Part 8

The period from the renewal of the war with France in May 1803 to the general peace in 1815 supplies few ballads of any merit, and the more important the event celebrated the worse, as a rule, is the ballad. Trafalgar produced at least a dozen, of which two are selected here--_Nelson’s Glorious Victory at Trafalgar_, and another, entitled _The Death of Nelson_, which begins:

‘Come all you gallant seamen that unites a meeting.’

(pp. 301, 302). A third, beginning _Arise, ye sons of Britain, in chorus join and sing_, which usually bears the title of _Nelson’s Death and Victory_, is reprinted by Mr. Masefield (p. 131), and by Mr. Ashton (p. 18), under the title of _The Battle of Trafalgar_. Mr. Ashton also prints a fourth entitled _Nelson and Collingwood_ (p. 19). There is yet another _Battle of Trafalgar_, which begins well:

‘Come all you British heroes, come listen to my song, It is of a noble battle by our brave seamen won; The 20th of October that was the very day The combined fleet from Cadiz, my boys, did put to sea; The _Euryalus_ made the signal, the _Defence_ she did repeat, The _Mars_ and the _Colossus_ conveyed it to our fleet.

‘It was off Cape St. Mary, nine leagues from the shore, When the signal they saw down from Cadiz they bore. On Sunday the twentieth so early in the morn We espied our enemy, my boys, four leagues astern; The day it being foggy we lost them all again, But on the twenty-first, my boys, we met them on the main.’

The rest of the narrative, however, is a mere catalogue of the names of ships.

_The Death of Nelson_, better known as _’Twas in Trafalgar’s Bay_, is from John Braham’s opera entitled _The Americans_, which was produced at the Lyceum on April 27, 1811. In Bell and Daldy’s _Sea Songs and Ballads_, 1863 (p. 263), the words are attributed to Samuel James Arnold. There is another _Death of Nelson_--a rough and ungrammatical popular ballad--which seems to deserve reprinting in spite of its defects, as a testimony to popular feeling in England (p. 302).

Sir Richard Strachan’s victory on November 4, 1805 (Clowes, v. 171), is the next important event celebrated, and it is treated as completing Nelson’s work (p. 304). Clowes describes it as ‘a creditable pendant to Trafalgar’ (_The Royal Navy_, v. 174). Cochrane’s attempt to destroy the French fleet in the Basque Roads in April 1810 was also made the subject of a song. ‘Cochrane undaunted’ has his due praise; Gambier is not mentioned either for good or evil. The rest of the incidents recorded are cutting out affairs or frigate fights. Yeo’s exploits on the coast of Spain in 1805, and the capture of the Thetis by the Amethyst in November 1808, were both held worthy of recognition in verse (pp. 300, 305; cf. Clowes, v. 362, 427).

In June 1812 the field of the war was widened by President Madison’s declaration of war against England. This provides us with some ballads which give the point of view of England’s opponents, and advantageously supplement the productions of our own soil. A ballad beginning ‘Ye Parliament of England’ states the case of the United States against Great Britain, and summarises the naval history of the war for American hearers (p. 308). ‘It was still,’ says an American, ‘a favourite song in many parts of the country as late as 1859, and it is valuable as a reflection of the spirit in which the war of 1812-14 was regarded by those who fought in it’ (G. C. Eggleston, _American War Ballads_, 1889, i. 131). The capture of the Guerrière by the Constitution on August 19, 1812, was the subject of an American song subsequently reprinted as a broadside in London (p. 309). The capture of the Chesapeake by the Shannon in June 1, 1813, was the subject of three English ballads, two of which are here reprinted (p. 311). The metre of the best known is the same as that of the song on the Constitution and Guerrière, and one was evidently intended as an answer to the other, though it appears uncertain which was published first. The last of the series narrates the capture of the President on January 15, 1815, and is called _The Endymion’s Triumph_. It just mentions the existence of the rest of the squadron, but does not attribute any part in the result of the fight to the Pomone or the Tenedos (p. 313).

