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Circus Life and
Circus Celebrities

BY

THOMAS FROST

AUTHOR OF ‘THE OLD SHOWMEN AND THE OLD LONDON FAIRS,’ ‘LIVES

OF THE CONJURERS,’ ETC.

A NEW EDITION

London

CHATTO AND WINDUS, PICCADILLY

1881

PREFACE.

There are probably few persons who do not number among the most pleasant recollections of their youth their first visit to a circus, whether their earliest sniff of the saw-dust was inhaled in the building made classical by Ducrow, or under the canvas canopy of Samwell or Clarke. In my boyish days, the cry of ‘This way for the riders!’ bawled from the stentorian vocal organs of the proprietor or ring-master of a travelling circus, never failed to attract all the boys, and no small proportion of the men and women, to the part of the fair from which it proceeded. Fairs have become things of the past within twelve or fifteen miles of the metropolis; but ever and anon a tenting circus pitches, for a day or two, in a meadow, and the performances prove as attractive as ever. The boys, who protest that they are better than a play,—the young women, who are delighted with the ‘loves of horses,’—the old gentlemen, who are never so pleased as when they are amusing their grandchildren,—the admirers of graceful horsemanship of all ages,—crowd the benches, and find the old tricks and the old ‘wheezes,’ as the poet found the view from Grongar Hill, ‘ever charming—ever new.’

What boy is there who, though he may have seen it before, does not follow with sparkling eyes the Pawnee Chief in his rapid career upon a bare-backed steed,—the lady in the scarlet habit and high hat, who leaps over hurdles,—the stout farmer who, while his horse bears him round the ring, divests himself of any number of coats and vests, until he finally appears in tights and trunks,—the juggler who plays at cup and ball, and tosses knives in an endless shower, as he is whirled round the arena? And which of us has not, in the days of our boyhood, fallen in love with the fascinating young lady in short skirts who leaps through ‘balloons’ and over banners? Even when we have attained man’s estate, and learned a wrinkle or two, we take our children to Astley’s or Hengler’s, and enjoy the time-honoured feats of equitation, the tumbling, the gymnastics, and the rope-dancing, as much as the boys and girls.

But of the circus artistes—the riders, the clowns, the acrobats, the gymnasts,—what do we know? How many are there, unconnected with the saw-dust, who can say that they have known a member of that strange race? Charles Dickens, who was perhaps as well acquainted with the physiology of the less known sections of society as any man of his day, whetted public curiosity by introducing his readers to the humours of Sleary’s circus; and the world wants to know more about the subject. When, it is asked, will another saw-dust artiste give us such an amusing book as Wallett presented the world with, in his autobiography? When are the reminiscences of the late Nelson Lee to be published? With the exception of the autobiography of Wallett, and a few passages in Elliston’s memoirs, the circus has hitherto been without any exponent whatever. Under the heading of ‘Amphitheatres,’ Watts’s Bibliotheca Britannica, that boon to literary readers at the British Museum in quest of information upon occult subjects, mentions only a collection of the bills of Astley’s from 1819 to 1845.

Circus proprietors are not, as a rule, so garrulous as poor old Sleary; they are specially reticent concerning their own antecedents, and the varied fortunes of their respective shows. To this cause must be ascribed whatever shortcomings may be found in the following pages in the matter of circus records. Circus men, too, are very apt to meet a hint that a few reminiscences of their lives and adventures would be acceptable with the reply of Canning’s needy knife-grinder,—‘Story! God bless you! I have none to tell, sir.’ There are exceptions, however, and as a rule the better educated members of the profession are the least unwilling to impart information concerning its history and mysteries to those outside of their circle. To the kindness and courtesy of several of these I am considerably indebted, and beg them to accept this public expression of my thanks.

T. FROST.

Long Ditton, Oct. 1st, 1873.

CONTENTS.

CIRCUS LIFE

AND

CIRCUS CELEBRITIES.

CHAPTER I.

Beginnings of the Circus in England—Tumblers and Performing Horses of the Middle Ages—Jacob Hall, the Rope-dancer—Francis Forcer and Sadler’s Wells—Vauxhall Gardens—Price’s Equestrian Performances at Johnson’s Gardens—Sampson’s Feats of Horsemanship—Philip Astley—His Open-air Performances near Halfpenny Hatch—The First Circus—Erection of the Amphitheatre in Westminster Road—First Performances there—Rival Establishment in Blackfriars Road—Hughes and Clementina.

Considering the national love of everything in which the horse plays a part, and the lasting popularity of circus entertainments in modern times, it seems strange that the equine amphitheatre should have been unknown in England until the close of the last century. That the Romans, during their occupation of the southern portion of our island, introduced the sports of the arena, in which chariot-racing varied the combats of the gladiators, and the fierce encounters of wild beasts, is shown by the remains of the Amphitheatre at Dorchester, and by records of the existence of similar structures near St Alban’s, and at Banbury and Caerleon. After the departure of the Romans, the amphitheatres which they had erected fell into disuse and decay; but at a later period they were appropriated to bull-baiting and bear-baiting, and the arena at Banbury was known as the bull-ring down to a comparatively recent period. An illumination of one of the Anglo-Saxon manuscripts in the Harleian collection shows one of these ancient amphitheatres, outside a town; there is a single musician in the arena, to whose music a man is dancing, while another performer exhibits a tame bear, which appears to be simulating sleep or death; the spectators are sitting or standing around, and one of them is applauding the performance in the modern manner, by clapping his hands.

But from the Anglo-Saxon period to about the middle of the seventeenth century, the nearest approximation to circus performances was afforded by the ‘glee-men,’ and the exhibitors of bears that travestied a dance, and horses that beat a kettle-drum with their fore-feet. Some of the ‘glee-men’ were tumblers and jugglers, and their feats are pourtrayed in several illuminated manuscripts of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. One of these illuminations, engraved in Strutt’s Sports, shows a boy leaping through a hoop; another, in the Cottonian collection, represents a juggler throwing three balls and three knives alternately. What is technically called ‘the shower’ is shown in another illumination of mediæval juggling; and that there were female acrobats in those days appears from a drawing in one of the Sloane collection of manuscripts, in which a girl is shown in the attitude of bending backward. One of the Arundel manuscripts, in the British Museum, shows a dancing bear; and other illuminations, of a later date, represent a horse on the tight-rope, and an ox standing on the back of a horse.

Strutt quotes from the seventh volume of the Archæologia, the following account of a rope-flying feat performed by a Spaniard in the reign of Edward VI. ‘There was a great rope, as great as the cable of a ship, stretched from the battlements of Paul’s steeple, with a great anchor at one end, fastened a little before the Dean of Paul’s house-gate; and when his Majesty approached near the same, there came a man, a stranger, being a native of Arragon, lying on the rope with his head forward, casting his arms and legs abroad, running on his breast on the rope from the battlement to the ground, as if it had been an arrow out of a bow, and stayed on the ground. Then he came to his Majesty, and kissed his foot; and so, after certain words to his Highness, he departed from him again, and went upwards upon the rope, till he came over the midst of the churchyard, where he, having a rope about him, played certain mysteries on the rope, as tumbling, and casting one leg from another. Then took he the rope, and tied it to the cable, and tied himself by the right leg a little space beneath the wrist of the foot, and hung by one leg a certain space, and after recovered himself again with the said rope, and unknit the knot, and came down again. Which stayed his Majesty, with all the train, a good space of time.’

Holinshed mentions a similar feat which was performed in the following reign, and which, unhappily, resulted in the death of the performer. In the reign of Elizabeth lived the famous Banks, whom Sir Walter Raleigh thought worthy of mention in his History of the World, saying that ‘if Banks had lived in older times, he would have shamed all the enchanters in the world; for whosoever was most famous among them could never master or instruct any beast as he did.’ The animal associated with the performer so eulogized was a bay horse named Morocco, which was one of the marvels of the time. An old print represents the animal standing on his hind legs, with Banks directing his movements.

Morocco seems to have been equally famous for his saltatory exercises and for his arithmetical calculations and his powers of memory. Moth, in Love’s Labour Lost, puzzling Armado with arithmetical questions, says, ‘The dancing horse will tell you,’ an allusion which is explained by a line of one of Hall’s satires—

‘Strange Morocco’s dumb arithmetic.’

Sir Kenelm Digby records that the animal ‘would restore a glove to the due owner after the master had whispered the man’s name in his ear; and would tell the just number of pence in any piece of silver coin newly showed him by his master.’ De Melleray, in a note to his translation of the Golden Ass of Apuleius, says that he witnessed the performance of this animal in the Rue St Jacques, in Paris, to which city Banks proceeded in or before 1608; and he states that Morocco could not only tell the number of francs in a crown, but knew that the crown was depreciated at that time, and also the exact amount of the depreciation.

The fame which Banks and his horse acquired in France, brought the former under the imputation of being a sorcerer, and he probably had a narrow escape of being burned at a stake in that character. Bishop Morton tells the story as follows:—

‘Which bringeth into my remembrance a story which Banks told me at Frankfort, from his own experience in France among the Capuchins, by whom he was brought into suspicion of magic, because of the strange feats which his horse Morocco played (as I take it) at Orleans, where he, to redeem his credit, promised to manifest to the world, that his horse was nothing less than a devil. To this end he commanded his horse to seek out one in the press of the people who had a crucifix on his hat; which done, he bade him kneel down unto it, and not this only, but also to rise up again and to kiss it. And now, gentlemen (quoth he), I think my horse hath acquitted both me and himself; and so his adversaries rested satisfied; conceiving (as it might seem) that the devil had no power to come near the cross.’

That Banks travelled with his learned horse from Paris to Orleans, and thence to Frankfort, is shown by this extract; but his further wanderings are unrecorded. It has been inferred, from the following lines of a burlesque poem by Jonson, that he suffered at last the fate he escaped at Orleans; but the grounds which the poet had for supposing such a dreadful end for the poor horse-charmer are unknown.

‘But ’mongst these Tiberts, who do you think there was?

Old Banks, the juggler, our Pythagoras,

Grave tutor to the learned horse; both which,

Being, beyond sea, burned for one witch,

Their spirits transmigrated to a cat.’

These itinerant performers seem to have divided their time between town and country, as many of them do at the present day. Sir William Davenant, describing the street sights of the metropolis in his curious poem entitled The Long Vacation in London, says—

‘Now, vaulter good, and dancing lass

On rope, and man that cries, Hey, pass!

