Throughout history, rare and exotic animals have consistently fascinated people. Travelling menageries, featuring diverse collections of wild animals displayed in cages, played a pivotal role in bringing these captivating creatures to the general public who would otherwise have little opportunity to see such wonders. In an era before widespread global travel and the establishment of modern zoos, menageries transformed the extraordinary into the accessible, offering people a rare glimpse of the natural world’s diversity and wonder. Their purpose was not simply to showcase a variety of species but to create a sense of wonder for those who had the opportunity to gaze upon the animals on exhibit. Jody Berland aptly notes that the essence of these exhibitions lay in the ‘display of wildness as a spectacular experience’, which fascinated and enthralled audiences and offered a rare and thrilling glimpse into the untamed aspects of nature that most people would otherwise never encounter.Footnote 1
Menageries, zoos and circuses each showcased animals in distinct ways, reflecting different objectives and approaches over time. Menageries stood apart from circuses by recognising the unique draw of exotic animal exhibitions well before these creatures were incorporated as regular circus acts. Until the 1840s, circus performances predominantly featured acrobatic feats and equestrian displays, with only a minimal number of wild animal acts. Vernon Kisling describes a menagerie as a place where ‘as many species as possible are exhibited, animals are exhibited in taxonomically arranged rows of barred cages, staff is somewhat knowledgeable about animals, and there are limited education and science programs; the main emphasis is on recreation or entertainment’.Footnote 2 Menageries were never intended to serve as mere sideshows to other attractions as they focused solely on showcasing animals as captivating spectacles in their own right. This also set menageries apart from zoos, which were designed to inspire civic pride and provide educational experiences alongside entertainment. As Helen Cowie explains, ‘where zoos emphasised the “civilisation” of wild animals under human control, menageries were more explicitly geared towards sensation, appealing to a voyeuristic desire for cheap thrills and playing up the ferocity of their animals’.Footnote 3 Menageries, thus, satisfied public curiosity by offering thrilling experiences that contrasted with the more structured and educational focus of zoological gardens.
By the middle of the eighteenth century, Europe had experienced a significant expansion in knowledge of the natural world. Increasing numbers of voyages and explorations brought Europeans into contact with new lands, species and natural phenomena, which spurred the collection and classification of information about flora, fauna and geography. Barbara Gates contends that curiosity for novelty and spectacle was fuelled by these rapid advancements in scientific discoveries and geographical explorations, which prompted a continual reassessment of society’s understanding of nature and the self, and created a vibrant cultural environment where new knowledge was eagerly sought after and celebrated.Footnote 4 In Ireland, burgeoning interest in natural history and science was reflected in the establishment and growth of scientific and learned societies which played a crucial role in fostering a culture of inquiry and discovery. These often maintained extensive libraries, and their members had privileged access to a rich assortment of books on natural history. In 1822, for example, the Royal Irish Academy’s library contained volumes on James Bruce’s travels in north Africa, as well as accounts of Captain James Cook’s voyages in the Pacific, and travels in north America and Syria, together with books on snakes and entomology and a variety of publications on natural history.Footnote 5 By 1839, the library of the Royal Dublin Society was well-stocked with works on expeditions to the north coast and interior of Africa, observations of its windward coast and narratives of journeys to explore its rivers, as well as accounts of travels to Asia, Arabia and Madagascar and illustrations of Ceylon (Sri Lanka).Footnote 6
Leonie Hannan identifies a ‘culture of curiosity’ that increasingly characterised intellectual life as the eighteenth century progressed.Footnote 7 A significant aspect of this culture was the widespread production and dissemination of publications that included detailed descriptions and drawings of exotic animals. These works, often featuring woodcut illustrations, offered readers both visual representations and descriptive accounts of animals’ geographical distribution, habitats, diets and temperaments. In doing so, they provided the public with access to knowledge of the world’s diverse and unfamiliar species, thereby fuelling an expanding interest in natural history. Notable Dublin booksellers such as Thomas Larkin of Parliament Street, John Archer of Dame Street and Richard Milliken of Grafton Street were instrumental in stocking and trading these sought-after works. Oliver Goldsmith produced an eight-volume History of the Earth and animated nature in 1774 with details of a variety of exotic animals.Footnote 8 In addition, accounts of voyages and travels — often featuring descriptions of animals encountered abroad — were also widely available and frequently sold at auction. Footnote 9 By the early nineteenth century, journals and periodicals played an important role in disseminating scientific knowledge. Aimed at both scholars and the general public, these publications reflected the growing fascination with understanding nature. Essays on exotic animals, such as camels and orang-utans, were popular, offering readers insight into the lives of animals from distant regions. Periodicals including the Dublin Penny Journal and the Journal of the Royal Society of London featured scientific articles covering a wide range of topics, from the behaviour of lions in their native habitats to the reproductive biology of kangaroos.Footnote 10
During the 1820s and 1830s, educational reformers in Ireland, notably the Society for Promoting the Education of the Poor of Ireland and the Commissioners of National Education, further expanded access to knowledge of the natural world. These organisations published textbooks that included lessons on animal behaviour, habitats and physiology. Picture lessons, combining visual illustrations with descriptive prose, were used to teach younger students, and animals such as elephants and camels frequently featured.Footnote 11 Stories of famous explorations were also widely circulated and aimed not only to inform but also to spark a sense of curiosity and foster an appreciation for the diversity of life. The impact of such educational efforts is reflected in contemporary observations, including those of William Makepeace Thackeray, who remarked on the widespread familiarity of Cork’s street children with the literature of exploration and discovery.Footnote 12
In this context of heightened scientific interest and educational expansion, the popularity of menageries in early-nineteenth-century Ireland can be understood as a manifestation of the era’s intellectual and cultural preoccupations. The appeal of such exhibitions was driven by collective curiosity and emerging enthusiasm for empirical observation. While menageries primarily targeted the learned and literate classes, their exhibitions were also designed to attract audiences from across the social spectrum. This article examines the history and cultural resonance of travelling menageries in Ireland between approximately 1790 and 1840, a subject that remains comparatively understudied in the Irish context. Direct archival evidence from Irish-based menageries is sparse, in part because many of these enterprises operated primarily in Britain and only occasionally toured Ireland. Nevertheless, newspapers, advertisements and contemporary accounts reveal that menageries played a meaningful role in bringing the wonders of the animal kingdom to the populace and offer valuable insights into how Irish audiences encountered exotic animals during this period. Several prominent menageries visited and created bases in Ireland in these decades. This article explores their management and operations, considers the expectations and experiences of their audiences and interrogates the broader cultural significance of these exhibitions. It also addresses the relatively early disappearance of menageries from the Irish landscape by the mid nineteenth century, a decline that occurred significantly earlier than in Britain, and investigates the factors that may have contributed to this divergence.
