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John Holbo - Editor
Scott Eric Kaufman - Editor
Aaron Bady
Adam Roberts
Amardeep Singh
Andrew Seal
Bill Benzon
Daniel Green
Jonathan Goodwin
Joseph Kugelmass
Lawrence LaRiviere White
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Past Valve Book Events

cover of the book Theory's Empire

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cover of the book What's Liberal About the Liberal Arts?

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cover of the book The Novel of Purpose

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Happy Trails to You

What’s an Encyclopedia These Days?

Encyclopedia Britannica to Shut Down Print Operations

Intimate Enemies: What’s Opera, Doc?

Alphonso Lingis talks of various things, cameras and photos among them

Feynmann, John von Neumann, and Mental Models

Support Michael Sporn’s Film about Edgar Allen Poe

Philosophy, Ontics or Toothpaste for the Mind

Nazi Rules for Regulating Funk ‘n Freedom

The Early History of Modern Computing: A Brief Chronology

Computing Encounters Being, an Addendum

On the Origin of Objects (towards a philosophy of computation)

Symposium on Graeber’s Debt

The Nightmare of Digital Film Preservation

Richard Petti on Occupy Wall Street: America HAS a Ruling Class

Bill Benzon on Whatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhat?

Nick J. on The Valve - Closed For Renovation

Bill Benzon on Encyclopedia Britannica to Shut Down Print Operations

Norma on Encyclopedia Britannica to Shut Down Print Operations

Bill Benzon on What’s an Object, Metaphysically Speaking?

john balwit on What’s an Object, Metaphysically Speaking?

William Ray on That Shakespeare Thing

Bill Benzon on That Shakespeare Thing

William Ray on That Shakespeare Thing

JoseAngel on That Shakespeare Thing

Bill Benzon on Objects and Graeber's Debt

Bill Benzon on A Dirty Dozen Sneaking up on the Apocalypse

JoseAngel on A Dirty Dozen Sneaking up on the Apocalypse

JoseAngel on Objects and Graeber's Debt

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Friday, May 26, 2006

The True Story of Ramo Samee, the Indian Juggler (w/quotes from Hazlitt)

Posted by Amardeep Singh on 05/26/06 at 11:37 AM

I was browsing William Makepeace Thackeray's wonderful and strange The Book of Snobs (1848), and I came across the following odd passage in the midst of a rant about a lady-friend's poor table manners:

I have seen, I say, the Hereditary Princess of Potztausend-Donnerwetter (that serenely-beautiful woman) use her knife in lieu of a fork or spoon; I have seen her almost swallow it, by Jove! like Ramo Samee, the Indian juggler. And did I blench? Did my estimation for the Princess diminish? No, lovely Amalia!

But, my dear fellow, who precisely is "Ramo Samee, the Indian juggler"? It turns out he was a real person, who came to England around 1819, and lived there with his wife (identified only as "Mrs. Samee") until his death in 1851. The juggling history website I looked at also speculates he may have gone to the U.S. and performed as "Sena Sama," in 1817, though that's only speculation. Ramo Samee is considered by some the first modern professional juggler in England, and he was far and away the most famous practitioner of the art in his era. He inspired royalty, journalists, and famous essayists like William Hazlitt. And yet, when Ramo Samee died he was so poor that his wife needed to advertise for financial assistance just to have him buried (cremation, I suspect, was probably not an option). Today he is, aside from the appreciation he gets from a handful of juggling history websites, completely forgotten.

Needless to say, I am pretty ambivalent about Ramo Samee (or "Ramaswamy," probably the more accurate spelling), just as I am about Sabu, Dean Mahomed, and scores of other Indian artists and hustling "Gurus" who work "exotic" stereotypes for western applause. In the African-American tradition this type of performance is called minstrelsy, and it is seen as a shameful kind of pandering to other people's stereotypes.

But Ramo Samee might be a slightly different case at least in the sense that the kind of sword-swallowing and juggling he did is in fact a real historical profession in India, which goes back hundreds of years. So while clearly part of Ramo Samee's appeal was his exotic otherness, he was doing what he did best -- what he had been raised to do. And observers like Hazlitt really did find him to be a performer of astonishing skill. So even if one can't exactly celebrate Ramo Samee's life as a triumph, he is nevertheless an interesting figure to learn about and consider.

