuable child labor was and
thought that attempts to try to end its use would be futile, and in any case,
not altogether necessary. Hence, they offered practical services that aimed
to meet the perceived needs of children working in theatres. It must also be
noted, though, that by alleviating some of the hardships of theatrical work,
theatrical missionaries helped to perpetuate the continued employment of
theatrical child labor.
170 Child Labor in the British Victorian Entertainment Industry

The help offered by such missionaries as Ellen Barlee was not com-
pletely altruistic. Their evangelical commitment embraced theatricals in
the hope that while ameliorating some of the hardships associated with
the work, their good example and counselling would bring the children
to Christianity. Although missionaries did not view theatrical venues as a
fitting environment for children, they believed that by ensuring children
were spiritually pure they would be impervious to unsavory and immoral
temptations in the workplace and likely to choose alternative modes of
employment. This said, throughout almost 30 years of debate, theatrical
missionaries provided more practical help for theatrical employees, than
any other body. This significant contribution to the welfare of stage chil-
dren has, before now, gone unacknowledged because previous studies have
documented Ellen Barlee’s missionary involvement with stage children, in
conjunction with the NVA’s campaign. This approach is flawed because
Barlee and Fawcett held many opposing views on performing children and
adopted different methods to confront what each recognized as problems
arising from theatrical employment.
Past studies have suggested that after 1894, the raising of the minimum
age limit and the introduction of licensing combined to resolve the conten-
tious issue of theatrical child labor. The NVA campaign has been credited
with having brought about these advances. This work challenges the view
that the NVA’s campaign and protective legislation were the chief factors
in the demise of theatrical child labor. Although the NVA was instrumen-
tal in bringing debates about theatrical children into the public arena, its
campaign to end the employment of theatrical children fell short of its goal
and achieved only modest success.
Moreover, although previous research has acknowledged that a minority
of children may have slipped through the net and continued to be unlaw-
fully employed after legislation, this has done nothing to undermine the
consensus view that NVA campaigners initiated the demise of theatrical
child employment. Further, earlier interpretations concluded that, for the
most part, reduced demand, consequent on the improved legal protection,
addressed earlier abuses. Indicative new evidence presented here, though,
has made it clear that regulatory improvements benefited the industry more
than its child employees. Long after NVA involvement had ended, the unlaw-
ful employment of theatrical child labor persisted at a level far greater than
has previously been suggested. New evidence has shown how nineteenth-
century patterns of theatrical child work and evasion of child laws were still
prevalent in the late1930s and beyond and suggests that performance-based
child labor remained and, indeed, continues to be susceptible to abuse.
 Conclusion 171

Regardless of the limitations placed upon the use of child labor, the
influential position of the industry and its network of powerful support
ensured for theatrical employers the continued use of theatrical children
on terms to suit the industry’s needs. Those needs did change, but although
legislation could inconvenience employers, it was the simple law of supply
and demand that governed a reduction in the industry’s labor force of chil-
dren. Toward the end of the nineteenth century, the content and modes of
theatrical production shifted. The staging of more modest presentations
called for smaller casts and this coupled with a change in the way children
were presented on stage meant that the industry required fewer children. In
essence, the inclusion of children in a production became less about repre-
sentations of children and flamboyant celebrations of childhood and more
about their general and everyday interaction in society. By the 1900s the
theatrical child, in the eyes of the industry, had simply exhausted its emo-
tional and economic worth. Nevertheless, the smaller numbers employed
were still seen as essential to the industry. Notably, although labor was
secured over and above the interests of the child labor force, employers,
parents, and unwittingly, the children themselves actively colluded in
ensuring supply met demand. Those responsible for implementing the law
often by choice, neglect, or ignorance contributed to evasion and ensured
the continued exploitation of individual child performers. These children
were made more vulnerable by the general belief that their situation had
been addressed and was no longer a source of concern.
In the closing decades of the nineteenth century, two distinct
phenomena—the development of the vast, economically and culturally
significant, performance-based leisure industry and the emergence of
the emotionally valued, sentimentalized cult of the child—were brought
together and became mutually reinforcing. This study has focused on the
reciprocal relationship between the theatre industry’s output and success
and an ideologically idealized image of childhood that it both drew on
and contributed to. The representations of childhood that emerged from
this symbiosis fueled the aspirations of an increasingly child-focused soci-
ety, concerned to protect these vulnerable waifs, while compromising the
welfare of the real children working on the stage. Historical periodization
can, however, mask continuities and changes that preexist and/or persist
beyond the historical moment focused upon. Further research needs to be
undertaken beyond the confines of the period, frameworks, and questions
that inform this study.
Notes

INTRODUCTION

1. D. Colclough, “British Child Performers 1920–1940: New Issues, Old

Legacies,” in Entertaining Children: The Participation of Youth in the
Entertainment Industry, ed. G. Arrighi and V. Emeljanow (Basingstoke and
New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014), 73–90.
2. T. C. Davis, “The Employment of Children on the Victorian Stage,” The
New Theatre Quarterly, 2 (1986): 116–135.
3. B. Crozier, “Notions of Childhood in the London Theatre 1880–1905,”
Unpublished PhD Thesis, Cambridge University, 1981.
4. Davis, “The Employment of Children.”
5. T. C. Davis, Actresses as Working Women: Their Social Identity in Victorian
Culture (London: Routledge, 1991). See also Tracy C. Davis, The Economics
of the British Stage (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000).
6. H. Waters, “‘That Astonishing Clever Child,’ Performers and Prodigies in
the Early and Mid-Victorian Theatre,” Theatre Notebook, 2 (1996): 78.
7. C. Steedman, Strange Dislocations: Childhood and the Idea of Human
Interiority, 1780 –1930 (London: Virago, 1995).
8. P. Horn, “English Theatre Children 1880–1914: A Study in Ambivalence,”
History of Education, 25, 1 (1996): 37–54.
9. J. Pritchard, “Collaborative Creations for the Alhambra and the Empire,”
Dance Chronicle, 24, 1 (2001): 55–82.
10. S. Vey, “Good Intentions and Fearsome Prejudice: New York’s 1876 Act to
Prevent and Punish Wrongs to Children,” Theatre Survey, 42, 1 (May 2001):
54–68. See also T. J. Gilfoyle, “The Moral Origins of Political Surveillance
in New York City 1867–1918,” American Quarterly, 38, 4 (1986): 637–652;
B. McArthur, “‘Forbid Them Not’: Child Actor Labor Laws and Political
Activism in the Theatre,” Theatre Survey, 36 (1995): 63–80.
11. E. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, or, a Plea for Our City Children (London:
Partridge, 1884).
12. A. Carter, “C. Tranders, Cara Tranders’ Reveries: The Autobiography of
Cara Tranders. Ballet Girl at the Empire Palace of Varieties, 1892–99,” in
Rethinking Dance History, ed. A. Carter (London: Routledge, 2004).
174 Notes

13. J. Davis, “Freaks, Prodigies and Marvelous Mimicry: Child Actors of

Shakespeare on the Nineteenth-Century Stage,” Shakespeare, 2, 2 (2006):
179–193.
14. Davis, “Freaks, Prodigies, 192.
15. A. Varty, Children and Theatre in Victorian Britain: “All Work, No Play ”
(Basingstoke and New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008). See also A. Varty,
“The Rise and Fall of the Victorian Stage Baby,” New Theatre Quarterly, 21
(2005): 218–229.
16. M. Gubar, “The Drama of Precocity: Child Performers on the Victorian
Stage,” in The Nineteenth-Century Child and Consumer Culture, ed. Dennis
Denisoff (London: Ashgate, 2008), 63–78; M. Gubar, Artful Dodgers:
Reconceiving the Golden Age of Children’s Literature (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2009); M. Gubar, “Who Watched the Children’s Pinafore?
Age Transvestism on the Nineteenth-Century Stage,” Victorian Studies, 54,
3 (2012): 410–426.
17. J. Sattaur, Perceptions of Childhood in the Victorian Fin-de-Siècle (Newcastle-
upon-Tyne: Cambridge Scholars, 2011).
18. J. Klein, “Without Distinction of Age: The Pivotal Roles of Child Actors
and Their Spectators in Nineteenth-Century Theatre,” The Lion and the
Unicorn, 36, 2 (2012): 117–135.
19. G. Arrighi and V. Emeljanow, “Entertaining Children: An Exploration of
the Business and Politics of Childhood,” New Theatre Quarterly, 28 (2012):
41–55. See also G. Arrighi and V. Emeljanow, eds., Entertaining Children
(Basingstoke and New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014).
20. S. Fosdick, “Follow the Worker, Not the Work: Hard Lessons from Failed
London Music Hall Magazines,” Journal of Magazine and New Media
Research, 5, 2 (2003). See also M. Scott Phillips, “Rational Entertainment,
Music Hall and the Nineteenth-Century British Periodical Press,” Theatre
History Studies (2002): 195–209.
21. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs.
22. M. J. Corbett, “Performing Identities: Actresses and Autobiography,” Biog-
raphy, 24, 1 (2001): 15. See also S. Smith, “Performativity, Autobiographical
Practice, Resistance,” in Women, Autobiography, Theory, ed. S. Sidonie Smith
and J. Watson (Madison: University of Wisconsin, 2000), 108–115; J. Jensen
Wallach, “Building a Bridge of Words: The Literary Autobiography as His-
torical Source Material,” Biography, 29, 3 (2000): 446–461; M. B. Gale and
V. Gardner, eds., Autobiography and Identity Women Theatre and Performance
(Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2005); M. Kadar, Tracing the
Autobiographical (Waterloo: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 2005).
23. For useful summaries of legislation directed to the protection and welfare
of children, 1870–1914 see F. Keeling, Child Labor in the United Kingdom
(London: P. S. King & Son, 1914). See also G. K. Behlmer, Child Abuse and
Moral Reform in England 1870 –1908 (Stanford: Stanford University Press,
1982).
 Notes 175

24. A. Allen and A. Morton, This Is Your Child: The Story of the National Society
for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul,
1961).
25. A. Davin, Growing up Poor (London: Rivers Oram Press, 1996), 9.

1 RAW MATERIAL, LABOR, AND THE FINISHED

PRODUCT: THE THEATRICAL CHILD
AS EMPLOYEE
1. P. Bailey, “A Community of Friends: Business and Good Fellowship in
London Music Hall Management c.1860–1885,” in Music Hall the Business
of Pleasure, ed. P. Bailey (Milton Keynes: Open University Press, 1986), 35.
2. Daily Telegraph, June 28, 1889.
3. The Times, July 16, 1887.
4. J. Klein, “Without Distinction of Age: The Pivotal Roles of Child Actors
and Their Spectators in Nineteenth-Century Theatre,” The Lion and the
Unicorn, 36, 2 (2012): 117–135.
5. Nina Auerbach, Ellen Terry: A Player in Her Time (Pennsylvania: Pennsylvania
Press, 1997), 50.
6. The Times, February 9, 1889.
7. The West End, April 1897.
8. “An Interview with Florrie Robina,” The Amusing Journal, May 25, 1895.
9. Third Report of the Royal Commission on Education, Parliamentary Papers,
1887, vol. XXX, 305–320, 308.
10. “Children in Theatres,” The Times, July 16, 1887.
11. E. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, or, a Plea for Our City Children (London:
Partridge, 1884), 8.
12. “Child Workers in London,” The Strand Magazine, May 1891, 501–511.
13. A. E. Wilson, The Story of Pantomime (London: E.P. Publishing, 1974),
93–94.
14. The Interlude, January 2, 1886.
15. The Theatre, January 1882.
16. The Playgoer, March 1889.
17. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 63.
18. Manchester Evening News, December 8, 1888; The Play, January 3, 1885.
19. Manchester Evening News, December 8, 1888.
20. Manchester Evening News, November 17, 1888.
21. Manchester Evening News, December 29, 1888.
22. The Chiel, February 21, 1885.
23. Manchester Evening News, December 1888. Further examples can be found
in The Chiel, January 3 and 31, 1885.
24. M. R. Booth, Victorian Spectacular Theatre 1850 –1910 (London: Routledge
and Kegan Paul, 1981), 2.
176 Notes

25. V. A. Zelizer, Pricing the Priceless Child: The Changing Social Value of Children
(New York: Basic Books, 1985), 96.
26. Zelizer, Pricing the Priceless Child, 96.
27. Third Report of the Royal Commission on Education.
28. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 23.
29. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 8.
30. B. Crozier, “Notions of Childhood in London Theatre, 1880–1905,”
Unpublished PhD Thesis, Cambridge University, 1981.
31. J. L. Styan, The English Stage: A History of Drama and Performance
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 302.
32. Wilson, The Story of Pantomime, 89.
33. Styan, The English Stage, 301. Styan also provides a checklist of outstanding
names in the field of actor managers of the Victorian period which, “suggests
a century of intense theatrical activity,” 309.
34. H. Sutton, “Children and Modern Literature,” The National Review,
December 18, 1891.
35. Third Report of the Royal Commission on Education, 312.
36. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 46. Children held universal appeal for the audience
therefore it is no coincidence that the periods Barlee identified with increased
recruitment were also the busiest in the theatrical calendar. “People flock to
the theatres and music halls. Often on Bank Holidays, ‘standing room only’
soon after doors open.” (The Amusing Journal, April 27, 1895).
37. The Circulator, January 7, 1882. See also The Theatre, February 1, 1882.
38. “Illustrated Interviews, Sir Augustus Harris,” Strand Magazine, July–
December 1891, 551–563.
39. M. Fawcett, “Holes in the Education Net,” The Contemporary Review, May
1887, 645.
40. The Theatre, February 1, 1882.
41. C. Scott, “Our Play Box: The Children’s Pinafore,” The Theatre, January 1,
1880.
42. The Chiel, January 31, 1885.
43. The Chiel, January 10, 1885.
44. Scott, “Our Play Box.”
45. Russell Jackson, Victorian Theatre : The Theatre in Its Time (New York: A &
C Black Publishers, 1989), 1.
46. “What a Ballet Costs: A Peep behind the Scenes,” The Sketch, February 12,
1896.
47. J. K. Jerome’s observations during his visits to the theatre illustrate that
the industry presented sanitized representations of real life. “They are so
clean. We have seen peasantry off the stage, and it has presented an untidy,
occasionally a disreputable and unwashed-appearance; but the stage peasant
seems to spend all his wages on soap and hair-oil.” [J. K. Jerome, Stage-Land
(London: Chatto and Windas, 1889), 28].
 Notes 177

