Page images
PDF
EPUB
[blocks in formation]

The newsman is a "lone person." His business, and he, are distinct from all other occupations, and people. Vol. I.-3.

Newsmen's Verses, 1747.

year, the newsman must rise soon after four
All the year round, and every day in the
o'clock, and be at the newspaper offices to

62

[graphic]
[ocr errors]

procure a few of the first morning papers allotted to him, at extra charges, for particular orders, and despatch them by the early coaches." Afterwards, he has to wait for his share of the "regular" publication of each paper, and he allots these as well as he can among some of the most urgent of his town orders. The next publication at a later hour is devoted to his remaining customers; and he sends off his boys with different portions according to the supply he successively receives. Notices frequently and necessarily printed in different papers, of the hour of final publication the preceding day, guard the interests of the newspaper proprietors from the sluggishness of the indolent, and quicken the diligent newsman. Yet, however skilful his arrangements may be, they are subject to unlooked for accidents. The late arrival of foreign journals, a parliamentary debate unexpectedly protracted, or an article of importance in one paper exclusively, retard the printing and defer the newsman. His patience, well-worn before he gets his "last papers," must be continued during the whole period he is occupied in delivering them. The sheet is sometimes half snatched before he can draw it from his wrapper; he is often chid for delay when he should have been praised for speed; his excuse, "All the papers were late this morning," is better heard than admitted, for neither giver nor receiver has time to parley; and before he gets home to dinner, he hears at one house that "Master has waited for the paper these two hours;" at another, "Master's gone out, and says if you can't bring the paper earlier, he won't have it all;" and some ill-conditioned "master," perchance, leaves positive orders, "Don't take it in, but tell the man to bring the bill; and I'll pay it and have done with him."

Besides buyers, every newsman has readers at so much each paper per hour. One class stipulates for a journal always at breakfast; another, that it is to be delivered exactly at such a time; a third, at any time, so that it is left the full hour; and among all of these there are malecontents, who permit nothing of "time or circumstance" to interfere with their personal convenience. Though the newsman delivers, and allows the use of his paper, and fetches it, for a stipend not half equal to the lowest paid porter's price for letter-carrying in London, yet he finds some, with whom he covenanted, objecting, when it is called for, "I've not had my breakfast," "The paper did not come at the proper time," "I've not had leisure to look at it yet,"

-or any

"It has not been left an hour,"other pretence equally futile or untrue, which, were he to allow, would prevent him from serving his readers in rotation, or at all. If he can get all his morning papers from these customers by four o'clock, he is a happy man.

Soon after three in the afternoon, the newsman and some of his boys must be at the offices of the evening papers; but before he can obtain his requisite numbers, he must wait till the newsmen of the Royal Exchange have received theirs, for the use of the merchants on 'Change. Some of the first he gets are hurried off to coffeehouse and tavern keepers. When he has procured his full quantity, he supplies the remainder of his town customers. These disposed of, then comes the hasty folding and directing of his reserves for the country, and the forwarding of them to the post-office in Lombard-street, or in parcels for the mails, and to other coach-offices. The Gazette nights, every Tuesday and Friday, add to his labours,-the publication of second and third editions of the evening papers is a super-addition. On what he calls a "regular day," he is fortunate if he find himself settled within his own door by seven o'clock, after fifteen hours of running to and fro. It is now only that he can review the business of the day, enter his fresh orders, ascertain how many of each paper he will require on the morrow, arrange his accounts, provide for the money he may have occasion for, eat the only quiet meal he could reckon upon since that of the evening before, and "steal a few hours from the night" for needful rest, before he rises the next morning to a day of the like incessant occupation: and thus from Monday to Saturday he labours every day.

The newsman desires no work but his

own to prove "Sunday no Sabbath;" for

on him and his brethren devolves the circulation of upwards of fifty thousand Sunday papers in the course of the forenoon. His Sunday dinner is the only meal he can ensure with his family, and the short remainder of the day the only time he can enjoy in their society with certainty, or extract something from, for more serious duties or social converse.