I
Exotic animals were not entirely unfamiliar to the Irish public prior to the peak of menagerie popularity in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. The Annals of the Four Masters recorded the arrival of the first camel in Ireland in the fifteenth century, an event that underscored the fascination with exotic animals even in medieval times:
AD 1472, a wonderful animal was sent to Ireland from the king of England; it resembled a mare, having a yellow colour; the hoofs of a cow, a long neck, a very large head, a large tail which was ugly and scarce of hair … she used to kneel when passing under any doorway, however high, and for her rider to mount.Footnote 13
In the seventeenth century, rare animals were occasionally exhibited in Ireland. A notable example occurred in 1681 when an elephant was displayed by Mr Wilkins in a wooden booth at the Custom House, located at the intersection of Parliament Street and Essex Street in Dublin.Footnote 14 This event would have been highly significant, as elephants were extraordinarily rare in Europe at that time. For many people in Ireland, this was likely their first ever encounter with such a creature.
By the early 1700s, the spectacle of the travelling menagerie began to emerge. The fascination with exotic birds and animals reflected a growing public interest in the natural world and the wonders it held, which ‘characterised eighteenth-century intellectual and polite society as part of the Enlightenment’.Footnote 15 A report in the Dublin Evening Post in the 1790s recalled an exhibition of ‘foreign beasts’ in the city some sixty years previously, and Sir John Gilbert documents an intriguing mid-eighteenth-century display at Coghill’s Court (Dame Street), featuring an eclectic collection, including a ‘camel, a porcupine, a flying dragon from Isfahan (a city in central Iran), and a snake twelve feet long’, as well as a ‘collection of wild beasts’ exhibited above the coffee-room in Lucas’s Coffee-House near Cork House (situated in the immediate area of the Royal Exchange, later City Hall).Footnote 16 Samuel Bisset, a shoemaker from Perth in Scotland, exhibited a small menagerie in Dublin and Belfast between 1775 and 1783 that included a tortoise and some monkeys, further demonstrating the extent of public curiosity about exotic animals.Footnote 17 The enduring impact of such exhibitions is reflected in Dublin’s geography in placenames like Menagerie Lane and Elephant Lane (between Marlborough Street and Sackville Street Upper).Footnote 18
The widespread fascination with displays of exotic animals in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries can be understood in the context of the British Empire’s expanding reach and influence. Harriet Ritvo suggests that these exhibitions represented the ‘spoils of empire’, serving as tangible representations of British superiority and control.Footnote 19 Eleonora Sasso further argues that the close engagement with exotic animals offered a form of embodied experience of empire, ‘reminding the Georgians about the relationship between monarch, parliament and citizens’.Footnote 20 In England, the exhibition of exotic animals served as a symbol of imperial power, showcasing the empire’s dominance over distant lands and over the natural world. In Ireland, however, this was not the dominant narrative, though elements of imperial symbolism can be noted in some locations, for example in the Royal Menagerie on Sackville Street with its decorations of Britannia crowning Wellington and entwining symbols of British and Irish unity.Footnote 21 The arrival of the Golden Grove — one of the earliest transport vessels to return to Cobh (‘Cove’), County Cork, from Botany Bay, Australia, in May 1789 — marked a significant moment in the burgeoning public fascination with exotic species and underscored the expanding influence of maritime trade and emerging transoceanic connections with the ‘New World’. On board were ‘several kangaroos, an opossum, and many other curiosities of beasts, birds and fishes’ intended for public exhibition.Footnote 22 These animals, along with various stuffed specimens, were temporarily displayed as a menagerie at the Gibraltar Tavern in Cobh.
II
In the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, menageries gained widespread popularity in Ireland. Among the most prominent was the menagerie established in the early 1790s at Stokes Great Room on Capel Street in Dublin. Advertised as ‘part of the Royal Menagerie of Versailles’ and showcasing ‘beauties of the forest and living rarities’, this exhibit attracted significant public interest.Footnote 23 In January 1792, its owners announced ambitious plans to tour Ireland, visiting every ‘capital town and city’. This would have required substantial logistical arrangements, including the employment of a ‘waggoner’ to drive a large wagon and manage the six horses necessary to transport the animals and exhibition equipment, indicating the considerable interest and demand for these exhibitions. Meanwhile, smaller menageries operated throughout Ireland during this period — menageries were not confined to prominent locations, but could also be found in more modest settings, making them accessible to a broader segment of the population. These included ‘a grand exhibition of beasts and birds’ at the Coal Yard on Back Lane in Dublin in April 1796.Footnote 24 Smaller venues like these underscore how menageries were evolving to become a familiar part of Irish entertainment and culture.
The early years of the nineteenth century marked a significant expansion in the popularity and variety of menageries in Ireland, featuring a wider array of exotic animals than ever before. One of the pioneering figures in this burgeoning scene was an Italian, Stefano Polito, who established his menagerie, which he had purchased from Gilbert Pidcock, on the corner of Sackville Street and Abbey Street in Dublin in 1805. Polito’s collection quickly became a major attraction, drawing large crowds eager to witness the spectacle of wild animals in captivity. By 1819, the exhibition (operated after Stefano’s death in 1814 by his brother, John) had garnered such popularity and acclaim that it was renamed the Hibernian Menagerie.Footnote 25 The Freeman’s Journal lauded it, asserting that ‘no exhibition ever attracted the attention of public curiosity, or gave such universal satisfaction … the like never yet appeared in any part of the British Empire’.Footnote 26 A letter from a satisfied visitor further praised the unique and comprehensive nature of Polito’s collection, stating that it was the first time the Irish public had seen a ‘complete menagerie’.Footnote 27 In March 1813, William Bagshaw established his ‘Royal Irish Menagerie’ at 22 Lower Sackville Street, which boasted an impressive collection of nine hundred specimens of living birds and beasts.Footnote 28 The mobile nature of Bagshaw’s menagerie also contributed to its widespread appeal. By March 1815, Bagshaw had taken his menagerie to Limerick, where it was exhibited on Patrick Street.Footnote 29 Another significant figure on the Irish menagerie scene was George Wombwell, who opened a menagerie on Brunswick Street in Dublin in 1830. By 1834, his collection had grown in size and reputation, prompting him to rebrand it as the Grand National Menagerie and to relocate to Lower Abbey Street. Wombwell’s menagerie was notable not only for its impressive array of animals, but also for its ambitious scope and branding, indicating a growing trend toward professionalisation and commercialisation in the menagerie business.