48. Jerome, Stage-Land, 26.

49. The Playgoer, March 1889. Although all child productions were evident ear-
lier in the century they were the exception rather than the rule. Lewis Carroll
recorded his presence at performances by all child casts during the 1960s.
See R. Foulkes, Lewis Carroll and the Victorian Stage, Theatricals in a Quiet
Life (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2005), 59, 110.
50. “The Theatre, Philanthropic Cruelty—‘Phyllis’—Forgotten,” The World,
July 10, 1889.
51. Manchester Evening News, December 29, 1888.
52. The Guardian (Manchester), May 24, 1881. See also F. Cellier and B.
Cunningham, Gilbert and Sullivan and Their Operas (London: Little, Brown,
1914).
53. Before embarking on a successful tour, the Children’s Pinafore ran for 78
matinees between Christmas and mid-March. J. Stedman, W.S. Gilbert: A
Classic Victorian and His Theatre (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996),
175. See also A. James and A. Codd, Gilbert & Sullivan (London: Omnibus
Press, 1991).
54. http://diamond.boisestate.edu/gas/pinafore/html/making_pinafore.html
accessed March 16, 2010, reprinted from Cellier and Cunningham, Gilbert.
55. W. Beatty-Kingston, “Our Musical-Box: The Pirates of Penzance; or the
Slave of Duty,” The Theatre, February 2, 1885.
56. The Chiel, February 28, 1885. The child version of the Pirates of Penzance
sold to full capacity, The Chiel, March 7, 1885.
57. Six months after its successful London stint The Pirates of Penzance embarked
on a long and successful tour. Six months into the tour the company was still
playing to “well filled houses” in Glasgow. The Chiel, September 12, 1885.
58. M. Ainger, Gilbert and Sullivan: A Dual Biography (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2002), 241.
59. Ainger, Gilbert and Sullivan, 241.
60. The Manchester Evening News, May 24, 1881.
61. Scott, “Our Play Box.”
62. The Manchester Evening News.
63. The Stage, December 17, 1889.
64. The Chiel, January 31, 1885. See also The Dart, January12, 1883 and The
Stage, December 17, 1889.
65. The Manchester Evening News, December 29, 1888.
66. Scott, “Our Play Box.”
67. See for example, The Professional World, April 1892.
68. The Stage, January 8, 1886.
69. The Amusing Journal, February 9, 1895.
70. The Amusing Journal.
71. Jackson, The Victorian Theatre, 198.
72. “The Fairies of the Stage,” The Pall Mall Gazette, February 9, 1885.
178 Notes

73. Interview with Miss Fanny Laughton, Charles Booth Archive, Survey
Notebooks, B156, 13–32, 16.
74. The Stage, January 8, 1886.
75. “Stage Slaves,” Justice, January 19, 1884.
76. “A Peep behind the Scenes.”
77. The Stage, January 8, 1886.
78. “Pantomime Children,” The Stage, January 8, 1886. See also a review of
Cinderella at the Drury Lane Theatre, which reported the introduction of
the Juvenile National Training School under Madam Katti Lanner’s direc-
tion (The Play, January 3, 1885). See also The Interlude, January 2, 1886 and
The Entr ’acte, December 29, 1883.
79. The Manchester Evening News, November 17, 1888.
80. The Stage, September 14, 1888.
81. “Stage Slaves,” Justice, February 16, 1889.
82. M. Fawcett, “The Employment of Children in Theatres,” The Times,
February 8, 1889.
83. Fawcett, “Holes in the Education Net,” 645.
84. James Jupp, The Gaiety Stage Door; Thirty Years’ Reminiscences of the Theatre
(London: J. Cape, 1923), 33.
85. “Pantomime Children.”
86. “The Fairies of the Stage.”
87. F. Dolman, “Stage Children, Leading Little Actors and Actresses of the
Day,” The English Illustrated Magazine, 1899, vol. XXI, 184.
88. “Children are known who have been on the stage since they were three or
four years old, who have constant engagements night after night.” (The
Vigilance Record, 1885). Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 59.
89. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 59.
90. The Stage, January 8, 1886.
91. “A Peep behind the Scenes.” See also “Children and the Theatre,” The Stage,
November 16, 1888.
92. For many examples of training institutions see The Theatricals: The Music
and Dramatic Gazette, January 4, 1894; The Interlude, January 2, 1886.
93. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 52.
94. H. G. Hibbert, Fifty Years of a Londoner ’s Life (London: Grant Richards,
1916), 104.
95. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 52. On inspection of a prospectus for the National
Training School of Dancing, Cyril Beaumont found the capacity for enrol-
ment numbers to be 200 pupils. C. W. Beaumont, “Our First National
School of Dancing,” The Dancing Times, August 1967, 589.
96. The business interests of some theatrical producers overlapped with subsid-
iary supply. For example managers’ and actor managers’ were often patrons
of the larger training establishments such as London’s Dramatic Studio. See
The Theatricals: The Musical and Dramatic Gazette, January 25, 1894.
 Notes 179

97. M. Fawcett, “Theatre and Pantomime Children,” The Vigilance Record, 1885.
98. “The Fairies of the Stage.”
99. M. Fawcett, Third Report (Education), 305.
100. Hibbert, Fifty Years, 108.
101. For examples of the legal enforcement of contracts, sought through the
courts see The Times, November 23, 1889; August 6, 1890; January 12,
1893; July 5, 1899.
102. Fawcett, “Theatre and Pantomime Children.”
103. L. Carnac, “The Training of a Dancer,” Pearson’s Magazine, 1897, vol. IV, 14.
See also The Stage, May 10, 1889, 204–205.
104. Fawcett, Third Report (Education), 305. For example, education laws did
not concern the under-fives as it was not envisaged that industrial employers
would call for the labor of a child so young; yet to the entertainment industry
children of such tender years proved to be a profitable asset. Therefore the-
atrical employers were within the law when they employed children under
school age. Theatre managers were also able to engage school age children
by claiming exemption from the 1876 Education Act, which defined excep-
tions to the rule by allowing, “such employment during which school is not
open, or otherwise does not interfere with the efficient elementary instruc-
tion of such child; and that the child obtains such instruction by regular
attendances for full time at a certified school, or in some other efficient man-
ner.” (Fawcett, Third Report (Education), 305–320).
105. Fawcett for instance referring to one such back-stage school claimed that,
“Between 150 and 200 children were employed by Mr. Harris. On inspec-
tion of his school room though only fifteen children were present and only
twenty three were on the school roll.” (M. Fawcett, “The Employment of
Children in Theatres,” The Contemporary Review, December 1889, 829).
106. W. Mitchell, Rescue the Children or Twelve Years Dealing with Neglected Boys
and Girls (London: Isbister, 1886), 70. See also Barlee, Pantomime Waifs,
77. “The Fairies of the Stage”; Dolman, “Stage Children,” 177; “Pantomime
Children.”
107. The Stage, November 16, 1888.
108. The Stage, January 8, 1886.
109. A. Davin, Growing up Poor (London: Rivers Oram Press, 1996), 11. See also
E. Ross, Love & Toil: Motherhood in Outcast London 1870 –1918 (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 1993).
110. The Stage, May 24, 1889.
111. “The Employment of Children,” The Music Hall, June 20, 1889. This was
the Prevention of Cruelty to Children Act which stated children under ten
years of age “will be prohibited from performing in theatres, music halls,
temperance halls, booths, shows, fairs and any other places of entertain-
ment.” This article states that there was nothing to prevent Katti Lanner
from teaching dancing to children of two years of age so long as they did
180 Notes

not appear in public before they were ten. Also, “gymnasts could continue to
endure arduous training day after day child until the child reaches 10 years
and can be set to work.”
112. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 49. One of the largest providers of children adver-
tised its services thus, “The National Training School For Dancing offers
decided advantages to the Managers in making their arrangements. Its
pupils can be arranged singly or in any number required, the terms being
liberal, whilst the highest efficiency is guaranteed.” (The advertisement then
lists a large number of its theatrical success at numerous high profile venues,
in Britain and abroad which, it was claimed, spoke for themselves or), “ren-
der comment futile.” [The Era Almanac (Era Annual) Dramatic and Musical
(London: E. Ledger, 1881–1882)].
113. For instance one proprietor stated that “troupes are paid as a whole and they
will make anywhere from twenty five pounds a week upwards as they take
the public taste.” (Carnac, “The Training,” 205).
114. “Some lessons are as cheap as 1/- per lesson up to 5/- per lesson.” (Interview
with dancer, Fanny Laughton, Charles Booth Archive, Survey Notebooks,
B156, January 2, 1896, 13–32, 20).
115. For the origins of The National Training School of Dancing see H. Rosenthal,
ed., The Mapleson Memoirs (London: Putnam, 1966).
116. I. Guest, The Empire Ballet (London: Society for Theatre Research, 1962),
19.
117. In one production Guest shows that, “Lanner arranged a variety of dances
introducing some of her child pupils in the Hyde Park scene. This ballet
proved so popular that a new edition was produced in January 1900, and was
not taken off until the two editions together had run for well over a year.”
(Guest, The Empire Ballet, 55).
118. The Professional World, February 1893. McLaughlin also acted as a theatri-
cal agent to the children. She introduced pupils to the profession, “several
of which were doing very well.” Similarly, by 1894 Miss Upham is shown to
have successfully carried on her business of providing companies of juveniles
to many and varied venues, for over 15 years (The Theatricals: The Musical
and Dramatic Gazette, January 4, 1894). Another large and very successful
long established establishment was Madame Phasey of the, “Anglo-Italian
Training School of Stage Dancing and Singing.” This and many more can
be found listed in the pages of, The Theatricals: The Musical and Dramatic
Gazette ’s extensive record of training establishments. Academies also helped
to establish performing as a profession by “awarding gold, silver, bronze med-
als to pupils for examinations.” (The Professional World, February 1893).
119. Mitchell, Rescue the Children, 70.
120. Mrs. Jeune, “Children in Theatres,” English Illustrated Magazine, October
1889. Mrs. Jeune also details several other male individuals who earned their
living from trading in theatrical child labor. Also an interview with Paul
 Notes 181

Valentine, who ran a successful business at the English School for Dancing,
a Theatrical and Musical Academy, appeared in, Levin Carnac, “The
Training,” see also The Stage, May 10, 1889; The Theatricals: The Musical
and Dramatic Gazette, January 4, 1894.
121. The Professional World, March 1892.
122. Agents’ advertisements for children can be found in many contemporary
journals. See for example, The Dramatic Recorder and Theatrical Advertiser,
September 1874.
123. The Lady ’s Pictorial, January 1, 1884.
124. J. M. Weylland, The Man with the Book: Or the Bible among the People
(London: Partridge, 1878), 95.
125. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 99.
126. See Dolman, “Stage Children,” 177–185, Crozier’s study provides a useful
and detailed account of the main characters portrayed by children in British
theatres between 1880 and 1905. Crozier, “Notions.”
127. “Pantomime Children.”
128. P. Bedells, My Dancing Days (London: Phoenix House, 1954), 20–21.
129. The Professional World, March 1893. For instance as an aspiring young actress,
Italia Conti (later famed for her own theatrical school), gained her first act-
ing role via an introduction to an eminent theatre manager by Ellen Terry of
the distinguished acting dynasty. See The Green Room Book, British and Irish
Biographies 1840–1940 (Number 6 of 6) (London: Chadwick and Healey,
1906). According to Carol Mavors, “it was through Terry that Carroll sup-
ported many girl actresses.” [C. Mavors, Pleasure Taken: Performances of
Sexuality and Loss in Victorian Photographs (London: I.B. Tauris, 1996), 134].
130. The Variety Stage, July 1892.
131. “Young Garnet Vayne was, the youngest of quite a family of little players;
there are Isla who has played the child in ‘East Lynne’ on three provincial
tours; Fay, whose stage experience has extended as far as South Africa;
and Errol, whose most successful performance has been Dick the waif in,
‘Human Nature.’” (Dolman, “Stage Children,” 79).
132. The Playgoer, March 1889.
133. Examples of publicity and promotion include Baby Creighton, billed as a
“wonderful performer for 5 years old.” This young girl’s previous successes
are listed as those of Little Artie, a girl of six (The Stage, January 6, 1888).
Another seasoned performer was Miss Maggie Morton who it was claimed
already had nine years of touring behind her (The Stage, January13, 1888).
See also The Amusing Journal, May 25, 1895. Also, L. Wagner, How to Get
on Stage and Succeed There (London: Chatto and Windus, 1899), 175.
134. M. Tindal, “Baby Actors,” Pearson’s Magazine, June 1897, vol. III, 683.
135. The Professional World, June 1893. See also The Professional World, March
1892 and 1893. For evidence of the extensive employment and increasing
demand for two young sisters, Edith and Dora Tullock.
182 Notes

