Sadler's Wells Theatre

Sadler’s Wells Theatre

Vol.1 pages 254-257

This theatre is situated a little out of London, near the village of Islington. There is a chalybeate spring here, which was famous before the Reformation for the cure of certain diseases; but the priests of the Romish Church, who lived in the vicinity, had the address to persuade the patients that the efficacy of the waters was owing to their prayers. For this reason the spring was stopped up at the Reformation, and its virtues and even its situation were forgotten. In the year 1683 it was accidentally discovered again by a laborer, employed by a Mr. Sadler, from whom it derives its present name. Since that, the place has become famous for the exhibition of pantomimes, rope-dancing, and feats of activity for which a theatre has been erected, and the mineral spring now forms its smallest attraction.

In the entertainment which I saw, the early parts consisted principally of low buffoonery—coarse wit, and feats of activity. You may judge by the following circumstance, what sort of mirth is relished here.

The clown attempted to draw on a boot in the presence of the audience, when, as his foot had nearly reached the bottom, he roared out as if from pain, and drew his foot violently out, when a large rat was seen hanging by his teeth upon the clown’s foot, while he ran around the stage in apparent consternation. The thing was received with great applause, and doubtless succeeded better than the most brilliant effusion of wit would have done.

There was a great deal of dancing. The females laid aside the petticoat, and appeared in loose muslin pantaloons, white silk stockings, and red slippers. They wore also, an open short frock, hanging loose like a coat. Such facts need no comment. I shall say nothing more than that they danced with much spirit and elegance.

The dancing was succeeded by a popular song, the subject of which was a late gallant achievement in the taking of a fortress in the West-Indies, by a boat’s crew of a British ship of war. The applauses bestowed on this piece, particularly by the galleries, were frequent and loud. The English naval enterprise was probably never higher than at present, and the theatres fall in with the national feelings; on this subject the meanest fellow in the gallery feels proud.

Next came a long piece which was partly spoken and partly exhibited in pantomime. It was one of the Scotch popular tales, involving all their poetical machinery of witches, weird sisters, ghosts, enchanted castles, &c., the dresses, dialect, and scenery were all Scotch, and, as usual, love and murder formed the catastrophe. There was but one thing in the performance which I think worth mentioning.

The last scene gave us a view of the famous Fingal’s cave. This representation was very interesting. A surprising circumstance in this piece of scenery was, that the place which but a moment before was a common stage, all dry like a house floor, now became a great expanse of water, extending back and back, beneath the arches of the cave, and between its huge basaltic columns, till, from the distance and the consequent obscurity, the eye could no longer perceive any distinct images. You are prepared to say, that this was all produced by the magic of painting. No, it was not—the water was real, for it was soon filled with the boats of the Highlanders, some of which contained six or eight men, and were rowed with facility. A lady, who is the principal subject of the performance, had been brought by her lover in a boat, and landed on one of the crags of the cave, where she concealed herself to avoid the pursuit of her lover’s rival whom she hated. But soon his boat appears, approaching from the dark recesses of the cavern; he discovers this lady in her concealment, forces her into his boat, and is bearing her away in triumph, when she leaps into the water, and swims to the boat of her lover, which now appears, again coming from among the basaltic columns, on the other side; she reaches it, climbs up the side, and, all dripping as she is, lies down at full length in the boat. I mention this circumstance to prove to you that it was a real water scene.

The head of the new river which supplies London with water is near this place, and I suppose furnishes the water for the marine exhibitions of this theatre, thence, I imagine, deriving the name of the Aquatic theatre, by which appellation it is frequently called.

It was to me a perfectly novel and an entertaining exhibition.