Little Man.
I took my leave of this show pondering on “the different ends our fates assign,” but the jostling of a crowd in Smithfield, and the clash of instruments, were not favourable to musing, and I walked into the next.
Show XIV.
BROWN’S GRAND TROOP, FROM PARIS.
This was “only a penny” exhibition, notwithstanding that it elevated the king’s arms, and bore a fine-sounding name. The performance began by a clown going round and whipping a ring; that is, making a circular space amongst the spectators with a whip in his hand to force the refractory. This being effected, a conjurer walked up to a table and executed several tricks with cups and balls; giving a boy beer to drink out of a funnel, making him blow through it to show that it was empty, and afterwards applying it to each of the boy’s ears, from whence, through the funnel, the beer appeared to reflow, and poured on the ground. Afterwards girls danced on the single and double slack wire, and a melancholy looking clown, among other things, said they were “as clever as the barber and blacksmith who shaved magpies at twopence a dozen.” The show concluded with a learned horse.
Show XV.
Another, and a very good menagerie—the admission “only a penny!” It was “George Ballard’s Caravan,” with “The Lioness that attacked the Exeter mail.—The great Lion.—Royal Tiger.—Large White Bear.—Tiger Owls,” with monkies, and other animals, the usual accessories to the interior of a menagerie.
The chief attraction was “the Lioness.” Her attack on the Exeter Mail was on a Sunday evening, in the year 1816. The coach had arrived at Winterslow-hut, seven miles on the London side of Salisbury. In a most extraordinary manner, at the moment when the coachman pulled up to deliver his bags, one of the leaders was suddenly seized by some ferocious animal. This produced a great confusion and alarm; two passengers who were inside the mail got out, ran into the house, and locked themselves up in a room above stairs; the horses kicked and plunged violently, and it was with difficulty the coachman could prevent the carriage from being overturned. It was soon perceived by the coachman and guard, by the light of the lamps, that the animal which had seized the horse was a huge lioness. A large mastiff dog came up and attacked her fiercely, on which she quitted the horse and turned upon him. The dog fled, but was pursued and killed by the lioness, within forty yards of the place. It appears that the beast had escaped from its caravan which was standing on the road side with others belonging to the proprietors of the menagerie, on their way to Salisbury Fair. An alarm being given, the keepers pursued and hunted the lioness into a hovel under a granary, which served for keeping agricultural implements. About half-past eight they had secured her so effectually, by barricading the place, as to prevent her escape. The horse, when first attacked, fought with great spirit, and if at liberty, would probably have beaten down his antagonist with his fore feet, but in plunging he embarrassed himself in the harness. The lioness attacked him in the front, and springing at his throat, fastened the talons of her fore feet on each side of his neck, close to the head, while the talons of her hind feet were forced into his chest. In this situation she hung, while the blood was seen flowing as if a vein had been opened by a fleam. He was a capital horse, the off-leader, the best in the set. The expressions of agony in his tears and moans were most pitious and affecting. A fresh horse having been procured, the mail drove on, after having been detained three quarters of an hour. As the mail drew up it stood exactly abreast of the caravan from which the lioness made the assault. The coachman at first proposed to alight and stab the lioness with a knife, but was prevented by the remonstrance of the guard; who observed, that he would expose himself to certain destruction, as the animal if attacked would naturally turn upon him and tear him to pieces. The prudence of the advice was clearly proved by the fate of the dog. It was the engagement between him and the lioness that afforded time for the keepers to rally. After she had disengaged herself from the horse, she did not seem to be in any immediate hurry to move; for, whether she had carried off with her, as prey, the dog she had killed, or from some other cause, she continued growling and howling in so loud a tone, as to be heard for nearly half a mile. All had called out loudly to the guard to despatch her with his blunderbuss, which he appeared disposed to do, but the owner cried out to him, “For God’s sake do not kill her—she cost me 500l., and she will be as quiet as a lamb if not irritated.” This arrested his hand, and he did not fire. She was afterwards easily enticed by the keepers, and placed in her usual confinement.
The collection of animals in Ballard’s menagerie is altogether highly interesting, but it seems impossible that the proprietor could exhibit them for “only a penny” in any other place than “Bartholomew Fair,” where the people assemble in great multitudes, and the shows are thronged the whole day.