CHAPTER I.

Transcriber’s Notes:

Texts printed in italics and bold in the original work have been

transcribed between _underscores_ and =equal signs= respectively. Small

capitals are presented here as ALL CAPITALS. Subscripts and superscripts

have been transcribed as _{...} and ^{...}.

More Transcriber’s Notes may be found at the end of this text.

[Illustration: Drawn by Experience

Engraved by Sorrow

A MAN LOADED with MISCHIEF, or MATRIMONY.

_A Monkey, a Magpie, and Wife; Is the true Emblem of Strife._]

THE

HISTORY OF SIGNBOARDS

From the Earliest Times to the Present Day

BY JACOB LARWOOD AND

JOHN CAMDEN HOTTEN

“He would name you all the signs as he went along”

BEN JONSON’S BARTHOLOMEW FAIR

“Oppida dum peragras peragranda poemata spectes”

DRUNKEN BARNABY’S TRAVELS

[Illustration: Cock and Bottle]

TWELFTH IMPRESSION

WITH ONE HUNDRED ILLUSTRATIONS BY J. LARWOOD

LONDON

CHATTO & WINDUS

1908

_To

Thomas Wright, Esq., M.A., F.S.A.,

the Accomplished Interpreter of English Popular Antiquities,

this_

Little Volume is Dedicated

_by

THE AUTHORS_.

PREFACE.

The field of history is a wide one, and when the beaten tracks have been

well traversed, there will yet remain some of the lesser paths to

explore. The following attempt at a “History of Signboards” may be

deemed the result of an exploration in one of these by-ways.

Although from the days of Addison’s _Spectator_ down to the present time

many short articles have been written upon house-signs, nothing like a

general inquiry into the subject has, as yet, been published in this

country. The extraordinary number of examples and the numerous absurd

combinations afforded such a mass of entangled material as doubtless

deterred writers from proceeding beyond an occasional article in a

magazine, or a chapter in a book,--when only the more famous signs would

be cited as instances of popular humour or local renown. How best to

classify and treat the thousands of single and double signs was the

chief difficulty in compiling the present work. That it will in every

respect satisfy the reader is more than is expected--indeed much more

than could be hoped for under the best of circumstances.

In these modern days, the signboard is a very unimportant object: it was

not always so. At a time when but few persons could read and write,

house-signs were indispensable in city life. As education spread they

were less needed; and when in the last century, the system of numbering

houses was introduced, and every thoroughfare had its name painted at

the beginning and end, they were no longer a positive necessity--their

original value was gone, and they lingered on, not by reason of their

usefulness, but as instances of the decorative humour of our ancestors,

or as advertisements of established reputation and business success. For

the names of many of our streets we are indebted to the sign of the old

inn or public-house, which frequently was the first building in the

street--commonly enough suggesting its erection, or at least a few

houses by way of commencement. The huge “London Directory” contains the

names of hundreds of streets in the metropolis which derived their

titles from taverns or public-houses in the immediate neighbourhood. As

material for the etymology of the names of persons and places, the

various old signs may be studied with advantage. In many other ways the

historic importance of house-signs could be shown.

Something like a classification of our subject was found absolutely

necessary at the outset, although from the indefinite nature of many

signs the divisions “Historic,” “Heraldic,” “Animal,” &c.--under which

the various examples have been arranged--must be regarded as purely

arbitrary, for in many instances it would be impossible to say whether

such and such a sign should be included under the one head or under the

other. The explanations offered as to origin and meaning are based

rather upon conjecture and speculation than upon fact--as only in very

rare instances reliable data could be produced to bear them out.

Compound signs but increase the difficulty of explanation: if the road

was uncertain before, almost all traces of a pathway are destroyed here.

When, therefore, a solution is offered, it must be considered only as a

suggestion of the _possible_ meaning. As a rule, and unless the symbols

be very obvious, the reader would do well to consider the _majority_ of

compound signs as quarterings or combinations of others, without any

hidden signification. A double signboard has its parallel in commerce,

where for a common advantage, two merchants will unite their interests

under a double name; but as in the one case so in the other, no rule

besides the immediate interests of those concerned can be laid down for

such combinations.

A great many signs, both single and compound, have been omitted. To have

included all, together with such particulars of their history as could

be obtained, would have required at least half-a-dozen folio volumes.

However, but few signs of any importance are known to have been omitted,

and care has been taken to give fair samples of the numerous varieties

of the compound sign. As the work progressed a large quantity of

material accumulated for which no space could be found, such as “A

proposal to the House of Commons for raising above half a million of

money per annum, _with a great ease to the subject_, by a TAX upon

SIGNS, London, 1695,” a very curious tract; a political _jeu-d’esprit_

from the Harleian MSS., (5953,) entitled “_The Civill Warres of the

Citie_,” a lengthy document prepared for a journal in the reign of

William of Orange by one “E. I.,” and giving the names and whereabouts

of the principal London signs at that time. Acts of Parliament for the

removal or limitation of signs; and various religious pamphlets upon the

subject, such as “Helps for Spiritual Meditation, earnestly Recommended

to the Perusal of all those who desire to have their Hearts much with

God,” a chap-book of the time of Wesley and Whitfield, in which the

existing “Signs of London are Spiritualized, with an Intent, that when a

person walks along the Street, instead of having their Mind fill’d with

Vanity, and their Thoughts amus’d with the trifling Things that

continually present themselves, they may be able to Think of something

Profitable.”

Anecdotes and historical facts have been introduced with a double view;

first, as authentic proofs of the existence and age of the sign;

secondly, in the hope that they may afford variety and entertainment.

They will call up many a picture of the olden time; many a trait of

bygone manners and customs--old shops and residents, old modes of

transacting business, in short, much that is now extinct and obsolete.