As menageries in Ireland evolved from static exhibitions in Dublin to mobile attractions, they began to tour provincial towns, marking a new era in Irish entertainment. Unlike in England, where menageries had been a common feature at annual fairs, this trend only began in Ireland during the second decade of the nineteenth century. An account from English visitors in 1811 lamented the lack of entertainment at Donnybrook Fair, specifically noting the absence of ‘wild birds and beastesess’ compared to London fairs.Footnote 30 This situation changed around 1819 when Polito’s menagerie made its first appearance at Donnybrook. In 1820, the antiquary, Thomas Cromwell, observed that ‘shews of wild beasts’ had only recently become a feature of the fair.Footnote 31 This marked the beginning of a new trend, with exhibitors like Wombwell and William Batty soon becoming regulars at Donnybrook. Wombwell even acquired a ‘tolerably large-sized travelling cart’ to transport his menagerie from Dublin city centre to the fair, indicating the growing logistical capacity and professionalisation of these exhibitions.Footnote 32 Menageries soon expanded beyond Donnybrook, becoming a popular feature at fairs and events throughout Ireland. They visited fairs, horse race meetings and the regatta at Belfast.Footnote 33 The German traveller, Johann Kohl, described the huge wagons that congregated together at race meetings with their collections of wild beasts.Footnote 34 Similarly, the chronicler, Paddy Kelly, noted the presence of ‘every description of animal’ at the Bellewstown races in 1833.Footnote 35
Transporting menageries to provincial towns and fairs across Ireland required careful logistical planning. The animals were housed in specially designed caravans, which served multiple purposes beyond mere transportation. Typically one of these caravans was converted into a living space, complete with a kitchen, parlour, bedrooms and other necessary accommodations for the menagerie staff. This set-up provided a mobile home for the workers and caretakers, allowing them to live comfortably while on the road. Polito’s menagerie, for instance, boasted of being ‘the largest travelling collection in the known world’, transported in six safe and commodious caravans specifically built for this purpose.Footnote 36 Wombwell’s menagerie was similarly highly organised. To herald the arrival of his exhibition, Wombwell often dispatched an advance party of trumpeters.Footnote 37 These played a crucial role in generating public interest and excitement ahead of the menagerie’s arrival. The presence of menageries at fairs and race meetings provided a unique opportunity for audiences from all sections of society to encounter rare and exotic animals. Local people — men, women and children — from its hinterlands attended events like Donnybrook Fair, as noted by Jonah Barrington.Footnote 38 The races also attracted a diverse audience, from merchants and journalists to barbers, tailors and members of the local landed gentry.Footnote 39 This broad attendance suggests that menageries were not only a source of entertainment but also a social equaliser, drawing diverse crowds together to marvel at the wonders of the natural world.
III
The large and diverse range of animals were exhibited in Irish menageries during the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. For instance, the late-eighteenth-century exhibition in Capel Street in Dublin featured ‘a most curious collection of foreign beasts … a grand exhibition of quadrupeds … remarkable for their extraordinary formation and singular appearance’.Footnote 40 Notably, some animals, presumably primates, were described as ‘nearly approaching the human race’. Subsequent exhibitions continued to expand the variety of species on display. The Back Lane menagerie in Dublin, for example, included a pelican, a wolf, a leopard and a vulture, and the ‘first Bengal tiger ever seen in the kingdom’.Footnote 41 The arrival of Stefano Polito’s menagerie in 1805 represented a significant intensification of this trend. His vast collection included ostriches, hippopotamuses, sea lions, walruses, antelopes, a zebu, an agulti or red cava, kangaroos, porcupines, wolves, lions, panthers, sloths, jackals, racoons, a coatimundi, a cassowary and multiple primate species, as well as a variety of wild birds.Footnote 42 Over the next fourteen years, Polito’s continued to expand their menagerie, adding camels, tigers, spotted hyenas, ocelots, leopards, jaguars, a polar bear, lynx, a water buffalo, pumas, and a great wanderoo and civet genet cats.Footnote 43 The collection also featured large animals such as an elephant, a horned horse or nilghau, and a zebra, as well as a boa constrictor, crocodiles and birds, including an emu, a pelican and a vulture.Footnote 44
John Howis’s menagerie, operating from Abbey Street, Dublin from 1815, offers further insight into the travelling and transnational nature of these exhibitions. Though primarily based in England, Howis visited Ireland regularly, exhibiting his animals not only in Dublin but also in provincial towns such as Mallow, County Cork in 1817 and again the following year.Footnote 45 His collection mirrored that of Polito’s in scope, showcasing lions, a tiger, a black wolf, a pair of leopards, a civet or musk cat, a kangaroo, a pair of coatimundis, a Barbary ape, monkeys, raccoons and a large collection of exotic birds.Footnote 46
George Wombwell adopted a more systematised and entrepreneurial approach to the menagerie scene by dividing his collection into three distinct units. This strategy allowed each group to operate independently, ensuring widespread exposure and maximising business opportunities. Wombwell’s approach marked a shift from the casual assortment of animals typically found in earlier menageries to a more curated and impressive display, emphasising rarity and novelty, and elevating his exhibitions into sophisticated, commercially viable spectacles. His 1830 exhibition on Brunswick Street in Dublin included animals such as alpacas, a variegated camel, a llama, a deer from the Ganges, Wallace the lion, black wolves, arctic white bears, sledge dogs, raccoons, a porcupine, a pelican, anacondas, boa constrictors and other serpents — specimens whose rarity and symbolic capital were leveraged in both advertising and press coverage.Footnote 47 Wombwell’s commitment to curatorial precision is evident in reports in the Dublin Weekly Register, which emphasised that the menagerie was not a ‘chance gathering’, but rather a carefully selected assembly of the ‘greatest rarities ever imported into Europe’.Footnote 48
Wombwell’s subsequent expansion into Belfast and Cork by the mid 1830s further illustrates the integration of spectacle and science in the menagerie business. He promoted these exhibitions as unique opportunities for the public to observe and learn about animals ‘which are seldom to be seen in this country’.Footnote 49 He continued to expand his collection — adding brown bears, alligators and other rare animals — to maintain public interest and attract crowds. Throughout the 1830s, Wombwell’s menagerie toured extensively across Ireland, visiting cities and towns including Kilkenny, Carlow, Cork, Bandon, Kinsale and Waterford.
William Batty began his career with a circus, touring country towns with a collection of horses and a pair of African zebras.Footnote 50 In March 1836, he opened a more formal exhibition on Lower Abbey Street in Dublin, which drew large crowds.Footnote 51 The following year, he purchased a three-year-old elephant named Fong, from Ceylon.Footnote 52 This addition was particularly noteworthy as elephants were rare and exotic attractions at the time. By May of that year, he had acquired a lion and a leopard, further expanding his collection of wild animals and enhancing the appeal of his menagerie.Footnote 53 The wild animals elicited huge public interest, forcing Batty to add extra performances, and he was soon exhibiting at Donnybrook Fair. Batty’s operations were not without hardship; a fire in Glasgow in 1839 resulted in the loss of several horses, as well as all the wardrobe, horse-furniture and Batty’s personal belongings. Despite being uninsured, Batty showed remarkable resilience by reopening in Dublin in April 1839 with a new collection that included ‘lions, tigers, leopards and other rare and curious animals’.Footnote 54 By June 1839, Batty’s menagerie was rebranded as the Royal Menagerie of Trained Animals. He expanded to other locations, such as the Circus Royal in Mary Street, Cork, and later moved to Mount Vesuvius Gardens in Kingstown (Dun Laoghaire), presenting a variety of wild beasts, birds and snakes, and attracting significant public interest.Footnote 55 His regular appearances at major fairs, including Donnybrook and Ballinasloe, with his ‘splendid menagerie’, and his visits to provincial towns such as Nenagh in County Tipperary in November 1839, reflect the continuing popularity and commercial viability of such enterprises throughout Ireland.Footnote 56 Advertisements for Batty’s exhibitions highlighted the exotic and ferocious nature of the animals displayed, positioning them as both dangerous curiosities and marvels of the natural world.
