company.”
and those of Camberwell * and Wandsworth ** are
* A petty session (how very petty!) was held at Union Hall
on the 4th July, 1823, in order to put down Camberwell Fair,
which is as old as Domesday Book. Shakspere has truly
described these ill-conditioned, peddling, meddling
Dogberrys “You wear out a good wholesome forenoon in hearing
a cause between an orange-wife and a fosset-seller; and then
rejourn the controversy of three-pence to a second day of
audience. When you speak best to the purpose, it is not
worth the wagging of your beards, and your beards deserve
not so honourable a grave, as to stuff a botcher's cushion,
or to be entombed in an ass's pack-saddle.”
** Wandsworth Fair exhibited sixty years ago Mount Vesuvius,
or the burning mountain by moonlight, rope, and hornpipe-
dancing; a forest, with the humours of lion-catching;
tumbling by the young Polander from Sadler's Wells; several
diverting comic songs; a humorous dialogue between Mr.
Swatehall and his wife; sparring matches; the Siege of
Belgrade, &c. all for three-penee!
On Whit-Monday, 1840, Messrs. Nelson and Lee sent down a
theatrical caravan to Wandsworth Fair, and were moderately
remunerated. But the “Grand Victoria Booth” was the rallying
point of attraction. Its refectory was worthy of the
ubiquitous Mr. Epps—of ham, beef, tongue, polony, portable
soup, and sheep's trotter memory!
Cold beef and ham, hot ribs of lamb, mock-turtle soup that's
portable,
Did blow, with stout, their jackets out, and made the folks
comfortable!
fast going the way of all fairs. Bow, Edmonton, * Highgate, ** Brook Green (Hammersmith,) and
* In the year 1820, the keeper of a menagerie at Edmonton
Fair walked into the den of a lioness, and nursed her cubs.
He then paid his respects to the husband and father, a
magnificent Barbary Lion. After the usual complimentary
greetings between them, the man somewhat roughly thrust open
the monster's jaws, and put his head into its mouth, giving
at the same time a shout that made it tremble. This he did
with impunity. But in less than two months afterwards, when
repeating the same exhibition at a fair in the provinces, he
eried, like the starling, “I can't get out!—I can't get
out!” demanding at the same time if the lion wagged its
tail? The lion, thinking the joke had been played quite
often enough, did wag its tail, and roared “Heads!” The
keeper fell a victim to his temerity.
** “July 2,1744.—This is to give notice that Highgate Fair
will be kept on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday next, in a
pleasant shady walk in the middle of the town.
“On Wednesday a pig will be turned loose, and he that takes
it up by the tail and throws it over his head, shall have
it. To pay two-pence entrance, and no less than twelve to
enter.
“On Thursday a match will be run by two men, a hundred yards
in two sacks, for a large sum. And, to encourage the sport,
the landlord of the Mitre will give a pair of gloves, to be
run for by six men, the winner to have them.
“And on Friday a hat, value ten shillings, will be run for
by men twelve times round the Green; to pay one shilling
entrance: no less than four to start; as many as will may
enter, and the second man to have all the money above four.”
West-end (Hampstead * ), Fairs, with their swings, roundabouts, spiced gingerbread, penny-trumpets, and halfpenny rattles are passed away. The showmen and Merry Andrews of Moorfields ** are
* “The Hampstead Fair Ramble; or, The World going quite Mad.
To the tune of 'Brother Soldier dost hear of the News,'
London: Printed for J. Bland, near Holbourn, 1708.” A
curious broadside.
** Moorfields during the holiday seasons was an epitome of
Bartlemy Fair. Its booths and scaffolds had flags flying on
the top. A stage near the Windmill Tavern, opposite Old
Beth-lem, was famous for its grinning-matches. Moorfields
had one novel peculiarity, viz. that whilst the Merry Andrew
was practising his buffooneries and legerdemain tricks in
one quarter, the itinerant Methodist preacher was holding
forth in another. Foote makes his ranting parson exclaim,
“Near the mad mansions of Moorfields I 'll bawl,
Come fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, all,
Shut up your shops and listen to my call!”
The Act 12 of Queen Anne aimed at the suppression of the
Moorfields' merriments. The showmen asked Justice Fuller to
license them in April, 1717, but in vain. Fuller had a
battle-royal with Messrs. Saunders and Margaret, two
Middlesex justices, who sided with the conjurors, and
forbade the execution of his warrant. Justice Fuller,
however, having declared war against Moorfields'
mountebanking, was inexorable, and committed the insurgents
to the house of correction; from whence, after three hours'
durance vile, they were released by three other magistrates.
Kennington Common was also a favourite spot for this odd
variety of sports. It was here that Mr. Mawworm encountered
the brick-bats of his congregation, and had his “pious tail”
illuminated with the squibs and crackers of the unre-
generate.
This fair commenced in the New River pipe-fields, and
continued in a direct line as far as the top of Elm Street,
where it terminated. The equestrians always made a point of
galloping their donkeys furiously past the house of
correction!
no more; the Gooseberry Fairs * of Clerkenwell and Tottenham Court Road, (the minor Newmarket and Doncaster of Donkey-racing!) are come to a brick-and-mortary end.
* “April 9, 1748.—At the Amphitheatrical