There is a peculiar pleasure in pondering over these old houses, and

picturing them to ourselves as again inhabited by the busy tenants of

former years; in meeting the great names of history in the hours of

relaxation, in calling up the scenes which must have been often

witnessed in the haunt of the pleasure-seeker,--the tavern with its

noisy company, the coffee-house with its politicians and smart beaux;

and, on the other hand, the quiet, unpretending shop of the ancient

bookseller filled with the monuments of departed minds. Such scraps of

history may help to picture this old London as it appeared during the

last three centuries. For the contemplative mind there is some charm

even in getting at the names and occupations of the former inmates of

the houses now only remembered by their signs; in tracing, by means of

these house decorations, their modes of thought or their ideas of

humour, and in rescuing from oblivion a few little anecdotes and minor

facts of history connected with the house before which those signs swung

in the air.

It is a pity that such a task as the following was not undertaken many

years ago; it would have been much better accomplished then than now.

London is so rapidly changing its aspect, that ten years hence many of

the particulars here gathered could no longer be collected. Already,

during the printing of this work, three old houses famous for their

signs have been doomed to destruction--the Mitre in Fleet Street, the

Tabard in Southwark, (where Chaucer’s pilgrims lay,) and Don Saltero’s

house in Cheyne Walk, Chelsea. The best existing specimens of old

signboards may be seen in our cathedral towns. Antiquaries cling to

these places, and the inhabitants themselves are generally animated by a

strong conservative feeling. In London an entire street might be removed

with far less of public discussion than would attend the taking down of

an old decayed sign in one of these provincial cities. Does the reader

remember an article in _Punch_, about two years ago, entitled “Asses in

Canterbury?” It was in ridicule of the Canterbury Commissioners of

Pavement, who had held grave deliberations on the well-known sign of Sir

John Falstaff, hanging from the front of the hotel of that name,--a

house which has been open for public entertainment these three hundred

years. The knight with sword and buckler (from “Henry the Fourth,”) was

suspended from some ornamental iron-work, far above the pavement, in the

open thoroughfare leading to the famous Westgate, and formed one of the

most noticeable objects in this part of Canterbury. In 1787, when the

general order was issued for the removal of all the signs in the

city--many of them obstructed the thoroughfares--this was looked upon

with so much veneration that it was allowed to remain until 1863, when

for no apparent reason it was sentenced to destruction. However, it was

only with the greatest difficulty that men could be found to pull it

down, and then several cans of beer had first to be distributed amongst

them as an incentive to action--in so great veneration was the old sign

held even by the lower orders of the place. Eight pounds were paid for

this destruction, which, for fear of a riot, was effected at three in

the morning, “amid the groans and hisses of the assembled multitude,”

says a local paper. Previous to the demolition the greatest excitement

had existed in the place; the newspapers were filled with articles; a

petition with 400 signatures--including an M.P., the prebends, minor

canons, and clergy of the cathedral--prayed the local “commissioners”

that the sign might be spared; and the whole community was in an uproar.

No sooner was the old portrait of Sir John removed than another was put

up; but this representing the knight as seated, and with a can of ale by

his side, however much it may suit the modern publican’s notion of

military ardour, does not please the owner of the property, and a

_fac-simile_ of the time-honoured original is in course of preparation.

Concerning the internal arrangement of the following work, a few

explanations seem necessary.

Where a street is mentioned without the town being specified, it in all

cases refers to a London thoroughfare.

The trades tokens so frequently referred to, it will be scarcely

necessary to state, were the brass farthings issued by shop or tavern

keepers, and generally adorned with a representation of the sign of the

house. Nearly all the tokens alluded to belong to the latter part of the

seventeenth century, mostly to the reign of Charles II.

As the work has been two years in the press, the passing events

mentioned in the earlier sheets refer to the year 1864.

In a few instances it was found impossible to ascertain whether certain

signs spoken of as existing really do exist, or whether those mentioned

as things of the past are in reality so. The wide distances at which

they are situated prevented personal examination in every case, and

local histories fail to give such small particulars.

The rude unattractive woodcuts inserted in the work are in most

instances _fac-similes_, which have been chosen as genuine examples of

the style in which the various old signs were represented. The blame of

the coarse and primitive execution, therefore, rests entirely with the

ancient artist, whether sign painter or engraver.

Translations of the various quotations from foreign languages have been

added for the following reasons:--It was necessary to translate the

numerous quotations from the Dutch signboards; Latin was Englished for

the benefit of the ladies, and Italian and French extracts were

Anglicised to correspond with rest.

Errors, both of fact and opinion, may doubtless be discovered in the

book. If, however, the compilers have erred in a statement or an

explanation, they do not wish to remain in the dark, and any light

thrown upon a doubtful passage will be acknowledged by them with thanks.

Numerous local signs--famous in their own neighbourhood--will have been

omitted, (generally, however, for the reasons mentioned on a preceding

page,) whilst many curious anecdotes and particulars concerning their

history may be within the knowledge of provincial readers. For any

information of this kind the compilers will be much obliged; and should

their work ever pass to a second edition, they hope to avail themselves

of such friendly contributions.

LONDON, _June 1866_.

CONTENTS.

PAGE

CHAPTER I.

GENERAL SURVEY OF SIGNBOARD HISTORY, 1

CHAPTER II.

HISTORIC AND COMMEMORATIVE SIGNS, 45

CHAPTER III.

HERALDIC AND EMBLEMATIC SIGNS, 101

CHAPTER IV.

SIGNS OF ANIMALS AND MONSTERS, 150

CHAPTER V.

BIRDS AND FOWLS, 199

CHAPTER VI.

FISHES AND INSECTS, 225

CHAPTER VII.

FLOWERS, TREES, HERBS, ETC., 233

CHAPTER VIII.

BIBLICAL AND RELIGIOUS SIGNS, 253

CHAPTER IX.

