In January 1844, London newspapers began to advertise that Risley would add his youngest son, Henry, to his act, and from that point on he usually did. While John and Henry were presumably at this point around nine and eight years old, respectively, even allowing for a slight fuzziness in documentation, they were billed as being considerably younger. The Weekly Chronicle of January 21, for example, advertised John as Risley’s “infant son” and Henry as being “only four years old.”26 Nonetheless, the interplay between the father and the two boys only increased the overall popularity of the act. In June, the Age and Argus gushed:
The theatre has literally been besieged every night. . . . To give the performances in detail is akin to impossible, for from the emerging by the trap-door of the King Sprite (Master John Risley), the entree of King Oberon (Mr. Risley), and the appearance, of little Puck (the infant Risley), their movements, evolutions, and scientific attitudes are so rapid, so varied, so everything that is classical and graceful, that it would take a greater space than we can afford to do them ample justice. Indeed we should be at a loss to signalise any one of the innumerable features of this miraculous performance, which is throughout a combination of every anatomical beauty of which the human form is capable.27
What really impressed the audiences, in addition to the artistry, was the way Risley could juggle his children with his feet. Over a century and a half later, Risley’s name survives in the Guiness Book of Records because in Edinburgh, in February 1844, he and one of his sons executed the world’s first back somersault, feet-to-feet.28
Lithograph portrait of Professor Risley and his two boys, around 1843–44, in Paris. Drawing by Jules Petit. f ts 939.5.3 (ii/xi), harvard theatre collection, houghton library, harvard university.
Lithograph illustration of Risley performing with his two boys, in Paris. Drawing by Jules Petit. f ts 931.10, harvard theatre collection, houghton library, harvard university.
England was in the midst of the long and prosperous Victorian Age, and its citizens had an increasingly intense curiosity about the exotic outside world (into which their empire was rapidly expanding). Circuses and spectacles were an important type of entertainment, and although the circus had first developed in England, performers from America were particularly popular. Yet Risley was careful to position his act as something straddling circus and theatre. Calling it “Classical Gymnasia,” his act consisted of “aerial dancing, poses, groups, and studies of arts,” and incorporated elements of gymnastics, ballet, and spectacle.29 He was also particularly adept at exploiting the Victorian penchant for romanticizing the innocence of young children.
The appeal that these performances had was extraordinary. As a reporter for the Age and Argus wrote after witnessing one of the family’s performances in the Haymarket in 1844:
It is a singular fact, that the usually quiet audiences of this theatre, seem to have undergone some talismanic revolution, by witnessing the elegant feats and evolutions they go through, as every night they have been called before the curtain to receive anew those testimonials of applause from every part of the house, which had been so liberally bestowed upon them throughout their performances; the waving of hats and handkerchiefs was as general as prolonged and hearty.
The Herculean symmetry of the parent, which the sweet children seem likely to inherit, was beautifully displayed by one of the most recherché and splendid costumes we ever saw. A pretty little ballet of action has been specially composed for them, interspersed with well selected music, which certainly contributed much towards the interest they always excite.30
This sweetness and innocence allowed an ever-wider audience to enjoy the shows, including high-ranking members of society who might normally not be expected to do so. In his diary for April 1844, James Fraser, a high-ranking bishop in the Church of England, notes that on the ninth he went to see “General Tom Thumb,” the tiny American midget being exhibited, as well as some Ojibewa Indians (both sponsored by P. T. Barnum), but he was not particularly impressed. On the thirteenth, however, he stopped in at the Haymarket and writes that “I never was more electrified in my life than by witnessing the gymnastic performances and postures of a certain Mr. Risley and his son ‘Le petit Mercure.’31
Professor Risley and sons, circa 1843–45. f ts 931.10, harvard theatre collection, houghton library, harvard university.
For the next few years, Risley and his boys took Europe by storm. After touring England, Ireland, and Scotland, they moved to France, Belgium, Holland, Italy, Germany, Austria, Russia, playing the capitals of the continent, eliciting praise wherever they went. Their popularity was extraordinary, and they drew crowds that numbered in the thousands. In Paris, they debuted on June 15, 1844 at the prestigious Porte-Saint-Martin, with a performance titled “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” (after Shakespeare’s play). Several major papers soon ran ecstatic reviews, and from them and some lithograph illustrations of their performances that appeared, it is clear that Risley’s success was partly in the presentation—in the aesthetics of his shows. He and his boys would wear classically themed silver-sequined and spangled costumes (“fleshings” or flesh-colored tights) and perform on top of a beautiful carpet. The staging was also elaborate, complete with artistic scenery (in Paris a pretty forest with flowers and stars) and a dreamy mood augmented by music. But more than anything else, it was the sheer athleticism of Risley and his boys that impressed people.
On June 20, a critic writing under the initials C. B. in the Independent, said: “These three characters are neither dancers, nor clowns, nor tightrope balancers; they are all of them, together, and their talent is universal. . . . [T]he father and both young sons surpass in agility and suppleness whatever amazing feats we can dream of in our imagination.”32 On June 24, a lengthy review appeared in La Presse by the famous French writer and arts critic, Théophile Gautier. He was so impressed that he thought the Risleys put professional ballet dancers to shame. His enthusiasm oozed from his flowery phrases. A century later, in 1948, dance historian Marian Hannah Winter would discover Gautier’s article and translate much of it:
The two adorable gamins, successively or together, climb to the assault of their father, who receives them on the palms of his hands, the soles of his feet, launches them, returns them, throws them, passes them from right to left, holds them in the air, lets them go, and picks them up with as much ease as an Indian juggler manoeuvres his copper balls. . . .[N]ever was more grace united to more strength. These turns accomplished, they next execute them heads down on his feet, without being excited, or breathless, or sweaty. . . . While watching them catapulted so far, falling from so high, we thought to what degree the training of dancers of the opera is incomplete and backward.33
In 1948 Winter was motivated to include a detailed and well-researched section on Risley’s early life in a piece titled “Theater of Marvels,” in Dance Index magazine, and in the process, she helped to resurrect him from what was then near-complete obscurity. In her writing on Risley, however, she mentions multiple times that there never seemed to be any mention of a wife or of ever marrying. She clearly suspected—as have subsequent writers in both France and America—that John and Harry were not his real children.
There was good reason for this suspicion, for it was quite common in the early days of the Victorian era for entertainers to “adopt” young children and showcase them in their acts as their real progeny. It is a practice that at its worst evokes all sorts of nightmarish images of circus life, where small children were sometimes kidnapped, horribly abused, or at the minimum exploited. In Risley’s case, however, we now know from census and other records in the United States that he was married to Rebecca, even if she rarely accompanied him in his adventures and stayed in Philadelphia. Today he probably would have been arrested for child abuse because he tossed his children about on stage, but the children were indeed his.
Risley