A brief side-note on juggling, which as I said has a long tradition in India. In Hindi street performers like Ramo Samee are often called Jholewale (Jholewallas), perhaps after the bags of tricks they carry with them. The word “juggle” sounds like it might come from Hindi, but it actually comes from Latin—joculare, the root of the English word “jocular” and “joke.” Earlier in history, a “juggler,” I gather, would have been any jester or clown. The word “juggle” only came to refer specifically to tossing balls in the air sometime after Ramaswamy. (According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the word “juggle” didn’t take on that specific meaning until around 1897; here Wikipedia may be off).

Besides Thackeray’s Book of Snobs Ramo Samee’s name also shows up briefly in Thomas Mayhew’s London Labour and the London Poor (1851), with reference to street performers (though Ramo Samee was, at his peak, well above a street performer). And Ramo Samee’s name also appears in theater notices here and here.

But far and away the most interesting and detailed reference I’ve seen (to a performer who isn’t named, but must be Ramo Samee) is in William Hazlitt’s essay “The Indian Jugglers" (from Table Talk, 1828). Hazlitt was impressed by Ramo Samee’s juggling (I presume) not in the casual, “oh, go check out that Indian juggler; he’s pretty good” kind of way, but in the astonished, “holy crap! what am I doing with my life?!?!” kind of way:

Is it then a trifling power we see at work, or is it not something next to miraculous! It is the utmost stretch of human ingenuity, which nothing but the bending the faculties of body and mind to it from the tenderest infancy with incessant, ever-anxious application up to manhood, can accomplish or make even a slight approach to. Man, thou art a wonderful animal, and thy ways past finding out! Thou canst do strange things, but thou turnest them to little account!—To conceive of this effort of extraordinary dexterity distracts the imagination and makes admiration breathless. . . . [T]he precision of the movements must be like a mathematical truth, their rapidity is like lightning. To catch four balls in succession in less than a second of time, and deliver them back so as to return with seeming consciousness to the hand again, to make them revolve round him at certain intervals, like the planets in their spheres, to make them chase one another like sparkles of fire, or shoot up like flowers or meteors, to throw them behind his back and twine them round his neck like ribbons or like serpents, to do what appears an impossibility, and to do it with all the ease, the grace, the carelessness imaginable, to laugh at, to play with the glittering mockeries, to follow them with his eye as if he could fascinate them with its lambent fire, or as if he had only to see that they kept time with the music on the stage—there is something in all this which he who does not admire may be quite sure he never really admired any thing in the whole course of his life. (link)

In short, “hot damn!” In fact, seeing the Indian juggler do his thing pushes Hazlitt to the rhetorical equivalent of a life-crisis:

As to the swallowing of the sword, the police ought to interfere to prevent it. When I saw the Indian Juggler do the same things before, his feet were bare, and he had large rings on the toes, which kept turning round all the time of the performance, as if they moved of themselves.—The hearing a speech in Parliament, . . . stirs me not a jot, shakes not my good opinion of myself: but the seeing the Indian Jugglers does. It makes me ashamed of myself. I ask what there is that I can do as well as this! Nothing. What have I been doing all my life! (link)

Screw Parliament, and forget the writing life, let’s go see juggling! To continue:

Have I been idle, or have I nothing to shew for all my labour and pains! Or have I passed my time in pouring words like water into empty sieves, rolling a stone up a hill and then down again, trying to prove an argument in the teeth of facts, and looking for causes in the dark, and not finding them? (link)

I often ask myself the same questions. And finally:

Is there no one thing in which I can challenge competition, that I can bring as an instance of exact perfection, in which others cannot find a flaw? The utmost I can pretend to is to write a description of what this fellow can do. I can write a book: so can many others who have not even learned to spell. What abortions are these Essays! What errors, what ill-pieced transitions, what crooked reasons, what lame conclusions! How little is made out, and that little how ill! Yet they are the best I can do. (link)

You have to wonder whether Hazlitt wasn’t himself on the verge of giving up writing to move to Tamil Nadu to learn the art of Indian juggling.

Here is an image of Ramo Samee at the Royal Coburg Theatre in 1822, probably at the peak of his game:

image
(Click on the image to see a high-res version)

While the numerous mentions in the work of serious writers like Hazlitt, Thackeray, and Mayhew suggest that Ramo Samee was an impressive and respected figure in his prime, his obituary, published in a London paper in 1851, tells a rather different story:

THE LATE RAMO SAMEE AND HIS WIDOW

Sir: Your early insertion of the widow’s appeal, under the above head, in last week’s paper, reflects the highest credit on you, and in remembrance of the plesure I experienced in the early days at his performance, I beg to hand you 10s from ten friends, collected in the neighbourhood of High Holborn, towards alleviating the sufferings of the poor widow and family . . .

