CHAPTER XLI.
“The Pic-nic Club”—Its supporters—Its entertainment—Its short life—Automata and wool pictures—Almack’s—Pidcock’s Menagerie—“The Invisible Girl”—Vauxhall—Sir Roger de Coverley—Price of admission, &c.—Ranelagh Gardens.
THE THEATRE, although the main source of amusement, was not the only one. There were masquerades at the Pantheon, and a private theatrical club, called the “Pic-nic Club,” of which a Captain Caulfield was the manager. Lady Buckinghamshire—foremost in this, as in gaming—was one of its chief supporters; and it took its name from every one drawing lots, as to what should be his, or her, share of the entertainment. This club consisted of the leaders of fashion—the Prince of Wales, Lords Cholmondeley, Valletort, Carlisle, Spooner, Kirkcudbright, and Derby; and, of course, “old Q,” the Duke of Queensberry. Sir Lumley Skeffington, also, was an ornament to the society; whilst the lady members besides Lady Albina Buckinghamshire, numbered in their ranks, Lady Salisbury, Lady Jersey, and Mrs. Fitzherbert. It was crême de la crême, and I find them chronicled in the Morning Herald of March 16, 1802, thus: “The Pic-nic Club met last night for the first time, in the Tottenham Street Rooms.[63] The Entertainment commenced with a Prologue by Colonel Greville, which was followed by a French Proverb. An Act of the Bedlamites, a piece translated from the French, for the occasion, was then performed. A French Proverb, and an Epilogue, succeeded; and the whole succeeded with a Pic-nic Supper, provided from a tavern.[64] The company was not numerous, though 300 cards of invitation were issued. Madame Parisot,[65] disapproving of the dilettanti project, refused to take any part in the performance. It being apprehended that the public peace might be disturbed by this irregular assemblage, the Bow Street officers held themselves in readiness to act, during the whole of the evening, but happily there was no occasion for their services.”
The society afterwards moved to the Argyle Rooms, then most highly proper, and fashionable. There were several caricatures of this society from Gillray’s pencil, one of which (the next illustration) I reproduce.
Here Gillray has given, as a contrast, Lord Valletort “the neatest of little beaux,” and the smallest man in the Club, and Lord Cholmondeley, who was very tall and stout. Lady Buckinghamshire, whose embonpoint Gillray never spared, plays the piano, and Lady Salisbury, who from her love of hunting, was frequently satirized under the name of Diana, performs on a hunting horn. The fashionable papers of the day were, during the season, seldom without a paragraph of this society, but it did not last long, and its death is recorded in the Times, February 28, 1803: “The Pic-nic Society is at an end. Many of its members, at a late meeting, wished to continue the Theatrical amusements, but no person would undertake the management of them.”
THE PIC-NIC ORCHESTRA.
In 1801, there were to be seen in Spring Gardens, Maillardet’s Automata, where a wooden lady performed on the piano; also Miss Linwood’s Exhibition of Needlework, first at the Hanover Square Rooms, and afterwards at Saville House, Leicester Square, where were exhibited marvels of crewel work. There are one or two of her pictures in the South Kensington Museum; but her “Salvator Mundi,” after Carlo Dolci, for which she refused 3,000 guineas, she bequeathed to the Queen. She had a rival, whose name, however, has not been so well perpetuated—vide the Morning Post, June 4, 1800: “The wool pictures, so much talked of among the connoisseurs, are certainly executed with very great taste. Miss Thompson has brought her art to very great perfection,” &c. These were shown in Old Bond Street.
Then, for the extremely select, during the season, was Almack’s[66] which, then, was not quite so exclusive as afterwards. Morning Herald, April 27, 1802: “Almack’s, King Street, St. James’ Square. James and William Willis most respectfully inform the Nobility and Gentry, the first Subscription Ball will be on Thursday, the 29th instant, under the patronage of her Grace the Duchess of Devonshire, the Marchioness of Townshend, and the Countess of Westmoreland. Tickets One Guinea each.” The same newspaper has also an advertisement of a new Panorama of Paris. This was by a M. de Maria; and there was also another, “Barker’s Panorama,” in Leicester Square.
Those who liked such exhibitions could see the Phantasmagoria, at the Lyceum Theatre, where the Magic Lantern was exhibited with novel effects, such as moving eyes and limbs, but they had not yet attained the height of “dissolving views.” Pidcock’s Menagerie[67] was the only substitute they then had for our “Zoo,” and was situate in Exeter ‘Change. It is thus described in a guide to London, 1802: “A collection of divers beasts and birds, only exceeded in rarity by those of the Royal Menagerie, in the Tower.”
The “Invisible Girl” was exhibited in Leicester Square, and was “a globe of glass suspended by a ribbon, under which four tubes are adapted, but they do not communicate therewith, and are likewise insulated; by these, conversation is carried on with an invisible lady, who answers every question, breathes on you, and tells every visitor whatever they hold in their hands, in an instant. This exhibition is open from ten o’clock until six. Price of admittance, two shillings and sixpence.”
There were two famous out-door places of amusement, now no more, namely, Vauxhall, and Ranelagh. Vauxhall, was formerly called Foxhall, or Spring Garden, and is thus described in No. 383 of the Spectator: “We were now arrived at Spring Garden, which is excellently pleasant at this time of the year. When I considered the fragrancy of the walks and bowers, with the choir of birds that sung upon the trees, and the loose tribe of people that walked under their shades, I could not but look upon the place as a kind of Mahometan paradise. Sir Roger told me it put him in mind of a little coppice by his house in the country, which his chaplain used to call an aviary of nightingales. ‘You must understand,’ says the knight, ‘that there is nothing in the world that pleases a man in love, so much as your nightingale. Ah, Mr. Spectator, the many moonlight nights that I have walked by myself, and thought on the widow by the music of the nightingale!’ He, here, fetched a deep sigh, and was falling into a fit of musing, when a mask, who came behind him, gave him a gentle tap upon the shoulder, and asked him if he would drink a bottle of mead with her? But the knight being startled at so unexpected a familiarity, and displeased to be interrupted in his thoughts of the widow, told her, ‘she was a wanton baggage;’ and bid her go about her business.”
VAUXHALL GARDENS—1808-9.
These gardens opened about the middle of May, and closed about the end of August; they were only open three days a week—Monday, Wednesday, and Friday; and the price of admission was 3s. 6d., the concert commencing at eight, the attendance averaging from 5,000 to 15,000. At the end of the first part of the concert, about 10 p.m., a curtain was drawn up, and disclosed “a view of a bridge, a water mill, and a cascade; while coaches, waggons, soldiers, and other figures were exhibited as crossing that bridge.” The orchestra, which I reproduce, was a blaze of light, and, altogether, in the gardens, at that time, were 37,000 lamps. Occasionally, a display of fireworks took place; whilst, to add to the attractions of the gardens, there were recesses, and alcoves, provided, where suppers, and refreshment, could be procured.
Ranelagh Gardens were in Chelsea, about where the Barracks now stand. The amusements provided were almost identical with Vauxhall, but, although considered a place of summer resort, its season commenced in February, and closed at the end of May, or the middle of June. The general price of admission was half a crown; but, on a masquerade night, it rose to 10s. 6d. or £1 1s., but that included supper and wine. There were particular fête nights, notably of the Pic-nic Society, when the price of admission varied from 5s. to 7s. 6d.