And tumbler young that needs but stoop,

Lay head to heel to creep through hoop;

And man in chimney hid to dress

Puppet that acts our old Queen Bess;

And man, that while the puppets play,

Through nose expoundeth what they say;

And white oat-eater that does dwell

In stable small at sign of Bell,

That lifts up hoof to show the pranks

Taught by magician styled Banks;

And ape led captive still in chain

Till he renounce the Pope and Spain;

All these on hoof now trudge from town

To cheat poor turnip-eating clown.’

About the middle of the seventeenth century, some of these wandering performers began to locate themselves permanently in the metropolis. Jacob Hall, the rope-dancer, was scarcely less famous as an acrobat, being clever and alert in somersaults and flip-flaps, performing the former over naked rapiers and men’s heads, and through hoops. He is mentioned by contemporary memoir writers as the first lover of Nell Gwynne, who appears, however, in a short time to have transferred her favours to Harte, the actor. In 1683, one Sadler opened the music-house at Islington which, from the circumstance of a mineral spring being discovered on the spot, became known by the name of Sadler’s Wells, which it has retained to this day. It was not until after Sadler’s death, however, that rope-dancing and acrobats’ performances were added to the musical entertainments which, with the water, were the sole attraction of the place in its earliest days. The change was made by Francis Forcer, whose son was for several years the principal performer there. Forcer sold the establishment to Rosamond, the builder of Rosamond’s Row, Clerkenwell, who contrived, by judicious management, to amass a considerable fortune.

Of the nature of the amusements in Forcer’s time we have a curious account in a communication made to the European Magazine by a gentleman who received it from Macklin, the actor, whom he met at Sadler’s Wells towards the close of his life. ‘Sir,’ said the veteran comedian, ‘I remember the time when the price of admission here was threepence, except a few places scuttled off at the sides of the stage at sixpence, and which were usually reserved for people of fashion, who occasionally came to see the fun. Here we smoked and drank porter and rum-and-water as much as we could pay for, and every man had his doxy that liked; and, although we had a mixture of very odd company,—for I believe it was a good deal the baiting-place of thieves and highwaymen,—there was little or no rioting.’

During the period between Rosamond’s management and the conversion of the place into a theatre for dramas of the kind for which the Adelphi and the Coburg became famous at a later day, the entertainments at Sadler’s Wells consisted of pantomimes and musical interludes. In Forcer’s time, according to the account said to have been given by Macklin, they consisted of ‘hornpipes and ballad singing, with a kind of pantomime-ballet, and some lofty tumbling; and all done by daylight, with four or five exhibitions every day. The proprietors had always a fellow on the outside of the booth to calculate how many people were collected for a second exhibition; and when he thought there were enough, he came to the back of the upper seats, and cried out, “Is Hiram Fisteman here?” That was the cant word agreed upon between the parties to know the state of the people without: upon which they concluded the entertainment with a song, dismissed the audience, and prepared for a second representation.’

Joseph Clark, the posturer, was one of the wonders of London during the reigns of James II. and William III., obtaining mention even in the Transactions of the Philosophical Society, as having ‘such an absolute command of all his muscles and joints that he could disjoint almost his whole body.’ His exhibitions do not seem, however, to have been of a pleasing character, consisting chiefly in the imitation of every kind of human deformity. He could produce at will, and in a moment, without padding, the semblance of a Quasimodo or a Tichborne Claimant, his ‘fair round belly, with good capon lined,’ shift his temporary hump from one side to the other, project either hip, and twist his limbs into every conceivable complication. He could change his form so much as to defy a tailor to measure him, and imposed so completely on Molins, a famous surgeon of that time, as to be regarded by him as an incurable cripple. His portrait in Tempest’s collection shows him shouldering his leg, an antic which is imitated by a monkey.

There was a famous vaulter of this time, named William Stokes, who seems to have been the first to introduce horses in the performance; and in a book called the Vaulting Master, published at Oxford in 1652, boasts that he had reduced vaulting to a method. The book is illustrated by plates, representing different examples of his practice, in which he is shown vaulting over one or more horses, or leaping upon them; in one alighting in the saddle, and in another upon the bare back of a horse. It is singular that this last feat should not have been performed after Stokes’s time, until Alfred Bradbury exhibited it a few years ago at the Amphitheatre in Holborn. It is improbable that Bradbury had seen the book, and his performance of the feat is, in that case, one more instance of the performance of an original act by more than one person at considerable intervals of time.

May Fair, which has given its name to a locality now aristocratic, introduces us, in 1702—the year in which the fearful riot occurred in which a constable was killed there—to Thomas Simpson, an equestrian vaulter, described in a bill of Husband’s booth as ‘the famous vaulting master of England.’ A few years later a bill of the entertainments of Bartholomew Fair, preserved in Bagford’s collection in the library of the British Museum, mentions tight-rope dancing and some performing dogs, which had had the honour of appearing before Queen Anne and ‘most of the quality.’ The vaulters, and posturers, and tight-rope performers of this period were not all the vagabonds they were in the eye of the law. Fawkes, a posturer and juggler of the first half of the eighteenth century, started, in conjunction with a partner named Pinchbeck, a show which was for many years one of the chief attractions of the London fairs, and appears to have realized a considerable fortune.

The earliest notice of Vauxhall Gardens occurs in the Spectator of May 20th, 1712, in a paper written by Addison, when they had probably just been opened. They were then a fashionable promenade, the entertainments for which the place was afterwards famous not being introduced until at least a century later. In 1732 they were leased to Jonathan Tyers, whose name is preserved in two neighbouring streets, Tyers Street and Jonathan Street; and ten years later they were purchased by the same individual, and became as famous as Ranelagh Gardens for musical entertainments and masked balls. Admission was by season tickets only, and it is worthy of note that the inimitable Hogarth, from whose designs of the four parts of the day Hayman decorated the concert-room, furnished the design for the tickets, which were of silver. Tyers gave Hogarth a gold ticket of perpetual admission for six persons, or one coach; and the artist’s widow bequeathed it to a relative. This unique relic of the departed glories of Vauxhall was last used in 1836, and is now in the possession of Mr Frederick Gye, who gave twenty pounds for it.

Hogarth’s picture of Southwark Fair introduces to us more than one of that generation of the strange race whose several varieties contribute so much to the amusement of the public. The slack-rope performer is Violante, of whom we read in Malcolm’s Londinium Redivivus that, ‘soon after the completion of the steeple [St Martin’s in the Fields], an adventurous Italian, named Violante, descended from the arches, head foremost, on a rope stretched thence across St Martin’s Lane to the Royal Mews; the princesses being present, and many eminent persons.’ Hogarth shows another performer of this feat in the background of his picture, namely, Cadman, who was killed in 1740, in an attempt to descend from the summit of a church-steeple in Shrewsbury. The circumstances of this sad catastrophe are set forth in the epitaph on the unfortunate man’s gravestone, which is as follows:—

‘Let this small monument record the name

Of Cadman, and to future times proclaim

Here, by an attempt to fly from this high spire

Across the Sabrine stream, he did acquire

His fatal end. ’Twas not for want of skill

Or courage to perform the task, he fell:

No, no—a faulty cord, being drawn too tight

Hurried his soul on high to take her flight,

Which bid the body here beneath good night.’

The earliest advertisement of Sadler’s Wells which I have been able to find is one of 1739, which states that ‘the usual diversions will begin this day at five o’clock in the evening, with a variety of rope-dancing, tumbling, singing, and several new entertainments of dancing, both serious and comic; concluding with the revived grotesque pantomime called Happy Despair, with additions and alterations.’ An advertisement of the following year introduces Miss Rayner as a performer on the tight rope, who in 1748 appeared in conjunction with a younger sister. The acrobats of the latter period were Williams, Hough, and Rayner, the latter probably father or brother of the fair performers on the corde elastique.

The New Wells, at the bottom of Leman Street, Goodman’s Fields, were opened at this time, and introduced to the public a French rope-dancer named Dugée, who also tumbled, in conjunction with Williams, who had left the Islington place of entertainment, and another acrobat named Janno. Williams is announced in an advertisement of 1748 to vault over the heads of ten men. The admission here was by payment for a pint of wine or punch, which was the case also at Sadler’s Wells at this time; but in an announcement of a benefit the charges for admission are stated at eighteen-pence and half-a-crown, with the addition that the night will be moonlight, and that wine may be obtained at two shillings per bottle.

Twenty years later, we find announced at Sadler’s Wells, ‘feats of activity by Signor Nomora and Signora Rossi, and many curious and uncommon equilibres by Le Chevalier des Linges.’ In 1771 the rope-dancers here were Ferzi (sometimes spelt Farci) and Garmon, who was, a few years later, a member of the first company formed by the celebrated Philip Astley for the Amphitheatre in the Westminster Road.

The first equestrian performances ever seen in England, other than those of the itinerant exhibitors of performing horses, were given on the site of Dobney’s Place, at the back of Penton Street, Islington. It was then a tea-garden and bowling-green, to which one Johnson, who obtained a lease of the premises in 1767, added such performances as then attracted seekers after amusement to Sadler’s Wells. One Price, concerning whose antecedents the strictest research has failed to discover any information, gave equestrian performances at this place in 1770, and soon had a rival in one Sampson, who performed similar feats in a field behind the Old Hats.

About the same time, feats of horsemanship were exhibited in Lambeth, in a field near Halfpenny Hatch, which, it may be necessary to inform your readers, stood where a broad ditch, which then ran through the fields and market gardens now covered by the streets between Westminster Road and Blackfriars Road, was crossed by a swivel bridge. There was a narrow pathway through the fields and gardens, for the privilege of using which a halfpenny was paid to the owners at a cottage near the bridge. In one of these fields Philip Astley—a great name in circus annals—formed his first ring with a rope and some stakes, going round with his hat after each performance to collect the loose halfpence of the admiring spectators.

