I am a Man of all Business, and would willingly turn my Head to any
thing for an honest Livelihood. I have invented several Projects for
raising many Millions of Money without burthening the Subject, but I
cannot get the Parliament to listen to me, who look upon me, forsooth,
as a Crack, and a Projector; so that despairing to enrich either my
self or my Country by this Publick-spiritedness, I would make some
Proposals to you relating to a Design which I have very much at Heart,
and which may procure me [a [1]] handsome Subsistence, if you will be
pleased to recommend it to the Cities of _London_ and _Westminster_.
The Post I would aim at, is to be Comptroller-General of the _London_
Cries, which are at present under no manner of Rules or Discipline. I
think I am pretty well qualified for this Place, as being a Man of
very strong Lungs, of great Insight into all the Branches of our
_British_ Trades and Manufactures, and of a competent Skill in Musick.
The Cries of _London_ may be divided into Vocal and Instrumental. As
for the latter they are at present under a very great Disorder. A
Freeman of _London_ has the Privilege of disturbing a whole Street for
an Hour together, with the Twanking of a Brass-Kettle or a Frying-Pan.
The Watchman's Thump at Midnight startles us in our Beds, as much as
the Breaking in of a Thief. The Sowgelder's Horn has indeed something
musical in it, but this is seldom heard within the Liberties. I would
therefore propose, that no Instrument of this Nature should be made
use of, which I have not tuned and licensed, after having carefully
examined in what manner it may affect the Ears of her Majesty's liege
Subjects.
Vocal Cries are of a much larger Extent, and indeed so full of
Incongruities and Barbarisms, that we appear a distracted City to
Foreigners, who do not comprehend the Meaning of such enormous
Outcries. Milk is generally sold in a note above _Ela_, and in Sounds
so [exceeding [2]] shrill, that it often sets our Teeth [on [3]] Edge.
The Chimney-sweeper is [confined [4]] to no certain Pitch; he
sometimes utters himself in the deepest Base, and sometimes in the
sharpest Treble; sometimes in the highest, and sometimes in the lowest
Note of the Gamut. The same Observation might be made on the Retailers
of Small-coal, not to mention broken Glasses or Brick-dust. In these
therefore, and the like Cases, it should be my Care to sweeten and
mellow the Voices of these itinerant Tradesmen, before they make their
Appearance in our Streets; as also to accommodate their Cries to their
respective Wares; and to take care in particular, that those may not
make the most Noise who have the least to sell, which is very
observable in the Venders of Card-matches, to whom I cannot but apply
that old Proverb of _Much Cry but little Wool_.
Some of these last mentioned Musicians are so very loud in the Sale
of these trifling Manufactures, that an honest Splenetick Gentleman of
my Acquaintance bargained with one of them never to come into the
Street where he lived: But what was the Effect of this Contract? Why,
the whole Tribe of Card-match-makers which frequent that Quarter,
passed by his Door the very next Day, in hopes of being bought off
after the same manner.
It is another great Imperfection in our _London_ Cries, that there is
no just Time nor Measure observed in them. Our News should indeed be
published in a very quick Time, because it is a Commodity that will
not keep cold. It should not, however, be cried with the same
Precipitation as Fire: Yet this is generally the Case. A Bloody Battle
alarms the Town from one End to another in an Instant. Every Motion of
the _French_ is Published in so great a Hurry, that one would think
the Enemy were at our Gates. This likewise I would take upon me to
regulate in such a manner, that there should be some Distinction made
between the spreading of a Victory, a March, or an Incampment, a
_Dutch_, a _Portugal_ or a _Spanish_ Mail. Nor must I omit under this
Head, those excessive Alarms with which several boisterous Rusticks
infest our Streets in Turnip Season; and which are more inexcusable,
because these are Wares which are in no Danger of Cooling upon their
Hands.
There are others who affect a very slow Time, and are, in my Opinion,
much more tuneable than the former; the Cooper in particular swells
his last Note in an hollow Voice, that is not without its Harmony; nor
can I forbear being inspired with a most agreeable Melancholy, when I
hear that sad and solemn Air with which the Public are very often
asked, if they have any Chairs to mend? Your own Memory may suggest to
you many other lamentable Ditties of the same Nature, in which the
Musick is wonderfully languishing and melodious.
I am always pleased with that particular Time of the Year which is
proper for the pickling of Dill and Cucumbers; but alas, this Cry,
like the Song of the [Nightingale [5]], is not heard above two Months.
It would therefore be worth while to consider, whether the same Air
might not in some Cases be adapted to other Words.
It might likewise deserve our most serious Consideration, how far, in
a well-regulated City, those Humourists are to be tolerated, who, not
contented with the traditional Cries of their Forefathers, have
invented particular Songs and Tunes of their own: Such as was, not
many Years since, the Pastryman, commonly known by the Name of the
Colly-Molly-Puff; and such as is at this Day the Vender of Powder and
Wash-balls, who, if I am rightly informed, goes under the Name of
_Powder-Watt_.
I must not here omit one particular Absurdity which runs through this
whole vociferous Generation, and which renders their Cries very often
not only incommodious, but altogether useless to the Publick; I mean,
that idle Accomplishment which they all of them aim at, of Crying so
as not to be understood. Whether or no they have learned this from
several of our affected Singers, I will not take upon me to say; but
most certain it is, that People know the Wares they deal in rather by
their Tunes than by their Words; insomuch that I have sometimes seen a
Country Boy run out to buy Apples of a Bellows-mender, and Gingerbread
from a Grinder of Knives and Scissars. Nay so strangely infatuated are
some very eminent Artists of this particular Grace in a Cry, that none
but then Acquaintance are able to guess at their Profession; for who
else can know, that _Work if I had it_, should be the Signification of
a Corn-Cutter?
Forasmuch therefore as Persons of this Rank are seldom Men of Genius
or Capacity, I think it would be very proper, that some Man of good
Sense and sound Judgment should preside over these Publick Cries, who
should permit none to lift up their Voices in our Streets, that have
not tuneable Throats, and are not only able to overcome the Noise of
the Croud, and the Rattling of Coaches, but also to vend their
respective Merchandizes in apt Phrases, and in the most distinct and
agreeable Sounds. I do therefore humbly recommend my self as a Person
rightly qualified for this Post; and if I meet with fitting
Encouragement, shall communicate some other Projects which I have by
me, that may no less conduce to the Emolument of the Public.
_I am
SIR_, &c.,
Ralph Crotchet.
[Footnote 1: an]
[Footnote 2: exceedingly]
[Footnote 3: an]
[Footnote 4: contained]
[Footnote 5: Nightingales]
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