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Here comes the
circus
I was looking through an old photo
album belonging to a Society member some time ago when
I came across a delightful picture, which must have
dated back to the early part of the twentieth century.
It showed a circus, possibly Sanger's Circus, in all
its glory, making its way through the Carfax and down
London Road (in those pre-Albion Road dual carriageway
days of course, when London Road came right up to the
Carfax).
The regular spot for circuses in those days was Jew's
Meadow, on the old Common, and it looked as if the
circus was either leaving town, or performing a
stately progress around it – which was the usual and
effective way of advertising its presence in the
locality in those days.
Let us take a brief look at Jew's Meadow, with its
fascinating name, to begin with. I do not know the
specific reason why the land was so called, and would
be most interested if anyone had the answer. The
Victorians referred to the site as Jew's Field as
well, and a map dated 1831 in William Albery's book on
Henry Burstow refers to a Jew's Barn in the area. With
more detail, the 1840 tithe map published by the
Museum Society shows Jew's and Rusholme's Farm,
situated off Trafalgar Road to the west, just before
you come to Dog and Bacon Green, with a number of
associated fields and buildings round about. The
property at this time was owned by Sir Timothy
Shelley, father of the poet, and farmed by William
Sheppard. One of the farm's fields was known as First
Field, situated by the junction of today's Rusham's
Road and Guildford Road, and this (or perhaps Second
Field behind it) was no doubt the site for circuses
and fairs. But who originally caused the land and its
farm to be so named?
Jew's Meadow could be a rough old place, particularly
when there was a fair on. Traders travelled around the
country from fair to fair, and in 1888 John Deacon was
there at the annual 18th July Fair with his hawker's
van, selling baskets and the like. But around midnight
there were cries of 'murder!' coming from the
direction of his pitch, and PC Hill, who wisely was
patrolling at the lower end of the Bishopric, ran the
two hundred yards or so into Jew's Field, to find
Deacon on the ground and his step-daughter Maria
James, nineteen years old and 'a rather good-looking
woman, of respectable appearance' on top, busily
plunging a knife into his shoulder, face and neck. He
had accused her of leading an immoral life, she
claimed that he was 'a beast to my mother and me', and
they were both much the worse for drink.
There was blood everywhere, and Deacon was lucky to
survive. Dr Kinneir was called out in the early hours,
and Maria was taken off to Barttelot Road police
station, proclaiming 'he's stuck well, and he's bled
well'. There was a magistrates' hearing the next day,
and Deacon, whose nose and other parts were strapped
up, 'dared say he had had a glass or two', claimed he
could not remember a thing, and said he did not want
to press charges. But the law thought otherwise, and
Maria was destined for the next assizes charged with
unlawful wounding and intent to commit grevious bodily
harm. No doubt a prison sentence beckoned.
Thirteen years earlier, in April 1875, Sanger's Circus
came to town, and while nothing like unpleasantness at
this level occurred, all the same there does seem to
have been a degree of bad behaviour, this time by the
townspeople. In the Horsham Advertiser for 14th April
that year there was a very sniffy article by 'a
disgusted visitor' who did not seem to care for
anything much. The parade round the town had been very
disappointing, and the behaviour of Horshamites
attending an evening performance had been most
unacceptable. The crowd pushed and shoved to get in,
and 'it was an eye-opener to see some Horsham ladies
who in walking along the street would carefully hold
their skirts aside to avoid touching an ordinary
tradesman, fighting, kicking and scrambling for the
purpose of forcing their way into the circus, instead
of gradually moving along with the rest'. In a final
put-down, our anonymous critic declared, cuttingly 'I
trust however, for their own credit, their conduct was
noticed by but a few'. Not if he had anything to do
with it.
But Sanger's was clearly very popular, even though the
show seemed to bring out the worst in everyone.
Apparently 3,500 tickets were taken at the door –
presumably for the afternoon and evening showings
combined. Our critic, however, was not done yet. The
show itself was pretty hopeless: 'a more wretched
entertainment of the kind was never witnessed in
Horsham'. The only good act was the man on the slack
wire. The acrobats had not one convincing somersault
among them, the ringmaster was shabby in a dirty,
ordinary suit, and the clowns' jokes 'were old and
vapid'.
To cap it all, a dark warning was issued to 'a young
gentleman of the town whose position should teach him
better manners, to avoid in future insulting
respectable females on leaving the tent. Many will
recognise the person alluded to, and I trust he will
profit from the hint thrown out, or may find himself
in a very unpleasant position'.