SAINTS, MARTYRS, ETC., 279

CHAPTER X.

DIGNITIES, TRADES, AND PROFESSIONS, 305

CHAPTER XI.

THE HOUSE AND THE TABLE, 375

CHAPTER XII.

DRESS; PLAIN AND ORNAMENTAL, 399

CHAPTER XIII.

GEOGRAPHY AND TOPOGRAPHY, 414

CHAPTER XIV.

HUMOROUS AND COMIC, 437

CHAPTER XV.

PUNS AND REBUSES, 469

CHAPTER XVI.

MISCELLANEOUS SIGNS, 476

APPENDIX.

BONNELL THORNTON’S SIGNBOARD EXHIBITION, 512

INDEX OF ALL THE SIGNS MENTIONED IN THE WORK, 527

[Illustration: PLATE I.

BAKER.

(Pompeii, A.D. 70.)

DAIRY.

(Pompeii, A.D. 70.)

SHOEMAKER.

(Herculaneum.)

WINE MERCHANT.

(Pompeii, A.D. 70.)

TWO JOLLY BREWERS.

(Banks’s Bills, 1770.)]

CHAPTER I.

GENERAL SURVEY OF SIGNBOARD HISTORY.

In the cities of the East all trades are confined to certain streets, or

to certain rows in the various bazars and wekalehs. Jewellers,

silk-embroiderers, pipe-dealers, traders in drugs,--each of these

classes has its own quarter, where, in little open shops, the merchants

sit enthroned upon a kind of low counter, enjoying their pipes and their

coffee with the _otium cum dignitate_ characteristic of the Mussulman.

The purchaser knows the row to go to; sees at a glance what each shop

contains; and, if he be an _habitué_, will know the face of each

particular shopkeeper, so that under these circumstances, signboards

would be of no use.

With the ancient Egyptians it was much the same. As a rule, no picture

or description affixed to the shop announced the trade of the owner; the

goods exposed for sale were thought sufficient to attract attention.

Occasionally, however, there were inscriptions denoting the trade, with

the emblem which indicated it;[1] whence we may assume that this ancient

nation was the first to appreciate the benefit that might be derived

from signboards.

What we know of the Greek signs is very meagre and indefinite.

Aristophanes, Lucian, and other writers, make frequent allusions, which

seem to prove that signboards were in use with the Greeks. Thus

Aristotle says: ὡσπερ επι των καπηλιων γραφομενοι, μικροι μεν εισι,

φαινονται δε εχοντες πλατη και βαθη.[2] And Athenæus: εν προτεροις θηκη

διδασκαλιην.[3] But what their signs were, and whether carved, painted,

or the natural object, is entirely unknown.

With the Romans only we begin to have distinct data. In the Eternal

City, some streets, as in our mediæval towns, derived their names from

signs. Such, for instance, was the vicus Ursi Pileati, (the street of

“The Bear with the Hat on,”) in the Esquiliæ. The nature of their signs,

also, is well known. The BUSH, their tavern-sign, gave rise to the

proverb, “Vino vendibili suspensa hedera non opus est;” and hence we

derive our sign of the Bush, and our proverb, “Good Wine needs no

Bush.” An _ansa_, or handle of a pitcher, was the sign of their

post-houses, (_stathmoi_ or _allagæ_,) and hence these establishments

were afterwards denominated _ansæ_.[4] That they also had painted signs,

or exterior decorations which served their purpose, is clearly evident

from various authors:--

“Quum victi Mures Mustelarum exercitu

(Historia quorum in tabernis pingitur.)”[5]

PHÆDRUS, lib. iv. fab. vi.

These Roman street pictures were occasionally no mean works of art, as

we may learn from a passage in Horace:--

“Contento poplite miror

Proelia, rubrico picta aut carbone; velut si

Re vera pugnent, feriant vitentque moventes

Arma viri.”[6]

Cicero also is supposed by some scholars to allude to a sign when he

says:--

“Jam ostendamcujus modi sis: quum ille ‘ostende quæso’ demonstravi

digito pictum Gallum in Mariano scuto Cimbrico, sub Novis, distortum

ejectâ linguâ, buccis fluentibus, risus est commotus.”[7]

Pliny, after saying that Lucius Mummius was the first in Rome who

affixed a picture to the outside of a house, continues:--

“Deinde video et in foro positas vulgo. Hinc enim Crassi oratoris

lepos, [here follows the anecdote of the Cock of Marius the Cimberian]

. . . In foro fuit et illa pastoris senis cum baculo, de qua

Teutonorum legatus respondit, interrogatus quanti eum æstimaret, sibi

donari nolle talem vivum verumque.”[8]

Fabius also, according to some, relates the story of the cock, and his

explanation is cited:--“Taberna autem erant circa Forum, ac scutum illud

signi gratia positum.”[9]

But we can judge even better from an inspection of the Roman signs

themselves, as they have come down to us amongst the ruins of

Herculaneum and Pompeii. A few were painted; but, as a rule, they appear

to have been made of stone, or terra-cotta relievo, and let into the

pilasters at the side of the open shop-fronts. Thus there have been

found a _goat_, the sign of a dairy; a _mule_ driving a mill, the sign

of a baker, (plate 1.) At the door of a schoolmaster was the not very

tempting sign of a boy receiving a good birching. Very similar to our

Two Jolly Brewers, carrying a tun slung on a long pole, a Pompeian

public-house keeper had two slaves represented above his door, carrying

an amphora; and another wine-merchant had a painting of Bacchus pressing

a bunch of grapes. At a perfumer’s shop, in the street of Mercury, were

represented various items of that profession--viz., four men carrying a

box with vases of perfume, men occupied in laying out and perfuming a

corpse, &c. There was also a sign similar to the one mentioned by

Horace, the Two Gladiators, under which, in the usual Pompeian

cacography, was the following imprecation:--ABIAT VENEREM POMPEIIANAMA

IRADAM QUI HOC LÆSERIT, _i.e._, _Habeat Venerem Pompeianam iratam_, &c.