Peace was not wholly welcome either to the younger officers or to some of the sailors. In 1815, as in 1763 there were some who openly expressed their regret. One example is a parody of Dibdin, entitled _The Midshipman’s Lamentation_. It begins ‘What is it to you if my eye I am piping?’ If the peace is a fact he trembles to think what his next station will be:

‘Four years of my time I’ve served and better, But what’s that to me? Why, it’s not worth a groat. Besides, to the purser I am a great debtor-- I have not yet paid for my cockt hat and coat.’

No resource will be left him except to turn shoe-black:

‘How oft in the cabin I’ve studied navigation Out of a book writ by John Hamilton Moore, But now I’m afraid I shall soon take my station With my brushes and black ball close to my door.’ (_Madden Collection_, Cambridge.)

A sailor took a more cheerful view of the situation:

‘When I was on the yard the topsail for to furl, The pilot came on board and said “There’s peace with all the world”; But if war should come again I’m damned if I won’t enter, And for my country and my king my life and limb I’ll venture.’ (Fragment communicated by Sir J. K. Laughton.)

As at every peace, there were complaints that when the sailor was no more needed a thankless country turned him adrift to starve. _The British Tars_ enforces this moral (p. 316). Sailors who remained in the service had a different cause of complaint, namely, the increasing strictness of discipline in minor matters. ‘About 1806,’ says Clowes, on the authority of Lord Dundonald, ‘undue prominence began to be assigned to what is still vulgarly called in the service “spit and polish.” Too much importance was attached to “the brightening of brass heads, of bitts, and capstan hoops,” and too little to the condition of the ship as a fighting machine’ (_Royal Navy_, v. 19). After the peace this tendency increased, and the discomforts of a sailor’s life in a smart ship with a martinet for her captain became the theme of several ballads. _The Fancy Frigate_, _The Saucy Scylla_, and _The Vanguard_ are examples of this (pp. 316-21).

An older grievance now ended. Impressment had risen to its height during the great war with France. In a volume of Northumbrian Minstrelsy published by the Society of Antiquaries of Newcastle-upon-Tyne are many songs referring to the press-gang.

‘Here’s the tender coming pressing all the men! Oh, dear hinny, what shall we do then? Here’s the tender coming off at Shields’ bar, Here’s the tender coming full of men-of-war.’

Another is a woman’s lament:

‘Oh, the lousy cutter, They’ve taen my laddie frae me, They’ve pressed him far away foreign Wi’ Nelson ayont the salt sea.

‘They always come in the night, They never come in the day; They always come in the night And steal the laddies away.’

A certain Captain Bover was particularly energetic in pressing men, of whom a sailor and his lass thus sing:

‘Where hes ti’ been, maw canny hinny, Where hes ti’ been, maw winsome man? Aw’ve been ti’ the norrard, Cruising back and forrard, Aw’ve been ti’ the norrard, Cruising sair and lang, Aw’ve been ti’ the norrard, cruising back and forrard, But daurna come ashore for Bover and his gang.’ (L. Smith, _Music of the Waters_, 1888, p. 112.)

When the war ended the press-gang lost its very real terrors, though their memory long survived in tradition. It became a subject for sentimental or burlesque treatment, as in _Oh Cruel!_ and the _Answer_ to that song. Its special function in the sentimental ballads printed during the first half of the nineteenth century was to prevent the course of true love from running smooth:

‘This jolly young sailor, as true is reported, Had been but a very few weeks on the shore But as he and his love together was walking, By a large press he from her was tore.’

A villainous rival invariably availed himself of its assistance:

‘A friendly voice young William hailed; A ruffian gang the youth assailed; ’Twas done by cursed gold. The tender for the offing stood, The cutter skimmed the yielding flood, They hatched him in the hold.’ (_Young William._)

It afforded opportunities for the more romantic forms of the sentimental ballad, in which the maid disguised herself as a sailor in order to accompany her lover when he was pressed to sea. There are several seventeenth and eighteenth century ballads about disguised women who served as sailors, and there are some genuine instances. One of them, Hannah Snell, became celebrated, and about 1750 attracted crowds to hear her sing a song describing her adventures (p. 200). In the street ballads of the early nineteenth century the theme is a perpetual favourite. Other ballads of the same period celebrated the courage or dexterity with which the maiden contrived to obtain her lover’s release. The most celebrated example of this class of ballad is _Billy Taylor_, which is a parody on an earlier romantic ballad entitled sometimes _William Taylor_, sometimes _The Female Lieutenant_ (pp. 326-27). Another example is _Cawsand Bay_ (p. 328), which is a late imitation of an older ballad called either _The Valiant Maid_ or _The Undaunted Lieutenant_.