136. Carnac, “The Training,” 205.

137. A. Fryers, “Infant Prodigies,” Pearson’s Magazine, January 1899, vol. VII.
138. Dolman, “Stage Children,” 178.
139. Music Hall Artists Association Gazette, February 23, 1887.
140. The Playgoer, March 1889.
141. T. C. Davis, Actresses as Working Women Their Social Identity in Victorian
Culture (London: Routledge, 1991), 35.
142. See J. C. M. D’Eleppington, The National Review, XVII, 1891, 261.
143. According to one large employer of theatrical children, his touring children
received about “24s a week, some of them 18s . . . out of which they had to
pay a percentage to Madame Lanner, who trained them; others who were not
trained did not get as much.” (The Times, May 18, 1889).
144. Davis, Actresses, 35.
145. E. F. Hogg, “School Children as Wage Earners,” Nineteenth Century, August
1897. It is worth noting that Hogg makes no mention of theatrical child
workers in her study.
146. “Children in Pantomime,” The Stage, December 7, 1883. In 1884, Barlee
claimed that even, “Little supers earn 1s a night.” (Barlee, Pantomime Waifs,
26). Rates had risen in 1885 to between 6d and 1s for each performance.
Main featured roles gleaned between 4 and 5s each evening (“The Fairies of
the Stage”).
147. “A Peep behind the Scenes.” Ivor Guest reiterates these rates when writing on
the sums dancers could expect when engaged at the Empire theatre during
the 1890s. “Children used to receive one or two shillings a performance, and
senior pupils from £4 to £8 a month, while dancers in the house ballet could
expect to receive from £12 to £18 a month if they merely had a pretty face
and a good figure, from £20 to £25 if they possessed some talent in addition,
and more if they undertook roles.” (Guest, The Empire Ballet, 38).
148. Davis, Actresses, 33.
149. Davis, Actresses, 33.
150. Jackson, The Victorian Theatre, 140.
151. Letter to The Stage from Mr. John Tebbut father of principal actor in D’Oyly
Carte’s all child touring company, The Stage, July 26, 1899.
152. Davis, Actresses, 33. Davis shows that, “As they became more experienced
child pantomime supers could earn up to 8s a week at Drury Lane or 3s at
minor theatres and between £1 and £3 for chief parts at Drury Lane, or 10
to 20s at the minors.”
153. Carnac, “The Training,” 205. Carnac’s article shows that for children
attached to dancing academies wage increases were subject to contract
clauses. Contracts could last into adulthood. One clause for example prohib-
ited girls from getting married when they were older. The promise of future
monetary rewards were persuasive arguments for compliance. Coryphées
earned £2 upwards until they took principal parts. Principals could expect
£15 per week rising to 25 or 30 pounds a week.
 Notes 183

154. The Era, December 16, 1877. A letter supporting this claim, from another
ballet girl appeared in the same paper one week later on December 23, See
also Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 52.
155. “Notes on the Theatrical Mission and Institute,” January 27, 1896; Charles
Booth Archive, Survey Notebooks, B156, 137–142, 141).
156. The Times, July 5, 1899.
157. The Times, September 8, 1879.
158. Dolman, “Stage Children,” 182. Also “Next to the ballet the greatest attrac-
tion is the infant cowboy shooter. Master Vivienne Cody . . . aged ten years.”
(“On Music Hall,” The Variety Stage, June 1892). “Seven year old Rose
Rendell specialty and transformation dancer now nine for last two years has
performed all over England Scotland and Wales Rose trained with Signor
Albertini [late principal dancer] and is much in demand and touring.” (The
Amusing Journal, May 4, 1895).
159. Carnac, “The Training,” 205.
160. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 54. Gertrude Tuckwell echoed Barlee’s claim some
ten years later when she noted that “An infant phenomenon who happens
to be just the thing required for a certain part will gain £1 a week or more,”
G. M. Tuckwell, The State and Its Children (London: Menthuen, 1894), 122.
161. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 56.
162. The Circulator, January 7, 1882.
163. “Pantomime Children.”
164. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 24.

2 LABORING FAIRIES: THE THEATRICAL

CHILD AS A FAMILY RESOURCE AND
A RESOURCEFUL CHILD
1. Cunningham suggests that between the years 1880 and 1914, Britain wit-
nessed an end to child employment. See H. Cunningham, “Combating Child
Labor: the British Experience,” in Child in Labor in Historical Perspective,
1800–1985, ed. H. Cunningham and P. P. Viazzo (Florence: UNICEF,
International Child Development Care, 1996). Lavalette makes the case
that child labor continued during and after this period but the labor of chil-
dren was restructured and marginalized. M. Lavalette, A Thing of The Past?
Child Labor in Britain in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries (Liverpool:
Liverpool University Press, 1999.)
2. See for example, I. Pinchbeck and M. Hewitt, Children in English Society,
Volume II, From the Eighteenth Century to the Children’s Act 1948 (London:
Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1973); G. K. Behlmer, Child Abuse and Moral
Reform in England 1870–1908 (California: Stanford University Press, 1982);
E. Hopkins, Childhood Transformed Working-Class Children in Nineteenth
Century England (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1994.)
184 Notes

3. J. Walvin, A Child’s World: A Social History of English Childhood 1800–1914

(London: Penguin Books, 1982, 77).
4. M. Lavalette, “The Changing form of Child Labor circa 1880–1918: The
Growth of Out of School Work,” in A Thing of the Past? Child Labor in Britain
in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, ed. M. Lavalette (Liverpool:
Liverpool University Press, 1999), 124.
5. The general age range of theatrical children was between three and fifteen
years, although, children as young as 18 months were also engaged. See W.
Mitchell, Rescue the Children, Or Twelve Years Dealing with Neglected Boys
and Girls (London: Isbister, 1886), 70; E. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs; Or, a
Plea for Our City Children (London: S.W. Partridge & Co, 1884), 59 and
70; Fawcett, Elementary education acts. Third report of the Royal Commission
appointed to inquire into the working of the elementary education acts, England
and Wales. London: Eyre & Spottiswoode, 1887, 307. However, after 1889
the legal minimum age a child could work on stage after obtaining a license,
was seven years rising to ten years after 1903.
6. The Times, May 18, 1889.
7. The Times, September 8, 1879.
8. An approximation of numbers can be found in, Third Report on the Royal
Commission of Education Parliamentary Papers, 1887, XXX. Minutes of
Evidence, Cardinal Manning, question number 50468 Millicent Fawcett,
answer number 50469, 308; T. C. Davis, “The Employment of Children
in the Victorian Theatre,” New Theatre Quarterly, 2, (1986): 117; “Children
in Theatres,” The Times, July 16, 1887; Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 8; “Child
Workers in London,” G. Newnes, The Strand Magazine (London: George
Newnes, 1884), January–June 11, 501–511.
9. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 90.
10. Anon, “The Fairies of the Stage,” The Pall Mall Gazette, February 9, 1885.
11. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 87–88.
12. For the argument that the industry required young children for artistic pur-
poses see “The Theatre Philanthropic cruelty—‘Phyllis’-Forgotten,” The
World, July 10, 1889. Millicent Fawcett claimed that, “Children are known
who have been on the stage since they were three or four years old, who have
constant engagements night after night.” (Mrs Henry Fawcett “Theatre and
Pantomime Children,” The Vigilance Record, London: National Vigilance
Association, n.d. (1885), 1–3).
13. On the contribution of children’s paid and unpaid work see A. Davin,
Growing Up Poor: Home, School and Streets in London, 1870–1914 (London:
Rivers Oram Press, 1996), Chapters 9 and 10. On contribution of child
wages to household income, see E. Ross, Love and Toil. Motherhood in Outcast
London, 1870–1914 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993), 158–162.
14. Whitechapel, as depicted by Judith Walkowitz, was typical of neigh-
bourhoods which fed the industry’s need for child labor. “By the 1880s
Whitechapel had become to epitomize the social ills of ‘Outcast London,’
 Notes 185

casual and seasonal unemployment, starvation wages, overcrowding and

exploitative rents, an inhumane system of poor relief, declining traditional
industries and an increase in ‘sweated’ labor were all marked features of
living and working conditions there.” (J. Walkowitz, City of Dreadful
Delight (London: Virago, 1992), 82. See also, A. Bear, Letter to The Times,
February 9, 1889. On London and poverty see H. J. Dyos, “The Slums of
Victorian London,” in Exploring the Urban Past: Essays in Urban History, ed.
D. Cannadine and D. Reeder (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press),
1982; Ross, Love, 11–15; On the contingency of living standards in late
nineteenth century London see Davin, Growing Up Poor, 21–27; S. Koven,
Slumming: Sexual and Social Politics in Victorian London (Princeton, NJ:
Princeton University Press, 2004).
15. Anon, “The Fairies of the Stage.”
16. T. C. Davis, Actresses as Working Women Their Social Identity in Victorian
Culture (London: Routledge, 1991), 32–33.
17. Mrs Jeune, “Children in Theatres,” English Illustrated Magazine, October 1889.
18. M. Fawcett, “The Employment of Children in Theatres,” The Times,
February 9, 1889.
19. As one commentator noted that “the mites are engaged only at certain sea-
sons; and their harvest-time enables poor people to obtain many little com-
forts and necessaries.” J. Runciman, ed. “Stage Children,” Side Lights: The
Family Herald (London: Fisher Unwin), 1893, XIV, http://www.gutenberg.
org/files/15762/15762-h/15762-h.htm.
20. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 186–189. This view of theatrical children is in
direct contrast to the portrayal of theatrical child employees as passive vic-
tims as presented by NVA supporters.
21. Mrs Henry Fawcett, The Employment of Children in Theatres, National
Vigilance Record, London: National Vigilance Association, n.d. [post 1885].
22. “An Interview with Miss Alice Leama,” The Amusing Journal, March 16, 1895.
23. See The London Echo, December 12, 1888; The Times, February 5, 1889.
24. Runciman, “Stage-Children,” XIV.
25. Mitchell, Rescue the Children, 60.
26. Augustus Harris claimed that his child workforce was “taken from the
lower classes and the lower middle classes. The parents were generally most
respectable people.” (The Times, May 18, 1889.)
27. G. M. Tuckwell, The State and its Children (London: Menthuen, 1894),
120.
28. “Musical and Dramatic Notes,” The Malvern and Looker On, October 1,
1890.
29. “Mrs. Kendal on the Actor’s Status,” in The Victorian Theatre: A New Mermaid
Background Book, ed. R. Jackson (London: A&C Black, 1989), 131.
30. I. Vanbrugh, To Tell My Story (London: Hutchinson, 1948), 20.
31. H. Gingold, How to Grow Old Disgracefully (London: Victor Gollancz,
1989), 31.
186 Notes

32. A. E. Wilson, The Story of Pantomime (London: E.P. Publishing Ltd., 1974),
93–94.
33. The Stage, January 20, 1888.
34. The Stage, December 7, 1883.
35. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 77.
36. “An Interview with Miss Marion,” The Amusing Journal, February 9, 1895.
37. Vanbrugh, To Tell, 141–142.
38. “An Interview with Miss Marion Keates.”
39. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 55.
40. “Children in Pantomime,” The Stage, December 7, 1883.
41. “Pantomime Children,” The Stage, January 8, 1886.
42. The Times, May 18, 1889.
43. “An Interview with Miss Marion Keates.”
44. “An Interview with Florrie Robina,” The Amusing Journal, May 25, 1895.
45. F. Dolman, “Stage Children, Leading Little Actors and Actresses of the
Day,” The English Illustrated Magazine, XXI, May, 1899, 177.
46. “Stage Slaves,” Justice, February 16 1889.
47. “A Peep Behind The Scenes,” The Sketch, February 12, 1896.
48. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 7.
49. Amusing Journal, March 16, 1895.
50. The Stage, December 7, 1883.
51. R. Jackson, The Victorian Theatre: A New Mermaid Background Book
(London: A&C Black, 1989), 131.
52. The Theatre, February 1897.
53. Tindal, “Baby,” 679.
54. Dolman, “Stage Children,” 180.
55. The work offered the freedom to broaden the horizons of middle-class
girls and for them to take paid engagements abroad. The Valli sisters went
with the “Morocco Bound” company on a tour of Germany and Holland
(Dolman, “Stage Children,” 180).
56. Dolman, “Stage Children,” 182.
57. Shani D. Cruze provides detailed analysis of the popularity of amateur
dramatic amongst middle-class women and the benefits they derived from
engaging in amateur productions. See Shani D. Cruze “Dainty Little Fairies:
women, gender and the Savoy Operas,” Women’s History Review, 9, 2 (2000),
345–368. See also L. Abrams and K. Hunt, “Borders and Frontiers in
Women’s History,” Women’s History Review, 9, 2, (2000), 191–200, 196.
58. Vanbrugh, To Tell, 12–13.
59. Vanbrugh, To Tell, 13.
60. Dolman, “Stage Children,”182.
61. Davis, Actresses as Working Women, 13.
62. Gingold, How to Grow Old Disgracefully, 30.
63. P. Bedells, My Dancing Days (London: Phoenix House, 1954), 24
 Notes 187

