Menagerie Number Three

The story of George Wombwell junior's ill-fated menagerie has been summarised by Clin Keeling. This short article confirms that Menagerie Number Three was the smallest of the three menageries, employing twenty staff and at the height of its success enjoyed takings of around two hundred pounds a night. This did not last long however.

In early 1851, not long after he had inherited the menagerie, Thomas Burrows, one of the Wombwell staff was crushed by an elephant. Burrows recovered from his injuries and was living with George and his wife as their servant in Ipswich when the 1851 census was taken, most likely still recuperating from the assault. It would have been of little comfort to Burrows, who was from Barbados, to know that he was to by far the last victim of George's incapacity to control his elephants. 

1851 Census, 80 Corn Hill, Ipswich.

George himself meanwhile was attacked by one of his black panthers, which he managed to beat off with a broom-handle. Otherwise the story is much as reported in the 1897 Daily Mail Profile. Early in 1855, gales blew over six of his wagons near Edinburgh. Shortly after, he did his very best to burn Peebles to the ground, losing twelve of his horses when the horse-tents were somehow set on fire. Heading down to the Pennines, his elephant wagon got caught in the snow between Manchester and Huddersfield. Much as they struggled and failed to extract the wagon, they could not manage, and after twelve days the elephant died. On reaching London, the remaining stock was decimated by disease, and the rest, as we know, was auctioned off in Novia Scotia Gardens in April 1855. By the time, George headed off to Paris in 1866 to collect Peto, all involved might well have been assuming that George had actually learned something from his experiences. In this, they proved to be sadly mistaken.