In a similar, but unadorned broadside, dated 1666, Thomas Law, Bellman, greets his Masters of “St. Giles, Cripplegate, within the Freedom,” in twenty-three dull stanzas, of which the last may be subjoined:—
“No sooner hath St. Andrew crowned November, But Boreas from the North brings cold December, And I have often heard a many say He brings the winter month Newcastle way; For comfort here of poor distressed souls, Would he had with him brought a fleet of coals.”
We have in our possession a “copy of verses,” coming down to our own time. It is a folio broadside, and contains in addition to a portrait of the Bellman of the Parish and his dog on their rounds, fifteen smaller cuts, mostly Scriptural. It is entitled:—
The “Verses” all contain allusions to the prominent events of the past year, and have various headings—first we have the:—
Prologue.
My Masters and Mistresses, pray lend an ear, While your Bellman recounts some events of the year; For altho’ its commencement was rather distressing, We’ve had reason to thank it for more than one blessing, ’Tis true that Canadian proceedings were strange, And a very sad fire was the Royal Exchange; Yet the first, let us hope, is no serious matter, And we’ll soon have a new one in lieu of the latter. Our rulers have grappled with one of our crosses, While for beauty and fitness the other no loss is. And still more to make up for these drawbacks vexatious, Dame Fortune has been on the whole, pretty gracious. We’ve had peace to get wealth, which of war is the sinews. Grant us wit to make hay while the sunshine continues. Then, the Bear of the North, that insatiate beast, Has been check’d in his wily attempts on the East; And his further insidious advances forbidden By the broadsword of Auckland, which warns him from Eden. While our rulers, in earnest, apply to the work, And a treaty concludes with the Austrian and Turk, Which, when next the fell Monster is tempted to roam, May provide him some pleasant employment at home.
To the Queen.
Whilst the high and the noble in gallant array, Assemble around her, their homage to pay; While the proud Peers of Britain with rapture, I ween, Place her crown on the brow of their peerless young Queen; While by prince and by peasant her sceptre is blest; Why may not the Bellman chime in with the rest? Tho’ alas! my poor muse would long labour in vain, To express our delight in Victoria’s reign, Long may we exult in her merciful sway, May her moments speed blithely and sweetly as May, And her days be prolonged till her glories efface The last maiden lady’s, who sate in her place.
The Great Western.
Well, despite of some thousand objections pedantic, The “Great Western” has cross’d and re-cross’d the Atlantic, Nor is this the first time—to the foe’s consternation— That the deeds of our tars have defied calculation. Though few of our learned professors did dream That our seamen in steamers would reach the gulf stream, Yet a fortnight’s vibration, from Bristol or Cork, Will now set us down with our friends at New York; And a closer acquaintance bind firmer than ever, A friendship which nothing on earth ought to sever. ****** ******
Epilogue.
Now having conducted his well-meant effusion Thus far on its way to a happy conclusion, Your Bellman, tho’ not quite so fresh as at starting, Would still have a word with his patrons at parting, Just by way of a cordial and kindly farewell, For his heart, altho’ softer, is sound as his bell, And he cannot say more for himself or his strains, Than, whatever his success, he has not spared pains; And that blest in their kindness, and countenance steady, His song and his services always are ready; So he bids them adieu till next season appears— May their wealth and their virtues increase with their years; May they always have more than they ever can spend, With the soul to help on a less fortunate friend; And their Bellman continue to cudgel his brain, For their yearly amusement, again and again.
Cheap and Expeditious Printing by Steam Machinery, executed by C. Reynell, 16, Little Pulteney Street, Golden Square.—First printed in 1735.
There is a very rare sheet of woodcuts in the Print-room of the British Museum, containing twelve cries, with figures of the “Criers” and the cries themselves beneath. The cuts are singularly characteristic, and may be assigned with safety, on the authority of Mr. John Thomas Smith, the late keeper of the prints and drawings, as of the same date as Ben Jonson’s “fish-wives,” “costard-mongers,” and “orange women.”
No. 1 on the sheet, is the “Watch;” he has no name, but carries a staff and a lanthorn, is well secured in a good frieze gabardine, leathern-girdle, and wears a serviceable hat to guard against the weather. The worthy here depicted has a most venerable face and beard, showing how ancient was the habit of parish officers to select the poor and feeble for the office of watchman, in order to keep them out of the poor-house. The “cry” of the “watch” is as follows:—
“A light here, maids, hang out your light, And see your horns be clear and bright, That so your candle clear may shine, Continuing from six till nine; That honest men that walk along, May see to pass safe without wrong.”
