The Great Bottle Hoax of 1749

This is a series which explores human gullibility and credulity, a subject which has fascinated many for centuries. A group of aristos with nothing better to do than consider such points met in 1749. The Duke of Portland opined that if the most impossible thing was advertised, “there would be fools enough in London to fill a play house and pay handsomely for the privilege of being there.” The Earl of Chesterfield, after scratching his peruke for a while, thought that someone jumping out of a quart bottle would test the public’s credulity. And so the wager was struck.

An advert was placed in the London newspapers in the first week of January promising that on 16^th January at the New Theatre in Haymarket promising an exhibition by a performer who had already appeared before most of the crowned heads of Europe. The conjurer, as he was described, would take a walking cane from a member of the audience and play every instrument known to man upon it. Then he would take a common wine bottle which, after due examination by members of the audience, he would place on a table, jump into it and sing a selection of songs. Entry to this astonishing evening’s entertainment would set you back five pounds.

London was agog and it was the talk of the town. All the tickets were snapped up. No one wanted to miss this extraordinary display. But when the audience had assembled, there was no sign of movement backstage. No entertainment had been provided to keep the punters amused before the show began and the audience became restless, starting to boo, stamping their feet and pounding their canes. Eventually someone appeared on the stage and announced that if the Performance didn’t start within the next quarter of an hour, the audience would get their money back.

Order of sorts was restored but as the quarter-hour elapsed there was still no sign that a performance was about to begin. Someone in one of the boxes grabbed a lighted candle and tossed it on to the stage. This was the signal for a riot and soon seats were torn up and the frenzied audience proceeded to demolish everything within sight. The theatre was set alight and the more subdued members of the audience fought to make their exit stage left, leaving much of their portable apparel such as wigs, hats and cloaks behind. A big bonfire was built outside the theatre and the stage curtains were made into an impromptu flag. Even the cash receipts were taken.

The wags about town had a field day decrying the gullibility of the public. Some placed adverts promoting feats even more ludicrous and impossible as the man in the bottle, some offering to rip out their own eyeballs or to jump down their own throats. Another offered to shoot himself with two pistols, once through the abdomen and then through the brain. He promised that this tour de force would end “with staggering convulsions, grinning, etc., in a manner never before publicly attempted.”

A story did the rounds that the conjurer had been prevailed upon by a certain gentleman to do a private performance. Once in the bottle, the gentleman put a cork into it and made off with him, hence his non-appearance. The hoax which sparked a riot eventually ran out of steam and the great British public diverted its attention to other affairs. It was some years before the perpetrators of the hoax were revealed.