The Beggar's Opera
Ripped from the Headlines
At first glance, the characters and events depicted in John Gay’s comic masterpiece seem so far-fetched and improbable that one wonders how he ever thought them up. But, as the saying goes, the truth is stranger than fiction.
18th century London was at the very center of a rapidly developing global economy. Like our own society, this was capitalism on steroids, with everything that implies: massive social inequality, rapid technological developments, and most of all, sea changes in the social contract between those who wielded power and those who were governed. Fortunes could be made and lost in the blink of an eye, and life was cheap.
For this was the England of the bloody code. Between 1688 and 1820 the number of capital offenses went from 50 to over 200, most of which were crimes against property. This was the age of public whippings, the pillory, transportation to the colonies, and of course, the age of hangings. No other symbol casts as long a shadow over 18th century England as the noose.
Despite the threat of death or exile to the colonies, London was full of criminals. Housebreakers, highwaymen, pickpockets, forgers, prostitutes, beggars—these were the inhabitants of London low-life, and they were everywhere. At one point in 1728, the thieves became so bold that they were holding up coaches in broad daylight in the town center. There was even a plot uncovered to rob the Queen in her coach. By mid-century, London had a population of about 700,000. It is thought that there were as many as 7,000 prostitutes working the streets at this time.
London’s prostitutes were a mix of orphans, young women from the provinces unable to make a living any other way, wives whose husbands were down on their luck, and maids and shop girls who found the sporting life more profitable than their poorly paid professions. Some prostitutes worked with gangs of thieves and robbed their customers for some extra profit, others resorted to begging for charity. Most of London’s beggars were women with children—the few who were men were often cripples. To say the least, the lines were blurred between begging, prostitution and thievery. Pregnant women on trial for their lives could “plead their belly” and so avoid hanging, receiving a sentence of transportation instead.
It’s hard for us to imagine now, but this was a society without a professional police force. The nobility saw how police were used on the continent, and didn’t want the monarchy to have a standing army of paid spies and informants. So criminals were brought to justice in a round-a-bout fashion that was ripe for corruption. Thief-takers, much like bounty hunters, were paid £40 for bringing in criminals. Once taken, the criminal would await trial in a prison like London’s Newgate. Prosecuting an alleged criminal was a costly affair, for the plaintiffs had to pay the prosecutors themselves. Evidence often disappeared, witnesses recanted, and fake alibis would come up at the eleventh hour to ensure that the alleged thief was acquitted. Criminal prosecutions were a costly as well as a risky affair—better and easier for everyone if victims could simply retrieve their stolen goods.
This is where Jonathan Wild comes in, the man after whom John Gay modeled Peachum. Between 1707 and 1717, Mr. Wild advertised his ability to recover stolen goods. He oversaw a series of warehouses throughout the city where stolen goods were stored until their victims came looking for them. Wild had a vast network of informants who allowed him to quickly connect thieves with their victims and to thus negotiate a price for an item’s return, with a percentage going to Mr. Wild. Thieves who did not cooperate with him, or who were worth more to him dead than alive, were turned over to the authorities by his thief-takers, with Mr. Wild and his associates sharing the £40 reward. When Wild was finally hanged for thievery in 1724, many thought that London was worse off for this loss, as there was no longer anyone to help a victim recover his stolen property. The truth is stranger than fiction.
Small wonder then that The Beggar’s Opera was the most popular show in 18th century London. It allowed the public to laugh at the ridiculous and absurd world of lawlessness that surrounded them, and posed a question as valid then as it is now. Who are the real crooks and thieves, the inhabitants of London low-life scratching and clawing for their survival, or the nobles and wealthy merchants who reaped the rewards of social inequality and the corrupt government that nurtured it? To quote Brecht’s Threepenny Opera, a 20th century adaptation of John Gay’s work—“what is the robbing of a bank compared to the founding of one?”
But all of this is mere prologue, the backdrop for our story. For truly great theater has to be more than social satire. It is our heroine, Polly Peachum, who is the heart of The Beggar’s Opera. Her selfless love for Macheath and her fight for truth and decency is like a good deed in a naughty world. She is surrounded by liars, thieves, and hypocrites, and yet she remains the calm in the eye of the storm, with a moral compass that always points towards the truth. She is the champion of justice and true love, fighting to make the world a better place. If the Peachums, Lockits and Macheaths are the diseased members of our body politic, Polly is most certainly the cure. Oh to have an army of Pollys beating back the darkness!