Besides these there were the signs of the Anchor, the Ship, (perhaps a

ship-chandler’s,) a sort of a Cross, the Chequers, the Phallus on a

baker’s shop, with the words, HIC HABITAT FELICITAS; whilst in

Herculaneum there was a very cleverly painted Amorino, or Cupid,

carrying a pair of ladies’ shoes, one on his head and the other in his

hand.

It is also probable that, at a later period at all events, the various

artificers of Rome had their tools as the sign of their house, to

indicate their profession. We find that they sculptured them on their

tombs in the catacombs, and may safely conclude that they would do the

same on their houses in the land of the living. Thus on the tomb of

Diogenes, the grave-digger, there is a pick-axe and a lamp; Bauto and

Maxima have the tools of carpenters, a saw, an adze, and a chisel;

Veneria, a tire-woman, has a mirror and a comb:--then there are others

who have wool-combers’ implements; a physician, who has a cupping-glass;

a poulterer, a case of poultry; a surveyor, a measuring rule; a baker, a

bushel, a millstone, and ears of corn; in fact, almost every trade had

its symbolic implements. Even that cockney custom of punning on the

name, so common on signboards, finds its precedent in those mansions of

the dead. Owing to this fancy, the grave of Dracontius bore a dragon;

Onager, a wild ass; Umbricius, a shady tree; Leo, a lion; Doleus,

father and son, two casks; Herbacia, two baskets of herbs; and Porcula,

a pig. Now it seems most probable that, since these emblems were used to

indicate where a baker, a carpenter, or a tire-woman was buried, they

would adopt similar symbols above ground, to acquaint the public where a

baker, a carpenter, or a tire-woman lived.

We may thus conclude that our forefathers adopted the signboard from the

Romans; and though at first there were certainly not so many shops as to

require a picture for distinction,--as the open shop-front did not

necessitate any emblem to indicate the trade carried on within,--yet the

inns by the road-side, and in the towns, would undoubtedly have them.

There was the Roman bush of evergreens to indicate the sale of wine;[10]

and certain devices would doubtless be adopted to attract the attention

of the different classes of wayfarers, as the Cross for the Christian

customer,[11] and the Sun or the Moon for the pagan. Then we find

various emblems, or standards, to court respectively the custom of the

Saxon, the Dane, or the Briton. He that desired the patronage of

soldiers might put up some weapon; or, if he sought his customers among

the more quiet artificers, there were the various implements of trade

with which he could appeal to the different mechanics that frequented

his neighbourhood.

Along with these very simple signs, at a later period, coats of arms,

crests, and badges, would gradually make their appearance at the doors

of shops and inns. The reasons which dictated the choice of such

subjects were various. One of the principal was this. In the Middle

Ages, the houses of the nobility, both in town and country, when the

family was absent, were used as hostelries for travellers. The family

arms always hung in front of the house, and the most conspicuous object

in those arms gave a name to the establishment amongst travellers, who,

unacquainted with the mysteries of heraldry, called a lion gules or

azure by the vernacular name of the _Red_ or _Blue Lion_.[12] Such coats

of arms gradually became a very popular intimation that there was--

“Good entertainment for all that passes,--

Horses, mares, men, and asses;”

and innkeepers began to adopt them, hanging out red lions and green

dragons as the best way to acquaint the public that they offered food

and shelter.

Still, as long as civilisation was only at a low ebb, the so-called

open-houses few, and competition trifling, signs were of but little use.

A few objects, typical of the trade carried on, would suffice; a knife

for the cutler, a stocking for the hosier, a hand for the glover, a pair

of scissors for the tailor, a bunch of grapes for the vintner, fully

answered public requirements. But as luxury increased, and the number of

houses or shops dealing in the same article multiplied, something more

was wanted. Particular trades continued to be confined to particular

streets; the desideratum then was, to give to each shop a name or token

by which it might be mentioned in conversation, so that it could be

recommended and customers sent to it. Reading was still a scarce

acquirement; consequently, to write up the owner’s name would have been

of little use. Those that could, advertised their name by a rebus; thus,

a hare and a bottle stood for Harebottle, and two cocks for Cox. Others,

whose names no rebus could represent, adopted pictorial objects; and, as

the quantity of these augmented, new subjects were continually required.

The animal kingdom was ransacked, from the mighty elephant to the humble

bee, from the eagle to the sparrow; the vegetable kingdom, from the

palm-tree and cedar to the marigold and daisy; everything on the earth,

and in the firmament above it, was put under contribution. Portraits of

the great men of all ages, and views of towns, both painted with a great

deal more of fancy than of truth; articles of dress, implements of

trades, domestic utensils, things visible and invisible, _ea quæ sunt

tamquam ea quæ non sunt_, everything was attempted in order to attract

attention and to obtain publicity. Finally, as all signs in a town were

painted by the same small number of individuals, whose talents and

imagination were limited, it followed that the same subjects were

naturally often repeated, introducing only a change in the colour for a

difference.

