From an actual survey made by T. Allen, in 1826.

VAUXHALL GARDENS.

The boxes and pavilions containing Hayman’s paintings remained much as of old. Among other noteworthy features of the later Vauxhall was the gilded cockle-shell sounding-board over the orchestra (from 1824); a new avenue called the Italian Walk (from about 1836), and the Neptune Fountain.

In 1822 Ramo Samee, the Indian juggler and sword-swallower, made his appearance, and next year a Shadow Pantomime and Grey’s Fantoccini were introduced. From this period, Vauxhall was enlivened or vulgarised by the performance of comic songs. Mallinson (circ. 1823), W. H. Williams (from 1824), and J. W. Sharp (from 1846) being some of the best-known singers.

In 1826 the admission was raised to four shillings, on account of the engagement of Braham and Miss Stephens and of Mme. Vestris, whose “Cherry Ripe” was popular. In 1827 the space in front of the firework tower was cleared of shrubs, and a representation of the Battle of Waterloo took place there. Cooke’s stud and a thousand horse and foot soldiers engaged in this action. The “Waterloo” ground afterwards (1834) became the Polar Regions, and subsequently the space was covered by other scenic displays, including (1847) a view of Venice with “imitation water.”

In 1828 Ducrow’s stud was engaged, and in the next year ballets became a feature.

In 1830–1832 the musical director was Sir Henry Bishop, who composed operettas for the gardens, such as “The Sedan Chair,” “The Bottle of Champagne,” and the “Magic Fan.” In the last-named Mrs. Waylett and Paul Bedford took part. George Robinson, the alto, made Bishop’s “My Pretty Jane” popular. On August 2, 1833, when a one shilling night was tried, upwards of 27,000 people paid for admission.

The 19th of August, 1833, is notable in the Vauxhall annals as the benefit night of old Simpson, for more than thirty-six years Master of the Ceremonies at the gardens, and himself one of the sights and institutions. He was a man of short stature and his plain face was pitted with the smallpox, but his manner and dress made ample amends. He wore a shirt with an enormous frill, a coat of antique cut, and black silk knee-breeches and hose. In his uplifted left hand he carried his tasselled and silver-headed cane, and with his right raised his hat to every one he met, as a welcome to the Royal Property. His habitual attitude has been immortalised by Cruikshank and he was exhibited (from 1833) in the gardens in coloured lamps—an immense effigy, forty-five feet high. Simpson’s Vauxhall Addresses and his letters to newspaper editors were masterpieces of florid humility. To the editor of The Times he wrote to say that he had given directions that the illustrious editor’s “much-beloved family” were to be admitted “to any number” at the Vauxhall Juvenile Fêtes—a communication which amused Thomas Barnes who had no children. Simpson died, almost in office, on 25 December, 1835, after expressing a wish that the managers of the Royal Gardens would dispose as they deemed fit of his “humble body.” Thackeray calls him “the gentle Simpson, that kind, smiling idiot.”[358]