18th century London was at the very center of a rapidly developing global economy. Like our own society, this was capitalism on steroids, with everything that implies: massive social inequality, rapid technological developments, and most of all, sea changes in the social contract between those who wielded power and those who were governed. Fortunes could be made and lost in the blink of an eye, and life was cheap.
For this was the England of the bloody code. Between 1688 and 1820 the number of capital offenses went from 50 to over 200, most of which were crimes against property. This was the age of public whippings, the pillory, transportation to the colonies, and of course, the age of hangings. No other symbol casts as long a shadow over 18th century England as the noose.
Despite the threat of death or exile to the colonies, London was full of criminals. Housebreakers, highwaymen, pickpockets, forgers, prostitutes, beggars—these were the inhabitants of London low-life, and they were everywhere. At one point in 1728, the thieves became so bold that they were holding up coaches in broad daylight in the town center. There was even a plot uncovered to rob the Queen in her coach. By mid-century, London had a population of about 700,000. It is thought that there were as many as 7,000 prostitutes working the streets at this time.
London’s prostitutes were a mix of orphans, young women from the provinces unable to make a living any other way, wives whose husbands were down on their luck, and maids and shop girls who found the sporting life more profitable than their poorly paid professions. Some prostitutes worked with gangs of thieves and robbed their customers for some extra profit, others resorted to begging for charity. Most of London’s beggars were women with children—the few who were men were often cripples. To say the least, the lines were blurred between begging, prostitution and thievery. Pregnant women on trial for their lives could “plead their belly” and so avoid hanging, receiving a sentence of transportation instead.
It’s hard for us to imagine now, but this was a society without a professional police force. The nobility saw how police were used on the continent, and didn’t want the monarchy to have a standing army of paid spies and informants. So criminals were brought to justice in a round-a-bout fashion that was ripe for corruption. Thief-takers, much like bounty hunters, were paid £40 for bringing in criminals. Once taken, the criminal would await trial in a prison like London’s Newgate. Prosecuting an alleged criminal was a costly affair, for the plaintiffs had to pay the prosecutors themselves. Evidence often disappeared, witnesses recanted, and fake alibis would come up at the eleventh hour to ensure that the alleged thief was acquitted. Criminal prosecutions were a costly as well as a risky affair—better and easier for everyone if victims could simply retrieve their stolen goods.
This is where Jonathan Wild comes in, the man after whom John Gay modeled Peachum. Between 1707 and 1717, Mr. Wild advertised his ability to recover stolen goods. He oversaw a series of warehouses throughout the city where stolen goods were stored until their victims came looking for them. Wild had a vast network of informants who allowed him to quickly connect thieves with their victims and to thus negotiate a price for an item’s return, with a percentage going to Mr. Wild. Thieves who did not cooperate with him, or who were worth more to him dead than alive, were turned over to the authorities by his thief-takers, with Mr. Wild and his associates sharing the £40 reward. When Wild was finally hanged for thievery in 1724, many thought that London was worse off for this loss, as there was no longer anyone to help a victim recover his stolen property. The truth is stranger than fiction.
Small wonder then that The Beggar’s Opera was the most popular show in 18th century London. It allowed the public to laugh at the ridiculous and absurd world of lawlessness that surrounded them, and posed a question as valid then as it is now. Who are the real crooks and thieves, the inhabitants of London low-life scratching and clawing for their survival, or the nobles and wealthy merchants who reaped the rewards of social inequality and the corrupt government that nurtured it? To quote Brecht’s Threepenny Opera, a 20th century adaptation of John Gay’s work—“what is the robbing of a bank compared to the founding of one?”
But all of this is mere prologue, the backdrop for our story. For truly great theater has to be more than social satire. It is our heroine, Polly Peachum, who is the heart of The Beggar’s Opera. Her selfless love for Macheath and her fight for truth and decency is like a good deed in a naughty world. She is surrounded by liars, thieves, and hypocrites, and yet she remains the calm in the eye of the storm, with a moral compass that always points towards the truth. She is the champion of justice and true love, fighting to make the world a better place. If the Peachums, Lockits and Macheaths are the diseased members of our body politic, Polly is most certainly the cure. Oh to have an army of Pollys beating back the darkness!