St Thomas Easter Fair in the 1830s:
All the fun of the fair
By Dr. Jill A. Sullivan, Associate Research Fellow, University of Exeter
The 1830s saw longer and more regular reports appearing in the local papers. Their authors approved of the additional games played in the fields around the fair, such as football, dancing and kiss-in-the-ring all of which - for the reporters - seemed to ensure the continuance of more innocent 'rural' pursuits as opposed to drinking, gambling and watching what were often perceived as unedifying exhibitions.
The Gazette reporter of 1830, who had commented disapprovingly on the site of the fair, between the 'Debtor's Door' and the 'Lunatic Asylum', was keen to appear socially distanced from the event, an observer rather than a participant. Nevertheless, he gave an extremely detailed report of everything he saw there. Having arrived at the entrance to the main fair, he passed 'the penny hops on our right, and the ginger-bread stalls on our left' and instantly noticed 'an eager mob' who were 'watching the manœuvres [sic] of the gentleman who enacted the part of clown, and from the frequent shouts of laughter which burst from his auditors, we judged him to be performing some practical joke'. The clown
had, following him, some eight or ten ragged boys, one of whom carried a large broom, the leader himself bearing a huge sword - there was something strikingly stupid or darkly profound in these proceedings [...] Presently we saw the drift of the whole proceeding. It was a political pantomime and the clown was personating to a T the peculiarities of the noble Duke at the head of his Majesty's Government [...] The other characters, though sufficiently ragged and grotesque, might be identified as the representatives of noble lords and right honourable gentlemen.
Whilst the onlookers appreciated the comedy and political burlesque in the performance, the reporter styled the crowd a 'mob', a term that had taken on dangerous connotations in the aftermath of the French Revolution, and again in the politically-charged atmosphere of 1830s England. The reporter's assumption that a group of working-class revellers potentially constituted a mob, showed an inherent distrust of the popular attractions of the fair. The opening of his report had even displayed an unfounded fear of entering St. Thomas, but 'anxious duly to labour in our vocation' and presumably under instruction from his editor, he stayed, reluctantly, to observe the other shows. Those shows included pole-balancing and conjuring, as well as 'some natural curiosities' housed in caravans and advertised by large coloured posters of promised sights such as 'a live man with a live pig's head', 'a fat boy, a tall woman' and 'two or three crocodiles eating a man'. He next visited the 'ball-rooms or rather bawl-rooms':
The one, which struck our observation most forcibly, was on the first floor of a public house, where a full orchestra of fiddle and tambourine was animating some half dozen couples of girls to the jocund hop, but the crowded state of the room prevented the dance which was of the good old orthodox style - the country dance - from proceeding in the regularity that it should have done. The admiring beaux were sitting on benches, quaffing libations of barleycorn, and blowing their clouds, whilst the ladies appeared to flit about through the dense wreaths of smoke which filled the room, like sprites in a church yard fog.
The 'hop', according to this report, was not the only tradition maintained at the fair:
the usual facilities were afforded for robbery and depredation by the attentions of a gang of pea and thimble sharpers, who did not confine their practice to the above game alone, but disposed of the watches of many of the lookers-on.[1]
A police report from the Exeter Guildhall noted that one of the above pea and thimble sharpers had been arrested by Officers Taylor and Howard; he had indeed been suspected of stealing watches although none were found on him and he was discharged.[2]
Two years later, in 1832, the Gazette contained another lengthy report, this time less fearful and critical of events west of the Exe. On this occasion there was no suggestion of a 'mob', instead, the street was filled 'with an assembly of all ages and both sexes, whose smiling countenances, and gay attire indicated that they were in the right humour for an evening's enjoyment', although the writer was archly amused by the potential for the 'good supply of rare, curious, and wonderful exhibitions, calculated to "astonish the natives, and make the wulgar [sic] stare" '. The report noted the usual sweetmeat stalls and Punch and Judy booth, as well as a 'number of swing vehicles were also in full work, for the purpose of exercising the juveniles.'[3]
