One girl in a blue short cloak and a torn gown stood in the center of the Square, singing. A ballad seller—the printer sent her out with broadsides of song lyrics, and she advertised them by singing the songs...T he ballad seller’s voice rose and swelled. She had a beautiful, clear tone, and the sad melody she sang floated and dipped like the undulations of a river. A dead soldier, his lover in search of him, vows never to rest or love again—the ballads from the print shops were full of such sentimental drivel. Torn Among all the eighteenth-century peddlers working the city streets, broadsheet sellers were among the poorest. Some saw selling broadsheets, including those printed with ballad lyrics, as basically one step up from begging; artwork depicts these salespeople as impoverished, wearing ragged clothing. At the same time, they provided a vital service in terms of disseminating popular culture at a time when your new material came in pri...
The Books, Browsings, and Musings of Author Rowenna Miller