This remarkable man was born in 1742, at Newcastle-under-Lyme, where his father carried on the business of a cabinet-maker. He received little or no education, and after working a few years with his father, enlisted in a cavalry regiment. His imposing appearance, being over six feet in height, with the proportions of a Hercules, and the voice of a Stentor, attracted attention to him; and his capture of a standard at the battle of Emsdorff made him one of the celebrities of his regiment. While serving in the army, he learned some feats of horsemanship from an itinerant equestrian named Johnson, perhaps the man under whose management Price introduced equestrian performances at Sadler’s Wells,—and often exhibited them for the amusement of his comrades. On his discharge from the army, he was presented by General Elliot with a horse, and thereupon he bought another in Smithfield, and commenced those open-air performances in Lambeth which have already been noticed.

After a time, he built a rude circus upon a piece of ground near Westminster Bridge which had been used as a timber-yard, being the site of the theatre which has been known by his name for nearly a century. Only the seats were roofed over, the ring in which he performed being open to the air. One of his horses, which he had taught to perform a variety of tricks, he soon began to exhibit, at an earlier period of each day, in a large room in Piccadilly, where the entertainment was eked out with conjuring and ombres Chinoises—a kind of shadow pantomime.

One of the earliest advertisements of the Surrey side establishment sets forth that the entertainment consisted of ‘horsemanship by Mr Astley, Mr Taylor, Signor Markutchy, Miss Vangable, and other transcendent performers,’—a minuet by two horses, ‘in a most extraordinary manner,’—a comical musical interlude, called The Awkward Recruit, and an ‘amazing exhibition of dancing dogs from France and Italy, and other genteel parts of the globe.’

One of the advertisements of Astley’s performances for 1772, one of the very few that can be found of that early date, is as follows:—

‘Horsemanship and New Feats of Activity. This and every Evening at six, Mr and Mrs Astley, Mrs Griffiths, Costmethopila, and a young Gentleman, will exhibit several extraordinary feats on one, two, three, and four horses, at the foot of Westminster Bridge.

‘These feats of activity are in number upwards of fifty; to which is added the new French piece, the different characters by Mr Astley, Griffiths, Costmethopila, &c. Each will be dressed and mounted on droll horses.

‘Between the acts of horsemanship, a young gentleman will exhibit several pleasing heavy balances, particularly this night, with a young Lady nine years old, never performed before in Europe; after which Mr Astley will carry her on his head in a manner quite different from all others. Mrs Astley will likewise perform with two horses in the same manner as she did before their Majesties of England and France, being the only one of her sex that ever had that honour. The doors to be opened at five, and begin at six o’clock. A commodious gallery, 120 feet long, is fitted up in an elegant manner. Admittance there as usual.

‘N.B. Mr Astley will display the broad-sword, also ride on a single horse, with one foot on the saddle, the other on his head, and every other feat which can be exhibited by any other. With an addition of twenty extraordinary feats, such as riding on full speed, with his head on a common pint pot, at the rate of twelve miles an hour, &c.

‘☞ To specify the particulars of Mr Astley’s performance would fill this side of the paper, therefore please to ask for a bill at the door, and see that the number of fifty feats are performed, Mr Astley having placed them in acts as the performance is exhibited. The amazing little Military Horse, which fires a pistol at the word of command, will this night exhibit upwards of twenty feats in a manner far superior to any other, and meets with the greatest applause.’

An advertisement issued at the close of the season, in 1775, announces ‘the last new feats of horsemanship, four persons on three horses, or a journey to Paris; also, the pynamida on full speed by Astley, Griffin, and Master Phillips.’ This curious word is probably a misprint for ‘pyramids.’

In this year, Richer, the famous harlequin, revived the ladder-dancing feat at Sadler’s Wells, where he also joined in the acrobatic performances of Rayner, Garmon, and Huntley, the last being a new addition to the troupe. Other ‘feats of activity’ were performed by the Sigols, and Ferzi and others exhibited their evolutions on the tight-rope. The same names appear in the advertisements of the following year, when rivals appeared in vaulting and tight-rope dancing at Marylebone Gardens.

‘As Mr Astley’s celebrated new performances at Westminster Bridge draws near to a conclusion,’ says one of the great equestrian’s advertisements of 1776, ‘it is humbly requested the present opportunity may not escape the notice of the ladies and gentlemen. Perhaps such another exhibition is not to be found in Europe. To the several entertainments of the riding-school is added, the Grand Temple of Minerva, acknowledged by all ranks of people to be extremely beautiful. The curtain of the Temple to ascend at five o’clock, and descend at six, at which time the grand display will be made in a capital manner, consisting of rope-vaulting on full swing, with many new pleasing additions of horsemanship, both serious and comic; various feats of activity and comic tumbling, the learned little horse, the Roman battle, le force d’Hercule, or the Egyptian pyramids, an entertainment never seen in England; with a variety of other performances extremely entertaining. The doors to be opened at five, and begin at six precisely. Admittance in the gallery 2s., the riding school 1s. A price by no means adequate to the evening’s diversion.’

Having saved some money out of the proceeds of these performances, Astley erected the Amphitheatre, which, in its early years, resembled the present circus in Holborn more than the building subsequently identified with the equestrian triumphs of Ducrow. Chinese shadows were still found attractive, it seems, for they constitute the first item in one of the programmes of 1780, in which year the Amphitheatre was opened. Then came feats of horsemanship by Griffin, Jones, and Miller, the clown to the ring being Burt. Tumbling—‘acrobatics’ had not been extracted from the Greek dictionary in those days—by Nevit, Porter, Dawson, and Garmon followed; and it is worthy of remark that none of the circus performers of the last century seem to have deemed it expedient to Italianize their names, or to assume fanciful appellations, such as the Olympian Brothers, or the Marvels of Peru. After the tumbling, the feat of riding two and three horses at the same time was exhibited, the performer modestly concealing his name, which was probably Philip Astley. Next came ‘slack-rope vaulting in full swing, in different attitudes,’ tricks on chairs and ladders, a burlesque equestrian act by the clown, and, lastly, ‘the amazing performance of men piled upon men, or the Egyptian pyramid.’

About the same time that the Amphitheatre was opened, the Royal Circus, which afterwards became the Surrey Theatre, was erected in Blackfriar’s Road by the elder Dibdin and an equestrian named Hughes, who is described as a man of fine appearance and immense strength. The place being unlicensed, the lessees had to close it in the midst of success; but a license was obtained, and it was re-opened in March, 1783. Burlettas were here combined with equestrian performances, and for some time a spirited competition with Astley’s was maintained. The advertisements of the Circus are as curious for their grammar and strange sprinkling of capitals as for their personal allusions. A few specimens culled from the newspapers of the period are subjoined:—

No. 1.—‘The celebrated Sobieska Clementina and Mr Hughes on Horseback will end on Monday next, the 4th of October; until then they will display the whole of their Performances, which are allowed, by those who know best, to be the completest of the kind in Europe. Hughes humbly thanks the Nobility, &c., for the honour of their support, and also acquaints them his Antagonist has catched a bad cold so near to Westminster bridge, and for his recovery is gone to a warmer Climate, which is Bath in Somersetshire. He boasts, poor Fellow, no more of activity, and is now turned Conjuror, in the character of ‘Sieur the Great.’ Therefore Hughes is unrivalled, and will perform his surprising feats accordingly at his Horse Academy, until the above Day. The Doors to be opened at Four o’clock, and Mounts at half-past precisely. H. has a commodious Room, eighty feet long. N. B. Sobieska rides on one, two, and three horses, being the only one of her Sex that ever performed on one, two, and three.’

No. 2.—‘Hughes has the honour to inform the Nobility, &c., that he has no intention of setting out every day to France for three following Seasons, his Ambition being fully satisfied by the applause he has received from Foreign Gentlemen who come over the Sea to See him. Clementina and Miss Huntly ride one, two, and three horses at full speed, and takes Leaps surprising. A little Lady, only Eight Years old, rides Two Horses at full gallop by herself, without the assistance of any one to hold her on. Enough to put any one in fits to see her. H. will engage to ride in Twenty Attitudes that never were before attempted; in particular, he will introduce his Horse of Knowledge, being the only wise animal in the Metropolis. A Sailor in full gallop to Portsmouth, without a bit of Bridle or Saddle. The Maccaroni Tailor riding to Paris for new Fashions. This being Mr Pottinger’s night, he will speak a Prologue adapted to the noble art of Riding, and an Epilogue also suited to Extraordinary Leaps. Tickets (2s.) to be had of Mr Wheble, bookseller, Paternoster-row, and at H.’s Riding School. Mounts half-past four.’

No. 3.—‘Hughes, with the celebrated Sobieska Clementina, the famous Miss Huntly, and an astonishing Young Gentleman (son of a Person of Quality), will exhibit at Blackfriars-road more Extraordinary things than ever yet witnessed, such as leaping over a Horse forty times without stopping between the springs—Leaps the Bar standing on the Saddle with his Back to the Horse’s Tail, and, Vice-Versa, Rides at full speed with his right Foot on the Saddle, and his left Toe in his Mouth, two surprising Feet. Mrs Hughes takes a fly and fires a Pistol—rides at full speed standing on Pint Pots—mounts pot by pot, higher still, to the terror of all who see her. H. carries a lady at full speed over his head—surprising! The young gentleman will recite verses of his own making, and act Mark Antony, between the leaps. Clementina every night—a commodious room for the nobility.’

The excitement of apparent danger was evidently as much an element of the popular interest in circus performances a century ago as at the present day.

Colonel West, to whom the ground on which the circus was erected belonged, became a partner in the enterprise, and invested a large amount in it. On his death the concern became very much embarrassed, and struggled for several years with a load of debt. Hughes was succeeded as manager by Grimaldi, a Portuguese, the grandfather of the famous clown whom some of us remember at Covent Garden; and Grimaldi, in 1780, by Delpini, an Italian buffo singer, under whose management the novel spectacle of a stag-hunt was introduced in the arena.

Sadler’s Wells continued to give the usual entertainment, the advertisements of 1780 announcing ‘a great variety of singing, dancing, tumbling, posturing, rope-dancing,’ &c., by the usual very capital performers, and others, more particularly tumbling by Rayner, Tully, Huntley, Garmon, and Grainger, ‘pleasing and surprising feats of strength and agility’ by Richer and Baptiste, and their pupils, and tight-rope dancing by Richer, Baptiste, and Signora Mariana, varied during a portion of the season by the last-named artiste’s ‘new and extraordinary performance on the slack wire, particularly a curious display of two flags, and a pleasing trick with a hoop and three glasses of wine.’