64. Lowndes, “The Little.”

65. The Illustrated Police News, February 13, 1886, 3
66. A. V. John, Elizabeth Robins: Staging a Life,1862–1952 (New York: Routledge,
1995), 28.
67. The Amusing Journal, February 9, 1895.
68. Mitchell, Rescue the Children, 69–70.
69. “Pantomime Children.”.
70. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 188.
71. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 74–75.
72. Anon, “The Fairies of the Stage.” Also, Bear, letter to The Times.
73. Anon, “The Fairies of the Stage.”
74. Davies, Actresses as Working Women, 98.
75. Vanbrugh, To Tell, 86. See also Bedells, My Dancing, 17.
76. Our Ladies’ Column. Penelope. Leicester Chronicle and the Leicestershire
Mercury, April 14, 1888.
77. Jackson, Victorian Theatre, 249.
78. The Stage, December 14, 1888.
79. “Illustrated Interviews,” No. VI—Sir Augustus Harris, The Strand Magazine,
December 1891.
80. The Sketch, February 12, 1896.
81. C. Morris, Stage Confidences (London: Charles. H. Kelly, 1902.)
82. “Pantomime Children.”
83. Helen Cresswell, “My Child Actor,” The Era Almanack, 1887, 84.
84. The Times, July 5, 1899.
85. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 78.
86. M. Fawcett. “The Employment of Children in Theatres,” The Contemporary
Review, December 1889, 822–829, 825.
87. See also The Play, January 3, 1884.
88. Jackson, Victorian Theatre, 252. See also The Illustrated Sporting and
Dramatic News, 1874.
89. “Pantomime Children.”
90. “Pantomime Children.”
91. Vanbrugh, To Tell, 91.
92. The Prompter, March 1, 1889.
93. The Theatrical Times, April 19, 1894. See also, Davis, “The Employment,” 126.
94. Barlee, Pantomime, 86.
95. Anon, “The Fairies of the Stage.”
96. The Sketch, February 12, 1896.
97. “Children in Pantomimes.”
98. “Children in Pantomimes.”
99. Guest’s claim that although there were a few performers who were middle-
class many of Lanner’s dancers came from lower class families suggests the
majority of her charges could ill afford the risk of a fine. See Guest, Ballet, 37.
188 Notes

100. The popularity among Victorian audiences of fairy themes is explored in

Chapter 4.
101. Barlee, Pantomime, 53.
102. Barlee, Pantomime, 53–54.
103. Barlee, Pantomime, 80–83.
104. Anon, “The Fairies of the Stage.”
105. Barlee, Pantomime, 80–83.
106. The Play, January 3, 1884.
107. Barlee, Pantomime, 78.
108. Barlee, Pantomime, 79.
109. P. Fisher, In Dangerous Paths (London: Theatrical Mission Booklets, 1883),
23–24.
110. John Matthias Weylland, The Man with the Book; Or, the Bible Among the
People (London: S. W. Partridge & Co., 1878), 96–97.
111. The Sketch, March 15, 1893. The popularity of animal representation stimu-
lated a subsidiary industry of suppliers of animal skins. See for example, The
Interlude, January 2, 1886.
112. Barlee, Pantomime, 95.
113. Barlee, Pantomime, 95.
114. “An Interview with Charles Lauri,” The Sketch, March 15, 1893.
115. Weylland, The Man with the Book, 96–97
116. “An Interview with Charles Lauri,” The Sketch, March 15, 1893.
117. Barlee, Pantomime, 95.
118. Weylland, The Man with the Book, 96–97.
119. See illustration entitled “Preparing for the Pantomime,” in “Illustrated
Interviews,” No. VI—Sir Augustus Harris, The Strand Magazine, December
1891.
120. “What a Ballet Costs—A Peep behind the Scenes,” The Sketch, February 12,
1896.
121. “Pantomime Children.”
122. “Pantomime Children.”
123. Wilson, The Story of Pantomime.
124. “Pantomime Children.”; See also “Pantomime Masks and Properties,” Strand
Magazine, July 1894, 662.
125. “Pantomime Children.”.
126. Contracts invariably favored the employer. Whereas children were usually
contracted not to work for any other employer employers were not bound to
find them work. See for example, The Times, August 6, 1890; January 12,
1893; July 5, 1899.
127. Letters to The Era, December 16 and 23, 1877.
128. E. Craig and C. St. John (eds.), Ellen Terry’s Memoirs (New York:
G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1932), 14.
 Notes 189

129. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 74–75.

130. The Times, December 29, 1904.
131. The Play, January 3, 1884.
132. The Times, August 6, 1889.
133. The Vigilance Record, 1885.
134. “Children and the Theatre.”
135. The Times, May 18, 1889.
136. The Times, May 18, 1889.
137. Craig and St. John, Ellen, 55.
138. Davis, “The Employment of Children,” 127.
139. The Playgoer, March 1889.
140. Tuckwell, The State, 125.
141. The Play, January 3, 1884.
142. The Times, December 27, 1881.
143. The Times, December 28, 1880.
144. L. Carnac, “The Training of a Dancer,” Pearsons Magazine, IV,14, 1897, 206.
145. Beaumont, “Our First,” 589.
146. “Children and the Theatre.”
147. A. Bear, The Times, February 9, 1889.
148. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 75.
149. Guest, Ballet, 132.
150. The Times, February 5, 1889.
151. “Children in Pantomimes.”
152. The Sketch, February 12, 1896.
153. “Pantomime Children.”
154. “Pantomime Children.”
155. “Pantomime Children.”
156. “Children in Pantomimes.”
157. George Augustus Sala, Behind the Scenes: A London Magazine, December
1868, 7, 202.
158. Bedells, My Dancing, 21.
159. Bedells, My Dancing, 20.
160. Bedells, My Dancing, 20.
161. J. B. Booth, “Fifty Years the Old Music Hall a National Product,” The Times,
March 18, 1932.
162. van brugh, To Tell My Story, 92.
163. Guest, Ballet, 132.
164. Anon, “The Fairies of the Stage.”
165. Guest, Ballet, 132.
166 . M. Bancroft, Mr and Mrs Bancroft On and Off the Stage (London: Richard
Bentley and Son, 1888), reproduced in The Vigilance Record , August
1889, 77.
190 Notes

3 THE PERFORMING CHILD

AND ITS AUDIENCE
1. C. Scott, The Era Almanac, London: Edward Ledger, 1875. The most
comprehensive study of the nineteenth century audience comes from the
seminal research of Jim Davis and Victor Emeljanow who have concluded
that: In sum, there was no such thing as a Victorian audience, but rather a
variety of audiences, embodying a wide range of perspectives. J. Davis and
V. Emeljanow, Reflecting the Audience: London Theatregoing, 1840–1880
(Hertfordshire: University of Hertfordshire Press, 2001), 230.
2. C. Hamilton, The Theory of the Theatre, New York: Henry Holt, 1910.
3. Hamilton, The Theory
4. A. Meynell, Ceres’ Runaway and Other Essays (London: Constable, 1909).
http://www.gutenberg.org/etext/1295
5. Hamilton, The Theory. This practice was something that the industry pre-
ferred not to publicise, “NO SOONER is a new director installed in a major
opera theatre, whether Covent Garden, the Metropolitan, or La Scala, than
he is called upon to answer, as a first question: what do you intend to do
about the claque? The answers may vary in phraseology, but they inevitably
amount to (a) there is no claque in this theatre, or (b) I intend to abolish
it. Whichever answer is offered, the next performance of anything is likely
to prove the presence of astral bodies flapping wings in a curious simula-
tion of organized applause.” Quoted in I. Kolodin, The Musical Life (New
York: Knopf, 1958), 137. However, Christopher Haas shows that the use of
the Claque stretched back through the centuries. See C. Haas, Alexandria
in Late Antiquity: Topography and Social Conflict (Baltimore: MD: John
Hopkins University, 2006), 66.
6. The Playgoer, December 1888.
7. The Interlude, January 23, 1886. Managers also used this system as a form
of self-promotion and paid audience members to repeatedly shout “speech”
at the end of a production, (often on first nights when there was a large
representation from the press amongst the audience) where, on cue, the man-
ager would appear from behind the curtain to take his bow to appreciative
applause. According to one journalist this was a particularly popular form
of self-promotion among managers, “speechefying (sic) seems to be the chief
disease of the nineteenth century.” (The Interlude, January 23, 1886.)
8. The Interlude, January 23, 1886.
9. P. Dare, From School, 89–115.
10. Dare, From School, 89–115.
11. “One difficulty that met us was the interest testified by strangers at the
Palace, who when they heard of these gatherings seemed to imagine because
the children were ‘ballet dancers’ they must perforce be of a different nature
to other children and were much disappointed when being allowed to enter
 Notes 191

the room to find them dressed in poor clothing and looking like ordinary
mortals.” (E. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs: Or, a Plea for Our City Children
(London: S.W. Partridge, 1884), 20–22.
12. F. Anstey; ‘London Music Halls,’ Harpers Monthly Magazine, January, 1891,
XXI, 149–180, 196.
13. J. Woodfield, English Theatre in Transition 1881–1914 (London: Croom
Helm, 1984), 171.
14. Meynell, Ceres’ Runaway.
15. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 120. Noting the success of pantomimes one jour-
nalist commented that, “Audiences have but a small idea of the amount of
money spent on these productions and nor can they conceive of the intense
anxiety which accompanies the preparation of them.” (The Chiel, December
19, 1885.)
16. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 120.
17. For a detailed example of how popularity translated into long hours of work
see “An interview with principle child performer, Francious Richelieu,” The
Dart, January 12, 1883.
18. R. Foulkes, Lewis Carroll, and the Victorian Stage, Theatricals in a Quiet Life
(London: Ashgate, 2005), 112.
19. See Davis and Emeljanow, Reflecting ; M. R. Booth, Theatre in the Victorian
Age (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991).
20. P. Fisher, In Dangerous Paths (London: Theatrical Mission Booklets, 1883),
5–6.
21. Fisher, In Dangerous, 10–12. Pearl Fisher appears to be a pseudonym. In the
text one child addresses the interviewer as Sir.
22. For a detailed record of Vera Beringer’s career see B. Crozier, “Notions of
Childhood in London Theatre, 1880–1905,” PhD thesis (Cambridge:
Cambridge University, 1981).
23. The Era, February 4, 1888.
24. The Morning Post, May 15, 1888.
25. The Standard, January 11, 1890, 4.
26. The Playgoer, October 31, 1890.
27. The Stage, December 21, 1888. This was something not noticed by one writer
who wrote in defence of the industry. “It is doubtful whether there are happier,
healthier, or more thoroughly normal children in all England and America than
the two little Lord Fauntleroy’s—Miss Vera Beringer and Miss Elsie Lynde.”
(W. A., “Stage Children: A Dialogue,” The World, August 14, 1889, 12.)
28. Foulkes, Lewis Carroll, 173.
29. Flashes From The Footlights, The Licensed Victuallers’ Mirror, October 28,
1890, 514.
30. Facts and Faces, The Penny Illustrated Paper and Illustrated Times, January
24, 1891, 50.
31. The Stage, March 2, 1888.
192 Notes

32. M. Bingham, “Earls and Girls,” reprinted in B. Green, Lost Empires; A Music
Hall Companion (London: Pavilion Books, 1986), 197.
33. J. Walvin, A Child’s World A Social History of English Childhood 1800–1914
(London: Penguin Books, 1982), 77.
34. “An Interview with Miss Marion Keates,” The Amusing Journal, February 9,
1895.
35. I. Vanbrugh, To Tell My Story (London: Hutchinson, 1948), 141–142.
36. The Stage, January 20, 1888. The writer claimed that “It is an undeniable
fact that once the actual footlights have been faced there arises in nearly all
instances an unshakable and insatiable desire to go on facing them.” Toward
the end of the year the paper returned to the subject of what was termed as
a “mania” to be on the stage. This second article concerned young girls who
made up the numbers in pantomime. Again it is suggested that the desire to
be famous cut across the classes regardless of talent. “All over the country
these girls are annually drawn from the factory and the workshop.” (The
Stage, January 20, 1888 and December 7, 1888.)
37. “Children and the Theatre,” The Stage, November 8, 1888.
38. “Pantomime Children,” The Stage, January 8, 1886.
39. T. Logan, The Victorian Parlour (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
2001), 31.
40. S. Mitchell, Daily Life in Victorian England (London: Greenwood, 1996),
146.
41. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 38.
42. R. Henshaw, “My Money Paid the Rent,” The Times, February 5, 1889. See
also Third Report of the Royal Commission on Education, Parliamentary
Papers, 1887, XXX, 305–320.
43. The practice of a child handing over its wage to a parent continued well into
the twentieth century. See P. Ayers, “The Hidden Economy of Dockland
Families: Liverpool in the 1930s,” in Women’s Work and the Family Economy
in Historical Perspectives, eds. P. Hudson and W. R. Lee (Manchester:
Manchester University Press); A. Foley, A Bolton Childhood (Manchester:
Manchester University Press, 1973); R. Roberts, The Classic Slum, Salford
Life in the First Quarter of the Century (London: Penguin, 1990); R. Roberts,
A Ragged Schooling (London: Penguin, 1990.)
44. H. Gingold, How to Grow Old Disgracefully. An Autobiography (London:
Victor Gollancz, 1989), 27–28.
45. Vanbrugh, To Tell My Story, 92–93.
46. For example see The Era, January 8, 1886.
47. “Pantomime Children,” The Stage, January 8, 1886.
48. The Pall Mall Gazette, February 8, 1885.
49. “What a Ballet Costs—A Peep behind the Scenes,” The Sketch, February 12,
1896.
50. Hamilton, The Theory.
 Notes 193

