Not long ago, I had the opportunity to look through a set of bound volumes containing an incomplete set of the Illustrated Police News from the 1870s and 1880s. This notorious publication specialised in grisly murders and macabre accidents, described with lurid and graphic illustrations. When the crime rate dipped, the Illustrated Police News had a scarcity of topical matter, which the editor remedied by reproducing tales from the old Newgate Calendar, articles on unsolved mysteries of crime, and curious newspaper stories from all over the world.
Loosely inserted in the issue for 7 January 1882, I was surprised to encounter a fine coloured print of an old favourite of mine: the Pig-faced Lady of Manchester Square. This print was given away gratis to every person who could produce a penny to purchase the weekly issue of the Illustrated Police News, a clever ploy to increase the paper’s circulation.
The immensely wealthy Pig-faced Lady had come to London in 1815, looking for a husband. She was said to be perfectly shaped, except that her head exactly resembled that of one of the porcine tribe. She ate from a silver trough and uttered a loud grunting noise when in want of food. Many people believed in her existence and one foolish young man even put an advertisement into the Morning Herald that he aspired to make her acquaintance.
The Illustrated Police News went on to claim that at the time of writing (in 1882), many Irish people believed that another Pig-faced Lady, Madam Grisley Steevens, had once been a resident of Dublin. Parties of country people used to go to Doctor Steevens’s Hospital, where she had ended her days, and tip the matron to be allowed to see a portrait of the pig-faced Madam Steevens and the silver trough she had eaten from.
Pig-faced Ladies were not infrequently exhibited at fairs and markets. After a quarrel between a dwarf and the proprietor of a travelling fair, which led to a magisterial investigation in Plymouth, the technique of this deception was divulged in court. The rogues let a bear drink a large amount of strong ale, before tying it to a large armchair, shaving its face and neck, and dressing the intoxicated animal in female attire, “with a voluminous wig, ringlets, cap, and artificial flowers in the latest fashion”.
For more information about Pig-faced Ladies, see ‘Snout so Queer’ in FT145:34–38 and my book Freaks: The Pig-faced Lady of Manchester Square and other Medical Marvels, Tempus Publications, 2005.

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Jan Bondeson is a senior lecturer and consultant rheumatologist at the University of Wales College of Medicine and a frequent FT contributor.


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