Astley’s soon became a popular place of amusement for all classes. Horace Walpole, writing to Lord Stafford, says:—

‘London, at this time of the year [September], is as nauseous a drug as any in an apothecary’s shop. I could find nothing at all to do, and so went to Astley’s, which, indeed, was much beyond my expectation. I do not wonder any longer that Darius was chosen King by the instructions he gave to his horse; nor that Caligula made his Consul. Astley can make his dance minuets and hornpipes. But I shall not have even Astley now: Her Majesty the Queen of France, who has as much taste as Caligula, has sent for the whole of the dramatis personæ to Paris.’

Among the expedients to which Astley occasionally had recourse for the purpose of drawing a great concourse of people to the Surrey side of the Thames was a balloon ascent, an attraction frequently had recourse to in after times at Vauxhall, the Surrey Gardens, Cremorne, the Crystal Palace, and other places of popular resort. The balloon was despatched from St George’s Fields on the 12th of March, 1784, ‘in the presence,’ says a writer in the Gentleman’s Magazine, ‘of a greater number of spectators than were, perhaps, ever assembled together on any occasion;’ and he adds that, ‘many of the spectators will have reason to remember it; for a more ample harvest for the pickpockets never was presented. Some noblemen and gentlemen lost their watches, and many their purses. The balloon, launched about half-past one in the afternoon, was found at Faversham.’ This ascent took place within two months after that of the Montgolfiere balloon at Lyons, and was, therefore, probably the first ever attempted in this country; while, by a strange coincidence, the first aerostatic experiment ever made in Scotland was made on the same day that Astley’s ascended, but about an hour later, from Heriot’s Gardens, Edinburgh.

Horace Walpole writes, in allusion to a subsequent balloon ascent, and the excitement which it created in the public mind,—

‘I doubt it has put young Astley’s nose out of joint, who went to Paris lately under their Queen’s protection, and expected to be Prime Minister, though he only ventured his neck by dancing a minuet on three horses at full gallop, and really in that attitude has as much grace as the Apollo Belvedere.’ The fame of the Astleys receives further illustration from a remark of Johnson’s, that ‘Whitfield never drew as much attention as a mountebank does: he did not draw attention by doing better than others, but by doing what was strange. Were Astley to preach a sermon standing on his head, or on a horse’s back, he would collect a multitude to hear him; but no wise man would say he had made a better sermon for that.’

The earliest displayed advertisement of Astley’s which I have been able to discover, is as follows, which appeared in 1788:

Astley’s Amphitheatre, Westminster Bridge.

YOUNG ASTLEY’S

Surprising Equestrian Exercises.

In the intervals

A NEW WAR ENTERTAINMENT,

In which will be introduced a SINGLE COMBAT with the BROADSWORD between Young Astley, as a British Sailor, and Mr J. Taylor, as a Savage Chief; after which a General Engagement between British Sailors and Savages. The Scenery, Machinery, Songs, Dances, and Dresses, adapted to the manners of the different Countries.

TUMBLING

By a most capital Group.

A New Comic Dance, called

THE GERMAN CHASSEURS,

With New Music, Dresses, &c.

A Musical Entertainment, called

THE INVITATION.

The Songs and Choruses, together with the

Dresses, entirely new.

A GRAND ENTRY OF HORSES.

A Minuet Dance by Two Horses,

And other extraordinary performances by the Horses.

A New Comic Dance, called

THE ETHIOPIAN FESTIVAL,

In which will be introduced a New Pas de Trois, never performed in London, Composed by Mons. Vermigli, Eleve de l’Opera, and danced by him, Mr Marqui, and Mr J. Taylor, representing the whimsical Actions and Attitudes made use of by the Negroes. After which a Pas de Deux, composed by Mons. Ferrer, and danced by him and Mad. Fuzzi, in the character of an Indian Prince and Princess. The Music and Dresses entirely new.

A New favourite Song, by Mr Johannot, Called

Bow-wow-wow.

HORSEMANSHIP.

AND OTHER EXERCISES,

By Master Crossman, Mr Jenkins, Mr Lonsdale, Mr J. Taylor, and Miss Vangabel; Clown, Mr Miller.

The whole to conclude with a New Entertainment of Singing, Dancing, and Dumb-Shew to Speaking Music, called the

MAGIC WORLD.

In which will be introduced, behind a large transparent Painting, representing the enchanted World, a variety of Magical, Pantomimical, Farcical, Tragical, Comic Deceptions; together with a grand Procession of Caricature Figures, displaying a variety of whimsical Devices in a manner entirely New.

Doors to be opened at half-past Five, and to begin precisely at half-past Six.

BOXES 3s.—PIT 2s.—GALL. 1s.—SIDE

GALL. 6d.

I found this advertisement, and the following one, which was issued in the same year, but at a later period, in a collection of similar literary curiosities purchased at the sale of the effects of the late Mr Lacey, the well-known theatrical bookseller, of the Strand.

THIS EVENING, will be presented at

ASTLEY’S,

An entire new pantomimic Dance, called

THE HUMOURS OF GIL BLAS

(A Parody)

As performed with applause at the Theatres on the Boulevards, Paris.

Gil Blas, Mr Jenkins—His Father, Mr Henley—Uncle, Mr Lonsdale—Servant, Mr Bell—Flash the Spaniard, Mr Ferrere—Mungo, his Servant, Master Collet—Doctor, Mr Fox—Maria (fat Cook), Mr Connell—Spanish Lady, Mrs Stevens—Gil Blas Mother, Mrs Henley—Post Boy, Master Crossman—Captain of the Banditti, Mr Johannot—Lieutenant, Mr Fox—Signal Man, Mr De Castro—Spy, Mr Millard—Captain of the Cavern, Mr Wallack.

The Rest of the Banditti, by the Remainder of the Company. Dancers, Mons. Vermigli, Madame Ferrere, and Mademoiselle Meziere.

To conclude with

A SPANISH FAIR,

In which will be introduced a multiplicity of Drolls, Shews, &c., with a surprising Real Gigantic Spanish Pig, measuring from head to tail 12 feet, and 12 hands high, weighing 12 cwt., which will be rode by a Monkey.

HORSEMANSHIP

By YOUNG ASTLEY, and other Capital

Performers.

A Musical Piece, called

THE DIAMOND RING:

Or, THE JEW OUTWITTED.

Israel, Mr De Castro—Harry, Mr Millard—Feignlove, Mr Fox—Maid, Mrs Wallack—Lucy Feignlove, Mrs Henley.

TUMBLING

By Mr Lonsdale, Mr Jenkins, Mr Bell, Master Crossman, Master Jenkinson, Master Collet, and others.

A favourite Dance, composed by Mons. Vermigli, (Eleve de l’Opera) called

THE SPORTS OF THE VILLAGE.

A Musical Piece, called

THE BLACK AND WHITE MILLINERS.

Tiffany, Mr Connell—Myrtle, Mr Wallack—Timewell, Mr Miller—Doctor Spruce, Mr Fox—Sprightly, Mr Johannot—Nancy, Mrs Wallack—Fanny, Mrs Wigley—Mrs Tiffany, Mrs Henley.

The whole to conclude with a Pantomime, called

THE MAGIC WORLD,

In which will be introduced behind a large transparent Painting, representing the enchanted World, a variety of magical, pantomimical, farcical, tragical, comic Deceptions, together with a Grand Procession of Caricature Figures, displaying a variety of whimsical Devices, with the Emblems of the Inhabitants of the Four Quarters of the Globe, in a Manner entirely New.

To finish with

THE GIBRALTAR CHARGER:

Surrounded by a Chain of Fire.

Equestrianism does not make a very important figure in the announcements of the Royal Circus at this period, which simply inform the public that ‘the performances will commence with horsemanship by Mr Hughes and his unrivaled pupils.’ The programme was chiefly musical, and concluded with a pantomime, in which Rayner, the acrobat, from Sadler’s Wells, sustained the part of Harlequin. At the latter place of amusement, charges ranging from a shilling to three shillings and sixpence were now made for admission, and the performances, other than music and dancing, consisted of posturing by a boy called the Infant Hercules, and tight-rope dancing by Madame Romaine, another female artiste known as La Belle Espagnole, and two lads, one of whom was a son of Richer, the other known as the Little Devil. Grimaldi the Second, son of the manager of the Royal Circus, and father of the famous Joey Grimaldi, was clown at this establishment for many years, commencing, it is said, at the munificent salary of three shillings per week, which was gradually raised until, in 1794, we find him receiving four pounds per week.

I cannot better conclude this chapter than with the following strictures upon the places of amusement to which it chiefly relates, culled from a newspaper of 1788:—

‘If the objections which are made to permitting the present existing theatres or places of public amusement to continue arises from a principle of morality, which indeed is the only plea of opposition which can be alleged, it is somewhat strange that the only exception should be made in favour of Sadler’s Wells, at which alone, it is worthy of remark, a man may if he chooses get drunk. A pint of liquor is included in the price of admittance, but as much more may be had as any person chooses to call for. The heat of the place is a great inducement, and we believe many females have from that cause drank more than has let them depart in their sober senses, the consequences of which are obvious. This is not permitted at Astley’s, the Circus, or the Royalty.’

The last-mentioned place of amusement was a Variety Theatre, in Wells Street, Goodman’s Fields, which had risen out of the New Wells, and gave entertainments similar to those of Sadler’s Wells and the Royal Circus.

CHAPTER II.

Fortunes of the Royal Circus—Destruction of Astley’s Amphitheatre by Fire—Its Reconstruction—Second Conflagration—Astley in Paris—Burning of the Royal Circus—Erection of the Olympic Pavilion—Hengler, the Rope-dancer—Astley’s Horses—Dancing Horses—The Trick Horse, Billy—Abraham Saunders—John Astley and William Davis—Death of Philip Astley—Vauxhall Gardens—Andrew Ducrow—John Clarke—Barrymore’s Season at Astley’s—Hippo-dramatic Spectacles—The first Circus Camel.

For nearly forty years after the opening of Astley’s Amphitheatre, the performances did not differ, in any respect, from the usual entertainment of the smallest tenting company now travelling. The earliest bill of the collection in the library of the British Museum was issued in 1791, when the great attraction of the place appears to have been the somersault over twelve horses, called le grand saut du Trampolin, of James Lawrence, whose vaulting feats gained him the name (in the bills) of the Great Devil.