51. J. K. Jerome, Stage Land (London: Chatto & Windus, 1889), 25.
52. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 39.
53. Hamilton, The Theory.
54. After the industry had won over their targeted family audience the notion
of respectability which accompanied this opened the door for the all-child
audience which was particularly popular with the children of the middle
classes. (The Dart, January 12, 1883.)
55. The Illustrated London News, January 1, 1881.
56. The Chiel, January 31, 1885.
57. Crozier, “Notions of Childhood.”
58. G. K. Behlmer, Child Abuse and Moral Reform in England 1870–1908
(Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1982), 78.
59. P. Coveney, The Image of Childhood. The Individual and Society: A Study of
the Theme in English Literature (London: Penguin, 1967); H. Cunningham,
Children and Childhood in Western Society since 1500 (London: Longman,
1967.)
60. C. Hall, “The Early Formation of Victorian domestic Ideology,” in White,
Male, Middle Class (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1992); S. O. Rose, Limited
Livelihoods: Gender and Class in C19 England (London: Routledge, 1992); A.
Vickery, “Golden Ages to Separate Spheres: A Review of the Categories and
Chronology of English Women’s History,” Historical Journal, 36, 2 (1993):
383–314.
61. J. Briggs, “Women Writers and Writing for Children from Sarah Fielding
to E Nesbit,” in Children and Their Books A Collection of Essays to Celebrate
the Work of Iona and Peter Opie, ed. G. Avery and J.Briggs (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1990), 223.
62. J. Tosh, A Man’s Place. Masculinity and the Middle-Class Home in Victorian
England (New Haven, CT: Hale University Press, 1999), 102–122.
63. “Dress Circle Gentility,” The Era, September 16, 1877.
64. E. Trudgill, Madonnas and Magdalens: The Origins and Development of
Victorian Sexual Attitudes (London: Heinemann, 1976), 91. Additionally
Trudgill has argued that “children and especially girls were a natural form
of escapism for an age given to sentiment and whimsy.” See also Ernest
Dowson, who, stated that he was one of an “ever increasing number of people
who received from the beauty of childhood, in art as in life, an exquisite
pleasure,” E. Dowson, “The Cult of the Child,” Critic, August 17, 1889.
Quoted in H. Lebailly, C. L. Dodson and the Victorian Cult: A Reassessment
on the Hundredth Anniversary of Lewis Carroll’s Death, http://www.looking-
forlewiscarroll.com
65. J. Walkowitz, City of Dreadful Delight. Narratives of Sexual Danger in Late-
Victorian England (London: Virago, 1992), 87.
66. C. Mavors, Pleasure Taken. Performances of Sexuality and Loss in Victorian
Photographs (London: I.B Taurus, 1996), 2.
194 Notes

67. C. Steedman, Strange Dislocations: Childhood and the Idea of Human

Interiority, 1780–1930 (London: Virago, 1995), 11.
68. The Bat, January 3, 1883.
69. R. Kincaid, Child Loving, The Erotic Child and Victorian Culture (London:
Routledge, 1992), 228. On looking at images of children, Patricia Holland,
drawing on Barthes, has discussed “ desired images . . . the images which view-
ers long to see, and which give back a sense of stimulation or well-being.
Imagery [of children] always draws on and nourishes the fantasy world of
human longings. It mediates between memory and dreams. The nostalgia
of imagery is part of the nostalgia each of us feels for a lost moment of satis-
faction and a longing for a future of reconciliation and peace.” (P. Holland,
Picturing Childhood. The Myth of the Child in Popular Imagery (London: I.B.
Tauris, 2006), 7.
70. C. Ward and T. Ward, Images of Childhood in Old Postcards (London: Alan
Sutton 1991), 1.
71. R. J. Broadbent, A History of Pantomime (London: Simpkin, 1901), 74.
72. C. Robson, Men in Wonderland: The Lost Girlhood of the Victorian Gentleman
(Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2001), 10–11.
73. F. Dolman, “Stage Children,” The English Illustrated Magazine, xxi (May
1899): 177–184.
74. A. Wilson, “Little Lord Fauntleroy; The Darling of Mothers and the
Abomination of a Generation,” American Literary History, 8, 2 (1996): 236.
75. J. Maas, Victorian Painters (New York: Harrison House, 1969.)
76. M. R. Booth, Victorian Spectacular Theatre 1850–1910 (London: Routledge
& Kegan Paul, 1981), 37.
77. N. Brown, Fairies in Nineteenth-Century Art and Literature (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2001), 45.
78. The Stage, May 24, 1889.
79. C. G. Silver, Strange and Secret Peoples: Fairies and Victorian Consciousness
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), 34.
80. The Sketch, January 1, 1896.
81. Brown, Fairies, 90.
82. Mavors, Pleasures, 20. See also N. Auerbach, Ellen Terry: A Player in Her
Time (Pennsylvania, PA: Pennsylvania Press, 1997), 73.
83. R. A. Schindler, “Fairy Painting after 1850,” http://www.victorianweb.org/
painting/fairy/index.html
84. The Bat, January 3, 1883. See D. Goreham, “The ‘Maiden Tribute of Modern
Babylon,’ Re-examined, Child Prostitution and the Idea of Childhood in
Late-Victorian England,” Victorian Studies, 21, 4 (1978): 353–379.
85. R. Hichens, “The Dance of the Hours,” Chapter X, Flames (London:
Duffield, 1906), http://www.gutenberg.org/etext/14253
86. T. C. Davis, Actresses as Working Women: Their Social Identity in Victorian
Culture (London: Routledge, 1991), 106.
 Notes 195

87. A. Kuhn, The Power of the Image: Essays on Representation and Sexuality
(London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1985), 6, reproduced in, Davis,
Actresses, 107.
88. Trudgill, Madonnas and Magdalens, 8.
89. The Chiel, January 3, 1885.
90. Steedman, Strange, 136.
91. British Parliamentary Papers, Third Report, 1887, 30, 27–37.
92. Booth, Theatre, 113.
93. Auerbach, Ellen, 73.
94. L. A. Jackson, Child Sexual Abuse in Victorian England (London: Routledge,
2000), 96.
95. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 5.
96. Davis, Actresses, 106.
97. Kincaid, Child Loving, 198.
98. Kincaid, Child Loving, 198.
99. Auerbach, Ellen, 91.
100. Holland, Picturing, 9.
101. G. Cooper, Gladys Cooper (London: Hutchinson, 1930), 34–36. Reproduced
in J. Clume, Footlight Notes, www.footlightnotes.tripod.com
102. M. H. Harker, “Henry Peach Robinson: The Grammar of Art,” in British
Photography in the Nineteenth Century, the Fine Art Tradition, ed. M. Weaver
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 137.
103. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 69.
104. Trudgill, Madonnas and Magdalens, 94.
105. Kincaid, Child Loving, 199.
106. See G. Ovenden, Lewis Carroll (London: Macdonald, 1984); J.Wullschlager,
Inventing Wonderland : The Lives and Fantasies of Lewis Carroll, Edward
Lear, J. M. Barrie, Kenneth Grahame and A. A. Milne (London: Methuen,
1995), 12.
107. See H. Lebailly, “C. L. Dodson and the Victorian Cult: A Reassessment on
the Hundredth Anniversary of ‘Lewis Carroll’s death,” http://www.looking-
forlewiscarroll.com
108. Ward and Ward, Images, 6.
109. D. Mayer, “‘Quote the Words’ To Promote The Attitudes: The Victorian
Performer, The Photographer, And The Photograph,” Theatre Survey, 43, 2
(November 2002): 228.
110. The Illustrated Police News, February 13, 1886, 3.
111. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 81.
112. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 53–54.
113. “Art Behind the Curtain,” The Theatre, June 1887.
114. D. Salberg, Once Upon a Pantomime (Luton: Cortney Publications,
1981), 115.
115. The Times, February 9, 1889.
196 Notes

4 PERFORMING THEIR DUTY: CHILD SAVERS

AND THE THEATRICAL CHILD
1. K. Heasman, Evangelicals in Action: An Appraisal of Their Social Work in The
Victorian Era (London: Geoffrey Bles, 1962).
2. E. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, or, a Plea for Our City Children (London:
Partridge, 1884.)
3. See G. K. Behlmer, Child Abuse and Moral Reform in England, 1870–1908
(Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1982); T. C. Davis, “The Employment
of Children in the Victorian Theatre,” New Theatre Quarterly, 2 (1986): 116–
135; C. Steedman, Strange Dislocations: Childhood and the Idea of Human
Interiority (London: Virago, 1995); P. Horn, “English Theatre Children, 1880–
1914: A Study in Ambivalence,” History of Education, 25, 1 (1996): 37–54
4. Richard Turnbull, Shaftesbury: The Great Reformer (London: Lion Hudson,
2010).
5. C. Wells, “A Pocket History of the NSPCC” (London: NSPCC, 2007). See
also K. McCrone, “The National Association for the promotion of Social
Science and the Advancement of Women,” Atlantas, 8, 1, (1982): 44–66, 44.
6. McCrone, “The National Association for the Promotion of Social Science
and the Advancement of Women,” 44.
7. M. Fawcett, “The Employment of Children in Theatres,” The Contemporary
Review, December 1889.
8. H. Rogers, “‘The Good Are Not Always Powerful, Nor The Powerful Always
Good’: The Politics of Women’s Needlework in Mid-Victorian London,”
Victorian Studies, 40, 4 (1997): 589–623.
9. C. M. Leitch, “R. Barnes, Grindrod’s Slaves of the Needle,” MA Thesis in
Literary Studies (Waterloo: University of Ontario, 2006), 38; quoting L.
N. [Ellen Barlee], “Annals of the Needlewomen,” English Woman’s Journal
(April 9, 1862): 73.
10. Leitch, “Grindrod’s,” 48 quoting, L. N. “Annals, of the Needlewoman,” 73.
11. E. J. Boucherette, Hints on Self-Help: A Book for Young Women (London:
Partridge, 1863), 118.
12. See for example, Pall Mall Gazette, April 28, 1885; The Times, March 18,
1887.
13. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 116.
14. See Heasman, Evangelicals, 277; F. K. Prochaska, Women and Philanthropy
in Nineteenth-Century England (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1980.)
15. P. Fisher, In Dangerous Paths (London: Theatrical Mission Booklets, 1883), 10.
16. Heasman, Evangelicals, 277.
17. Fisher, In Dangerous, 23–24.
18. The Times, May 18, 1889.
19. Heasman, Evangelicals, 63.
20. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 154.
 Notes 197

21. T. Davis, Actresses as Working Women: Their Social Identity in Victorian

Culture (London: Routledge, 1991), 63–64.
22. Interview with Mr. R. C. Legge, secretary to George Alexander, St James
Theatre, King St, Charles Booth Archive, Survey Notebooks, B156, January
21, 1896, 67–76, 141.
23. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 76.
24. Mrs. Jeune, “Children in Theatres,” The English Illustrated Magazine,
October 1889, 11.
25. D. Rubinstein, “Annie Besant and Stewart Headlam: The London School
Board Election of 1888,” East London Papers, 13 (1970): 3–24, quoted in
David Rubinstein, A Different World for Women: The Life of Millicent Garrett
Fawcett (Hemel Hempstead: Harvester Wheatsheaf, 1991), 100.
26. Jeune, “Children,” 11.
27. Jeune, “Children,” 11.
28. The Times, May 18, 1889.
29. Jeune, “Children,” 12.
30. P. Bedells, My Dancing Days (London: Phoenix, 1954), 22–23.
31. “Pantomime Children,” The Orchestra, October. 1863–March. 1881;
February 1878; 4, 43; British Periodicals, 217.
32. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 18.
33. E. Hopkins, Childhood Transformed Working-Class Children in Nineteenth
Century England (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1994), 299.
34. D. Hole, The Church & the Stage: An Early History of the Actors Church Union
(London: The Faith Press, 1934), 13.
35. The Professional World, April 1894.
36. The Stage Directory, February 1, 1880.
37. The Stage, March 4, 1897.
38. See Hole, The Church, 16–17. London City Mission Magazine, December 1,
1879.
39. “Children in Pantomimes,” The Stage, December 7, 1883.
40. “The Theatrical Mission, ‘Stars,’ a Year’s Work in the Theatrical Mission,”
Charities Register and Digest, London, 1890, 491. Cited in Davis Actresses,
63–64.
41. The Nursing Record & Hospital World, December 22, 1894, 421.
42. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 176.
43. M. Stanley, Clubs for Working Girls (London: Macmillan, 1890), reprinted
in F. Booton, ed., Studies in Social Education 1860–1890 (Hove: Benfield
Press, 1985). For further discussion on additional non-sectarian theater club
provision see Davis, Actresses, 63–64. See also A. Woollacott, To Try Her
Fortune in London: Australian Women, Colonialism, and Modernity (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 2001), 99.
44. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 156–157.
45. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 156–157.
198 Notes

46. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 58.

47. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 12–16.
48. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 48.
49. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 55.
50. R. Jackson, ed., Victorian Theatre (London: A & C Black, 1989), 252.
51. The Circulator, January 7, 1882.
52. The World, July 10, 1889.
53. D. Goreham, “The ‘Maiden Tribute of Modern Babylon,’ Re-examined,
Child Prostitution and the Idea of Childhood in Late-Victorian England,”
Victorian Studies, 21, 4 (1978): 353–379.
54. H. W. Hobart, “Children in Theatres,” Justice, February 16, 1889.
55. “Children and the Theatre,” The Stage, November 16, 1888. Similarly Henry
Irving claimed that “the idea that children engaged in a theatre suffered any
moral or physical harm was a delusion.” (The Times, May 18, 1889.)
56. J. F. Runciman, “Stage Children,” in Side Lights, ed. J. F. Runciman (London:
Fisher Unwin, 1893), Essay IV.
57. Charles Booth Archive, Survey Notebooks, B156, January 2, 1896, 13–32, 24.
58. L. Carroll, “Stage Children,” The Theatre, September 2, 1889, 115.
59. Mr. Jennings M. P. speaking on the amendment to the Cruelty to Children
Prevention Bill reported in The Times, July 11, 1889.
60. “The Inside of a Pantomime,” The Manchester Guardian, January 10, 1899.
61. M. G. Fawcett, “What Theatrical People Say,” The London Echo, December
15, 1888.
62. 1894: “Stage Door Johnnies,” A Night at the Theatre, www.peopleplayuk.org
63. Third Report of the Royal Commission on Education, Parliamentary Papers,
1887, XXX, 305–320, 312.
64. Third Report of the Royal Commission on Education, Parliamentary Papers,
1887, XXX, 305–320, 312.
65. For example, girls contracted to the National Training School of Dancing,
one of the largest of such establishments, could expect a court summons from
its proprietors for the smallest of misdemeanors. Sample cases can be found
over a thirteen year period in The Era, September 18, 1886 and November
23, 1889; The Times, July 5 and 6, 1899.
66. “The Fairies of the Stage,” The Pall Mall Gazette, February 9, 1885.
67. The Era, January 16, 1889.
68. A. Bear, Letter to The Times, February 9, 1889.
69. Third Report of the Royal Commission on Education, Parliamentary Papers,
1887, XXX, 305–320, 307.
70. Bear, The Times, February 9, 1889. There was a belief that a theatrical life-
style would lead to an immoral and corrupt adulthood. See “The Fairies of
the Stage,” The Pall Mall Gazette, February 9, 1885.
71. The Times, July 23, 1889.
72. W. A., “Stage Children: A Dialogue,” The World, August 14, 1889.
 Notes 199

73. “The Fairies of the Stage,” The Pall Mall Gazette, February 9, 1885.
74. The Nursing Record & Hospital World, December 22, 1894, 421.
75. The Times, February 8, 1889.
76. E. Terriss, Letter to The Times, May 18, 1903.
77. H. Russell, Letter to The Times, February 5, 1889.
78. S. Beale, Letter to The Times, February 9, 1889.
79. The 1870 and 1876 Education Acts had brought all areas of child labor
under the same protective umbrella. The act targeted agricultural child labor
in particular, but also included all the miscellaneous industries that preced-
ing acts had failed to cover.
80. M. Fawcett, “Holes in the Education Net,” The Contemporary Review, May
1887, 641.
81. M. Fawcett, “Holes in the Education Net,” 641.
82. For the clearest summary of the NVA argument see Mrs. Henry Fawcett,
“Theatre and Pantomime Children,” National Vigilance Record (no date,
available c. 1887).
83. M. Fawcett, “Employment of Children in Theatres, No.2—What the
Teachers of the Children Say,” The Echo, December 10, 1888.
84. Fawcett, “Holes in the Education Net,” 642.
85. Fawcett, “What The Teachers Say.”
86. “The Fairies of the Stage,” The Pall Mall Gazette, February 9, 1885.
87. Reprinted from an unspecified journal of the day in, R. Mander and J.
Mitchenson, Pantomime a Story in Pictures (London: Peter Davies, 1973),
25–26. See also F. Dolman, “Stage Children. Leading Little Actors and
Actresses of the Day,” English Illustrated Magazine, XXI (1889): 177–185.
88. A. Davin, Growing Up Poor. Home, School and Street in London 1870–1914
(London: Rivers Oram Press, 1996), 111.
89. Fawcett, “Holes in the Education Net,” 639.
90. E. Barlee, Friendless and Helpless (London: Emily Faithful, 1863), 5.
91. Barlee, Friendless and Helpless, 182.
92. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 18.
93. “Converted Imps, Saturday Review,” The Brisbane Courier, September 1,
1884, 3.
94. J. H. M. Honiball, “Barlee, Sir Frederick Palgrave (1827–1884),” Australian
Dictionary of Biography, vol. 3 (Melbourne: Melbourne University Press,
1969), 96–99.
95. Report by F. P. Barlee, Colonization Circular by Great Britain Emigration
Commission (G. E. Eyre & W. Spotiswood for HM Stationary Office,
London: 1874), 26.
96. Honiball, “Barlee, Sir Frederick,” 96–99.
97. “The Theatrical Mission, ‘Stars,’ a Year’s Work in the Theatrical Mission,
1892.” Charities Register and Digest, London, 1890, 491. Quoted in Davis,
Actresses as Working Women, 63–64.
200 Notes

98. Miss Barlee to Crown Agents, March 26, 1885, “Letter Advocating the
establishment of a Training school for Girls with the Object of Supplying the
Demand for Female Servants,” Western Australia, Votes and Proceedings of
the Legislative Council, 1885, 622. (Italics in original) quoted in P. Sharpe,
Women, Gender and Labour Migration: Historical and Global Perspectives
(London: Routledge, 2001), 160.
99. “Children and the Theatre,” The Stage, November 16, 1888.
100. M. Fawcett, Third Report of the Royal Commission on Education
Parliamentary Papers, 1887, XXX 305–320.
101. The Times, May 18, 1889.
102. “The Theatre,” Saturday Night’s Manchester Evening News, December 29,
1888.
103. The Era, December 11, 1886.
104. It is useful to note that this meeting was held in the drawing room of NVA
member Mrs. Frank Morrison, this gives some indication of the movement’s
relatively modest size.
105. The Times, July 16, 1887.
106. Mrs. M. Fawcett, “Theatre and Pantomime Children,” The Vigilance Record,
1885.
107. Mrs. Fawcett, “Employment of Children in Theatres,” Article 4, “The
Economic Difficulty,” The Echo December 18, 1885.
108. Third Report of the Royal Commission on Education Parliamentary Papers,
1887, XXX, 305–320.
109. The Times, July 23, 1887.
110. C. Mitchell, minutes of evidence, Third Report of the Royal Commission on
Education Parliamentary Papers, 1887, XXX, 316.
111. J. J. MacNamara, Schools and Scholars in 1899: Facts and Figures for the
Reformer (London: National Union of Teachers, 1899), 8. Victorian Times
Project, http://www.victoriantimesproject.org/L/D487. The purpose of this
publication was to present, “Statistics to show attendance, and lack of it, at
schools. Also contains some examples of how many hours school-age chil-
dren spend working.”
112. The Schoolmistress, October 3, 1889.
113. The Schoolmistress, October 3, 1889.
114. McNamara, Schools and Scholars in 1899, 8.
115. McNamara, Schools and Scholars in 1899, 9.
116. The Times, February 4, 1889. Typically Actor/Manager, Henry Irving,
claimed that; “It was not by any means impossible for them [child perform-
ers] to get a considerable amount of schooling.” (The Times, May 18, 1889.)
117. Fawcett, “Holes in the Education Net,” 643.
118. Although Morton’s argument was not borne out in law it was most likely
based on the unwritten law sanctioned by some school board officers see
footnote 104.
 Notes 201

119. The Times, January 19, 1889.

120. Fawcett, “Holes in the Education Net,” 641.
121. The Times, January 19, 1889.
122. “Children on the Stage,” The Era, February 2, 1889. As the proprietor of a
dance academy, Francesco was a large provider of trained children.
123. McNamara, Schools, 9.
124. Christmas Pantomimes and Child-Performers. The Newcastle Weekly
Courant, December 22, 1888.
125. M. Fawcett, “The Employment of Children in Theatres,” The Contemporary
Review, December 1889.
126. The London Echo, December 12, 1888.
127. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 58.
128. “Children on the Stage,” The Era, February 2, 1889.
129. “Children on the Stage,” The Era, February 2, 1889.
130. Fawcett, “Holes in the Education net,” 643.
131. The Era, December 11, 1886.
132. Fawcett, “Holes in the Education net,” 643.
133. Fawcett, “The Employment of Children in Theatres,” 829.
134. The Times, May 18, 1889.
135. The Times, May 18, 1889.
136. Fawcett, “The Employment of Children,” 829.
137. Final Report of the Commissioners appointed to inquire into the Elementary
Education Acts of England and Wales (London: Eyre and Spottiswoode,
1888). See also “The Education Commission Final Report,” The Times, June
28, 1888.
138. The Vigilance Record, August 1889, 81.
139. Fawcett, “Holes in the Education net,” 641.
140. Hopkins, Childhood, 317.
141. N. Auerbach, Ellen Terry: Player in Her Time (London: J.M. Dent, 1987), 78.
142. J. K. Jerome, Stage-Land (London: A.L. Burt, 1890), 34.
143. Fawcett, “Children in Theatres.”
144. Sympathetic publications included the, Pall Mall Gazette, The Star and The
Echo East London Observer, July 28, 1888.
145. J. Walkowitz, City of Dreadful Delight (London: Virago, 1992), 77.
146. See S. Fosdick, “Follow the Worker Not the Work: Hard Lessons from Failed
London Music Hall Magazines,” Association for Education in Journalism and
Mass Communication (2003), www.aejmcmagazine.bsu.edu/journal
147. W. Allison, “My Kingdom for a Horse!” Yorkshire, Rugby, Balliol, the Bar,
Bloodstock and Journalistic Recollections (London: G. Richards, 1919), 323.
148. The Playgoer, December 1888.
149. The Times, May 28, 1898.
150. The Times, February 7, 1889.
151. The Times, July 20, 1889.
202 Notes

152. Walkowitz, City, 82–83.

153. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 43.
154. W. Allison, “My Kingdom for a Horse!” Yorkshire, Rugby, Balliol, the Bar,
Bloodstock and Journalistic Recollections (London: G. Richards, 1919), 323.

5 PROTECTIVE LEGISLATION AND

THE THEATRICAL CHILD
1. A. Allen and A. Morton, This Is Your Child: The Story of the National Society
for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children, (London: Routledge and Kegan
Paul, 1961).
2. G. K. Behlmer, Child Abuse and Moral Reform in England 1870–1908
(California: Stanford University Press, 1982), 88.
3. Behlmer, Child Abuse, 97.
4. 1887 Third Report of the Royal Commission on the Working of the
Elementary Education Acts in England and Wales, vol. xxx, Cmd.5158.
5. C. T. Mitchell, letter to The Times, April 18, 1889. See also M. Fawcett, The
Times, February 5, 1889.
6. S. Vey, “Good Intentions and Fearsome Prejudice: New York’s 1876 Act
to Prevent and Punish Wrongs to Children,” Theatre Survey, 42, 1 (2001):
54–68. See also T. J. Gilfoyle, “The Moral Origins of Political Surveillance
in New York City 1867–1918,” American Quarterly, 38, 4 (1986): 637–652.
7. C.T. Mitchell, letter to The Times, April 18, 1889. See also M. Fawcett, The
Times, February 5, 1889.
8. Behlmer, Child Abuse, 106.
9. C. Wells, A Pocket History of the NSPCC (London: NSPCC, 2007). The Bill
became known as The Children’s Charter. Behlmer Child Abuse, 109.
10. E. Hopkins, Childhood Transformed: Working-Class Children in Nineteenth
Century England (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1994),
230–231.
11. The Times, May 18, 1889.
12. Behlmer, Child Abuse, 106.
13. H. Hendrick, Child Welfare and Social Policy: An Essential Reader (London:
Policy Press, 2005), 37.
14. The Theatre, September 2, 1889.
15. Harris also held the office of Deputy Lieutenant of the city of London. J.
P. Wearing, “Harris, Sir Augustus Henry Glossop (1852–1896),” in Oxford
Dictionary of National Biography (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004),
http://www.oxforddnb.com/view/article/12382. Augustus Harris, www.
wikepedia.org, accessed 18/12/06; L. Rutherford, ‘“Managers in a Small
Way: The Professionalization of Variety Artistes, 1860–1914,” in Bailey,
Music Hall, 73–92.
 Notes 203

