In mid-to-late nineteenth century Victorian Britain, ‘freak shows’ were popular exhibitions where the general public could pay to go and observe individuals with physical abnormalities and deformities. By their very nature these shows were underpinned by exploitative institutions designed to make money from those rejected by society. However, when the bigger picture is scrutinized, it becomes apparent that the situation facing those involved within ‘freak shows’ wasn’t as straightforward as it might initially seem. Stuart Cameron explains.
Joseph Merrick, the ‘Elephant Man’.
Usage of the word ‘freak’
Before diving into the historical details of this subject it is important to justify the usage of the word ‘freak’ within this article.
The word likely conjures up different feelings to different people. By modern standards, most would agree that much of the language used by Victorians towards individuals exhibited within ‘freak shows’ - ‘freaks’ - would be considered distasteful, uncomfortable, and politically incorrect to say the very least.
Robert Bogdan, author of Freak Show: Presenting Human Oddities for Amusement and Profit, produced a list of words that have been used to describe ‘freaks’ throughout time. Terms like ‘lusus natrae’ (Latin for ‘freaks of nature’), ‘curiosities’, ‘oddities’, ‘monsters’, ‘grotesques’, and ‘nature’s mistakes’ are a few of the many examples that carry clear negative implications. In contrast to those, terms like ‘wonders’, ‘marvels’, rarities’, and ‘very special people’ carry considerably more sympathetic connotations, but were almost only exclusively used within marketing and advertising materials for shows.[1]
Based on this non-exhaustive list, what is clear is that ‘freaks’ were not solely seen as something negative, but at times were actually valued based on the rarity of their existence. Such a variety of jargon exists towards ‘freaks’ as a result of blended scientific terminology and show-world hype, muddied further by the progression of time.[2]Regardless of whether the connotation was negative or positive, ‘freaks’ either way were seen as something different and non-compliant with social ideas of normality.
On top of that, ‘freaks’ came in all shapes and sizes. Some were born as ‘freaks’, some became ‘freaks’ at a point in their lifetime as a result of an accident or a medical condition, and others altered their bodies and became ‘freaks’ by choice. This in turn makes the word ‘freak’ a term that covers a lot of territory. It’s a word that has been used to refer to bearded ladies like Julia Pastrana (dubbed as ‘the Bear Lady’); conjoined ‘Siamese’ twins like Chang and Eng; and to people with full body tattoo coverage like George Burchett (dubbed as the ‘King of Tattooists’). The only trait these three very different people have in common? That they were physically not ‘normal’.
As such, this makes the concept of a ‘freak’ one that transcends gender, racial, economic, social, age, medical, and scientific boundaries. Naturally, however, this throws up some obstacles for historians examining the ‘freak show’ industry. As uncomfortable as the continued usage of the word ‘freak’ may be, it is used solely on the grounds that there is no modern equivalent that accurately represents the diversity of the men and women involved within the shows.
'Freak Shows' within Victorian society
‘Freak Shows’ were exhibitions of biologically abnormal humans and animals that members of the public could pay a small fee and observe a physical manifestation of something quite drastically different from themselves. The shows were at their peak in the mid-to-late nineteenth century, and appealed to people across the economic and class spectrum of the United Kingdom. As well as that, private “for ladies only” viewing rooms were provided so that women had safe spaces within potentially dangerous urban places to attend shows.[3]The contemporary humor magazine Punchdubbed Britain’s “growing taste for deformity” as the ‘Deformito-Mania’, claiming that ‘freak shows’ were an “unhealthy admiration for the monstrous”.[4]Regardless of the social background of the audience, the reaction from those who attended shows was often a combination of shock, horror, andfascination.
The shows could be set up quickly, and at very low cost. In the same way that the circus travelled between towns and cities across the country, ‘freak show’ owners deployed a similar strategy. As such, the mobility of the shows proved a fundamental part of their popular appeal. Being able to set up quickly in community halls and in the back rooms of public houses kept outgoing costs at a minimum and helped to make the shows accessible to the working classes. Joseph Merrick, known more famously as ‘The Elephant Man’ was regularly exhibited in the back room of an east London pub known as a “penny gaff”. As well as these ‘pop-up' style shows, certain venues became infamous for their ‘freak show’ exhibitions. The Egyptian Hall, in Piccadilly, London hosted a number of different ‘freaks’ throughout the nineteenth century including the ‘Living Skeleton’ (being a man who consisted of little more than skin and bone) and the ‘Siamese’ twins Chang and Eng (who were conjoined by their stomach).[5]
The Showmen
To the showmen in charge, ‘freaks’ were undoubtedly their business commodities – and their way of turning a profit. In his memoirs, British showman Tom Norman (also referred to as ‘the Penny Showman’) admitted: “There was a time, in my career as a showman, when I would exhibit any mortal thing for money”, adding “there were always large crowds who were only too eager to pay and see anything that aroused their curiosity, no matter how repulsive, or how demoralising.”[6]From a twenty-first century perspective, seeing the ‘freak show’ industry as anything but exploitative can prove to be difficult. But, in a perplexing sort of way, ‘freak shows’ gave ‘freaks’ a platform to exhibit their bodies and make a small income – more than anything else in Victorian society offered to most of them.
It was common that ‘freak shows’ were advertised through promotions that established narratives and origin stories of the ‘freaks’ on display – which in most cases were totally fictitious. Storytelling was a common technique used by the showman in the knowledge that the audiences who came to view the exhibits were susceptible to believing the tales, no matter how whimsical or fantastic they were. This made the showman an understated, yet integral part of the entertainment success of his shows. It wasn’t just a case of ‘freaks’ taking the initiative to exhibit themselves and receiving the entirety of the profit without the showman. A massive part of their success lay in the way that the showmen marketed them, told their “stories”, and highlighted the rarity of their existence to the audience.
At their very core, ‘freak shows’ were exploitative. They were underpinned by an inhumane business model that capitalized on the misfortune of people rejected by society, and with no opportunity to make a living on the basis of them being physically different. Victorian society left ‘freaks’ in a situation with little option in life, and as a result their involvement within the ‘freak show’ industry was one that they themselves had little control of.
What do you think of the 19th century ‘freak show’ industry? Let us know below.
Author Bio
Stuart Cameron is a freelance copywriter and blogger on a mission to harness the past to better understand the now. More of his blog posts, his writing portfolio, and details about his copywriting services are available at http://writersblick.com/.
[1]Bogdan, Robert. Freak Show: Presenting Human Oddities for Amusement and Profit, 1988. 6.
[2]Bogdan, Robert. Freak Show: Presenting Human Oddities for Amusement and Profit, 1988. 6.
[3]Durbach, Nadja. Spectacle of Deformity: Freak Shows and Modern British Culture. (Berkley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2009). 7.
[4]“The Deformito-Mania” Punch Magazine. (4 Sept 1847). 90.
[5]Mayes, Ronald. ‘The Romance of London Theatres No.87. The Egyptian Hall’ Lewisham Hippodrome Programme, March 1930. (no further bibliographic details provided)
[6]Norman, Tom & Norman, George. The Penny Showman: Memoirs of Tom Norman “Silver King”. (London, 1985). 23-24.