In 1792, the entertainments comprised a considerable musical element, and concluded with a pantomime. One of the advertisements of this year announces the performances in the arena as follows:—

‘Horsemanship, and exercises for the Light Dragoons—Ground and lofty tumbling—A grand entry of horses—Equestrian exercises, particularly the metamorphose of the sack—Wonderful equilibres on a single horse—Whimsical piece of horsemanship, called The Taylor riding to Brentford.’

Sadler’s Wells continued to vary its programme with tumbling and rope-dancing, and in 1792 gave ‘a pleasing exhibition of strength and posture-work, entirely new, called Le Tableau Chinois, by Signor Bologna and his children, in which will be displayed a variety of curious and striking manœuvres. Tight-rope dancing by the Little Devil and Master Bologna, with the comic accompaniment of Signor Pietro Bologna.’

From the Royal Circus announcements of the following year, I select the following two, as good illustrations of the kind of performances then given, and curious examples of circus bills eighty years ago:—

ROYAL CIRCUS.

The Company at the Circus beg leave to acquaint the Nobility, Gentry, and Public, that young Crossman will appear this present Evening, August 7, on Horseback, and challenge all the Horsemen in Europe.

Fricapee Dancing, Vaulting, Tight-rope

Dancing, Pyramids, Ground and

Lofty Tumbling, &c. &c. &c.

The performance will commence with a Grand Entry of Horses, mounted by the Troop. Young Crossman’s unparalleled Peasant Hornpipe, and Hag Dance, not to be equalled by any Horseman in this Kingdom.

Le Grand Saut de Trampoline by Mr Porter, (Clown) who will jump over a garter 15 feet from the ground, and fire off two Pistols.

The Musical Child, (only nine years of age) will go through his wonderful Performance. Mr Smith will go through a variety of Performances on a Single Horse.

THE HUMOURS OF THE SACK,

Or, The Clown deceived by a Woman.

FRICASSEE DANCE,

By Mr Crossman and Mr Porter.

Mr Ingham (from Dublin) will throw an innumerable Row of Flipflaps.

Mr Crossman will vault over the Horse backwards and forwards, with his Legs Tied, in a manner not to be equalled by any Performer in this Kingdom.

GROUND AND LOFTY TUMBLING,

by the whole Troop.

The African will go through his astonishing Stage and Equestrian Performances.

LA FORCE DE HERCULES:

Or, The Ruins of Troy.

Mr Porter will perform on a single Horse, in a ludicrous manner.

Young Crossman will leap from a single Horse over Two Garters, 12 feet high, and alight again on the Saddle, and Play the Violin in various Attitudes.

THE TAYLOR’S DISASTER,

Or, his Wonderful Journey to Brentford,

By Mr Porter.

To conclude with a Real Fox and Stag Chase, by twelve couple of Hounds, and two real Foxes, and a real Stag Hunt, as performed before their Majesties.

Crossman, it will be seen, had transferred his services from Astley’s to the rival establishment, where he must have been an acquisition of some importance. The Ducrow mentioned in the second bill, must have been the father of the celebrated equestrian of that name.

Change of Performances.

THE WINDSOR HUNT.

This and every Evening, until further Notice,

at the

ROYAL CIRCUS,

In which will be introduced a Representation of

THE DEER CARRIAGE AND STAG,

With Horsemen and Women coming out of Holyport Mead to see the Stag turned out; the Hunt will be then joined by Ten Male and Three Female Equestrians. The Stag will be Twice, and the Horsemen and Horsewomen Five Times, in Full View.

An Entire New Dance, called

THE CROATIAN MERCHANTS,

Composed by Mons. Ferrere. Principal Dancers, Mons. Ferrere, Madame Ferrere, Mons. D’Egville, and Signora Fuzi, with Six Couple of Figurants. The Dresses and Decorations entirely New, by Mr Risleben.

YOUNG CROSSMAN

Will appear this and every Evening on Horseback, and challenge all the Horsemen in Europe.

TIGHT-ROPE DANCING,

By the celebrated Saxoni, from Rome.

Pyramids, Ground and Lofty Tumbling, &c.

The Grand Leaps over Seven Horses.

Also, through the Hoop on Fire, fourteen feet high, by Mr Porter and Mr Ducrow. The former will leap over more Horses than any Man in Europe.

Mr Franklin’s inimitable Performances with

THE CHILD OF PROMISE,

In various attitudes. Playing on the violin, &c., Mr Smith, Mr Ingham, Mr Porter, Mr Ducrow, Mr Meredith, Mr Allers, Mr Jones, Mr Benge, Mr Quin, Mr Francis, and

THE FAMOUS AFRICAN,

(Who is not to be equalled) will go through the Tilts and Tournaments, and Military Exercises, as performed on Horseback, in the Field and Manage.

To which will be added,

THE TAYLOR’S DISASTER!

AND FOX HUNT.

By the above Male and Female Equestrians.

The performances at Sadler’s Wells this year included ‘a series of varied equilibres and posture-work, called Le Tableau Chinois, by Signor Bologna and his children,’ and ‘a capital display of agility on the tight-rope by the inimitable Mr Richer, from Petersburgh; also the pleasing exertions of La Belle Espagnole.’ There does not appear to have been many changes in the programme of this establishment, which in the following year presented ‘a new and picturesque exhibition, called the Pastimes of Pekin, or Kien Quang’s Family Tree; in which will be displayed, by a group of ten capital performers, under the direction of the Great Kien Quang, a variety of entertainments and active manœuvres, a la Chinois, with banners, garlands, and umbrellas;’ and ‘the pleasing and varied exertions of Messrs Bologna and La Belle Espagnole.’

Astley’s Amphitheatre was destroyed by fire in 1794, to the serious loss of the proprietor, who was not insured; but such was his indomitable energy and enterprise that it was rebuilt in time to be opened on Easter Monday, in the following year. In the mean while, in order to keep his company and stud employed, he had converted the Lyceum into a circus, in conjunction with a partner named Handy.

The Royal Circus was far from prosperous. The load of debt upon it kept the lessees in a position of constant difficulty and embarrassment, and in 1795 Mrs West levied an execution on the premises. It was then opened by Jones and Cross, the latter a writer of spectacles and pantomimes for Covent Garden; and in their hands it remained until it was destroyed by fire in 1805.

Handy was still Astley’s partner in 1796, when the advertisements announce ‘thirty-five new acts by Astley’s and Handy’s riders, and two surprising females,’ in addition to pony races, the performances of a clever little pony, only thirty inches in height, a performance on two ropes, and a novel act by a performer named Carr, who stood on his head in the centre of a globe, and ascended thirty feet ‘turning round in a most surprising manner, like a boy’s top.’ Later advertisements of this year describe the Amphitheatre as ‘under the patronage of the Duke of York,’ and announce the special engagement of two Catawba Indians—both chiefs, of course, as American Indians and Arabs who appear in the arena always are represented to be. These copper-coloured gentlemen gave their war dance and tomahawk exercise, and performed feats of dexterity with bows and arrows. The only mention of equestrianism at this time is, that ‘various equestrian and other exercises’ will be given ‘by pupils of both the Astleys.’

Sadler’s Wells gave this year ‘various elegant and admired exercises on the tight-rope, by the inimitable Mr Richer and La Belle Espagnole, particularly Richer’s astonishing leap over the two garters, with various feats of agility and comic accompaniment by Dubois.’ This establishment and the Royalty gradually abandoned entertainments of this kind, and were at length converted into theatres; and the like change was effected at the Royal Circus, or rather at the building which rose upon the ruins made by the conflagration of 1805.

Astley’s was burned again in 1803, when Mrs Woodhams, the mother of Mrs Astley, perished in the flames. Astley was again a heavy sufferer, the insurance not covering more than a fourth of the damage; but once more the building rose from its ruins, and it was again re-opened in 1804. Astley being occupied at the time with the construction of a circus in Paris, since known as Franconi’s, the new Amphitheatre was leased by him to his son, John Astley, with whom William Davis soon became associated as a partner.

In 1805, the Royal Circus having been destroyed by fire, Philip Astley leased the site of the Olympic Theatre from Lord Craven for a term of sixty-one years, at a yearly rental of one hundred pounds, with the stipulation that two thousand five hundred pounds should be expended in the erection of a theatre. It was an odd-shaped piece of ground, and required some contrivance to adapt it to the purpose; but Astley, who was his own architect and surveyor, and indeed his own builder, for he is said to have employed the workmen he required without the intervention of a master, overcame all difficulties with his usual energy and fertility of resource.

He bought the timbers of an old man-of-war, captured from the French, and with these built the framework of the theatre, a portion of which could, it was said, be seen at the rear of the boxes of the old Olympic Theatre before it was destroyed by fire. There was very little brickwork, the frame being covered externally with sheet iron, and internally with canvas. The arrangements of the auditorium were very similar to those of the provincial circuses of the present day; there was a single tier of boxes, a pit running round the circle, and a gallery behind, separated from the pit by a grating, which caused the ‘gods’ to be likened to the wild beasts in Cross’s menagerie, Exeter Change. There was no orchestra, but a few musicians sat in a stage box on each side. The chandelier was a present from the king. The building was licensed for music, dancing, and equestrian performances, and called the Olympic Pavilion. It passed in 1812 into the possession of Elliston, who purchased it, with the remaining term of the lease, for two thousand eight hundred pounds and an annuity of twenty pounds contingent on the continuance of the license. The annuity soon ceased to be payable, for Elliston opened the theatre for burlettas and musical farces in 1813, and it was closed a few weeks afterwards by order of the Lord Chamberlain, on the ground that the license had been granted on the supposition that the theatre was to be used for the same kind of entertainment as had been given by Astley, and only during the same portion of the year.

The Amphitheatre continued to be conducted in the same manner as it had been when in the hands of the proprietor, and brought before the public a succession of clever equestrians, tumblers, and rope-dancers. In a bill of 1807 we first meet with the name of Hengler, its then owner being a performer of some celebrity on the tight-rope. The travelling circuses which were springing into existence at this time, both in England and on the continent, furnished the lessees with a constant succession of artistes; and the admirably trained horses fairly divided the attention of the public with the biped performers.