[Surely the managers of theatres and other establishments who have derived so much advantage from the talents of the deceased, ought to contribute to lift his widow, a most respectable woman, from the severe grip of absolute poverty. Poor Ramo is to be buried today, and his funeral expenses have to be defrayed by instalments. The trifle obtained has been handed to Mrs. Samee. --ED] (link)

And that, I’m afraid, is where it ended for Ramo Samee, the Indian juggler. 


Comments

FWI, in Marshall & Jean Stearns, Jazz Dance, (Da Capo 1994) I found a reference to American minstrelsy in Delhi in the mid 19th century (p. 43).

By Bill Benzon on 05/26/06 at 07:13 PM | Permanent link to this comment

Fascinating post, Amardeep.  Quite apart from anything else, I had no idea there was an essay in which Hazlitt actually declares ‘What have I been doing all my life!’

On a wild off-your-point swerve, I remember reading Robert Silverberg’s Lord Valentine’s Castle, which starts with the amnesiac protagonist falling in with a troop of alien jugglers as he wanders around his world.  They have four arms, which makes for extra-complex juggling; but I wonder now if Silverberg was actually channelling a pop-cultural notion of Vishnu, via a culture-memory of juggling as something ‘from India’?  Not that I’m saying that Vishnu ever went in for juggling.

Sadly L. Valentine’s C. was the last good book Silverberg wrote (and he was a great great writer in his heyday); and even it isn’t much cop in the end.  And the sequels are awful.

By Adam Roberts on 05/27/06 at 07:42 AM | Permanent link to this comment

Bill, thanks I’d never heard of that; I’ll look for “Jazz Dance” in the libe.

Adam, yes-- Hazlitt is the core of this post!

By Amardeep Singh on 05/27/06 at 08:26 AM | Permanent link to this comment

Alas, Amardeep, you won’t find much in it beyond the assertion that someone saw minstresly in Delhi in the 19th century. While I find that astounding, I’d like to know who was in the audience and who the performers were. I’d guess the audience was British colonials, but obviously I don’t know. Assuming that, who were the performers? Was it an American troop on tour? Or was it indigenous? If the latter, was it one group of colonials performing for another—which would parallel the American practice—or were Indians making-up in blackface to perform for the British?

In the US, prior to the Civil War minstrel troops were white and they performed for white working class audiences. After the Civil War black minstrel troops emerged, and they wore blackface make up. I believe they performed mostly for black audiences, though I’m a bit tentative on that.

I’ve seen photographs of West African minstrels in the early 20th century. These were black Africans in black-face make-up.

The mind boggles and the soul winces.

Though the Hazlitt passage is utterly and delightfully new to me, it’s not terribly surprising.

By Bill Benzon on 05/27/06 at 06:43 PM | Permanent link to this comment

Dear Amardeep Singh

You’ve done a great job, discovering Ramo Samee (Ramaswamy ?). Just one little inquiry. Could you please tell me the name of the “London newspaper” (which you’ve referred to in your article) which carried Ramo Samee’s obituary (along with his widow’s appeal and the editor’s request), and the specific dates on which they appeared ?
I need this information, since I’m working on a paper on the Indian underclass (as distinct from the Indian upper class students and professionals who stayed in England in the nineteenth century) who survived in Victorian London. It’s intriguing how Ramo Samee - after all his professional success - had to die in poverty !

Regards

Sumanta Banerjee

By on 09/10/10 at 05:12 AM | Permanent link to this comment

Hi Sumanta,

I’m afraid I don’t know the source. I found that clipping via an image search, as I recall.

The image I linked to in the piece above is hosted at the following website:

http://www.swordswallow.com/halloffame.php

Try contacting the administrator here:

http://www.swordswallow.com/contactus.php

Good luck with your work!

By Amardeep Singh on 09/10/10 at 11:17 AM | Permanent link to this comment

Sumanta,

Wait, it looks like I found the source that site was using:

Bell’s Life in London, London, Sunday, 1 September 1850, p.3a

Via:

http://www.gabrielleray.150m.com/ArchivePressText2003/20030517.html

By Amardeep Singh on 09/10/10 at 11:30 AM | Permanent link to this comment

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