16. Wearing, “Harris.”

17. P. Bailey, Leisure and Class in Victorian England; Rational Recreation and
the Contest for Control 1830–1885 (London: Methuen, 1987); W. M. Eagar,
Making Men (London: University of London Press, 1953); S. Shipley, Club
Life and Socialism in Mid Victorian London (London: Journeyman Press,
1987); A. Prescott, “Brother Irving: Sir Henry Irving and Freemasonry,” The
Irving Society http://www.theirvingsociety.org.uk/brotherirving.htm.
18. “Freemasonry in Victorian Theatre and Music” Issue 8, January 2004,
http://www.mqmagazine.co.uk/issue-8/p-50.php.
19. Prescott, “Brother.”
20. Prescott, “Brother.”
21. The Vigilance Record, August 1889.
22. The Register News-Pictorial (Adelaide, SA: 1929–1931), February 1, 1930.
23. J. Pick and R.Protherough, “The Ripper and the Lyceum: The Significance
of Irving’s Freemasonry,” www.theirvingsociety.org.uk. For Harris and the
Drury Lane Lodge, see A. M. Broadley, The Craft: The Drama and Drury
Lane (London: Freemason, 1887.)
24. Pick and Protherough, “The Ripper.”
25. Irving for example, throughout his professional life was “a regular, and gener-
ous, supporter of Masonic charities.” Pick and Protherough, “The Ripper.”
26. The Theatrical Times, February 14, 1884. See for instance, The Theatre,
February 1, 1882; The Interlude, January 16, 1886.
27. The Professional World, April, 1894.
28. The Amusing Journal, April 20, 1895.
29. The Stage, July 5, 1889.
30. The Stage, July 5, 1889.
31. The Times, February 5, 1889; The London Echo, December 12, 1888;
J. F. Runciman, “Stage-Children,” in Side Lights, ed. J. F. Runciman with
Memoir by Grant Allen and Intro. W. T. Stead (London: T. Fisher Unwin,
1893.) www.gutenbergproject.org.
32. Barlee, Pantomime Waifs, 89.
33. G. A. Sala, “Living London,” 1882, http://www.victorianlondon.org.
34. “The Burning of the Grand,” The Era, January 7, 1888.
35. Marie Bancroft, Letter to The Era, July 27, 1889. An edited version of this
letter also appeared in, The Times, July 31, 1889.
36. Bancroft, Letter to The Era, July 27, 1889.
37. M. Bancroft, Mr. and Mr.s Bancroft On and Off the Stage (London: Richard
Bentley, 1888), reproduced in The Vigilance Record, August 1889, 77.
38. The Vigilance Record, August 1889, 77.
39. Article reproduced in The Vigilance Record, August 1889, 77.
40. Lionel Rose similarly notes the contradiction in actress Ellen Terry’s mem-
oirs of her own theatrical childhood and her contemporary comments on
not allowing children on the stage until ten years old, See E. Craig and
204 Notes

C. St. John, Ellen Terry’s Memoirs (New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1932),
14–15. Quoted in, L. Rose, The Erosion of Childhood: Child Oppression in
Britain, 1860–1918 (New York: Routledge, 1991), 61.
41. The Stage, May 17, 1889.
42. M. Fawcett, letter to The Times, July 19, 1889.
43. The Theatre, September 2, 1889.
44. The Times, April 16; May 17; June 15, 1889. Quoted in Behlmer, Child
Abuse, 105.
45. Prescott observes that, “Like their public school colleagues, the male school
board teachers used freemasonry to affirm their professional and social
status.” (A. Prescott, “The Study of Freemasonry as a New Academic
Discipline,” University of Sheffield, www.freemasonry.dept.shef.ac.uk.)
46. J. J. McNamara, Schools and Scholars in 1899: Facts and Figures for the
Reformer (London: National Union of Teachers, 1899.)
47. McNamara, Schools, 9.
48. The Times, May 18, 1889. Cruelty to Children Prevention Bill, 87. HC Deb
June 26 1889, 337 cc797–850, 797.
49. The Stage, July 19, 1889; The Times, May18, 1889.
50. The Times, July 23, 1889.
51. The Times, July 23, 1889.
52. The Times, July 24, 1889.
53. Prescott, “Brother.”
54. “Cruelty to Children (Prevention) Bill, Parliament, House of Commons
Wednesday July 10,” The Times, July 11, 1889.
55. The Times, July 23, 1889.
56. The Times, July 23, 1889.
57. The Times, July 24, 1889.
58. The Times, July 23, 1889.
59. The Times, July 30, 1889. As a founder member of the SPCC it must be
remembered that Waugh had a hidden agenda for opposing NVA demands,
as its proposed clause threatened the passing of the whole Bill.
60. The Vigilance Record, August 17, 1889.
61. The Times, July 1889.
62. H. W. Hobart, Justice, February 16, 1889.
63. M. Fawcett, “Holes in the Education Net,” Contemporary Review, 1887, 639.
64. W. A. “Stage Children: A Dialogue,” The World, August 14, 1889, 12.
65. The World, July 10, 1889.
66. “Children in Pantomimes,” The Stage, December 7, 1883.
67. G. Tuckwell, The State and Its Children (London: Methuen, 1894), 126.
68. The clause which disadvantaged theatrical children was, for some sup-
porters of the industry, not forfeit enough. Commending the support of
Lord Dunraven and Joseph Chamberlain whilst denouncing the passage of
the clause an editorial in The Stage stated, “These utterances of Peer and
 Notes 205

Commoner will be of service to the managers in their uphill fight against

the odds which lie not only in the alarums and excursions of fanatical
bodies that have somehow caught the public ear but also in the action of a
legislature that in its ignorance is about to play the game of the . . . London
County Council in harassing the amusements of the nation.” (The Stage,
July 19, 1889.) It is worth noting that despite Joseph Chamberlain being a
long standing campaigner for educational reform, he was instrumental in
passing a clause which would allow the employment of children as young
as seven.
69. Ian Johns for example claims that “Fawcett’s campaign won through to
guarantee the welfare of the stage-struck youngster.” I. Johns, “When Little
Children Suffer: Kids in the Limelight,” Times Online, April 11, 2005.
Similarly, in her early research Anne Varty concluded that “In the last
decade of the nineteenth century the public, still hungry for stage babies,
had to be satisfied with rhetoric and parody. A. Varty, “The Rise and
Fall of The Victorian Stage Baby,” New Theatre Quarterly, 21, (August 3,
2005): 222.
70. Report of Chief Inspector of Factories, cf. Reports for 1893, 326; Report
for 1895, 205. Quoted in F. Keeling, Child Labour in the United Kingdom
(London: Kingston, 1914), 14. In his comprehensive study of child labor
legislation in the United Kingdom, Keeling offers the only complete record
of theatrical child law. In addition to general legislation Keeling details
the bylaws specific to each region and how these were interpreted in each
borough.
71. cf. Reports for 1893, 326; Report for 1895, 205. Quoted in Keeling,
Child , 14.
72. For example, 13 cases in 1896, (Report, 55), 11 in 1901, (Report, XII), 24 in
1902, (Report, XX), Quoted in Keeling, Child, 14.
73. Cf. Reports for 1893, 326; Report for 1895, 205, quoted in Keeling,
Child , 14.
74. Keeling, Child, 14–16. See also P. Horn, “English Theatre Children 1880–
1914: A Study in Ambivalence,” History of Education, 25, 1 (1996): 49.
75. “Chit Chat,” The Stage, May 28, 1896.
76. Miss Fanny Laughton, Chorus lady, Theatre Royal Drury Lane, January 2,
1896, Charles Booth Archive, Survey Notebooks, B156, January 24,
1896, 18.
77. “Chit Chat,” The Stage, September 22, 1898.
78. “Cases in Court,” The Stage, February 23, 1899.
79. Cf. Reports for 1893, 326; Report for 1895, 205.
80. “Chit Chat,” The Stage, September 22, 1898.
81. G. B Shaw, Dramatic Criticism 1895–98 (New York: Hill and Wing, 1959),
291–292. Quoted in N. Auerbach, Ellen Terry: Player in Her Time (London:
J. M. Dent and Sons, 1989), 454. Matthew White Ridley, first Viscount
206 Notes

Ridley (July 25, 1842–November 28, 1904.) Home Secretary from 1895
to 1900, Reginald Lucas and Jane Ridley, “Ridley, Matthew White, first
Viscount Ridley (1842–1904),” Oxford Dictionary of National Biography
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), doi:10.1093/ref:odnb/35754.
82. “Cases in Court,” The Stage, February 23, 1899.
83. Interview with Miss Fanny Laughton, chorus lady, Theatre Royal, Drury
lane, January 2, 1896. Booth, Survey Notebooks, B156, 13–32.
84. Interview with Sir Augustus Harris, Booth Survey Notes. Notebook,
B156, 96.
85. B. Crozier, “Notions of Childhood in London Theatre, 1880–1905,” unpub-
lished PhD thesis, Cambridge University, 1981, 195.
86. Ellaline Terriss, The Times, May 18, 1903.
87. “House of Commons, Employment of Children Bill,” reported in The Times,
June 23, 1903.
88. H. Irving, Letter to The Times, June 25, 1903.
89. Old agitation was falling away with the death of Ellen Barlee in 1897 and
prominent NVA member Annette Bear returning to her native Australia
in April 1890, http://trove.nla.gov.au/work/20198977?versionId=238217
42. Also Millicent Garrett Fawcett had increased her involvement in the
Women’s Suffrage movement.
90. “House of Commons, Employment of Children Bill,” reported in The Times,
June 24, 1903.
91. “Political Notes,” The Times, April 25, 1903.
92. Like those campaigners from 1889 to 1903, opponents recognised the popu-
larity and economic power of the industry and that it was futile to demand
too much too soon.
93. Mr. Markham, MP, The Times, June 23, 1903.
94. The Times, June 23, 1903.
95. The Times, June 23, 1903. During the debate, Brampton Gordon MP stated
that, “Children under twelve ought not to be allowed to earn their own liv-
ing.” (The Times, June 23, 1903.)
96. Ernest Gray, MP, reported in The Times, June 23, 1903.
97. Home Secretary, Mr. Akers Douglas, reported in The Times, June 23, 1903.
98. House of Commons Speech made by T.W. Russell, MP, reported in The
Times, June 23, 1903.
99. The legal age a child could appear on stage after first obtaining a license was
ten years. See H. Stanley, Can You Hear Me Mother? Sandy Powell’s Lifetime
of Music Hall (London: Jupiter Books, 1977), 13.
100. Stanley, Can You, 13.
101. Stanley, Can You, 15.
102. There were calls in 1908 to secure amendments in the Children’s Bill which
would provide for theatrical licence applications being heard in juvenile
courts, “Employment of Children in Theatres,” The Times, May 19, 1908.
 Notes 207

The 1908 Children’s Bill created the juvenile legal system in the United
Kingdom see for example, H. Hendrick, Children, Childhood and English
Society, 1880–1990 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 49;
J. Muncy and B. Goldson, “England and Wales the New Correctionalism,”
in Comparative Youth Justice, ed. J. Muncy and B. Goldson (London: Sage,
2006), 35.
103. N. Daglish, “Education policy and the question of child labour: the
Lancashire cotton industry and R.D. Denman’s Bill of 1914,” History of
Education, 30, 3 (2001): 291–308.
104. Daglish, “Education,” 302. See also “Children in Theatres,” The Times,
March 24, 1914; “Poplar Children and the Pantomime; A Budget of Essays,”
The Times, February 4, 1914; “Children on the Stage, Some Effects of the
New Employment Bill,” The Times, March 20, 1914; “Employment of
Children on Stage,” The Times, March 21, 1914; Letter from Oswald Stoll,
“Children on the Stage,” The Times, March 23, 1914; “Children on the Stage.
The Demand for Exclusion, Mr. H. A. Jones and the Rights of the Public,”
The Times, March 23 and 24, 1914; “Children on the Stage, Magistrate’s
Refusal of a License. Mr. Galsworthy’s New Play Affected,” The Times, April
18, 1914; B. Weller Letter to the editor, “Children on the Stage. The Law and
Juvenile Performers.” The Times, April 20, 1914.
105. “Children on the Stage, Magistrate’s Refusal of a License. Mr. Galsworthy’s
New Play Affected.”
106. PRO ED 31/197, R. D. Denman to J. Galsworthy, March 25, 1914, Denman
Papers Box 2, quoted in Daglish, “Education,” 302. Denman’s proposal was
already law in Scotland.
107. A. J Mundella to R. D. Denman, March 18, 1914, Denman Papers Box 2,
quoted in Daglish, “Education,” 302.
108. Ibid
109. “Children on the stage. The Case for Uniformity in Regulations,” The Times,
May 25, 1914.
110. “Parents know (to put their motives on the lowest ground) that there is small
chance of an engagement for an ill-kept and ill-fed child. At pantomime time
if at no other time of the year a small wage-earner will be fed-up and turned
out as smart as funds will allow.” (“Children on the Stage: The Demand for
Exclusion,” The Times, March 24, 1914.)
111. “Children on the Stage: The Demand for Exclusion.”.
112. The Statement of Law, point 14, of the Report of the Theatrical Children
Licences Committee: Report of the Committee appointed by the President
of the Board of Education to advise the Board as to the rules which they
should make with reference to licences to children to take part in entertain-
ments under the Prevention of Cruelty to Children Act, 1904, as amended
by section 13 (2) of the Education Act, 1918. Appointed January 1919, signed
July 1919. Sessional papers, session 1919, HSMO, Cmd 484, XXX.
208 Notes

