Patrick O’Brien, the Irish giant, exhibited himself for the last time in 1804, when he advertised as follows:—
“Just arrived in town, and to be seen in a commodious room, at No. 11, Haymarket, nearly opposite the Opera House, the celebrated Irish Giant, Mr. O’Brien, of the Kingdom of Ireland, indisputably the tallest man ever shown; is a lineal descendant of the old puissant king, Brien Boreau, and has, in person and appearance, all the similitudes of that great and grand potentate. It is remarkable of this family, that, however various the revolutions in point of fortune and alliance, the lineal descendants thereof have been favoured by Providence with the original size and stature, which have been so peculiar to their family. The gentleman alluded to measures nearly nine feet high. Admittance one shilling.”
O’Brien had now realised a considerable fortune, and he resolved to retire from the public gaze. Having purchased an old mansion near Epping, and on the borders of the forest, he took up his abode there, keeping a carriage and pair of horses, and living quietly and unostentatiously the brief remainder of his life. He died in 1806, in his forty-seventh year, when his servants made use of his fame and his wardrobe for their own emolument, dressing a wax figure in his clothes, and exhibiting it at rooms in the Haymarket, the Strand, and other parts of the metropolis.
The rival theatres of Richardson and Scowton attended Bartholomew Fair in 1807, when the former produced a romantic and highly sensational drama, called The Monk and the Murderer, in which Carey played the principal character, Baron Montaldi, and his wife that of Emilina, the Baron’s daughter. The following announcement appears in the head of the bill:—
“Mr. Richardson has the honour to inform the Public, that for the extraordinary Patronage he has experienced, it has been his great object to contribute to the convenience and gratification of his audience. Mr. R. has a splendid collection of Scenery, unrivalled in any Theatre; and, as they are painted and designed by the first Artists in England, he hopes with such Decorations, and a Change of Performances each day, the Public will continue him that Patronage it has been his greatest pride to deserve.”
The scenery of the drama comprised a Gothic hall in the Baron’s castle, a rocky pass in Calabria, a forest, a rustic bridge, with a distant view of the castle, a Gothic chamber, and a baronial hall, decorated with banners and trophies. In the fourth scene a chivalric procession was introduced, and in the last a combat with battle-axes. The drama was followed, as usual, by a pantomime entitled Mirth and Magic, which concluded with a “grand panoramic view of Gibraltar, painted by the first artists.”
Saunders was there, with a circus, and seems to have attended the fair with considerable regularity. He was often in difficulties, however, and on one occasion, after borrowing a trick horse of Astley, his stud was taken in execution for debt, and the borrowed horse was sold with the rest. Some time afterwards, two equestrians of Astley’s company were passing a public-house, when they recognised Billy, harnessed to a cart which was standing before the door. Hearing their voices, the horse erected his ears, and, at a signal from one of them, stood up on his hind legs, and performed such extraordinary evolutions that a crowd collected to witness them. On the driver of the cart coming from the public-house, an explanation of Billy’s appearance in cart-harness was obtained with the observation that “he was a werry good ’orse, but so full o’ tricks that we calls ’im the mountebank.” Billy, I scarcely need say, was returned to his stall in Astley’s stables very soon after this discovery.
Miss Biffin was still attending the fairs, painting portraits with her right shoulder, and in 1808 attracted the attention of the Earl of Morton, who sat to her for his likeness, and visited her “living carriage” several times for that purpose. In order to test her ability, he took the portrait away with him, after each sitting, and thus became satisfied that it was entirely the work of her own hand, or rather shoulder. Finding that the armless little lady really possessed artistic talent, he showed the portrait to George III., who was pleased to direct that she should receive instruction in drawing at his expense.
The Earl of Morton corresponded with this remarkable artist during a period of twenty years. She was patronised by three successive sovereigns, and from William IV. she received a small pension. She then yielded to the wish of the Earl of Morton that she should cease to travel, and settled at Birmingham, where, several years afterwards, she married, and resumed, as Mrs. Wright, the pursuit of her profession.
Ballard’s menagerie held a respectable position between the time of Polito and Miles and that of Wombwell and Atkins. The newspapers of the period do not inform us, however, from whose menagerie it was that the leopard escaped which created so much consternation one summer night in 1810. The caravans were on their way to Bartholomew Fair, when, between ten and eleven o’clock at night, while passing along Piccadilly, the horses attached to one of them were scared by some noise, or other cause of alarm, and became restive. The caravan was overturned and broken, and a leopard and two monkeys made their escape. The leopard ran into the basement of an unfinished house near St. James’s Church, and one of the monkeys into an oyster-shop, the proprietor of which, hearing that a leopard was loose, immediately closed the door. What became of the other monkey is not stated.