Since all the pictorial representations were, then, of much the same

quality, rival tradesmen tried to outvie each other in the size of their

signs, each one striving to obtrude his picture into public notice by

putting it out further in the street than his neighbour’s. The “Liber

Albus,” compiled in 1419, names this subject amongst the Inquisitions at

the Wardmotes: “Item, if the ale-stake of any tavern is longer or

extends further than ordinary.” And in book iii. part iii. p. 389, is

said:--

“Also, it was ordained that, whereas the ale-stakes projecting in

front of taverns in Chepe, and elsewhere in the said city, extend too

far over the King’s highways, to the impeding of riders and others,

and, by reason of their excessive weight, to the great deterioration

of the houses in which they are fixed;--to the end that opportune

remedy might be made thereof, it was by the Mayor and Aldermen granted

and ordained, and, upon summons of all the taverners of the said city,

it was enjoined upon them, under pain of paying forty pence[13] unto

the Chamber of the Guildhall, on every occasion upon which they should

transgress such ordinance, that no one of them in future should have a

stake, bearing either his sign, or leaves, extending or lying over the

King’s highway, of greater length than seven feet at most, and that

this ordinance should begin to take effect at the Feast of Saint

Michael, then next ensuing, always thereafter to be valid and of full

effect.”

The booksellers generally had a woodcut of their signs for the colophon

of their books, so that their shops might get known by the inspection of

these cuts. For this reason, Benedict Hector, one of the early Bolognese

printers, gives this advice to the buyers in his “Justinus et Florus:”--

“Emptor, attende quando vis emere libros formatos in officina mea

excussoria, inspice signum quod in liminari pagina est, ita numquam

falleris. Nam quidam malevoli Impressores libris suis inemendatis et

maculosis apponunt nomen meum ut fiant vendibiliores.”[14]

Jodocus Badius of Paris, gives a similar caution:--

“Oratum facimus lectorem ut signum inspiciat, nam sunt qui titulum

nomenque Badianum mentiantur et laborem suffurentur.”[15]

Aldus, the great Venetian printer, exposes a similar fraud, and points

out how the pirate had copied the sign also in his colophon; but, by

inadvertency, making a slight alteration:--

“Extremum est ut admoneamus studiosissimum quemque, Florentinos

quosdam impressores, cum viderint se diligentiam nostram in castigando

et imprimendo non posse assequi, ad artes confugisse solitas; hoc est

Grammaticis Institutionibus Aldi in sua officina formatis, notam

Delphini Anchoræ Involuti nostram apposuisse; sed ita egerunt ut

quivis mediocriter versatus in libris impressionis nostræ animadvertit

illos impudenter fecisse. Nam rostrum Delphini in partem sinistram

vergit, cum tamen nostrum in dexteram totum demittatur.”[16]

No wonder, then, that a sign was considered an heirloom, and descended

from father to son, like the coat of arms of the nobility, which was the

case with the Brazen Serpent, the sign of Reynold Wolfe. “His trade was

continued a good while after his demise by his wife Joan, who made her

will the 1st of July 1574, whereby she desires to be buried near her

husband, in St Faith’s Church, and bequeathed to her son, Robert Wolfe,

the chapel-house, [their printing-office,] the Brazen Serpent, and all

the prints, letters, furniture,” etc.--DIBDIN’S _Typ. Ant._, vol. iv. p.

6.

As we observed above, directly signboards were generally adopted,

quaintness became one of the desiderata, and costliness another. This

last could be obtained by the quality of the picture, but, for two

reasons, was not much aimed at--firstly, because good artists were

scarce in those days; and even had they obtained a good picture, the

ignorant crowd that daily passed underneath the sign would, in all

probability, have thought the harsh and glaring daub a finer production

of art than a Holy Virgin by Rafaelle himself. The other reason was the

instability of such a work, exposed to sun, wind, rain, frost, and the

nightly attacks of revellers and roisters. Greater care, therefore, was

bestowed upon the ornamentation of the ironwork by which it was

suspended; and this was perfectly in keeping with the taste of the

times, when even the simplest lock or hinges could not be launched into

the world without its scrolls and strapwork.

The signs then were suspended from an iron bar, fixed either in the wall

of the house, or in a post or obelisk standing in front of it; in both

cases the ironwork was shaped and ornamented with that taste so

conspicuous in the metal-work of the Renaissance period, of which many

churches, and other buildings of that period, still bear witness. In

provincial towns and villages, where there was sufficient room in the

streets, the sign was generally suspended from a kind of small triumphal

arch, standing out in the road, partly wood, partly iron, and ornamented

with all that carving, gilding, and colouring could bestow upon it,

(_see_ description of White-Hart Inn at Scole.) Some of the designs of

this class of ironwork have come down to us in the works of the old

masters, and are indeed exquisite.

Painted signs then, suspended in the way we have just pointed out, were

more common than those of any other kind; yet not a few shops simply

suspended at their doors some prominent article in their trade, which

custom has outlived the more elegant signboards, and may be daily

witnessed in our streets, where the ironmonger’s frying-pan, or

dust-pan, the hardware-dealer’s teapot, the grocer’s tea-canister, the

shoemaker’s last or clog, with the Golden Boot, and many similar

objects, bear witness to this old custom.

Lastly, there was in London another class of houses that had a peculiar

way of placing their signs--viz., the Stews upon the Bankside, which

were, by a proclamation of 37 Hen. VIII., “whited and painted with signs

on the front, for a token of the said houses.” Stow enumerates some of

these symbols, such as the Cross-Keys, the Gun, the Castle, the Crane,

the Cardinal’s Hat, the Bell, the Swan, &c.

Still greater variety in the construction of the signs existed in

France; for besides the painted signs in the iron frames, the

shopkeepers in Paris, according to H. Sauval, (“Antiquités de la Ville

de Paris,”) had anciently banners hanging above their doors, or from

their windows, with the sign of the shop painted on them; whilst in the

sixteenth century carved wooden signs were very common. These, however,

were not suspended, but formed part of the wooden construction of the

house; some of them were really _chefs-d’œuvres_, and as careful in

design as a carved cathedral stall. Several of them are still remaining

in Rouen and other old towns; many also have been removed and placed in

various local museums of antiquities. The most general rule, however, on

the Continent, as in England, was to have the painted signboard

suspended across the streets.