The public fascination with wild and exotic animals was so intense that individual creatures often became widely celebrated attractions. In June 1819, Polito’s menagerie capitalised on popular demand by organising a special exhibition in Cork featuring a rare boa constrictor.Footnote 57 Similarly, an elephant called Mademoiselle D’Jeck became a notable attraction when she was loaned for a theatre engagement in Dublin in the summer of 1830. Transporting her from Bristol to Dublin had cost sixty guineas, a testament to the significance placed on her appearance. Footnote 58 By the end of her theatrical run, Mademoiselle D’Jeck had garnered such interest that large crowds gathered to witness her departure from Dublin.
An even more remarkable incident occurred on Wednesday, 23 April 1834, when the ship Morley, commanded by a Captain Douglas, made an unplanned stop at Ventry Harbour in County Kerry due to a shortage of fresh water. On board was an elephant from Ceylon, which had embarked on the journey on 25 December 1833. The arrival of the ship attracted not only the local elite from Dingle, but also crowds of country people eager to catch a glimpse of the unusual passenger. The locals, unfamiliar with such an exotic animal, referred to the elephant as an ‘Indian pig’. Footnote 59 These incidents highlight the powerful draw that exotic animals had on the public, stirring a mix of wonder, amusement and fascination.
Menagerists not only exhibited animals but also actively engaged in the sale and exchange of their stock. Proprietors like Bagshaw, Polito, Wombwell and Batty frequently advertised these transactions. Batty, for instance, specialised in singing birds but also ventured into larger and more exotic offerings. At his exhibition on Ormond Quay, he advertised a water buffalo from Bombay, promoting it as an intriguing addition for ‘any gentleman curious in trying the experiment of using the breed with cattle of that species.’Footnote 60 His commerce also extended to horses, likely sold for breeding purposes.Footnote 61 Wombwell, meanwhile, was notably successful in breeding animals within his menageries, particularly lions and elephants. By December 1835, he reportedly owned fourteen of the eighteen lions displayed in various zoological gardens and menageries across England and Ireland.Footnote 62 He also traded in bulldogs and mastiffs, demonstrating the range of animals offered for sale by menagerists, from domesticated breeds to exotic wildlife.
IV
Establishing, operating, promoting and maintaining menageries was a significant financial commitment. In 1792, the owner of the Capel Street menagerie claimed that it had cost 475 guineas to purchase his collection of animals.Footnote 63 Wombwell once calculated that it cost more than £12,000 annually to maintain his whole menagerie.Footnote 64 He also estimated that from the beginning of his career until 1834, he had lost, through death or injury, about 10,000 guineas worth of animals or birds. This illustrates the significant risks involved in the business, where the well-being of exotic animals, often brought from distant lands, could be compromised due to factors like inadequate care, unsuitable climates or accidents during transportation. In an era defined by the proliferation of commercially-driven, highly-advertised spectacles, it was crucial for menagerie operators to attract paying audiences to offset substantial costs and ensure profitability. Menagerists were, therefore, excellent promoters. As Fyfe and Lightman observe, while ‘nineteenth-century scientific attractions may not have had gift shops to rival our modern science centers … their directors were nonetheless highly skilled in the business of attracting visitors with their entertaining and instructive spectacles’.Footnote 65 Menagerists’ posters and advertisements frequently used superlatives to enhance the appeal of their collections, describing their animals as the largest, the smallest or the rarest of their species. Polito’s menagerie, for example, claimed of their hippopotamus that ‘there is no account of such an animal ever being seen in Europe alive’.Footnote 66 Their rare tapir was similarly marketed as an animal ‘so very rare that few naturalists have ever been able to give any description of it’.
Menagerie operators skilfully used publicity not only to sensationalise their animal exhibits but also to imbue them with an educational and exotic appeal. The allure of the exhibitions lay not only in the opportunity to see exotic creatures, but also in the accompanying narratives that connected these animals to far-off, often mysterious lands. This combination of sensationalism and education made visits to menageries akin to ‘encountering a foreign world’.Footnote 67 Each animal’s place of origin was prominently highlighted: Polito’s camel came from Egypt, their tiger from Bengal, their hyena from the Cape of Good Hope, panthers from the ‘River La Plata’, ocelots from Brazil, jaguars from Amboyna (Indonesia), the polar bear from ‘the frozen oceans of the Arctic’, the water buffalo from Bombay, the zebra from India and exotic birds from Java, Van Diemen’s Land and Hindustan. This sense of encountering something from a different world was a significant draw for the public and extended beyond the mere presence of the animals. Menagerie advertisements frequently mentioned the efforts and difficulties involved in preserving exotic creatures in Ireland’s often unsuitable climate, adding a sense of urgency and fragility to the experience and effectively combining sensationalism with geographical storytelling. As Richard Altick notes, ‘much of the charm of these show beasts resided in the aura of mystery or romance in which the showmen diligently wrapped them’.Footnote 68
As menageries evolved and competition for audiences increased, proprietors like George Wombwell increasingly emphasised the perceived ferocity of their animals to attract more visitors. This marketing tactic capitalised on the public’s fascination with the danger of witnessing powerful, potentially deadly creatures up close. Newspaper reports of passers-by being ‘horribly lacerated’ by loosely-chained leopards were sometimes unfortunately true but often grossly exaggerated. The tale of the escape of a lion and a tigress from Wombwell’s menagerie in England, which allegedly resulted in the deaths of three people, some sheep and a cow, was exposed as a hoax, but generated good publicity.Footnote 69 Although menagerie owners took care to assure patrons that their animals, although ‘ferocious’ and ‘brutes’, were safely confined in their cages, such advertising not only increased ticket sales, but also reinforced the menagerie’s image as a place where the boundaries between safety and danger felt thrillingly blurred.
Sometimes, animals were anthropomorphised or described in ways that emphasised their intelligence and tameness. Batty’s lions, leopards and tigers were promoted as being extraordinarily sagacious and docile. Polito’s and Wombwells emphasised the animals’ intelligence and their ability to ‘comprehend’ the commands of their keepers. Their elephants, in particular, were promoted as ‘half-reasoning beasts’ that embodied both the marvels and gentleness of the animal world.Footnote 70 This served to blend curiosity with a promise of safety which could draw in a broader audience, including families and the more cautious members of the public, thus expanding the menageries’ appeal.
When menageries became established features at the annual fairs, their presence was heralded by vivid, eye-catching advertisements. Large, dramatic paintings on cloth were attached to the sides of the wagons and tents. One patron who visited several Wombwell exhibitions, including Donnybrook, described ‘large, life-sized paintings of lions, tigers, crocodiles, elephants, giraffes, bears and boa constrictors, hanging tier above tier, all painted in the most glaring colours’.Footnote 71 A drawing of Donnybrook Fair by George Du Noyer, dated 1830, depicts a large image of a lion, snake and kangaroo above the menagerie tent.Footnote 72 This visual language of the menagerie — a synthesis of colour, scale and exoticism — was highly effective in an era before widespread print media, as it communicated the unusual and rare nature of the animals on display and enticed a diverse audience.
