In the Early Modern period, broadsides were the most common form of printed material. These single sheets of text could be produced quickly and cheaply, and were thus the ideal media for many purposes, including advertisement, entertainment, propaganda, and the dissemination of local and national news. At a penny apiece, even the poorest could afford them. They were passed around among neighbours, pinned up in public meeting places such as clubs and coffee houses and even pasted on walls as economical decoration.
During the 1660s, when broadside production was at its peak, print shops in London and the other large cities of Britain churned out over 400,000 copies a year. Such documents were not designed to last. Despite their immense popularity, therefore, relatively few survive today so the exhibition at the Guildhall Library is a remarkable collection …
Here are some examples.
Not surprisingly, many appeared during the terrible times of the plague as fear spread throughout the population and people sought any remedy that might protect them. This publication is entitled LORD have mercy upon vs. A special remedy for the plague …
Printed in London in 1636, it is part record and part preventative advice. It also seeks to provide comfort in a terrifying time, with a reflection on the beauty of the brevity of life and the promise of resurrection to come …
Note the column on the right, where the numbers buried in previous plagues are presented, with space for the purchaser to continue this record for themselves …
Next, printed in 1665, a summary of burials from previous plagues that raged in London entitled: General bills of mortality for seventy three years last past, shewing all the times when the plague raged in and about London: viz., 1592, 1603, 1625 1636 …
You will see near the right hand corner that the purchaser has filled out more sections from the 1665 plague.
There is also an advertisement for two books reported to have plague cures within them – this wasn’t an official publication, but instead an advert in disguise …
This was printed in London, possibly in 1665: Remedies against the infection of the plague, and the curing thereof, and rules which are to be observed therein …
It’s unusual in that it gives directions on where to directly purchase the remedies, a list of sellers and prices. As you can see, this was before premises in London streets were numbered, so directions made reference, for example, to the proximity of other buildings such as taverns …
To give a sense of affordability, skilled artisans and craftsmen would expect to earn between £25 and £40 per year (or about 1s. to 2s. a day).
Then, as now, reports of catastrophe and destruction sold well …
By the late Georgian period, the buildings of the Palace of Westminster had become an accident waiting to happen. The rambling complex of medieval and early modern apartments making up the Houses of Parliament was by then largely unfit for purpose. Complaints from MPs about the state of their accommodation had been rumbling on since the 1790s but they were unable to agree on a solution for new accommodation (sounds familiar!).
In the end the decision was made for them and the long-overdue catastrophe finally occurred on 16 October 1834. Throughout the day, a chimney fire had smouldered under the floor of the House of Lords chamber, caused by the unsupervised and ill-advised burning of two large cartloads of wooden tally sticks (a form of medieval tax receipt created by the Exchequer, a government office based at Westminster) in the heating furnaces below. Warning signs were persistently ignored by the senile Housekeeper and careless Clerk of Works, leading the Prime Minister later to declare the disaster, ‘one of the greatest instances of stupidity upon record’.
Funnily enough, I have a contemporary print of the event hanging on my wall …
You can read a fuller account here on the History of Parliament website. It refers to the famous Superintendent James Braidwood, the grandfather of modern firefighting theory, who I have written about in this earlier blog.
There followed in 1841 a serious fire at the Tower of London (although the Crown Jewels were safely evacuated) …
This announcement (printed in 1721) illustrates how new ideas could be shared with the public to get approval, or maybe also finding a financial backer …
Note the objective of ‘Relief for the Labouring Poor’.
Richard Newsham of Cloth Fair boasts of his fire engines and their superiority to the existing ‘Cumbersome Squirting Engines’ …
His machines were slim enough to fit through normal doors and so widely liked he sold them across the country and internationally.
Ballads were incredibly popular, this one is entitled The Gelding of the Devil …
As his private parts are hacked away he declares ‘Oh, it smarts!’ Maybe a bit of an understatement.
An early version of the current day Guy Fawkes bonfires: The effigies of the Pope, the Devil, and others, that are now to be seen at the Roe-buck in Bow Lane, and are to be burnt on 5th November, 1718 …
Oliver Cromwell is in power and this proclamation printed in London in 1649 directs a day of celebration for recent Parliamentary victories in Ireland. According to this narrative, God played a major role …
There are over 30 fascinating exhibits and entry is free along with a superb exhibition guide …
You can find more details about opening times etc here.
In other news.
Mr and Mrs Duck head off to do the Saturday shopping …
He came over to check me out after I took the picture …
The lovely City gardeners have replanted the Silk Street beds …
Blue sky and fluffy clouds …
… and silhouettes …
Finally, I liked this piece of street art on London Bridge …
If you would like to follow me on Instagram here is the link …