An observer of James I.’s time has jotted down the names of all the

inns, taverns, and side streets in the line of road between Charing

Cross and the old Tower of London, which document lies now embalmed

amongst the Harl. MS., 6850, fol. 31. In imagination we can walk with

him through the metropolis:--

“On the way from Whitehall to Charing Cross we pass: the White Hart,

the Red Lion, the Mairmade, iij. Tuns, Salutation, the Graihound, the

Bell, the Golden Lyon. In sight of Charing Crosse: the Garter, the

Crown, the Bear and Ragged Staffe, the Angel, the King Harry Head.

Then from Charing Cross towards ye cittie: another White Hart, the

Eagle and Child, the Helmet, the Swan, the Bell, King Harry Head, the

Flower-de-luce, Angel, the Holy Lambe, the Bear and Harroe, the

Plough, the Shippe, the Black Bell, another King Harry Head, the Bull

Head, the Golden Bull, ‘a sixpenny ordinarye,’ another Flower-de-luce,

the Red Lyon, the Horns, the White Hors, the Prince’s Arms, Bell

Savadge’s In, the S. John the Baptist, the Talbot, the Shipp of War,

the S. Dunstan, the Hercules or the Owld Man Tavern, the Mitar,

another iij. Tunnes Inn, and a iij. Tunnes Tavern, and a Graihound,

another Mitar, another King Harry Head, iij. Tunnes, and the iij.

Cranes.”

Having walked from Whitechapel “straight forward to the Tower,” the good

citizen got tired, and so we hear no more of him.

In the next reign we find the following enumerated by Taylor the

water-poet, in one of his facetious pamphlets:--5 Angels, 4 Anchors, 6

Bells, 5 Bullsheads, 4 Black Bulls, 4 Bears, 5 Bears and Dolphins, 10

Castles, 4 Crosses, (red or white,) 7 Three Crowns, 7 Green Dragons, 6

Dogs, 5 Fountains, 3 Fleeces, 8 Globes, 5 Greyhounds, 9 White Harts, 4

White Horses, 5 Harrows, 20 King’s Heads, 7 King’s Arms, 1 Queen’s Head,

8 Golden Lyons, 6 Red Lyons, 7 Halfmoons, 10 Mitres, 33 Maidenheads, 10

Mermaids, 2 Mouths, 8 Nagsheads, 8 Prince’s Arms, 4 Pope’s Heads, 13

Suns, 8 Stars, &c. Besides these he mentions an Adam and Eve, an Antwerp

Tavern, a Cat, a Christopher, a Cooper’s Hoop, a Goat, a Garter, a

Hart’s Horn, a Mitre, &c. These were all taverns in London; and it will

be observed that their signs were very similar to those seen at the

present day--a remark applicable to the taverns not only of England, but

of Europe generally, at this period. In another work Taylor gives us the

signs of the taverns[17] and alehouses in ten shires and counties about

London, all similar to those we have just enumerated; but amongst the

number, it may be noted, there is not one combination of two objects,

except the Eagle and Child, and the Bear and Ragged Staff. In a

black-letter tract entitled “Newes from Bartholomew Fayre,” the

following are named:--

“There has been great sale and utterance of Wine,

Besides Beer, Ale, and Hippocrass fine,

In every Country, Region, and Nation,

Chiefly at Billingsgate, at the Salutation;

And Boreshead near London Stone,

The Swan at Dowgate, a tavern well knowne;

The Mitre in Cheap, and the Bullhead,

And many like places that make noses red;

The Boreshead in Old Fish Street, Three Cranes in the Vintree,

And now, of late, Saint Martin’s in the Sentree;

The Windmill in Lothbury, the Ship at the Exchange,

King’s Head in New Fish Street, where Roysters do range;

The Mermaid in Cornhill, Red Lion in the Strand,

Three Tuns in Newgate Market, in Old Fish Street the Swan.”

Drunken Barnaby, (1634,) in his travels, called at several of the London

taverns, which he has recorded in his vinous flights:--

“Country left I in a fury,

To the Axe in Aldermanbury

First arrived, that place slighted,

I at the Rose in Holborn lighted.

From the Rose in Flaggons sail I

To the Griffin i’ th’ Old Bailey,

Where no sooner do I waken,

Than to Three Cranes I am taken,

Where I lodge and am no starter.

* * * * *

Yea, my merry mates and I, too,

Oft the Cardinal’s Hat do fly to.

There at Hart’s Horns we carouse,” &c.

Already, in very early times, publicans were compelled by law to have a

sign; for we find that in the 16 Richard II., (1393,) Florence North, a

brewer of Chelsea, was “presented” “for not putting up the usual

sign.”[18] In Cambridge the regulations were equally severe; by an Act

of Parliament, 9 Henry VI., it was enacted: “Quicunq; de villa

Cantebrigg ‘braciaverit ad vendend’ exponat signum suum, alioquin

omittat cervisiam.”--_Rolls of Parliament_, vol. v. fol. 426 a.[19] But

with the other trades it was always optional. Hence Charles I., on his

accession to the throne, gave the inhabitants of London a charter by

which, amongst other favours, he granted them the right to hang out

signboards:--

“And further, we do give and grant to the said Mayor, and Commonalty,

and Citizens of the said city, and their successors, that it may and

shall be lawful to the Citizens of the same city and any of them, for

the time being, to expose and hang in and over the streets, and ways,

and alleys of the said city and suburbs of the same, signs, and posts

of signs, affixed to their houses and shops, for the better finding

out such citizens’ dwellings, shops, arts, or occupations, without

impediment, molestation, or interruption of his heirs or successors.”