113. The committee members included Italia Conti proprietor of a training school
for child performers and Mrs. H. B Irving who was a respected actress and as
Dorothea Baird began her career at aged sixteen. She went on to marry and
have a longstanding acting partnership, with Henry Irving’s eldest son.
114. Theatrical Children Licences Committee Report, Sessional papers, July
1919 Cmd. 484, xxx.
115. For this argument see D. Colclough, “British Child Performers 1920–1940:
New Issues, Old Legacies,” in Entertaining Children: The Participation
of Youth in the Entertainment Industry, ed. G. Arrighi and V. Emeljanow
(Basingstoke and New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014), 73–90.
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Index

acrobats, 17, 79, 103 Beale, Sophia, 118

Actors Church Union, 110 Bear, Annette, 70, 117
advertisement, 8, 16, 21, 23, 33 Bedells, Phyllis, 36, 54, 71–3, 108
agency, 13, 32, 40, 55, 81–2, 112–13, Behlmer, George, 86, 149
123 Beringer, Vera, 80
agents, 6, 29, 32–3, 36, 38, 69, 122 Bilton, Belle, 80
all-child casts, 23–5 Booth, Michael, 19, 91
ambitions, 11, 47 boys, 32, 39–40, 88, 121
amendment, 13, 90, 102, 141, 150, Burns, John, MP, 160
153, 156–7
animals, 35, 62–4 campaign, 99–101, 113, 118, 134–5,
applause, 11, 25, 50, 76, 83, 85, 95 137, 139–40, 145, 153, 158–9,
apprenticeships, 10, 36, 166 169–70
Arrighi, Gillian, 5 campaigners, 16, 23, 31–2, 40, 83–4,
audience, 10–12, 15–16, 19, 21–2, 97, 100–1, 110, 113–18, 120,
25, 35, 40–1, 49–50, 55, 57, 126, 130, 134, 139, 147–8,
69, 74–9, 81–92, 95–7, 99, 112, 169–70
114–15, 119, 134, 149, 160–1, Canterbury, Archbishop of, 67, 151
166–8 Carroll, Lewis, 80, 93–4, 115
Auerbach, Nina, 16, 91, 93, 133 Carter, Alexandra, 4
Cavalazzi, Madame Malvina, 71–2
backstage celebrity, 49, 55, 57, 81, 117, 133, 168
conditions, 57–8, 61, 68, 81, 95, child
132 actors, 5, 8–9, 19, 83, 157–8
privacy, 61, 94, 115–16 actressess, 37, 52, 68, 80–3, 88, 94,
space, 58, 108, 132, 142 156, 161
work, 59–60 employees, 10, 24, 26, 28, 32, 46,
ballet, 30–1, 39–40, 52, 57, 66, 69, 58, 60, 69, 71, 74, 81, 111–12,
71–3, 85, 92, 104 116, 133, 162, 169–70
Bancroft, Marie, 74, 147–9 labor, 2, 6, 10–12, 16–20, 26–8,
Barlee, Ellen, 4, 12, 18, 40, 46, 52, 38–46, 59, 95, 100–2, 126,
61–2, 66, 78–9, 92–4, 100, 105, 133–4, 156
109, 111, 122, 170 numbers, 15–21, 67, 78, 91, 104,
Barrett, Oscar, 117, 128 110–11, 123, 157–8, 168
224 Index

child—Continued Drury Lane, 17–18, 21, 26, 60, 109,

personas, 2, 9, 11, 13, 50, 74, 77, 131–2, 142, 144, 155, 157
112, 134, 153, 167 Dunraven, Earl of, 149–51, 153
recruitment, 3, 6, 10, 16–18, 25–8,
33, 36, 41, 44, 167–8 education, 31–2, 43, 67–8, 114, 116,
stage, 16–17, 22, 45–6, 57, 64, 84, 118–21, 123–8, 130–3, 140, 144,
168–70 159, 162–3, 168
strikes, 40, 112, 114, 134–5 Emeljanow, Victor, 5
Children’s Dangerous Performance Empire Theatre, 59, 145
Bill, 103 employers, 10, 12, 16, 19–23, 25,
Children’s Pinafore, 23–5 27–8, 31–3, 37–42, 44, 56–61,
claquers, 76–7 63–4, 68–9, 99–100, 104, 108,
Collins, Arthur, 67 112, 115, 119–20, 125, 130,
Collins, Edith, 144 150, 152–5, 157–9, 166, 171
commercialization, 19, 87, 93, 109, engagements, 29, 33, 36, 45, 51, 116,
147, 165 118, 123
Commons House of, 9, 12, 140–2, entertainment, 1–2, 9–10, 23–5, 26,
150–1, 159 41, 42–4, 48, 53, 59, 86, 135,
contracts, 116, 130, 166 139, 165, 169
costumes, 58, 61–4, 83–4 entrepreneurs, 10, 20, 24, 28, 33, 63,
Covent Garden, 21 88, 165–6
Criminal law Amendment Act, 90, 102
Crozier, Brian, 2, 85, 157 factory, 13, 58–9, 124–6, 133, 140–1,
Cruelty prevention of, 3, 12–13, 69, 150–4, 156, 158–9
85–6, 101, 103, 139–41, 150–2, Factory Acts, 59, 126, 140–1, 150–3
159 fairies, 18–19, 23, 35, 43, 45, 47, 49,
51, 53, 55, 57–9, 61–4, 67, 69,
Daglish, Neil, 161 71, 73, 83, 85, 88–90
dancers, 39, 61, 90–1 fame, 49, 52, 54
dangers, 56, 58, 60, 91, 104, 108, 114, family, 6, 10–12, 21, 36–8, 43, 45–8,
119, 124, 139, 146 50, 52–3, 57, 61, 66, 68, 85–6,
Davenport-Hill, Miss, 125 99, 104–5, 110, 114, 123, 128–9,
Davis, Jim, 5 133–4, 141, 146, 148, 158, 162,
Davis, Tracy C., 2–4, 38, 45, 90, 92, 167–8
105, 110 family budget, 11, 168
debates, 3, 9, 12, 46, 99–100, 135, 170 fans, 49, 80
demand, 15–21, 28, 33, 35–6, 40–1, Fawcett, Millicent, 12, 16, 19, 21, 27,
59–60, 62, 68–9, 77, 103, 124, 30–1, 67, 101–2, 113, 116–21,
167, 170–1 125, 129–35, 146, 149, 152,
Denman, Lord, 161–3 169–70
deputations, 124, 131, 149–50 fining system, 61, 73
discipline, 28, 32, 61, 70, 73, 120 Fisher, Pearl, 79–80, 103–4
D’Oyly Carte, 23–4 Fitzgerald, Mr., 35
 Index 225

Foulkes, Richard, 79 Labouchere, Henry, MP, 150–1, 159

freemasonry, 142, 144–5, 149–50 Lanner, Katti, 4, 28, 30, 33–5, 39–40,
44, 69, 72–3, 90, 131
Galsworthy, John, 161–2 legislation, 1–4, 10, 12–13, 16, 31–2,
gender, 10, 21, 32, 41, 78, 86, 88, 95, 43–5, 67, 81, 99, 119, 125, 137,
120, 132–3, 163, 166, 168 139, 153, 154, 156, 160–4, 166,
Gilbert and Sullivan Child 167, 169–71
Company, 24 leisure, performance-based, 20, 43,
Gingold, Hermione, 83 154, 165, 166, 169, 171
girls, 26, 30, 32, 38–9, 47, 52–3, 56, livelihood, 17, 20, 62, 134, 146, 163,
62, 116, 120–2, 133–5, 140, 155, 167
157 Lords, House of, 9, 12, 139, 141,
Gorst, John, MP, 158 150–1, 159
Gray, Ernest, MP, 159–60 Lowndes, Dorothy, 55
Gubar, Marah, 5
Guest, Ivor, 30, 73 managers, 8, 16–17, 20, 22–3, 26,
33, 38, 40, 46, 69, 76, 88, 97,
hardship, 47, 59, 141, 150 114–17, 123–5, 127–8, 134–5,
Harris, Augustus, 26, 54, 104, 108, 142, 149–50, 154–5, 158–60,
131–2, 135, 141–2, 143–4, 163
149–50, 152, 155, 157 Manning, Cardinal, 16
Harris, Dorrie and Marie, 54 Mar, Earl of, 151
health, 58, 60–1, 73, 106, 108, marketing, 23–4, 41, 167
119–20, 148 matinees, 26, 32, 80, 123, 155, 163
Heasman, Kathleen, 100, 104 Mavors, Carol, 89
Hobart, H. W., 114, 152 McCrone, Kathleen, 101
Hopkins, Eric, 133, 141 Middleton, Georgina, 40
Horn, Pamela, 3 Mission, Letter Writing, 104–5,
111, 125
identities, 13, 52, 167–8 Mission Institute, Theatrical, 101,
investments, 21–2, 24, 28, 30–1, 40, 166 103–7, 111, 122, 137, 147
Irving, Henry, 51, 68, 135, 144–5, Missionaries, Theatrical, 62, 102–3,
149–50, 158 107–8, 110, 113–14, 116–17,
122, 129–30, 169–70
Jackson, Louise, 92 Mitchell, Charles, 35, 140
Jackson, Russell, 22 morality, 11, 57, 61, 73, 92, 101,
Jeune, Mary, 106, 108–9 113–16, 118–20, 124, 141, 147
jobbing, 5, 9, 37, 48, 52, 56, 70, 74
Jones, Arthur, Henry, 162 National, Vigilance Association (NVA),
9, 12, 67, 100, 113
Keates, Marion, 52 National Society for the Prevention
Kincaid, James, 87, 92–3 of Cruelty to Children
Klein, Jeanne, 5 (NSPCC), 163
226 Index

National Training School of dancing, reviews, 8, 16, 18, 21–3, 30, 33, 69,
33, 40, 44, 69, 131 80, 83, 135, 147
National Union of Teachers, 126, Robina, Florrie, 16, 52
128
Norton, Lord, 151 safety, 11, 58, 60, 115, 135, 153, 169
Sattaur, Jennifer, 5
Opera, 15, 23, 25, 30 School Boards, 68, 106, 119, 121,
Opera Comique, 25 124–8, 130–2, 143, 149
Ormiston-Chant, Laura, 16 school teachers, 119–20, 131
schooling, 31–2, 43, 45, 67–8, 124
pantomime, 6, 15–16, 18, 20–3, Scott, Clement, 24–5, 75
36, 50–1, 60, 65, 67, 81, 83, self-worth, 11, 168
87, 91, 96, 109, 112, 116–17, sentimentalization, 74, 87, 92, 165,
120, 123, 132, 143, 148, 157, 171
162 sexualization, 89, 92–3
Pantomime Waifs, 102–3, 106, 122 Shaftesbury, Earl of, 101, 103, 152
parents, 10, 29–31, 33, 36, 46–7, 50, Shaw, George, Bernard, 156
55, 81, 124–5, 123–30, 132, space, 5, 7, 32, 37, 58, 86, 88, 108,
146, 155 132, 142
philanthropy, 2, 4, 12–13, 43, 100–2, Stage Guild, 110
109, 145, 165, 169 stardom, 33, 82, 95, 168
Pirates of Penzance, 24 status, 10–11, 41, 43, 49–50, 52–3,
popularity, 7–8, 11, 18, 27, 38, 53, 55, 67, 77, 91, 95, 117, 133,
68–9, 77, 79–80, 88, 99, 109, 168
126, 158, 162 Steed, W. T., 102
press, 6–9, 12, 18, 20–1, 23, 27, Steedman, Carolyn, 3, 87
37, 72, 76, 123, 134–5, 145, Styan, John, 20
149, 162
pride, 11, 37, 50, 168 temptations, 56–7, 152, 170
Pritchard, Jane, 4 Terriss, Ellaline, 118, 158
profession, 27, 36–7, 46–7, 49, 52–4, Terry, Ellen, 66, 68, 80, 91, 133
79, 91, 95, 147, 168 Thornton, Conway, 36
publicity, 9, 19, 21, 23, 36–7, 77, 94, Thornton, Ella, 36
124, 145 Todd, Courthope, 101, 104
Punch, 51 Tosh, John, 86
pupils, 32–3, 35, 44, 69, 71, 73, touring, 8, 24, 32, 38–9, 68, 104, 124,
131–2 154, 156, 167–8
training, 3, 6, 8, 10, 27–33, 35,
raw material, 10, 15, 25, 26, 28, 33, 37, 40–1, 44, 54, 57, 62, 64,
75, 152 69–74, 79, 84, 103, 118, 131,
rehearsals, 21, 27, 32, 56, 66–7, 70, 162, 166
79, 108, 131, 146, 159 Tree, Herbert Beerbhom, 162
 Index 227

truancy, 32, 120–1, 126 Waugh, Benjamin, 101, 141, 151–2,

Tuckwell, Gertrude, 17, 46, 68 169
welfare, 11–12, 43–4, 58, 62–3, 73,
urchins, 22, 37, 52 86, 99–100, 102, 110, 113, 118,
125, 139, 163, 169–71
Valli, Lulu and Valli, 53 Wilson, Arthur, 17
Vanbrugh, Irene, 48, 54, 58, 73, 83 Windust, Leicester, 80
Vanbrugh, Violet, 54 work
Varty, Anne, 5 conditions, 11, 59–61, 70, 93, 129,
Vey, Shauna, 4 132, 163
hours, 11, 70, 159, 168
wages, 10–11, 28, 37–41, 44–6, 48, workforce, 1, 5–7, 9–12, 26–7, 31–2,
50, 61, 66, 69–70, 83, 105, 112, 40–2, 44–5, 56–7, 70, 73, 94–5,
116, 121, 128–9, 133, 146, 159, 104, 111, 130, 134, 144, 147,
166, 168 160–1, 163, 165–7
Walkowitz, Judith, 87, 134–5 Wortley, Stuart, MP, 149
Walvin, James, 81
Waters, Hazel, 3 Zelizer, Vivianna, 19