Admission fees to menageries reflected the value placed on these spectacles. In 1792, entrance to the Capel Street menagerie was advertised at 6d. sterling, while the Back Lane exhibition charged 1s. 1d. for adults and half price for children. The Capel Street menagerie earned at least £10 a day for its proprietor in 1792, which would suggest a daily admission of some 400 people.Footnote 73 In 1808, Polito’s charged 1s. 8d. for adults; two children were admitted for the price of one adult or 10d. each. By the early nineteenth century, menagerists had developed tiered pricing systems to encourage attendance from the working classes. Polito’s, for example, offered reduced evening rates from 1812, explicitly targeting tradespeople, servants and children. In 1816, Howis’s menagerie in Belfast recorded a single day’s takings of £18 12s. ½d. suggesting substantial daily footfall.Footnote 74 Flexibility in pricing allowed operators to respond to local economic conditions. During the economic downturn in Dublin in 1819, Polito’s significantly reduced admission prices to see its elephant so that even ‘the humblest individual’ could view the animal which was displayed at Donnybrook.Footnote 75 Following the creation of their four apartments, admission was set at 10d. for each apartment or 2s. 6d. for the whole exhibition. However, as the economic situation in Dublin worsened in 1820, Polito’s announced that their Abbey Street premises was closing in February of that year and reduced admission to 1s. 8d. for ladies and gentlemen, and 10d. for tradespeople, servants and children to see the entire exhibition. From April 1821, the menagerie moved from Abbey Street to Ormond Quay near the Four Courts in Dublin, and in early 1822 it relocated to Chichester Street in Belfast. When Wombwell opened his Brunswick Street menagerie in 1830, admission charges were fixed at 1s. for adults.
V
A visit to a menagerie fulfilled many purposes, catering to a wide range of interests and needs. Although the information provided was not always scientifically accurate, menagerists often presented themselves as educators, offering instruction about the natural history and geographical origins of the animals exhibited. Advertisements and promotional materials frequently included details about the climates and countries from which these animals came, serving as informal lessons in geography and biology for visitors. The educational value of such exhibitions found early endorsement in the writings of Dr Isaac Watts, an influential eighteenth-century theologian and educator. Advocating for the observational study of animals, he emphasised the potential for such experiences to broaden one’s understanding of the natural world, and recommended:
the sight of uncommon things in nature and art to the curiosity of youth. If some strange wild beasts or birds are to be shown, if lions and eagles, ostriches and elephants, pelicans and rhinoceroses are brought into our land … I will readily allow these sights are worthy of the attendance of the younger parts of mankind, where it may be done with safety, and without too great hazard or expense. Most of these things are often not repeated, and it is fit that the curiosity of the eyes should be so far gratified as to give people, once in their lives, an opportunity of knowing what these things are, that their minds may be furnished with useful ideas of the world of nature.Footnote 76
Although Watts predated the peak popularity of menageries, his sentiments align with the educational aspirations that later menagerists claimed for their exhibitions. In 1828, the zoologist James Rennie expressed a more progressive view, asserting that menageries could serve as valuable educational tools rather than mere entertainment. He noted that menageries enabled people to encounter ‘uncommon specimens of the animals of other climes’ right at their doorstep, thus expanding their understanding of the world’s biodiversity.Footnote 77
This growing commitment to natural history education was paralleled in publishing trends. The early eighteenth century saw the publication of the first English-language zoological book specifically aimed at children, marking a significant shift in educational literature. These works reflected a growing recognition of the natural world as a valuable source of knowledge and moral lessons. The burgeoning interest in natural history was seen not only as a means of conveying useful information but also as a way to impart ethical and moral teachings through the observation of nature. In Ireland, similar attitudes prevailed. The Dublin bookseller and publisher Philip Dixon Hardy strongly advocated for the educational benefits of exposing children to rare and living animals and birds. He believed that such encounters sparked curiosity and provided opportunities for reflection, making the study of natural history particularly engaging and effective for young learners.Footnote 78 His view emphasised that direct observation and personal experience with the natural world could profoundly impact children’s understanding and appreciation of life sciences.
Visits to menageries were, therefore, framed as wholesome and respectable activities, reflecting the era’s societal values and educational aspirations. In certain cases, access was broadened through philanthropic gestures, such as offering free or discounted admission as part of broader educational initiatives.Footnote 79 Menageries were promoted as suitable venues for family outings, with organisers specifically encouraging the attendance of women and children by emphasising assurances of safety and enjoyment. Contemporary reports regularly highlighted the presence of women of high social standing at these events, further affirming the respectability and social legitimacy conferred upon such visits. The exhibitions themselves were carefully curated to avoid offending sensibilities, making them appropriate for family visits. For example, the Dublin Morning Register in 1836 commended Batty’s menagerie for providing ‘innocent amusement’ that guided the lower classes away from ‘vice and dissipation’.Footnote 80 Similarly in 1839, the newspaper assured parents that they could confidently bring their children to these exhibitions without fear of exposure to anything inappropriate or morally questionable.Footnote 81
Menagerie animals were typically displayed in cages, creating a carefully controlled environment that balanced the allure of wildness with assurances of safety. These precautions were highlighted in the Capel Street menagerie which assured visitors of the ‘docility and cleanliness’ of its animals, signalling that even the most nervous guests could feel comfortable approaching the exhibits. The Royal Dublin Menagerie similarly emphasised that ‘the beasts are well secured so that the most timid person may approach them with safety; and not the least disagreeable smell in the whole apartment’.Footnote 82 Polito’s menagerie reinforced this commitment to safety in its promotions, particularly when exhibiting new acquisitions like wolves, jackals and lions. Advertisements in 1812 assured the public that the animals were ‘well secured so that the most timorous person may approach them.’Footnote 83 This concern for public perception extended to the physical structures housing the animals, and larger animals like elephants were displayed in custom-built spaces to accommodate their size and provide a clear, comfortable viewing experience. For example, in November of that year, an elephant was displayed in a large purpose-built building near Nelson’s Pillar on Sackville Street, described as ‘capacious in extent and accommodating to the view of spectators’.Footnote 84 As the animal continued to increase in size, the exhibition was obliged to move to a large wooden building on D’Olier Street near Carlisle Bridge and later to South William Street.Footnote 85
A typical menagerie of the period offered a vivid and immersive experience for visitors as exemplified by an account describing the spectacle as ‘a very curious sight, and better worth seeing than anything in the fair’.Footnote 86 Polito’s animals were housed in iron cages, illuminated by a twenty-light chandelier, creating an almost theatrical atmosphere. Thomas Collins, a visitor from the Claremont Deaf and Dumb Institution in Dublin, provided a detailed report of Polito’s menagerie in 1819. He described lions and tigers playing in iron cages and a zebra housed in a wooden cage.Footnote 87 His classmate, William Brennan, observed that the buffalo was kept in a wooden enclosure, indicating the diverse methods of containment used for different animals. When Polito’s relocated to 7 Lower Abbey Street in April 1819, it featured a purpose-built structure that organised the exhibits into four distinct ‘apartments’ each showcasing different species.Footnote 88 One visitor detailed the layout: the first apartment housed camels, lions, tigers and leopards; the second contained larger animals like an elephant, rhinoceros and zebra; the third showcased a variety of exotic birds, a porcupine and a kangaroo; and the final apartment was dedicated to reptiles, featuring snakes and crocodiles. This arrangement not only heightened the sense of wonder, but also provided, for the first time in Ireland, a structured viewing experience.Footnote 89
Notwithstanding the emphasis on safety and the secure containment of animals in cages, menageries offered visitors unique opportunities for close interaction with the exhibits. One such instance occurred when a two-week old lion cub, born in Dublin and exhibited in Lower Abbey Street, was made available for visitors to hold. Similarly, at Donnybrook Fair, a traveller noted: ‘We visited Mr Batty’s menagerie and were offered a mount upon a young elephant at a low charge of one penny.’Footnote 90 Thomas Collins from the Claremont Institution had an opportunity to feel the quills of the porcupine at Polito’s.Footnote 91 Opportunities for direct physical engagement with the animals provided a sensory experience that deepened the visitors’ fascination and connection with the exotic creatures on display.