The newsman's is an out-of-door business at all seasons, and his life is measured out to unceasing toil. In all weathers, hail, rain, wind, and snow, he is daily constrained to the way and the fare of a wayfaringman. He walks, or rather runs, to distribute information concerning all sorts of

circumstances and persons, except his own. He is unable to allow himself, or others, time for intimacy, and therefore, unless he had formed friendships before he took to his servitude, he has not the chance of cultivating them, save with persons of the same calling. He may be said to have been divorced, and to live "separate and apart" from society in general; for, though he mixes with every body, it is only for a few hurried moments, and as strangers do in a crowd.

Cowper's familiar description of a newspaper, with its multiform intelligence, and the pleasure of reading it in the country, never tires, and in this place is to the purpose.

This folio of four pages, happy work!
Which not ev'n critics criticise; that holds
Inquisitive Attention, while I read,
Fast bound in chains of silence, which the fair,
Though eloquent themselves, yet fear to break,
What is it, but a map of busy life,
Its fluctuations, and its vast concerns?
Houses in ashes, and the fall of stocks,
Births, deaths, and marriages-

-The grand debate,
The popular harangue, the tart reply,
The logic, and the wisdom, and the wit,
And the loud laugh-

Cat'racts of declamation thunder here;
There forests of no meaning spread the page,
In which all comprehension wanders lost;
While fields of pleasantry amuse us there,
With merry descants on a nation's woes.
The rest appears a wilderness of strange
But gay confusion; roses for the cheeks,
And lilies for the brows of faded age,
Teeth for the toothless, ringlets for the bald,
Heav'n, earth, and ocean, plunder'd of their sweets,
Nectareous essences, Olympian dews,
Sermons, and city feasts, and fav'rite airs,
Ethereal journies, submarine exploits,
And Katerfelto, with his hair an end
At his own wonders, wand'ring for his bread.
'Tis pleasant, through the loopholes of retreat,
To peep at such a world; to see the stir
Of the great Babel, and not feel the crowd;
To hear the roar she sends through all her gates,
At a safe distance, where the dying sound
Falls a soft murmur on th' uninjured ear.
Thus sitting, and surveying thus, at ease,
The globe and its concerns, I seem advanced
To some secure and more than mortal height,
That lib'rates and exempts us from them all.
This is an agreeable and true picture,
and, with like felicity, the poet paints the
bearer of the newspaper.

Hark! 'tis the twanging horn o'er yonder bridge, That with its wearisome but needful length Bestrides the wintry flood, in which the moon Sees her unwrinkled face reflected bright; He comes, the herald of a noisy world,

With spatter'd boots, strapp'd waist, and frozen locks
News from all nations lumb'ring at his back.
True to his charge, the close pack'd load behind
Yet careless what he brings, his one concern

Is to conduct it to the destin❜d inn;

He whistles as he goes, light-hearted wretch,

And, having dropp'd th' expected bag, pass on,

Cold and yet cheerful: messenger of grief
Perhaps to thousands, and of joy to some;
To him indiff'rent whether grief or joy.

Methinks, as I have always thought, that Cowper here missed the expression of a kind feeling, and rather tends to raise an ungenerous sentiment towards this poor fellow. As the bearer of intelligence, of which he is ignorant, why should it be

"To him indiffrent whether grief or joy?"

If "cold, and yet cheerful," he has attained to the "practical philosophy" of bearing ills with patience. He is a frozen creature that "whistles," and therefore called "light-hearted wretch." The poet refrains to "look with a gentle eye upon this wretch," but, having obtained the newspaper, determines to enjoy himself, and cries

Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, And, while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups, That cheer, but not inebriate, wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful ev'ning in. This done, and the bard surrounded with means of enjoyment, he directs his sole attention to the newspaper, nor spares a thought in behalf of the wayworn messenger, nor bids him "God speed!" on hig further forlorn journey through the wintry

blast.

