Some Cynical Reporting

The sad ends of Ellen Blight and William Wombwell, not to mention the earlier death of Thomas Soaper to a rattlesnake bite, were not unfortunately the only incidents to be reported by the nineteenth century press. Indeed the New Sporting Magazine estimated that Wombwell menagerie ‘accidents’ seemed to occur on a half-yearly basis. 

The New Sporting Magazine, 1839. Note the cynicism.

They were not the only observers however to raise a quizzical eyebrow at the regularity of newsworthy events that seemed to spill out of the menagerie public relations office. George had long since learned that any publicity was good publicity, and when disasters were not forthcoming, they could always be either quietly manufactured, or, at a pinch, just invented. According to Shaun Everett, the term ‘Wombwellisms’ was even coined to describe these sleights of the marketing hand. 

What is even more interesting in this exploration of nineteenth century values is how George Wombwell seemed to glide almost untouched through crises that would have led to absolute ruin in our own day. Whatever the nature of the catastrophe, there was always someone more blameworthy than the menagerie hierarchy.

Ann Wombwell

Of the children of Samuel Wombwell, we have already encountered Ann Wombwell, the companion of George Wombwell, whom he adopted into his circle after the death of her husband, Henry Morgan, in 1815. Ann remains a major - if slightly puzzling - figure in the history of the menagerie.

Ann Wombwell, from Shaun Everett's Website

There is a strong possibility that there may have been more than a certain sleight of hand involved in George’s adoption of his elder brother’s daughter into the menagerie. Ann had lost her husband Henry Morgan by the time she joined the menagerie, in around 1815, and had already given birth to six children. 

In all the references to her, she is however named simply 'Mrs Wombwell', seemingly having reverted back to her maiden name whilst retaining her married title. Small wonder that ever since researchers have acted on the presumption that she was George’s wife and strained themselves in the futile exercise of trying to uncover a marriage certificate.

Of course, it is not entirely inconceivable that George might have embarked on some kind of semi-incestuous relationship with his niece, but the most likely explanation yet again is that his main concern was with the branding of his business. A Mrs Wombwell would meet the bill very nicely, much more so than a widowed Mrs Morgan. And if the public and media chose to assume that he and his niece were a married couple, that would do just fine as well. And so it did, with researchers down the years all mistakenly identifying Ann as George’s wife. The name ‘Morgan’ meanwhile was quietly consigned to the Wombwell recycling service. 

As it happens, and as described in Shaun Everett’s biography, George had in fact got married to one Mary Linn back in 1800 at St. Giles in the Field Church in Soho. It was this Mary who was at home on that fateful day in 1809 when Thomas Soaper came calling and had his unfortunate encounter with the rattlesnake. George himself was nowhere to be seen on that occasion. No children have ever been recorded and Mary disappears without trace from the story, either dead, abandoned, or having absconded. And, as noted, George himself was more than happy for his niece Ann to be seen as the official holder of the Mrs Wombwell title.

The Children of James Wombwell and Sarah Rogers

The human resource operation involved in running the menagerie was – to put it very mildly – not inconsiderable, and George, whether recklessly, charitably, or just on a purely practical basis was perfectly prepared to involve his extended family, all of whom he must have reasoned could bring their experience of looking after animals in the Clavering area to benefit his operation. Before proceeding with the outcomes of this approach, a glance at his tree is in order.

The children of James Wombwell (born 1739) and Sarah Rogers (born 1737), all born in or around the Clavering area were:

i. Samuel Wombwell (1760-1841)
ii. Sarah Wombwell (1762-????)
iii. William Wombwell (1764-????)
iv. Josiah Wombwell (1771-????)
v. Elizabeth Wombwell (1773-????)
vi. John Wombwell (1774-1845)
vii. Ann Wombwell (1777-1855)
viii. George Wombwell (1777-1850)
ix. Zacharias Wombwell (1780-1833)

Again, a word of warning: The lines that both precede and follow are complex, and reliant on previous researchers’ suppositions. If more or less correct however, all these children are first cousins x4 removed of Hetty Jane Owen. George, the menagerie founder, was apparently the eighth child. The ninth, Zacharias was the father of George junior whose story was told earlier.

Wendon Lofts marked in outline. Duddenhoe End is just to the south.

Various places are named as the birthplace of George senior, including Beckwith Green, Wendon Lofts, Duddenhoe End, Cressing, Elmdon and Braintree, Shaun Everett opting for the former, and quoting reports that the family moved from Beckwith Green after their cottage burned down in around 1772.

Menagerie Management and Marketing

Creating a brand. From the BBC.

The Wikipedia entry for George Wombwell dates the establishment of the travelling menagerie to 1810, and states that by 1839 it comprised fifteen wagons and a brass band. The article notes the difficulties faced in keeping creatures from such far-off climes alive and healthy. George though was also alert to principles of waste management and recycling. Dead animals were sold on to taxidermists, to medical schools, or even exhibited in their own right, as the following famous story recounts:

Wombwell frequented Bartholomew Fair in London and even developed a rivalry with another exhibitor, Atkins. Once when he arrived at the fair, his elephant died and Atkins put up a sign "The Only Live Elephant in the Fair". Wombwell simply put up a scroll with the words "The Only Dead Elephant in the Fair" and explained that seeing a dead elephant was an even a rarer thing than a live one. The public, realising that they could see a living elephant at any time, flocked to see and poke the dead one. Throughout the fair Atkins' menagerie was largely deserted, much to his disgust. 

The story, whether true or not, is a reminder that George was not the only entrepreneur to seek his fortune in the menagerie business. Competition was not only fierce, but unprincipled. The first volume of Shaun Everett’s biography of George is based entirely on the story of Wallace the lion, the first lion to be successfully bred in captivity in Britain. A fight was set up, so it is said, between Wallace and six bulldogs to be staged in Warwick in 1825. Even at this time, the savagery of such a spectacle raised consternation, and George came in for excoriating criticism in the press. Shaun suggests however that in fact the terrible fight may never have taken place. George had exploited the idea, and the attacks that were then made on him as free advertising to promote his menagerie further. All this is in line with boa constrictors being bought for seventy-five pounds, and, much later, the Bengal tiger bought from Jamrach that ate a boy on the Ratcliff Road. In the Wombwell marketing code, the truth was never allowed to stand in the way of a good story.

George Wombwell Senior

George Wombwell, 1777-1850. Public Domain. See: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Menagerie.george.wombwell.jpg


Much has been written about the founder of Wombwell’s menagerie, and his life is still the subject of ongoing and energetic research, conducted in large part by his descendants. The first two volumes of a three volume biography were published by Shaun Everett in 2016 and 2017, and he also maintains a website, www.georgewombwell.com dedicated to exploring the life of George and the history of menageries. And as Shaun himself notes, it is fairly obvious going through the available sources that the George Wombwell story is a murky combination of fact, supposition, and mythology. Apocryphal stories abound with no possible way of verifying them, but all are invested with high drama of one kind or another. 

It has to be suggested that a prime source of many of these confabulations may well have been George himself, along with his immediate circle. But if so, this was not due to a mere excess of personal vanity, much as that may have played a part, but more part of an acute and intuitive grasp of marketing principles, in which the true story always had to be subordinate to the best story.