On many occasions throughout the nineteenth century, newspapers carried reports of the fair, which merely commented on the weather and the crowds, sometimes with scant attention paid to the fair itself and the shows and spectacles it contained. As the extracts in this chapter demonstrate, when reporters did pay attention to the event, their reviews could range from the hostile and disapproving, to the aloof recognition of 'popular' or working-class entertainments, the curious and, very occasionally, the utterly fascinated. In 1833, an enthralled reporter for the Gazette saw the fair as an occasion where people 'assembled to enjoy a few hours' harmless fun and relaxation'. In particular his attention was drawn to a 'Balancer' at that year's fair ground. Rather than the aloof 'we' of the singular reporter in 1830, this reporter uses 'we' in the inclusive sense as he joined the crowd of on-lookers:
we saw a most singular and extraordinary feat performed by a dexterous and clever Balancer, which, had it been told us, we should have thought it was the invention of some wag, in order to furnish our readers with a bit of the wonderful! But of a verity, however improbable it may appear to those who did not witness it, we saw the miracle performed, and therefore it must be true. After displaying several pleasing and curious tricks in his art, the Balancer, having an eye to the pence, intimated to the by-standers that if they would collect the trifling sum of sixpence, he would perform such a trick as no other man in the world could - he would actually balance a Donkey on his chin! Curiosity was, of course, excited, and the required sum was quickly gathered, most of the spectators, however, believing the thing to be impossible, and that the performer would make fools of them by practicing some deception. A fine full-grown animal was presented - and all eyes were fixed upon the exhibitor, who commenced his operation by laying on the ground a ladder; he then placed the ass in a position with its fore legs over the top bar, and its hind legs resting on a bar about four feet lower; having secured the animal's legs, by a rope, he lifted the ladder, with the donkey on it, and placed it on his chin, the animal being elevated above; in this situation he balanced the donkey, on the ladder, without any assistance whatever, the ass pricking up his ears as if in triumph amidst the cheers, laughter, and astonishment of the assembled multitude, many of whom appeared to be of opinion that the balancer had dealings with Old Nick.[4]
This reporter evidently enjoyed being part of the crowd, and, although the sense of immediacy is missing, two reports from 1835 also celebrated the variety of shows and stalls on offer at the fair. These included sweetmeat and toy stalls,[5] swings (or "ups and downs"), roundabouts, singers and fiddlers, conjurors and 'garland dancers', plus: ' "Merryman" stuffing flax down his throat with a drum-stick, and with the assistance of wondering urchins, spinning it forth again in a thread that seemed endless' and 'an old Boatswain in an open Jarvy, spinning a yarn of a very different description'. Central to this fair were 'the unrivalled exhibition of the celebrated Mister Jones, and there, that of the renowned Donald M'Kinzey [sic]', each of which would have included a variety of shows.[6] The existence of showmen who - either singly or jointly - had overall management of many of the individual shows at the Easter Fair, had already been evident in the 1820s with the mention of Mr. Samuel, but the Gazette report of April 1835 emphasised the commercial aspect of the fair by suggesting that '[f]rom the immense number of [visitors] collected in the field, we should think Mr Mackenzie and Mr Jones netted a tolerable harvest'[7]
Despite the reported good-humour of visitors to the fair, the travelling theatre that year evidently appealed to their morbid curiosity, with a re-enactment of a Somerset news story. According to the Gazette, 'lovers of the horrible were accommodated in considerable numbers, with a description of the "Langport Murders" , and other dark deeds of woe'.[8] The regular performances were heralded by 'a fellow with a brazen trumpet and still more brazen face' who
informed the populace that within was a correct representation of the Langport murder, and where, for the low price of one penny, they might see the exact manner in which that horrid deed was accomplished.'[9]
But as well as the 'horrid deed' on display in the theatre, the usual games of football, 'drop-the-handkerchief', various stalls, drinking and dancing, maintained the traditions begun decades before. And at the fair of 1836, the day's events were brought to a spectacular close by 'a grand display of fireworks by the ingenious Gyngall.'[10]
Footnotes
[1] Gazette, 17 April 1830, p. [3].
[2] Gazette, 17 April 1830, p. [3].
[3] Gazette, 28 April 1832, p. [3].
[4] Gazette, 13 April 1833, p. [3].
[5] Gazette, 25 April 1835, p. [2].
[6] Post, 23 April 1835, p. 3.
[7] Gazette, 25 April 1835, p. [2].
[8] Gazette,25 April 1835, p. [2].
[9] Post, 23 April 1835, p. 3.
[10] Post, 7 April 1836, p. 2.