In France, the innkeepers were under the same regulations as in England;

for there also, by the edict of Moulins, in 1567, all innkeepers were

ordered to acquaint the magistrates with their name and address, and

their “affectes et enseignes;” and Henri III., by an edict of March

1577, ordered that all innkeepers should place a sign on the most

conspicuous part of their houses, “aux lieux les plus apparents;” so

that everybody, even those that could not read, should be aware of their

profession. Louis XIV., by an ordnance of 1693, again ordered signs to

be put up, and also the price of the articles they were entitled to

sell:--

“Art. XXIII.--Taverniers metront enseignes et bouchons. . . . Nul ne

pourra tenir taverne en cette dite ville et faubourgs, sans mettre

enseigne et bouchon.”[20]

Hence, the taking away of a publican’s licence was accompanied by the

taking away of his sign:--

“For this gross fault I here do damn thy licence,

Forbidding thee ever to tap or draw;

For instantly I will in mine own person,

Command the constables to pull down thy sign.”

MASSINGER, _A New Way to Pay Old Debts_, iv. 2.

At the time of the great Civil War, house-signs played no inconsiderable

part in the changes and convulsions of the state, and took a prominent

place in the politics of the day. We may cite an earlier example, where

a sign was made a matter of high treason--namely, in the case of that

unfortunate fellow in Cheapside, who, in the reign of Edward IV., kept

the sign of the Crown, and lost his head for saying he would “make his

son heir to the Crown.” But more general examples are to be met with in

the history of the Commonwealth troubles. At the death of Charles I.,

John Taylor the water-poet, a Royalist to the backbone, boldly shewed

his opinion of that act, by taking as a sign for his alehouse in Phœnix

Alley, Long Acre, the Mourning Crown; but he was soon compelled to take

it down. Richard Flecknoe, in his “Ænigmatical Characters,” (1665,)

tells us how many of the severe Puritans were shocked at anything

smelling of Popery:--“As for the signs, they have pretty well begun

their reformation already, changing the sign of the Salutation of Our

Lady into the Souldier and Citizen, and the Catherine Wheel into the

Cat and Wheel; such ridiculous work they make of this reformation, and

so jealous they are against all mirth and jollity, as they would pluck

down the Cat and Fiddle too, if it durst but play so loud as they might

hear it.” No doubt they invented very godly signs, but these have not

come down to us.

At that time, also, a fashion prevailed which continued, indeed, as long

as the signboard was an important institution--of using house-signs to

typify political ideas. Imaginary signs, as a part of secret imprints,

conveying most unmistakably the sentiments of the book, were often used

in the old days of political plots and violent lampoons. Instance the

following:--

“VOX BOREALIS, or a Northerne Discoverie, by Way of Dialogue, between

Jamie and Willie. Amidst the Babylonians--printed by Margery

Marprelate, in Thwack Coat Lane, at the sign of the _Crab-Tree

Cudgell_, without any privilege of the Catercaps. 1641.”

“ARTICLES OF HIGH TREASON made and enacted by the late Halfquarter

usurping Convention, and now presented to the publick view for a

general satisfaction of all true Englishmen. Imprinted for Erasmus

Thorogood, and to be sold at the signe of the _Roasted Rump_. 1659.”

“A CATALOGUE OF BOOKS of the Newest Fashion, to be sold by auction at

the Whigs’ Coffeehouse, at the sign of the _Jackanapes_ in Prating

Alley, near the Deanery of Saint Paul’s.”

“THE CENSURE OF THE ROTA upon Mr Milton’s book, entitled ‘The Ready

and Easy Way to Establish a Free Commonwealth,’ &c. Printed at London

by Paul Giddy, Printer to the Rota, at the sign of the _Windmill_, in

Turn-again Lane. 1660.”

“AN ADDRESS from the Ladies of the Provinces of Munster and Leinster

to their Graces the Duke and Duchess of D----t, Lord G----, and

Caiaphas the High Priest, with sixty original toasts, drank by the

Ladies at their last Assembly, with Love-letters added. London:

Printed for John Pro Patria, at the sign of _Vivat Rex_. 1754.”

“CHIVALRY no Trifle, or the Knight and his Lady: a Tale. To which is

added the Hue and Cry after Touzer and Spitfire, the Lady’s two

lapdogs. Dublin: Printed at the sign of _Sir Tady’s Press_, etc.

1754.”

“AN ADDRESS from the Influential Electors of the County and City of

Galway, with a Collection of 60 Original Patriot Toasts and 48 Munster

Toasts, with Intelligence from the Kingdom of Eutopia. Printed at the

sign of the _Pirate’s Sword in the Captain’s Scabbard_. London, 1754.”

“THE C----T’S APOLOGY to the Freeholders of this Kingdom for their

conduct, containing some Pieces of Humour, to which is added a Bill of

C----t Morality. London: Printed at the sign of _Betty Ireland, d----d

of a Tyrant in Purple, a Monster in Black_, etc.”

In the newspapers of the eighteenth century, we find that signs were

constantly used as emblems of, or as sharp hits at, the politics of the

day; thus, in the _Weekly Journal_ for August 17, 1718, allusions are

made to the sign of the Salutation, in Newgate Street, by the opposition

party, to which the _Original Weekly Journal_, the week after,

retaliates by a description and explanation of an indelicate sign said

to be in King Street, Westminster. In 1763, the following pasquinade

went the round of the newspapers, said to have been sent over from

Holland:--

“HÔTELS POUR LES MINISTRES DES COURS ETRANGÈRES AU FUTUR CONGRESS.

De l’Empereur,

À la Bonne Volonté; rue d’Impuissance.

De Russie,

Au Chimère; rue des Caprices.

De France,

Au Coq déplumé; rue de Canada.

D’Autriche,

À la Mauvaise Alliance, rue des Invalides.

D’Angleterre,

À la Fortune, Place des Victoires, rue des Subsides.

De Prusse,

Aux Quatre vents, rue des Renards, près la Place des Guinées.

De Suede,

Au Passage des Courtisans, rue des Visionaires.