Philip Astley was the best breaker and trainer of horses then living. He bought his horses in Smithfield, seldom giving more than five pounds for one, and selecting them for their docility, without regard to symmetry or colour. He seems to have been the first equestrian who taught horses to dance, the animals going through the figure, and stepping in time to the music. One of his horses, called Billy, would lift a kettle off a fire, and arrange the tea equipage for company, in a manner which elicited rounds of applause. He was a very playful animal, and would play with Astley and the grooms like a kitten. His owner was once induced to lend him for a week or two to Abraham Saunders, who had been brought up by Astley, and was at that time, as well as at many other times, involved in pecuniary difficulties. While Billy was in the possession of Saunders, he was seized for debt, with the borrower’s own stud, and sold before his owner could be communicated with. Two of Astley’s company, happening shortly afterwards to be perambulating the streets of the metropolis, were surprised to see Billy harnessed to a cart. They could scarcely believe their eyes, but could doubt no longer when the animal, on receiving a signal to which he was accustomed, pricked up his ears, and began to caper and curvet in a manner seldom seen out of the circle. His new owner was found in a public-house, and was not unwilling to part with him, as Billy, ‘though a main good-tempered creature,’ as he told the equestrians, ‘is so full o’ all manner of tricks that we calls him the Mountebank.’

Saunders, at this time a prisoner for debt in the now demolished Fleet Prison, was well known as a showman and equestrian for three quarters of a century. Many who remember him as the proprietor of a travelling circus, visiting the fairs throughout the south of England, are not aware that he once had a lease of the old Royalty Theatre, and that in 1808 he opened, as a circus, the concert-rooms afterwards known as the Queen’s Theatre, now the Prince of Wales’s. After experiencing many vicissitudes, he fell in his old age into poverty, owing to two heavy losses, namely, by the burning of the Royalty Theatre, and by the drowning of fifteen horses at sea, the vessel in which they were being transported being wrecked in a storm. In his latter years, he was the proprietor of a penny ‘gaff’ at Haggerstone, and, being prosecuted for keeping it, drove to Worship Street police-court in a box on wheels, drawn by a Shetland pony, and presented himself before the magistrate in a garment made of a bearskin. He was then in his ninetieth year, and died two years afterwards, in a miserable lodging in Mill Street, Lambeth Walk.

There is a story told of Astley, by way of illustration of his ignorance of music, which, if true, would show that the Amphitheatre boasted an orchestra even in these early years of its existence. The nature of the story requires us to suppose that the orchestral performers were then engaged for the first time; and, as we are told by Fitzball that the occasion was the rehearsal of a hippo-dramatic spectacle, it seems probable that there is some mistake, and that the anecdote should be associated with Ducrow, instead of with his precursor, no performances of that kind having been given at the Amphitheatre in Astley’s time. But Fitzball may have been in error as to the occasion. As the story goes, Astley, on some of the musicians suspending their performances, demanded the reason.

‘It is a rest,’ returned the leader.

‘Let them go on, then,’ said the equestrian. ‘I pay them to play, not to rest.’

Presently a chromatic passage occurred.

‘What do you call that?’ demanded Astley. ‘Have you all got the stomach-ache?’

‘It is a chromatic passage,’ rejoined the leader, with a smile.

‘Rheumatic passage?’ said Astley, not comprehending the term. ‘It is in your arm, I suppose; but I hope you’ll get rid of it before you play with the people in front.’

‘You misunderstand me, Mr Astley,’ returned the leader. ‘It is a chromatic passage; all the instruments have to run up the passage.’

‘The devil they do!’ exclaimed Astley. ‘Then I hope they’ll soon run back again, or the audience will think they are running away.’

Hitherto the quadrupeds whose docility and intelligence rendered them available for the entertainment of the public had been limited to the circle; but in 1811 the example was set at Covent Garden of introducing horses, elephants, and camels on the stage. This was done in the grand cavalcade in Bluebeard, the first representation of which was attended with a singular accident. A trap gave way under the camel ridden by an actor named Gallot, who saved his own neck or limbs from dislocation or fracture, by throwing himself off as the animal sank down. He was unhurt, but the camel was so much injured by the fall that it died before it could be extricated. The elephant, though docile enough, could not be induced to go upon the stage until one of the ladies of the ballet, who had become familiar with the animal during the rehearsals, led it on by one of its ears. This went so well with the audience, that the young lady repeated the performance at every representation of the spectacle.

Philip Astley died in Paris, at the ripe age of seventy-two, in 1814,—the year in which the celebrated Ducrow made his first appearance on the stage as Eloi, the dumb boy, in the The Forest of Bondy. The Amphitheatre was conducted, after the death of its founder, by his son, John Astley, in conjunction with Davis; but not without opposition. The Surrey had ceased to present equestrian performances under the management of Elliston; but in 1815, on his lease expiring, it was taken by Dunn, Heywood, and Branscomb, who were encouraged by the success of Astley to convert it into a circus. The experiment was not, however, a successful one.

In the following year, Vauxhall Gardens assumed the form and character by which they were known to the present generation; and the celebrated Madame Saqui was engaged for a tight-rope performance, in which she had long been famous in Paris. She was then in her thirty-second year, and even then far from prepossessing, her masculine cast of countenance and development of muscle giving her the appearance of a little man, rather than of the attractive young women we are accustomed to see on the corde elastique in this country. Her performance created a great sensation, however, and she was re-engaged for the two following seasons. She mounted the rope at midnight, in a dress glistening with tinsel and spangles, and wearing a nodding plume of ostrich feathers on her head; and became the centre of attraction for the thousands who congregated to behold her ascent from the gallery, under the brilliant illumination of the fireworks that rained their myriads of sparks around her.

Andrew Ducrow, who now came into notice, was born in Southwark, in 1793, in which year his father, Peter Ducrow, who was a native of Bruges, appeared at Astley’s as the Flemish Hercules, in a performance of feats of strength. Andrew was as famous in his youthful days as a pantomimist as he subsequently became as an equestrian, and was the originator of the poses plastiques, the performance in which he first attracted attention, and which was at that time a novel feature of circus entertainments, being a series of studies of classical statuary on the back of a horse. He appeared at the Amphitheatre during only one season, however, leaving England shortly afterwards, accompanied by several members of his family, to fulfil engagements on the continent. The first of these was with Blondin’s Cirque Olympique, then in Holland. He had at this time only one horse; but, as his gains increased with his fame, he was soon enabled to procure others, until he had as many as six. After performing at several of the principal towns in Belgium and France, he was engaged, with his family and stud, for Franconi’s Cirque, where he was the first to introduce the equestrian pageant termed an entrée. There he exhibited his double acts of Cupid and Zephyr, Red Riding Hood, &c., in which he was accompanied by his sister, a child of three or four years old, whose performances were at that time unequalled.

Simultaneously with the rise of Ducrow, the well-known names of Clarke and Bradbury appear in circus records. When Barrymore, the lessee of the Coburg Theatre (now the Victoria), opened Astley’s in the autumn of 1819 for a limited winter season, his company was joined by John Clarke, fresh from saw-dust triumphs at Liverpool, and Bradbury, who was the first representative on the equestrian stage of Dick Turpin, the renowned highwayman, whose famous ride to York had not then been related by Ainsworth, but was preserved in the sixpenny books, with folding coloured plates, which constituted the favourite reading of boys fifty years ago. Clarke’s little daughter, only five years of age, made her appearance on the tight-rope in the following year, when Madame Saqui re-appeared at Vauxhall, and was one of the principal attractions of that season.

John Astley survived his father only a few years, dying in 1821, on the same day of the year, in the same house, and in the same room, as his more famous progenitor. After his death the Amphitheatre was conducted for a few years by Davis alone; and by him hippo-dramatic spectacles, the production of which afterwards made Ducrow so famous, and which greatly extended the popularity of Astley’s, were first introduced there. Davis also signalized his management by the introduction of a camel on the stage for the first time in a circus, the occasion being the production of the romantic spectacle of Alexander the Great and Thalestris the Amazon.

In the circle a constant variety of attractive, and often novel, feats of horsemanship and gymnastics continued to be presented. All through the season of 1821 the great attraction in the circle was the graceful riding of a young lady named Bannister—probably the daughter of the circus proprietor of that name, whose name we shall presently meet with, and who had, shortly before that time, fallen into difficulties. During the following season the public were attracted by the novel and sensational performance of Jean Bellinck on the flying rope, stretched across the pit at an altitude of nearly a hundred feet, according to the bills, in which a little exaggeration was probably indulged. The great attraction of 1823 was Longuemare’s ascent of a rope from the stage to the gallery, amidst fireworks, which had been the sensation of the preceding season at Vauxhall Gardens, where, at the same time, Ramo Samee, the renowned Indian juggler, made his first appearance in this country.

CHAPTER III.

Ducrow at Covent Garden—Engagement at Astley’s—Double Acts in the circle—Ducrow at Manchester—Rapid Act on Six Horses—‘Raphael’s Dream’—Miss Woolford—Cross’s performing Elephant—O’Donnel’s Antipodean Feats—First year of Ducrow and West—Henry Adams—Ducrow at Hull—The Wild Horse of the Ukraine—Ducrow at Sheffield—Travelling Circuses—An Entrée at Holloway’s—Wild’s Show—Constantine, the Posturer—Circus Horses—Tenting at Fairs—The Mountebanks.

When Elliston produced the spectacle of the Cataract of the Ganges at Drury Lane Theatre, in 1823, Bunn, who was then lessee of Covent Garden Theatre, was induced by its success to engage Ducrow, who made his first appearance at that theatre on Easter Monday, 1824, in the lyrical and spectacular drama of Cortez. Davis, fearing a rival in the famous equestrian, offered him an engagement at Astley’s, where he soon became the chief attraction.

The double act of Cupid and Zephyr, now represented by himself and his wife, was received with as much applause as it had elicited at Franconi’s; and a perfect furore was created when he appeared on two bare-back horses, as an Indian hunter. Cline’s rope-walking feats varied the programme of the circle in 1826, and in the following year Ducrow, having first given the performance with immense success at Manchester, introduced his great feat, then unparalleled, of riding six horses at the same time, in his rapid act as a Russian courier.

