Littlechild as a Minstrel

[AP Wolf]

I was surprised to find that Littlechild was a member of the 'Metropolitan Police Minstrels' during the 1870's, and blacked himself up for what were termed 'Negro Entertainment' events.
He got good reviews though, like in the 'Sporting Times' of April 26th 1879.
Sadly I was unable to find an image of Littlechild with his boot polish on, but I don't think the following image has been seen before, from 'Moonshine', April 26th 1884.

[Robert Linford]

AP, I suppose he sang "Swanson, how I love ya how I love ya, my dear old Swanson."

Great find, AP.

[Chris G.]

I was surprised to find that Littlechild was a member of the 'Metropolitan Police Minstrels' during the 1870's, and blacked himself up for what were termed 'Negro Entertainment' events.
He got good reviews though, like in the 'Sporting Times' of April 26th 1879.
Sadly I was unable to find an image of Littlechild with his boot polish on, but I don't think the following image has been seen before, from 'Moonshine', April 26th 1884.

Hi AP

This explains a lot. Now we know why Littlechild was interested in Tumblety. . . they were fellow thespians.

Chris

[Robert Linford]

Chris, perhaps if Tumblety had Cleveland St connections we're looking at the end of the peer show.

[AP Wolf]

Thanks Robert & Chris
re the Tumblety connection, it is interesting that Littlechild appears to be portrayed in 1884 as a time-bomb from America waiting to go off.

[Joe Chetcuti]

John Littlechild made a theatrical reference in this fun little story coming up. The Chief Inspector mentioned something called Sheridan's screen scene.

The story was narrated by Littlechild. He spoke of a man and a young woman who had snuck away to London. Littlechild had been consulted, and it quickly occurred to him that their intention was to get married.


"Obviously," I said, "they cannot get married except at a registrar's office, by license. Now, what you have to do is to inquire whether the gentleman has taken the preliminary steps at any registrar's office." Very speedily, I had drawn up a list of the offices to which it was probable that a stranger to London might go. When we began to name them they were not very many, and what might have seemed an interminable task became a simple matter. Each of (us) took a district, and a colleague, who was the first to come upon duty that morning, was allotted to one of these districts. At ten the hunt began; before midday this officer returned with the information that a gentleman, answering to the description given, had made an inquiry of a certain registrar not far from Somerset House, and fixed an appointment for the following morning, when the necessary license would have been procured. A telegram was immediately sent to the guardian of the young lady, and he arrived in London that night.

Next morning, as I am informed, for I was not present, the whole party repaired to the registrar's office, and, by permission, secreted themselves in cupboards and odd places, there to await the arrival of the expectant couple. The runaway pair duly came with a friend - a lady - and were about to fulfill the formalities required, when, to their surprise and amazement - for they were totally unsuspicious - a sort of unrehearsed copy of Sheridan's screen scene took place. First to emerge from his place of concealment came the superintendent of police, and at the sight of him the bridegroom fell 'all of a heap' into the fire-place amongst the fire irons. Then the guardian of the young lady appeared, and she shrieked and her friend fainted. The family solicitor stalked like the proverbial skeleton, from the cupboard. And Smart - the detective from Scotland Yard - with the registrar himself in the background, completed the group.


The theatrical reference was probably in regards to an Irish dramatist named Richard Brinsley Sheridan. Apparently, Richard wrote about an eloping couple in one of his comedies.

[Chris G.]

The theatrical reference was probably in regards to an Irish dramatist named Richard Brinsley Sheridan. Apparently, Richard wrote about an eloping couple in one of his comedies.

It's a specific reference to the famous comic "screen scene" in Sheridan's The School for Scandal (1781).

Chris