In London scarcely any one knows the newsman but a newsman. His customers know him least of all. Some of them seem almost ignorant that he has like

senses, affections, passions," with themselves, or is "subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer.' They are indifferent to him in exact ratio to their attachment to what he "serves" them with. Their regard is for the news paper, and not the newsman. Should he succeed in his occupation, they do not hear of it: if he fail, they do not care for it. If he dies, the servant receives the paper from his successor, and says, when she carries it up stairs, "If you please, the newsman's dead:" they scarcely ask where he lived, or his fall occasions a pun--" We always said he was, and now we have

proof that he is, the late newsman." They are almost as unconcerned as if he had been the postman.

[ocr errors]

Once a year, a printed “copy of verses reminds every newspaper reader that the hand that bore it is open to a small boon. "The Newsman's Address to his Customers, 1826," deploringly adverts to the general distress, patriotically predicts better times, and seasonably intimates, that in the height of annual festivities he, too, has a heart capable of joy.

"although the muse complains
And sings of woes in melancholy strains,
Yet Hope, at last, strikes up her trembling wires,
And bids Despair forsake your glowing fires.
While, as in olden time, Heaven's gifts you share,
And Englishmen enjoy their Christmas fare;
While at the social board friend joins with friend,
And smiles and jokes and salutations blend;
Your Newsman wishes to be social too,
And would enjoy the opening year with you:
Grant him annual gift, he will not fail

your

To drink your health once more with Christmas ale: Long may you live to share your Christmas cheer, And he still wish you many a happy year!"

The losses and crosses to which newsmen are subject, and the minutiae of their laborious life, would form an instructive volume. As a class of able men of business, their importance is established by excellent regulations, adapted to their interests and well-being; and their numerous society includes many individuals of high intelligence, integrity, and opulence.

The Drama.

LICENSE FOR ENACTING A PLAY.
To the Editor.

Sir,-As many of your readers may not have had an opportunity of knowing the form and manner in which dramatic representations were permitted, by the Master of the Revels, upon the restoration of the Stuarts, I submit a transcript of a licence in my possession. It refers to a drama, called "Noah's Flood," apparently not recorded in any dramatic history. It is true, Isaac Reed, in the "Biographia Dramatica," 1782, vol. ii. p. 255, cites "Noah's Flood, or the Destruction of the World, an opera, 1679, 4to.," and ascribes it to "Edward Ecclestone," but it is questionable whether this was the "play" for which the license below was obtained, as Reed, or perhaps George Steevens, the commentator, who assisted the former con

siderably in the compilation of that work, as it appeared in 1782, expressly entitles it an opera."

[ocr errors]

Reed states his inability to furnish any particulars of Ecclestone, and his continuator, Mr. Stephen Jones, has not added a single word. Ecclestone was a comedian, though I cannot immediately cite my authority. His opera of "Noah's Flood," which is excessively scarce, is said, by Reed, to be" of the same nature with Dryden's State of Innocence,' but falls infinitely short of the merit of that poem." This may be readily believed; for we are informed that the unhappy bookseller, to prevent the whole impression rotting on his shelves, again obtruded it for public patronage, with a new title, "The Cataclasm, or General Deluge of the World," 1684, 4to.; and again as "The Deluge, or Destruction of the World," 1691, 4to., with the addition of sculptures. These attempts probably exhausted the stock on hand, as, some years afterwards, it was reprinted in 12mo., with the title of "Noah's Flood, or the History of the General Deluge," 1714. Many plays were reprinted by Meares, Feales, and others, at the commencement of the last century, as stock-plays; and Reed's assertion, that this was an imposition, is correct, so far as it came forth as a new production, the preface stating that the author was unknown.

The license alluded to is on a square

piece of parchment, eleven inches high, by thirteen wide. The office seal, red wax, covered by a piece of white paper, is engraved in one of the volumes of George Chalmers's " Apology for the Believers of the Shakspeare Papers."