But despite all the poison in our correspondent's pen,
Sanger's sailed on regardless – and no doubt the
circus had moved on before the local paper, and his
venomous report, came out. Horsham was clearly a
profitable venue, and many years later the town was
still a fixture in the company's itinerary. In a
positively upbeat advertisement (thank goodness for
that!) 'Lord' George Sanger announced his Big Show at
Jew's Meadow on 3rd September 1901. There would be two
performances, at 3pm and 7pm, and the street cavalcade
would set out from the showground at 1pm. Let's hope
this time the acts met with local approval, and as an
added attraction, the by now veteran showman put on
display 'in a large crystal carriage' all the gifts he
had received over the years from Queen Victoria and
other appreciative circus goers. In pride of place was
a silver cigar box from Her Majesty.
George and John Sanger were brothers from Somerset,
and sons of an old sailor turned showman. In 1845 they
started off with a conjuring exhibition in Birmingham,
and then launched a fairly modest travelling circus
consisting of a horse and pony and three or four
performers. Their business later grew into fixed-
venue equestrian pantomimes in London in the winter
and a large touring circus in the summer, and when
their partnership dissolved, George and John went on
to produce their own shows. In 1920 the Sanger HQ was
at Horley, where 'Lord' John (they did love their
titles) presided over a 400 acre farm which housed all
the animals when they were off duty, and provided
fodder for the extensive 30 week circus
tours.
Another Horsham attraction was Ginnett's Royal Circus,
which came to Jew's Meadow in August 1913. This outfit
claimed to be 100 years old, and to consist of 'all
that is customary in a good circus' and to combine the
best elements of high-class music hall as well. And it
went without saying that there was 'the usual
aggregation of clowns and funny fellows'. Just a year
later along came Bronco Bill's Wild West Exhibition,
together with its two-ring circus, this time at Lyne's
Field. There were cowboys, cowgirls, Indians and
'fiery prairie mustangs' galore, together with an
escapologist known as the 'wondrous handcuff marvel',
and the climax of the show was a spectacular attack on
the Deadwood stage, which presumably everyone
participated in – except perhaps the handcuff marvel.
But for exuberant showmanship Sanger, Ginnett and
Bronco Bill had nothing on Ringland's Great Circus. On
their first British tour they raised the big top here
on 11th October 1920, together with 150 horses, mules,
ponies, elephants and other animals. At the 'enormous'
salary of £100 weekly, the Stars of the Orient, the
ten Real Wezzan Arabs, under the direction of Chief
Sie Abbas ben Abdallah, would perform for Horsham.
They were the 'greatest bounding marvels of the age,
the foremost exponents of Exotic Athletics'.
Ringland's also had 'the funniest clowns alive,
thrilling gymnastic exploits, exciting aerial
displays, and Baby Jumbo – the smallest elephant in
England'. Tickets ranged from 1s to 4s.
It all sounds great fun – except perhaps the Baby
Jumbo bit. Exotic animals surely had a tough time of
it on the circuit, and we must all be pleased that
lion tamers and their charges are a thing of the past.
There was plenty of cruelty in a Victorian circus, and
humans came off badly from time to time as well. While
there are no incidents reported from Horsham, in March
1892 in Hednesford, Staffordshire, a negro lion tamer
named Delhi Montarno, attached to Wombwell and
Bailey's Menagerie and Circus, had the grave
misfortune to slip as he entered a cage containing
three bears and a hyena. The animals pounced and tore
at him for fifteen minutes. A report stated that 'the
scene in the menagerie during the unfortunate man's
struggle with the savage beasts was one of the wildest
excitement'. He did not, of course, survive the
mauling.
Exhibitions involving exotic animals and human skills
have been around from the year dot, of course. The
Romans knew how to put on a good (and bloody) show as
well, and closer to home there would have been
travelling players, bear-baiting and other
entertainers throughout medieval times, no doubt
setting up their pitches in the Carfax whenever they
came to town.
It is said that a former cavalryman named Phillip
Astley was the father of the modern circus, with his
exhibitions of horsemanship in a ring, first seen in
London in 1768, and which later included acrobats and
jugglers. Barnum and Bailey's 'Greatest Show on Earth'
in the 1880s represented the art of the nineteenth
century circus at its finest, and together with the
five Ringling Brothers, these American shows gained an
international reputation. And then of course there was
Buffalo Bill and his Wild West Show - Colonel Cody,
together with '40 Cossacks, Mexicans, cowboys, scouts,
Gauchos, Sioux Indians and horses' put on a fine show
for Queen Victoria at Windsor in July 1892.
But today's circus is strictly an animal-free zone,
and instead of chaps sticking their heads between the
jaws of a mangy old lion, we now marvel at the art of
the Cirque du Soleil, where the accent is on
sophisticated sets, splendid music and colourful
spectacle, together with the most incredible
gravity-defying performances - a long way from the
days of Sanger's and a muddy pitch on our own Jew's
Meadow. |