Impressment ceased about 1835, though not formally abolished, and its cessation seems to have been somehow connected in the popular mind with King William IV. His sympathy with sailors was the theme of several street songs. _The King and the Sailor_ celebrates his affability; _Duke William’s Frolic_ narrates how he had learned to sympathise with the sufferings of sailors by being himself impressed. Both are reprinted in John Ashton’s _Modern Street Ballads_, pp. 228, 232.

During the great war, the patriotic sea-song and songs about sailors, such as those written by the Dibdins and their imitators, had attained enormous popularity on shore, and some at sea too. Charles Dibdin’s first naval song, _Blow high, blow low_, was produced about 1776, and he continued to produce till about 1810. It was said by a biographer that ‘he brought more men into the navy in war time than all the press-gangs could,’ and he boasted in his autobiography, ‘My songs have been the solace of sailors in long voyages, in storm, in battle; and they have been quoted in mutinies to the restoration of order and discipline (_Autobiography_, i. 8). Except in a very few cases, such as _Tom Bowling_, this popularity was not lasting. ‘It is doubtful,’ says Sir C. Bridge, ‘if they were even very popular in the forecastle. At places of entertainment on shore, some of them may have been heard with pleasure by seamen, but the great majority of them were either never favourites afloat, or at any rate had but a short-lived popularity. By the middle of the nineteenth century, when the old fore-bitter had still a vigorous existence, C. Dibdin’s songs were very rarely sung on board ship’ (Introduction to Stone’s _Sea Songs and Ballads_, p. xiii).

Novelists and playwrights imitated Dibdin. Captain Marryat, who brought together a few genuine old songs in _Poor Jack_, inserted some nautical songs of his own composition in _Snarleyow_, the best of which is reprinted in this collection (p. 322). Others, apparently never published, which include defences of flogging and impressment, are to be found in his Life by his daughter. Captain Chamier, who published between 1830 and 1849 a number of novels in imitation of Marryat, included in them many nautical songs of his own of little merit. Captain Glascock also in his novels and sketches of naval life printed various lyrics. One seems to be the expression of a genuine feeling, viz. _The Lieutenant’s Lament_:

‘As sure as a gun We shall all be undone If longer continues the peace.’ (_Naval Sketch Book_, 1834, 2nd series, i. 267.)

Of nautical plays an enormous number were produced during the first half of the nineteenth century. This species of drama reached its greatest vogue about 1830. The most successful example of it was Douglas Jerrold’s _Black-eyed Susan; or, All in the Downs_, played at the Surrey Theatre in 1829. Another successful play was Fitzball’s _Pilot_, an adaptation of Cooper’s novel of the same name, in which the hero was transformed from an American into an English sailor. The success of both was due to the acting of T. P. Cooke, who had himself served some six years in the navy and was declared by Christopher North to be ‘the best sailor that ever trod the stage.’ ‘Mr. Cooke,’ says Fitzball in his preface to _The Pilot_, ‘added a new feature to the sailor’s character. It was that of thoughtfulness and mystery--of deep-toned passion and romance.’

The popularity and the prevalence of conventional representations of sailors and artificial naval lyrics seem to have put an end to the production of genuine sea songs. In the vast mass of street songs issued by various printers between 1815 and 1870 there are many about sailors at sea and on shore, but they are mostly amatory or romantic. The most interesting are stories about shipwrecks or crudely realistic ditties about sprees on shore which illustrate the history of the merchant service rather than the navy. Such titles as _The Liverpool Landlady_, _The Sailor’s Frolic or Life in the East_, and _Rolling Down Wapping_ are a sufficient indication of their contents. Amongst this miscellaneous mass there are a few ballads relating to incidents in naval history occurring between 1815 and the Crimean war. They are poor things, lacking in the spirit and the vigorous realism which often redeem the doggerel verses of the previous century.

For that reason it will suffice to quote a few of those which survive, and to print half a dozen of the best as specimens.