As noted, the appeal of menageries was significantly heightened by the presence of dangerous animals, with the public particularly drawn to the thrill and spectacle of feeding time. These moments provided a rare and vivid display of the animals’ natural behaviours, often showcasing them at their most active and energetic. Feeding times were not only advertised, but became a key feature of the menagerie experience, with lists of the specific foods consumed by the animals occasionally publicised to pique interest further. For instance, newspapers reported on the diet of Polito’s Great Serpent, mentioning it was fed ‘several rabbits and fowls’.Footnote 92 Feeding time commanded a premium price for admission: visitors had to pay double the usual fee to witness the event, typically at around eight o’clock in the evening, making it a significant source of revenue for the proprietors.
VI
While menageries occupied a prominent place in nineteenth-century public entertainment, their existence was accompanied by significant ethical and practical concerns. The presence of wild animals in close proximity to each other and to humans provoked widespread unease and operational challenges, and generated a certain amount of opposition, particularly in residential areas. For example, in 1790, the residents of Capel Street attempted to prevent the establishment of the menagerie in their neighbourhood. The Freeman’s Journal articulated the apprehensions of locals who described the menagerie as a ‘dangerous and alarming nuisance’, expressing fears regarding offensive odours, threats to public health and risks from potentially escaping animals:
The stench that comes from those rancid animals is highly offensive to the inhabitants and threatens sickness to all who go near their den … it is besides, extremely dangerous to have such ferocious animals as a hyena or a leopard in any part of this city; what destruction would they make among the inhabitants … were they to break loose and against which there is no other security than the indifferent attention of one or two careless underlings whom a naggin of whiskey might induce from their duty. Ill-protected is the city indeed, where, for a pecuniary consideration, such monsters are allowed to be exhibited, where no lady can think herself secure from being torn in pieces when placed close to the wire where those dangerous beasts of prey are so loosely confined.Footnote 93
The newspaper raised valid points about public safety and hygiene, reflecting a broader anxiety about the potential risks associated with menageries while situating menageries and their employees as disruptive and hazardous presences within the community. The Freeman’s Journal questioned whether
… these carnivorous animals and their idle vagrant keepers and proprietors, who are but lazy burthens and impositions on society, were drove from among us, than that one person should be maimed or injured, or under apprehensions of being torn to pieces, or the wives of citizens become liable to horrid impressions?Footnote 94
The newspaper’s attitude softened over time. By the end of 1792, the objections had been addressed, leading the same paper to support the exhibition.Footnote 95 Challenges persisted, however. In 1807, complaints about the state of the intersection at Abbey Street and Sackville Street brought renewed attention to the logistical issues posed by menageries and reflected the ongoing difficulties they faced in managing their impact on the surrounding areas.Footnote 96 There were complaints about the accumulation of rubbish and the disruption caused by heavy rain, indicating that, despite improvements, operational and environmental issues persisted. Menagerie owners had to maintain a delicate balance between attracting visitors and heeding local concerns.
The risks associated with menageries were significant, given the nature of the animals involved and the conditions under which they were kept and transported. For example, a female ostrich died at Polito’s exhibition in Sackville Street in 1809, due to injuries sustained during sea transport.Footnote 97 In 1833, a menagerie wagon overturned in Ballymahon on its way to Longford, and during the ensuing chaos, a tiger attacked other animals.Footnote 98 Menagerie keepers and handlers were also at risk. In October 1834 in Athlone, County Westmeath, a Mr Hanley suffered severe lacerations from a panther while attempting to repair its cage at Wombwell’s menagerie.Footnote 99 A keeper in Batty’s menagerie was critically injured at Roscrea, County Tipperary in 1839 when a tiger attacked him after he fell into its cage. The intervention of a lion in this incident, which attacked the tiger to save the keeper, underscores the unpredictability of working with such animals.Footnote 100 While accidents were less frequent in Ireland than in England, they were still significant when they occurred. Newspaper reports about them not only heightened public awareness of the risks, but also influenced perceptions of menageries and their safety standards.
As the nineteenth century progressed, rising sentiment in favour of animal welfare, coupled with ongoing concerns regarding public safety, began to fuel broader opposition to menageries. Barbara Benedict explores this dynamic, describing the experience of viewing animals in captivity as oscillating between ‘the spectator and the spectacle, the possessor and the possession’.Footnote 101 Menageries placed animals on display as objects to be owned and observed. This relationship was not only about passive viewing, but also about active possession, as spectators derived a sense of power and control from their ability to see and, in some cases, interact with these exotic creatures. The animals, on the other hand, were reduced to possessions, their natural behaviours constrained and manipulated for the sake of human curiosity and entertainment.
Critics were also increasingly concerned about the conditions in which the animals were kept, including the adequacy of their cages and the quality of their care. As awareness of animal welfare issues grew, so did scrutiny of and opposition to menageries, particularly when they were perceived as being poorly managed or as posing a danger to the public. Accounts from visitors often highlighted problems with cleanliness and maintenance. For example, the observation of a broken wooden railing in the nilghau’s cage by a visitor from the Claremont Institution, and descriptions of the animals at Donnybrook Fair as ‘dingy den-imprisoned unclean beasts’, indicate that not all menageries were able to maintain high standards.Footnote 102 The unpleasant odour of dirty straw and sawdust noted by observers further underscores these issues. In response to such criticisms, menagerie owners like the proprietor of the Royal Menagerie in Lower Sackville Street, took steps to emphasise cleanliness and comfort in their advertisements. The claim of having ‘not the least disagreeable smell’ and showcasing the ‘comfort of the animals’ were strategies to reassure potential visitors of the establishment’s high standards.Footnote 103 Wombwell, in particular, not only highlighted the cleanliness of his animals and the security of their enclosures, but also sought the approval of city authorities to bolster his credibility and reassure the public of his menagerie’s adherence to health and safety standards.