The License.

"To all Mayors Sherriffs Justices of the Peace Bayliffs Constables Head boroughs, and all other his Maties. Officers, true Leigmen & loueing Subiects, & to euery of them greeting. Know yee that wheras George Bayley of London Musitioner desires of me a Placard to make Shew of a Play called Noah's flood wth other Seuerall Scenes. These are therfore by vertue of his Maties. Lettrs. Pattents made ouer vnto me vnder the great Seale of England to licence & allow the said George Bayley wth eight Servants wch are of his Company to make shew of the said Play called Noah's flood wth other Scenes requireing you and euery of you in his Maties Name to pmitt & Suffer the said Persons to shew the said Play called Noah's flood, and to be aiding & assisting them & euery of them

if any wrong or iniury be offered vnto him or any of them Provided that he and they doe not act any thing offensiue against ye lawes of God or of the Land, and that he & they doe make shew of the said Noah's flood at lawful times wth Exception of the Lords Day or any other Day in the time of Devine Service, or on any other day prohibited by Proclamation or other lawfull Authority. And this Licence to continue for a year and noe longre from the day of the date hearof and to Serue throughout the Kingdome of England Scotland & Ireland & all other his Maties. Territories & Dominions the said Geo. Bayly haueing giuen me security for his good behauiour that hee doe not intrench vpon the lawes of the land. Giuen at his Maties. Office of the Revills vnder my hand & Seale of the said Office the fowerteenth day of Aprill one thousand six hundred sixty and two & in the fowerteenth year of the raigne of o'r Soueraigne Lord Charles ye Second by the grace of God of England Scotland ffrance and Ireland King Defender of the faith &c. J. POYNTZ.

A marginal memorandum, below the seal, contains a direction to the persons named in this license, thus :

"You are to allow him either Town hall Guild hall Schoole house or some other con

venient place for his use & to continue in any one place for ye space of forty

Daies."

[blocks in formation]

a festival, enlivened by a round of innocent amusements, which the present enlightened age has pronounced superstitious or trifling. Formerly we had a theatre, at this season, and perhaps a few particulars relating to it may not be uninteresting.

Gentle reader! should you eve: visit Skipton-in-Craven, go on the market-day, and stand opposite to the vicarage-house in the High-street; there you will see a cart with this inscription, "Thomas Airay, Grassington and Skipton carrier." Keep your eye on that cart, and about the hour of three in the afternoon you will behold approach the owner, a little, fat, old man, with reddish whiskers and a jolly face, that Liston or John Reeve would not be ashamed to possess. In that countenance a mere tyro in physiognomy may discover a roguish slyness, a latent archness, a hidden mine of fun and good humour. Then when Airay walks, mark his stately gait, and tell me if it does not proclaim that he has worn the sock and buskin, and trod the Thespian floor: he was the manager of the Grassington theatre-the "Delawang" of Craven.

I fancy some rigid moralist bestowing a cold glance on poor Tom, and saying to himself, "Ah, old man, this comes of acting; had you, in your youth, followed some industrious pursuit, nor joined ar being a country carrier, you might have idle strolling company, instead of now been blessed with a comfortable independence!" Think not so harshly of Airay; though not the manager of a patent theatre, nor of one" by royal authority," he never was a stroller, nor an associate with vagabonds, nor did he ever, during his theatrical career, quake under the terrors of magisterial harshness, or fear the vagrant act.

No idle, worthless, wandering man was he,

But in the dales, of honest parents bred,
Train'd to a life of honest industry,

He with the lark in summer left his bed,
Thro' the sweet calm, by morning twilight shed,
Walking to labour by that cheerful song,.

And, making a pure pleasure of a tread,

When winter came with nights so dark and long, 'Twas his, with mimic art, to amuse a village throng!

[blocks in formation]
« ՆախորդըՇարունակել »