The bombardment of Algiers by Lord Exmouth on August 27, 1816, was the first important naval event after the peace of 1815. It is narrated in a ballad printed by James Catnach, in which a sailor who had served on board the Superb undertook to tell ‘how we fought like any lions bold to set the Christians free.’ Three verses may be quoted:

‘On the twenty-seventh of August, just by the break of day, We espied the city of Algiers to windward of us lay; “All hands, all hands to quarters,” it was the general cry, “Come load your guns with round and grape before we draw too nigh.”

‘The first was the _Queen Charlotte_ so nobly led the van, She was followed by the _Superb_, Captain Atkins gave command, The next was the _Leander_ with all her warlike crew, She was followed by the _Impregnable_, Rear-Admiral of the Blue.’

Then comes a catalogue of the rest of the fleet, in which the six Dutch frigates taking part in the action are not forgotten. ‘Take pattern by those English lads, they show you gallant play,’ said the Dutch admiral to his crews.

‘Now there’s one thing more that I relate, which is to be admired, At five o’clock that afternoon we set their ships on fire, Our rocket ships and bomb ships so well their parts did play The Algerines from their batteries were forced to run away.’

The last verse concluded with healths to Lord Exmouth and to Captain Atkins (or properly Captain Charles Ekins) of the Superb.

The battle of Navarino, fought on October 20, 1827, inspired several ballads. _The Battle of Navarino_, which will be found at length in John Ashton’s _Modern Street Ballads_, 1888, p. 225, begins thus:

‘You’ve heard of the Turks and the Greeks, For all Europe’s been told their bad habits, How they cut down each other like leeks, And the Turks slaughter children like rabbits: But John Bull could bear it no more, Said he, you death-dealers, I’ll stop you, And if you don’t both soon give o’er I swear by St George that I’ll whop you.’

It concludes with a cheer ‘for the staunch gallant crew, That manned the brave ship the Genoa’--a 76-gun ship whose captain, Walter Bathurst, was killed in the battle--on board of which the author perhaps served.

A second, entitled _The Glorious Victory of Navarino_, gives more details:

‘On the 20th of October the glorious fight began, Bold Ibrahim vainly boasted he’d slaughter every man; But Codrington resolved was the _Asia_ should display A bright example to the rest, and he would lead the way.

‘The _Genoa_ and the _Albion_ he placed by his side And near to him De Rigny, commander of the _Armide_, The _Glasgow_ and the _Cambrian_, the _Dartmouth_ and the _Rose_ Were placed in fine order alongside of their foes.’

A fragment of a third ballad, said to consist of seventeen verses in all, is quoted by Mr. Kipling in _The Black Sheep_:

‘Our vanship was the _Asia_, The _Albion_ and the _Genoa_, And next came on the lovely _Rose_, The _Philomel_ her fireship closed, And the little _Brisk_ was sore exposed That day at Navarino.’

The intervention of England in the Syrian war in 1840, which fills so large a place in James Hannay’s naval novel, _Singleton Fontenoy_, produced a ballad on _The Capture of St. Jean d’Acre_ which will be found on p. 333. It attributes all the credit of the success to Charles Napier, and makes no mention at all of Sir Robert Stopford. It seems to have been written or at least inspired by someone serving on board the Wasp, from the particularity with which it relates the movements of that ship.

The popularity of Napier comes out very plainly in the whole group of street songs and ballads relating to the Crimean war.

‘We’re off to the Baltic with Charley Napeer To singe the whiskers of the great Russian bear’

ran the chorus of a song which a friend of mine heard some sailors singing in the streets in 1854. _Give it to him, Charley_, is the title of another; _I am Baltic Charley and no Mistake_, is that of a third. In this last, the author, through the form of a dialogue, expresses the sympathy of the British public with the admiral in his quarrel with Sir James Graham:

‘“I have sailed too many miles at sea For any land-lubber to frighten me, I fought in Nelson’s victory Like a Briton,” said Baltic Charley. Said Jemmy to me “What have you done? Why did not you into danger run?” “I wopped the Russians at Bomarsund And a victory gained,” said Charley.