Fresh novelties were produced in 1828, the most attractive being the equestrian act called ‘Raphael’s Dream,’ in which Ducrow reproduced, on horseback, the finest conceptions of the sculptors of ancient Greece, receiving immense applause at every exhibition. Miss Woolford and George Cooke made their first appearance at Astley’s in this year, in a double performance on the tight-rope, in which the former artiste was for a long time without a rival. Aptitude for this exhibition seems, as in other branches of circus business, to be hereditary; and a Miss Woolford may have been found as a tight-rope performer in some circus or other any time within the last half-century. I remember seeing a tight-rope performer of this name in a little show which attended the July fair at Croydon about thirty years ago.

Ducrow’s stud was engaged this year for Vauxhall Gardens, where the hippo-dramatic spectacle of The Battle of Waterloo was revived, and proved as attractive as it had been some years previously at Astley’s. The year 1828 is also memorable for the first introduction of an elephant into the arena, a colossal performing animal of that genus being brought, with its keeper, from Cross’s menagerie, which many readers, even old residents in the metropolis, may require to be informed had its location on the site of what afterwards became Exeter Arcade, in the rear of the houses on the north side of the Strand, between Exeter Street and Catherine Street. The elephant was also led in the bridal procession which constituted one of the displays of the quadrupedal resources of the establishment in the spectacular drama of Bluebeard.

In travelling over the records of saw-dust performances, we are frequently reminded of the saying of the wise monarch of Israel, that there is no new thing under the sun. The bills of Astley’s, the advertisements of the Royal Circus and the Olympic Pavilion, the traditions of travelling circuses, present us with the originals of almost every feat that the acrobats and posturers of the present day have ever attempted. Ducrow, it has been seen, was the originator of the poses plastiques, revived and made famous a quarter of a century ago by Madame Wharton and troupe, at the Walhalla, in Leicester Square, and subsequently by Harry Boleno, the clown, at the Alhambra. Another instance comes under notice in 1829, when a performer named O’Donnel exhibited at Astley’s the antipodean feats performed a few years ago at the London Pavilion, and other music-halls, by Jean Bond. O’Donnel mounted a ladder, stood on his head on the top of one of the uprights, kicked away the other, with all its rungs, and in that position drank a glass of wine, and performed several tricks. The kicking away of the unfixed portion of the ladder invariably creates a sensation among the spectators, but adds nothing to the difficulty or danger of the performance.

On the lease of the Amphitheatre expiring in 1830, the owner of the premises raised the rent so much that Davis relinquished the undertaking. Ducrow, who possessed much of the energy and enterprise by which Philip Astley had been distinguished, saw his opportunity at once, and, obtaining a partner in William West, took the lease on the terms which his less enterprising predecessor had shrunk from. He produced a gorgeous Eastern spectacle, and engaged Stickney and young Bridges for the circle. Stickney was an admirable equestrian, the first of the many famous riders who have learned their art on the other side of the Atlantic, where he had already achieved a considerable reputation. Bridges was a rope-dancer, and gained great applause by turning a somersault on the rope, a feat which he appears to have been the first to perform. Later in the season, Henry Adams (the father of Charles Adams) made his appearance as a performer of rapid acts of equitation, the travelling circus which he had lately owned having passed into the possession of his late groom, John Milton.

During the portion of this year when Astley’s was closed, Ducrow and his company, bipeds and quadrupeds, performed for a short time at Hull. Returning to the metropolis, he opened the Amphitheatre for the season of 1831 with the spectacular drama of Mazeppa, the only enduring performance of the kind with which Astley’s was for so many years associated. Most of them, elaborately as they were got up,—for Ducrow never spared expense,—and attractive as they proved at the time of their production, owed their popularity to recent military events; but the fortunes of the daring youth immortalized by the genius of Byron, and the headlong flight of the wild horse of the Ukraine, have proved an unfailing source of attraction, and made Mazeppa the trump-card of every hippo-dramatic manager who possesses or can borrow a white horse qualified to enact the part of the ‘fiery, untamed steed’ upon whose bare back the hero is borne into the steppes of the Don Cossack country.

Adams and Stickney continued to attract in the circle, but Ducrow engaged in addition an acrobatic performer named Williams, who turned tourbillions at the height of twelve feet from the ground, and repeated them through hoops at the same height, over a tilted waggon, over eight horses, and, finally, over a troop of mounted cavalry. The famous performing elephant, Mdlle Jeck, also made its appearance during this season. When the Amphitheatre closed, Ducrow took his company and stud to Sheffield, where he had had an immense structure of a temporary character erected for their performances. He ruined the prospect of a successful provincial season, however, by indulgence of his overbearing disposition, which manifested itself on all occasions, in and out of the arena. The Master Cutler and Town Council determined to patronize the circus officially, and appeared at the head of a cortege of between forty and fifty carriages, containing the principal manufacturers and their families. But, on the Master Cutler sending his card to Ducrow, in the anticipation of being personally received, Ducrow replied, through one of his subordinates, that he only waited upon crowned heads, and not upon a set of dirty knife-grinders. The astounded and indignant chief magistrate immediately ordered his coachman to turn about, and the entire cavalcade returned to the Town Hall, where a ball was improvised, instead of the intended visit to the circus. Thus Ducrow’s prospects in the hardware borough were ruined by his own hasty temper and overbearing disposition.

It is now time to say a few words about the travelling circuses that had been springing into existence during the preceding fifteen or sixteen years, and some of which have already been mentioned. The northern and midland counties were travelled at this time by Holloway’s, Milton’s, Wild’s, and Bannister’s; the eastern, southern, and western by Saunders’s, Cooke’s, Samwell’s, and Clarke’s. We find Holloway in possession of the circus at Sheffield after its vacation by Ducrow. Wallett, who first comes into observation about this time, was one of Holloway’s clowns, and also did posturing, and played Simkin in saw-dust ballets. He states, in his autobiography, that they opened with a powerful company and a numerous stud; but it seems that there were not a dozen of the troupe, including grooms, who could ride. The first item in the programme for the opening night was an entrée of twelve, five of whom were thrown off their horses before the round of the circle had been made, one of them having three of his fingers broken. The horses do not appear to have been in fault, for they continued their progress as steadily as if nothing had happened. Wallett accounts for this untoward incident by stating that the dismounted cavaliers were clowns and acrobats, and that few members of those sections of the profession can ride; but, considering that grooms could have been made available, a ‘powerful company’ should have been able to mount twelve horses for an entrée without putting into the saddle men who could not ride.

James Wild’s show was a small concern, combining a drama, à la Richardson, with the performances of a tight-rope dancer and a fortune-telling pony. Wallett, who had made his first appearance before the public as a ‘super’ at the theatre of his native town, Hull, when Ducrow was there, and had afterwards clowned on the outside of Charles Yeoman’s Royal Pavilion at Gainsborough fair, joined Wild’s show at Leeds, but soon transferred his talent to a rival establishment. Both shows were soon afterwards at Keighley fair, for which occasion Wild had engaged four acrobats from London, named Constantine, Heng, Morris, and Whitton. The popularity of Ducrow’s representations of Grecian statuary had induced Constantine to study them, and having provided himself with the requisite properties, he exhibited them very successfully in Wild’s show.

The proprietor of the rival establishment was in agony, for his loudest braying through a speaking-trumpet, and the wildest beating of his gong, did not avail to stop the rush to Wild’s which left the front of his own show deserted. Wallett ruminated over the situation, and at night sought Constantine, and made overtures to him for the purchase of his tights and ‘props.’ The acrobat entertained them,—perhaps the bargain was very liberally wetted,—and Wallett became the triumphant possessor of the means of personating Ajax and Achilles, and all the gods and heroes of Homer’s classic pages. Next day, the show in which he was engaged was crowded to see him ‘do the Grecian statues,’ while Wild’s was deserted, Constantine dejected, and his employer despairing.

Bannister’s circus travelled Scotland and the northern counties of England, and it is a noteworthy point in his history that David Roberts was engaged by its proprietor as scene painter when he added a stage and a company of pantomimists to the attractions of the ring. This was in 1817, when the circus was located in Edinburgh, and the future R.A. had just completed his apprenticeship to a house-painter. Roberts says, in his diary, that he could never forget the tremor he felt, the faintness that came over him, when he ascended to the second floor of the house in Nicholson Street in which Bannister lodged, and, after much hesitation, mustered courage to ring the bell. Bannister received him very kindly, looked at his drawings, and engaged him to paint a set of wings for a palace. The canvas was brought, and laid down on the floor, and Roberts began to work there and then. At the close of the circus season, he was engaged at a salary of twenty-five shillings a week to travel with the company into England, paint all the scenery and properties that might be required, and make himself generally useful. Roberts says that he found that the last clause of the contract involved the necessity of taking small parts in pantomimes, which, he says, he rather over-did than under-did. His circus experiences were brief, however, for Bannister became bankrupt before long, and Roberts betook himself to house-painting again until he was engaged by Corri to paint scenery for the Pantheon, at Edinburgh. It may be remarked that he received no higher salary from Corri than from Bannister, and did not reach thirty shillings a week until he was engaged as scene-painter to the theatre at Glasgow.

The tenting circuses of those days were on a more limited scale than those of the present time, and were met with chiefly at fairs. They had seldom more than three or four horses, of which perhaps only two appeared in the circle. Their proprietors were not so regardless of colour as Philip Astley was, and favoured cream-coloured, pied, and spotted horses. While the acrobats performed ‘flips’ and hand springs, and the clown cracked his ‘wheezes,’ on the outside, while the proprietor beat his gong, or bawled through a speaking-trumpet his invitations to the spectators to ‘walk up,’ the horses stood in a row on the platform; and when the proprietor shouted ‘all in, to begin!’ the animals were led or ridden down the steps in front, and taken round to the entrance at the side, whence they emerged on the conclusion of the performance, to ascend the steps, and resume their position on the platform. The performances were short, consisting of two or three acts of horsemanship, some tumbling, and a tight-rope performance; but they were repeated from noon till near midnight as often as the seats could be filled.