Allegations and reports of cruelty to the animals in menageries persisted, and Peta Tait observes that while ‘the travelling menagerie was a place of organised leisure … its transient character may have made it appear less regulated than comparable entertainments’.Footnote 104 Caged animals presented ‘a contained world for individuals looking for excitement’ and there are instances recorded where this resulted in injuries and fatalities.Footnote 105 Such settings occasionally encouraged visitors to engage in acts of cruelty, including taunting and provoking the animals. William Brennan observed disturbing scenes at Polito’s exhibition in 1819, where patrons beat and tormented various animals.Footnote 106 An inebriated visitor to Wombwell’s in Antrim continually aggravated the lion until the animal eventually attacked, inflicting fatal injuries.Footnote 107 Similarly, a band of young men broke into Hilton’s menagerie at the fair in Limavaddy, County Derry in 1837, where they teased the monkeys, whipped the lioness and the wolf and pelted the elephant with a variety of objects.Footnote 108
Animals in menageries were often overworked, particularly in settings like fairs where they provided rides or performed repeatedly for paying crowds. At Donnybrook Fair, one visitor observed that the elephant became so exhausted from giving rides that it eventually protested by dropping down and discharging its ‘jockeys into the sawdust’.Footnote 109 Menageries were also targets for theft and vandalism. There were multiple instances of attempts to steal animals or damage their enclosures, reflecting both a lack of respect for the animals and a disregard for their safety. In January 1818, a notably perilous incident occurred in Cashel, County Tipperary when a gang of five locals attempted to break into a cage containing a lion and a tiger.Footnote 110 Their efforts were thwarted, and they were apprehended before gaining entry. That same month, an attempt was made to steal macaws and other birds from Howis’s menagerie at the Parade in Kilkenny.Footnote 111 This incident was followed by a more violent episode in November 1821, when Howis’s caravan was attacked in Newport, County Mayo. The confrontation escalated dramatically, resulting in Howis firing a shot that fatally wounded the assailant.Footnote 112
Mortality rates in menageries were very high, with many animals perishing after only a few weeks in captivity. These dead animals were sometimes donated to scientific institutions for research purposes: in 1808, an ostrich from Polito’s menagerie was donated to the Dublin Society for dissection.Footnote 113 This was not always the case, however, and many unscrupulous handlers disposed of dead animals without proper documentation. A striking example occurred in Carlow when a dead lion was discarded from a menagerie. The lion’s body was buried haphazardly, and its skeleton caused confusion among scientists when it was unearthed some years later. It was only through the recollection of an elderly local that the incident was clarified. Some menagerists simply abandoned the animals when they could no longer perform. For instance, in the 1860s, an armadillo was discovered wandering in a field in County Meath, having been abandoned in poor condition by a travelling menagerie.Footnote 114
Despite growing concerns for animal welfare, the concept of using force to tame and subject animals to human control was also gaining traction, reflecting a broader cultural shift in attitudes towards nature and wildlife as the 1830s progressed. As Harriet Ritvo observes, the era was marked by a combination of fascination with the exotic and a concurrent impulse to assert human mastery over the natural world: people were not only intrigued by observing or collecting animals, but also motivated by a desire to demonstrate their superiority over them.Footnote 115 In 1832, the Freeman’s Journal encapsulated this attitude by celebrating human triumph over the ‘wild ferocity of the most terrible and untameable of savage animals’.Footnote 116 James Rennie similarly argued that menageries were not just for the safe confinement of animals, but also served as arenas for demonstrating the human ability to keep their wild tendencies ‘restrained or subdued’.Footnote 117 Discipline, he believed, could render animals ‘useful, or at least inoffensive to man’.
By the late 1830s, attitudes towards menagerie animals had undergone a notable shift. This period saw a change in the register of language used to describe the animals, with an increasing emphasis on their wild and untamed nature. The animals, once described in more neutral or even awe-filled terms as ‘wild beasts and quadrupeds’, were now more commonly referred to as ‘wild brutes’. The Dublin Morning Register’s reference to the ‘brute instinct … of Mr Batty’s trained animals’ in 1839 encapsulates this shift and suggests a transition from viewing these creatures as natural wonders to appreciating them primarily for their ability to be controlled and manipulated by humans.Footnote 118 The growing popularity of the American animal trainer, Isaac Van Amburgh, known as the ‘celebrated brute tamer’, also exemplified this trend. Van Amburgh’s performances, where he displayed dominance over lions and other fierce animals, captivated audiences and inspired many to emulate his methods (he visited Ireland with his animals four times in 1838 and is discussed further below). His acts were often portrayed as demonstrations of human superiority and control over nature.Footnote 119 An article published in the Irish Penny Journal in 1840 provided explicit advice on taming animals, advocating a combination of adequate feeding and ‘liberal chastisement and severe blows on the slightest appearance of rebellion’.Footnote 120
VII
The decline of menageries in Ireland during the mid nineteenth century resulted from a confluence of factors and marked the end of a significant era in popular entertainment and public engagement with natural history. Menageries, once thriving attractions that brought marvels of the animal kingdom to towns and cities, were heavily dependent on a steady stream of patrons for financial sustainability and were, thus, particularly vulnerable to economic fluctuations.
Following the end of the Napoleonic wars, Ireland experienced a sharp economic downturn in the 1820s, largely precipitated by a collapse in agricultural prices. This downturn was compounded by repeated crop failures and outbreaks of infectious diseases, which significantly curtailed discretionary expenditure on leisure activities.Footnote 121 The impact on menageries was immediate and severe. In Dublin, Polito’s menagerie saw a sharp decline in attendance, leading to its eventual withdrawal from the city in 1820. Thereafter, its appearances were confined to Donnybrook Fair. But the fairs themselves were also suffering. In 1822, Donnybrook Fair was said to have been markedly inferior compared to previous years, and despite the fact that Polito’s exhibited in a ‘masterly style’ at an accessible admission of just 3d. a head, the Freeman’s Journal lamented that ‘Paddy’s pockets [were] very poorly lined, and with the best desire possible for fun, he is obliged to stint himself sadly’.Footnote 122 By 1826, the attraction of ‘majestic lions [and] the mimic apes’ and exotic animals, such as an orang-utan, again failed to draw the usual crowds, indicative of the worsening economic climate.Footnote 123 A visitor’s account from 1830 poignantly captured the decline of Donnybrook Fair, lamenting the absence of its former vibrancy and the dwindling financial capacity of visitors: ‘all its glories hath vanished, its fun has faded away, the tents are tenantless, the visitors are penniless and look at each other with vacant faces.’Footnote 124 Wombwell did not exhibit at Donnybrook between 1835 and 1846, and Batty’s exhibitions in the late 1830s attracted minimal interest.Footnote 125 Economic woes were not confined to Dublin. At the Ballinasloe Fair in 1839, despite the presence of Batty’s ‘splendid menagerie’, contemporary reports expressed disappointment, concluding that the fair ‘could not have been worse’.Footnote 126 Batty’s absence from Ballinasloe in 1840 further demonstrates the challenging conditions facing menageries during this period.