‘“Now, Jemmy, you shall see by-and-by I will make you open your weather eye And like a pig for quarters cry For insulting Baltic Charley. Boatswain’s mate, come quickly jump, Seize old Jemmy up to the pump, And give him a dozen over the rump To the tune of Baltic Charley.”’

Another series of this Russian group consists of sentimental verses. _Bold Napier_, for instance, begins:

‘Old England calls her sons to arms the Russian bear to meet, Our brave old admiral commands and guides the British fleet, The battle calls me from thy arms, let not my Susan fear In the cause of liberty we go to sail with bold Napier.’

Similar in type is _Jack and Susan and Long Life to Sir Charles Napier_. Bolder is _The Baltic Lovers_, which relates how a merchant’s daughter of Southampton city:

‘Did fall in love with a brisk young sailor Who had engaged with Sir Charles Napier,’

and announced her intention of following him to sea in disguise:

‘He said “Mary, my charming fairy, Are you deranged or what can you mean?-- On board the _Wellington_ you know I’ve entered To fight the Russians and serve the Queen.”’

In spite of this discouragement and of the active opposition of her father she entered on board the Wellington, and passed for a long time as a man.

‘One lovely morning the fleet had warning To fight the Russians at seven bells, And her true lover did her discover And met his Mary at the Dardanelles.’

Shedding ‘large briny tears’ she was brought on the quarter-deck before Sir Charles Napier, who was much moved by the spectacle.

‘Old Charley said, “You are an angel, You are an angel I plainly see, You love your Queen, you love a sailor, And soon made happy you shall be.”’

And thereupon he discharged Mary and the brisk young sailor and sent both back to England singing ‘God save the Queen and Sir Charles Napier.’

In addition to this there are of course many songs of a purely patriotic nature of which the naval glories of England are in part the theme. The most familiar of them is _The Red, White, and Blue_. ‘It had a considerable vogue during the Russian war,’ writes Sir J. K. Laughton. ‘I often heard it sung up the Baltic: but of course it is a music-hall song. It was always understood that the ‘red, white, and blue’ meant the three admirals’ flags. Since then it has been taken to mean that these are the national colours--a mistake which has led to a thousand absurdities.’

Out of all the popular songs illustrating the naval side of the Russian war only one deserves reprinting in this volume. That is a song called _The Russians won’t come out_, which reflects the general disappointment of the navy at the absence of any opportunities for fighting at sea (p. 336).

In order to illustrate the work of the navy during the period which intervened between the close of the French war and the beginning of the Russian war four other ballads have been inserted. One, entitled _General Campbell_, describes the part taken by the navy in the capture of Rangoon in 1824. A second, _The Borneo Heroes_, narrates an incident in the suppression of piracy in the Eastern seas, viz. the fight at Malluda Bay on August 19, 1845. The third, entitled _The Slave Chase_, illustrates the suppression of the slave trade. From the style it is clearly an imitation of one of Macaulay’s _Lays_; however, it is a spirited thing, and was a great favourite with the late Captain Montagu Burrows, who served for some time in African waters. It was also a popular favourite, and was very often reprinted by Fortey, Such, and the later publishers of street ballads. Arctic exploration is illustrated by a fourth, which celebrates the return of Ross in 1833 and the welcome he received at home (pp. 330-334). Another incident, in the search for the North-West Passage, namely the voyage of Sir John Franklin, and the long continued efforts to discover his fate also attracted the attention of the writers of street ballads; but neither _Lady Franklin’s Lament_ nor the _Lament on the Fate of Sir John Franklin and his crew_ deserve reprinting. The last was written in 1860; ten years later the old street ballads practically became extinct. Once they had been the instrument used to convey information about public events to the people, but that function had now passed to the cheap newspapers. Popular opinion had found other modes of expression, and as songs they had been superseded by the more taking melodies of the music-halls.

Sir Cyprian Bridge speaks of the ‘general taking over of the songs of the music-hall of late by sailors.’ The process began long ago. Captain Glascock in 1834 noted the supersession of the old naval songs by ditties fashionable at the moment on shore.

‘For the whole three years as I sarv’d in that there _March-o’-Mind man-o’-war_ I was tellin’ ye about I never hears so much as a sailor’s song--a song as ye could call a reg’lar built seaman’s stave.’