Even in the palmy days of fairs, the vicissitudes of showmen were a marked feature of their lives, owing, in part at least, to their dependence upon the weather for success, and the variability of the English climate. A wet fair was a serious matter for them, and the October fair at Croydon, one of the best in the south, seldom passed over without rain, which sometimes reduced the field to such a state of quagmire that hurdles had to be laid down upon the mud for the pleasure-seekers to walk upon. Saunders, as we have seen, was seldom out of difficulties; and Clarke had not always even a tent, but pitched his ring in a field, or on a common, in the open air, after the manner of Philip Astley and his predecessors, Price and Sampson, in the early days of equestrian performances. He did not, however, make a collection—called in the slang of the profession, ‘doing a nob,’—but made his gains by the sale, at a shilling each, of tickets for a kind of ‘lucky-bag’ speculation among the spectators whom the performances attracted to the spot. Sometimes additional éclat would be given to the event by the announcement that a greasy pole would be climbed by competitors for the leg of mutton affixed to the top, or a piece of printed cotton would be offered as a prize for the winner in a race, for which only girls were allowed to enter. Then, while the equestrian of the company enacted the Drunken Hussar, or the Sailor’s Return, or Billy Button’s ride to Brentford, the acrobats would walk round with the tickets; or the equestrian would condescend to do so, while the Polish Brothers tied themselves up in knots, or wriggled between the rungs of a ladder, or Miss Clarke delighted the spectators by her graceful movements upon the tight-rope. The business concluded with the drawing for prizes, which were few in proportion to the blanks, and consisted of plated tea-pots and milk jugs, work-boxes, japanned tea-trays, silk handkerchiefs, &c. This kind of entertainment was given within the last forty years; but Clarke was then an old man, and with his death the race of the mountebanks, as they were popularly called, became extinct.

The last section of a mock Act of Parliament published about this time gives a good idea of the clown’s business five-and-thirty years ago, and affords the means of comparing the circus wit and humour of that period with the laughter-provocatives of the Merrymans of the present day. It runs as follows:—

‘And be it further enacted, that when the scenes in the circus commence, the Merriman, Grotesque, or Clown shall not, after the first equestrian feat, exclaim, “Now I’ll have a turn to myself,” previous to his toppling like a coach-wheel round the ring; nor shall he fall flat on his face, and then collecting some saw-dust in his hands drop it down from the level of his head, and say his nose bleeds; nor shall he attempt to make the rope-dancer’s balance-pole stand on its end by propping it up with the said saw-dust; nor shall he, after chalking the performer’s shoes, conclude by chalking his own nose, to prevent his foot from slipping when he treads on it; nor shall he take long pieces of striped cloth for Mr Stickney to jump over, while his horse goes under; previous to which he shall not pull the groom off the stool, who holds the other end of the same cloth, neither shall he find any difficulty in holding it at the proper level; nor, after having held it higher and lower, shall he ask, “Will that do?” and, on being answered in the affirmative, he shall not jump down, and put his hands in his pockets, saying, “I’m glad of it;” nor shall he pick up a small piece of straw, for fear he should fall over it, and afterwards balance the said straw on his chin as he runs about. Neither shall the Master of the Ring say to the Merriman, Grotesque, or Clown, when they are leaving the circus, “I never follow the fool, sir;” nor shall the fool reply, “Then I do,”[do,”] and walk out after him; nor, moreover, shall the Clown say that “the horses are as clever as the barber who shaved bald magpies at twopence a dozen;” nor tell the groom in the red jacket and top boots, when he takes the said horses away, to “rub them well down with cabbage-puddings, for fear they should get the collywobbleums in their pandenoodles;” such speeches being manifestly very absurd and incomprehensible.

‘Saving always, that the divers ladies and gentlemen, young ladies and young gentlemen, maid-servants, apprentices, and little boys, who patronise the theatre, should see no reason why the above alterations should be made; under which circumstances, they had better remain as they are.’

CHAPTER IV.

A few words about Menageries—George Wombwell—The Lion Baitings at Warwick—Atkins’s Lion and Tigress at Astley’s—A Bull-fight and a Zebra Hunt—Ducrow at the Pavilion—The Stud at Drury Lane—Letter from Wooler to Elliston—Ducrow and the Drury ‘Supers’—Zebras on the Stage—The first Arab Troupe—Contention between Ducrow and Clarkson Stanfield—Deaths of John Ducrow and Madame Ducrow—Miss Woolford.

Circuses and menageries are now so frequently associated, and the inmates of the latter have at all times been so frequently brought into connection with the former, that it becomes desirable, at this stage of the record, to say a few words about the zoological collections of former times. Without going back to the formation of the royal menagerie in the Tower of London in the thirteenth century, it may be stated that, when that appendage of regal state was abolished, most of the animals were purchased by an enterprising speculator named Cross, who located them at Exeter Change. The want of sufficient space there subsequently induced Cross to remove the collection to the site afterwards known as the Surrey Gardens, where, under the more favourable conditions as to space, light, and air afforded by that locality, it long rivalled that of the Royal Zoological Society, which had, in the mean time, grown up on the north side of Regent’s Park.

The travelling menageries probably grew, on a small scale, side by side, as it were, with the royal collection at the Tower, until they developed into such exhibitions as, half a century ago, travelled from fair to fair, in company with Richardson’s and Gyngell’s theatres, Cooke’s and Samwell’s circuses, Algar’s dancing booth, and the pig-faced lady. Wombwell’s menagerie was formed about 1805, and Atkins’s must have begun travelling soon afterwards. These two shows were for many years among the chief attractions of the great fairs, in the days when fairs were annual red-letter days in the calendar of the young, and even the upper classes of society did not deem it beneath their dignity to patronize the itinerant menagerie and the tenting circus.

‘Wombwell’s,’ said the reporter of a London morning journal, about three years ago, by way of introducing a report of the sale of Fairgrieves’s menagerie, ‘had its great show traditions; for its founder was a showman of no ordinary enterprise and skill. He built up the menagerie, so to speak, and he made it by far the finest travelling collection of wild animals in the country. His heart was in his work, and he spared nothing that could help it forward. Tales of his enterprise are many. He never missed Bartlemy fair as long as it was held; once, however, he was very near doing so. His show was at Newcastle within a fortnight of Bartlemy’s, and there were no railways. He had given up all intention of going to the fair; but, being in London buying specimens, he found that his rival—a man named Atkins—was advertising that his would be the only wild beast show at the fair.

‘Forthwith Wombwell posted down to Newcastle, struck his tent, and began to move southward. By dint of extraordinary exertions he reached London on the morning of the fair. But a terrible loss was his. The one elephant in the collection—a fine brute—had so over-exerted itself on the journey that it died just as it arrived at the fair. Atkins thought to make capital of this, and placarded at once that he had “the only live elephant in the fair.” Wombwell saw his chance, and had a huge canvas painted, bearing the words that within his show was to be seen “the only dead elephant in the fair.” There never was a greater success; a live elephant was not a great rarity, but the chance of seeing a dead elephant came only once now and then. Atkins’s was deserted; Wombwell’s was crowded.’

It is not easy to reconcile the keen rivalry between the two shows which this story is intended to illustrate with the fact that they never visited Croydon fair together, but always agreed to take that popular resort in their tours in alternate years. The story may be true, or it may be as apocryphal as that of the lion and dog fights with which the readers of another London morning journal were entertained three months previously, when the tragical incident of the death of the lion-tamer, Macarthy, had invested leonine matters with more than ordinary interest.

‘Did you ever hear of old Wallace’s fight with the dogs?’ an ex-lion-tamer was reported as having said to the gentleman by whom the conversation was communicated to the journal.

‘George Wombwell was at very low water, and not knowing how to get his head up again, he thought of a fight between an old lion he had sometimes called Wallace, sometimes Nero, and a dozen of mastiff dogs. Wallace was tame as a sheep—I knew him well—I wish all lions were like him. The prices of admission ranged from a guinea up to five guineas, and had the menagerie been three times as large it would have been full. It was a queer go, and no mistake! Sometimes the old lion would scratch a lump out of a dog, and sometimes the dogs would make as if they were going to worry the old lion, but neither side showed any serious fight; and at length the patience of the audience got exhausted and they went away in disgust. George’s excuse was, “We can’t make ’em fight, can we, if they won’t?” There was no getting over this; and George cleared over two thousand pounds by the night’s work.’

In this account two different animals are confounded; the old lion, whose name was Nero, and a younger, but full-grown one, named Wallace. The blunder is strange and unaccountable in one who professes to have known the animals and their keeper, and renders it probable that he is altogether in error about the fight he describes. The newspapers and sporting magazines of the period—about fifty years ago—describe two lion-baitings, which took place in Wombwell’s menagerie in the Old Factory Yard, at Warwick; and some vague report or dim recollection of them seems to have been in the mind of the ‘ex-lion-king,’ when he dictated the graphic narrative for the morning journal. The fights were said to have originated in a bet between two sporting gentlemen, and the dogs were not mastiffs, but bull-dogs. The first fight, the incidents of which were similar in character to those described by the ‘ex-lion-king,’ was between Nero and the dogs; and, this not being considered satisfactory, a second encounter was arranged, in which Wallace was substituted for the old lion, with very different results. Every dog that faced the lion was killed or disabled, the last that did so being carried about in the lion’s mouth as a rat is by a terrier or a cat.

I may add, that I have a perfect recollection of both the lions, having made their acquaintance at Croydon fair when a very small boy. I remember the excitement which was once created amongst the visitors to that fair by Wombwell’s announcement that he had on exhibition that most wonderful animal, the ‘bonassus,’ being the first specimen which had ever been brought to Europe. As no one had ever seen, heard, or read of such an animal before, the curious flocked in crowds to see the beast, which proved to be a very fine male specimen of the bison, or American buffalo. Under the name given to it by Wombwell, it found its way into the epilogue of the Westminster play as one of the wonders of the day. It was afterwards purchased by the Zoological Society; but it had been enfeebled by confinement and disease, and died soon after its removal to the Society’s gardens in the Regent’s Park. The Hudson’s Bay Company supplied its place by presenting a young cow, which lived there for many years.

Atkins had a very fine collection of the feline genus, and was famous for the production of hybrids between the lion and the tigress. The cubs so produced united some of the external characteristics of both parents, their colour being tawny, marked while they were young with dark stripes, such as may be observed in the fur of black kittens, the progeny of a tabby cat. These markings disappeared, however, as they do in the cat, as the lion-tigers attained maturity, at which time the males had the mane entirely deficient, or very little developed. I remember seeing a male puma and a leopardess in the same cage in this menagerie, but am unable to state whether the union was fruitful.