In addition to economic constraints, the waning novelty of exotic animals played a crucial role in the demise of menageries. Initially, these exhibitions thrived on the public’s fascination with rare and exotic animals. However, as time passed, ‘what had once been exotic had now become familiar through display and popular publications’, and the allure of menageries diminished.Footnote 127 The static and repetitive nature of menageries, coupled with their limited species diversity, failed to sustain audience interest over time while the emergence of other forms of entertainment and educational attractions, such as zoological gardens, provided a more varied and appealing experience.
This shift in public taste coincided with the opening of the Dublin Zoological Gardens in September 1831. The public were no longer confined to viewing creatures exhibited in cramped travelling cages but could instead ‘visit the very interesting collection of animals in the Zoological Gardens in the Phoenix Park for threepence’.Footnote 128 Dublin Zoo became increasingly popular as a location in which to see a range of exotic animals. Moreover, the zoo was also able to provide other amenities including pleasure gardens, music and other recreations that were beyond the capacity of itinerant menageries. Crucially, the introduction of penny admission in 1841 democratised access, resulting in over 81,000 visitors that year alone.Footnote 129
The integration of exotic animals into circus acts from the 1830s further contributed to the declining popularity of traditional menageries. Unlike menageries, where animals were primarily observed in confinement, circuses presented them in action, which captivated audiences and added a dramatic, theatrical flair to the shows by featuring animals that ‘[rose] up and [lay] down at the word of a command … and when a tune is played they dance with their feet as if they were human beings’.Footnote 130 Lion-taming acts gained widespread popularity through performers like Isaac Van Amburgh, who became renowned for his audacious displays such as putting his head inside a lion’s mouth — an act that elicited both awe and terror in his audiences. He was reported as being ‘fearless’ and providing ‘extraordinary performances with his living lions, tigers, leopards’.Footnote 131 The emotional response elicited by these performances made them immensely popular and overshadowed the more passive displays of animals in menageries. The unpredictability of live animal performances, and the potential danger involved, made them a compelling draw for audiences seeking excitement and novelty. High demand for such thrilling acts led exhibitors like Batty to incorporate similar performances and to increase the number of daily shows to meet demand. Reports indicated that the public’s interest was so intense that ‘the doors of the house are obliged to be closed at a comparatively early hour every evening to prevent the crowd from becoming too great to be endured’.Footnote 132 This surge in attendance and interest highlighted a shift in public preference towards more interactive and exhilarating forms of entertainment.
Despite his success and the numerous imitators who emerged trying to replicate his dramatic style, Van Amburgh began winding down his European operations in 1845. In March of that year, he sold off his extensive menagerie in Manchester and returned to America.Footnote 133 Batty likewise made a strategic shift in his entertainment business. In early 1841, he withdrew his menagerie from Ireland. Instead, he chose to focus on equestrian performances, significantly increasing his stock of horses. In April of that year, he opened a new equestrian venue on the site of the New Music Hall in Lower Abbey Street, Dublin.Footnote 134 In October, Batty’s Circus Royal returned to Ballinasloe Fair where he donated his services for free. In early 1842 he auctioned his entire menagerie in Walpole, England.Footnote 135 This sale included a diverse range of animals, such as a monkey, coatimundi, mandrillo, Java hares, pumas, lions and tigers, hyenas, a brown bear, husky dogs, various exotic birds, a polar bear and a male elephant. Following this divestment, Batty turned his attention to rebuilding Astley’s Amphitheatre in London, a prestigious venue for equestrian performances. He continued to invest heavily in horses, and by October 1844, his Dublin show boasted over sixty of them.Footnote 136
VII
Menageries played a pivotal role in the exhibitionary landscape of early-nineteenth-century Ireland, marking a golden age of popular spectacle that spanned nearly fifty years. Prominent menagerists like Polito’s, Wombwell, Batty, Bagshaw and Howis brought a wide array of exotic animals to Ireland and made these creatures accessible to people from all walks of life. These opportunities for practical acquaintance with animals that people had only read about in books or heard about in fantastical stories, helped to dispel ignorance and prejudices built on wild speculation and fanciful ideas. As one visitor to Polito’s menagerie in Dublin reflected, ‘We may read of these wonderful works of nature for fifty years, and not have the satisfaction a person may receive in half an hour viewing this exhibition, or spend an independent fortune on travelling around the globe and perhaps not meet with so many curiosities’.Footnote 137
Menageries provided not just entertainment, but also an educational experience, enabling people of all social classes to see exotic and curious creatures at first hand. For the literate, menageries supplemented contemporary publications on natural history and explorations, providing a tangible extension of their knowledge. For the illiterate, they afforded an alternative to books, providing access to live exhibits often accompanied by oral explanations from menagerists. For all who visited, the visual, auditory, haptic and olfactory sensory experience of menageries provided a route to knowledge that was beyond anything books could offer. For the proprietors, menageries were commercial ventures, enterprises and family businesses. For some they were lifelong vocations. The legacy of these menageries is perhaps best captured in the tribute paid to George Wombwell upon his death in 1850: ‘No one probably has done so much to forward practically the study of natural history among the masses, for his menageries visited every fair and town in the kingdom, and were everywhere popular.’Footnote 138
Although public taste inevitably evolved, the appeal of the novel and the spectacular endured. As the poet Thomas Hood observed in 1836, the public will always demand ‘novelty, novelty, novelty’.Footnote 139 For almost fifty years, menageries provided this novelty to Irish audiences, captivating the public with their exotic displays. Eventually, the menageries’ entertainment function was supplanted by circuses and new forms of amusement and entertainment, the managers of which could transport their wares more easily and more inexpensively from place to place, while the menageries’ role in displaying exotic animals was replaced by the popularisation of zoological gardens. Within nine months of opening, almost 38,000 had visited the Dublin Zoological Gardens, which were already exhibiting 139 creatures.Footnote 140
While menageries endured in England into the late nineteenth century, the challenging economic and political situation in mid-nineteenth-century Ireland curtailed their viability. Nonetheless, the role of menageries in providing opportunities to view exotic creatures, in imparting knowledge of foreign lands and in entertaining the populace in the early nineteenth century, was significant. As the menagerist James Rennie wrote:
the animals may be confined in miserable dens where their natural movements are painfully restrained; the keepers may be lamentably ignorant and impose upon the credulous a number of false stories … but still the people see the real things about which they have heard and read … and they acquire a body of facts which makes a striking impression upon their memories and understandings.Footnote 141
For a while, menageries were instrumental in demystifying creatures that many had only encountered through stories or primers, thereby enriching public understanding and curiosity about the natural world.
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