De Pologne,

Au Sacrifice d’Abraham, rue des Innocents, près la Place des Devôts.

Des Princes de l’Empire,

Au Roitelêt, près de l’Hôpital des Incurables, rue des Charlatans.

De Wirtemberg,

Au Don Quichotte, rue des Fantômes près de la Montagne en Couche.

D’Hollande,

À la Baleine, sur le Marché aux Fromages, près du Grand Observatoire.”

On the morning of September 28, 1736, all the tavern-signs in London

were in deep mourning; and no wonder, their dearly beloved patron and

friend Gin was defunct,--killed by the new Act against spirituous

liquors! But they soon dropped their mourning, for Gin had only been in

a lethargic fit, and woke up much refreshed by his sleep. Fifteen years

after, when Hogarth painted his “Gin Lane,” royal gin was to be had

cheap enough, if we may believe the signboard in that picture, which

informs us that “gentlemen and others” could get “drunk for a penny,”

and “dead drunk for twopence,” in which last emergency, “clean straw for

nothing” was provided.

Of the signs which were to be seen in London at the period of the

Restoration,--to return to the subject we were originally

considering,--we find a goodly collection of them in one of the

“Roxburghe Ballads,” (vol. i. 212,) entitled:--

“LONDON’S ORDINARIE, OR EVERY MAN IN HIS HUMOUR

THROUGH the Royal Exchange as I walked,

Where Gallants in sattin doe shine,

At midst of the day, they parted away,

To seaverall places to dine.

The Gentrie went to the _King’s Head_,

The Nobles unto the _Crowne_:

The Knights went to the _Golden Fleece_,

And the Ploughmen to the _Clowne_.

The Cleargie will dine at the _Miter_,

The Vintners at the _Three Tunnes_,

The Usurers to the _Devill_ will goe,

And the Fryers to the _Nunnes_.

The Ladyes will dine at the _Feathers_,

The _Globe_ no Captaine will scorne,

The Huntsmen will goe to the _Grayhound_ below,

And some Townes-men to the _Horne_.

The Plummers will dine at the _Fountaine_,

The Cookes at the _Holly Lambe_,

The Drunkerds by noone, to the _Man in the Moone_,

And the Cuckholdes to the _Ramme_.

The Roarers will dine at the _Lyon_,

The Watermen at the _Old Swan_;

And Bawdes will to the _Negro_ goe,

And Whores to the _Naked Man_.

The Keepers will to the _White Hart_,

The Marchants unto the _Shippe_,

The Beggars they must take their way

To the _Egge-shell_ and the _Whippe_.

The Farryers will to the _Horse_,

The Blackesmith unto the _Locke_,

The Butchers unto the _Bull_ will goe,

And the Carmen to Bridewell _Clocke_.

The Fishmongers unto the _Dolphin_,

The Barbers to the _Cheat Loafe_,[21]

The Turners unto the _Ladle_ will goe,

Where they may merrylie quaffe.

The Taylors will dine at the _Sheeres_,

The Shooemakers will to the _Boote_,

The Welshmen they will take their way,

And dine at the signe of the _Gote_.

The Hosiers will dine at the _Legge_,

The Drapers at the signe of the _Brush_.

The Fletchers to _Robin Hood_ will goe,

And the Spendthrift to _Begger’s Bush_.

The Pewterers to the _Quarte Pot_,

The Coopers will dine at the _Hoope_,

The Coblers to the _Last_ will goe,

And the Bargemen to the _Sloope_.

The Carpenters will to the _Axe_,

The Colliers will dine at the _Sacke_,

Your Fruterer he to the _Cherry-Tree_,

Good fellowes no liquor will lacke.

The Goldsmith will to the _Three Cups_,

For money they hold it as drosse;

Your Puritan to the _Pewter Canne_,

And your Papists to the _Crosse_.

The Weavers will dine at the _Shuttle_,

The Glovers will unto the _Glove_,

The Maydens all to the _Mayden Head_,

And true Louers unto the _Doue_.

The Sadlers will dine at the _Saddle_,

The Painters will to the _Greene Dragon_,

The Dutchmen will go to the _Froe_,[22]

Where each man will drinke his Flagon.

The Chandlers will dine at the _Skales_,

The Salters at the signe of the _Bagge_;

The Porters take pain at the _Labour in Vaine_,

And the Horse-Courser to the _White Nagge_.

Thus every Man in his humour,

That comes from the North or the South,

But he that has no money in his purse,

May dine at the signe of the _Mouth_.

The Swaggerers will dine at the _Fencers_,

But those that have lost their wits:

With _Bedlam Tom_ let that be their home,

And the _Drumme_ the Drummers best fits.

The Cheter will dine at the _Checker_,

The Picke-pockets in a blind alehouse,

Tel on and tride then up Holborne they ride,

And they there end at the Gallowes.”

Thomas Heywood introduced a similar song in his “Rape of Lucrece.” This,

the first of the kind we have met with, is in all probability the

original, unless the ballad be a reprint from an older one; but the term

Puritan used in it, seems to fix its date to the seventeenth century.

“THE Gintry to the _Kings Head_,

The Nobles to the _Crown_,

The Knights unto the _Golden Fleece_,

And to the _Plough_ the Clowne.

The Churchmen to the _Mitre_,

The Shepheard to the _Star_,

The Gardener hies him to the _Rose_,

To the _Drum_ the Man of War.

The Huntsmen to the _White Hart_,

To the _Ship_ the Merchants goe,

But you that doe the Muses love,

The sign called _River Po_.

The Banquerout to the _World’s End_,

The Fool to the _Fortune_ his,

Unto the _Mouth_ the Oyster-wife,

The Fiddler to the _Pie_.

The Punk unto the _Cockatrice_,[23]

The Drunkard to the _Vine_,

The Begger to the _Bush_, there meet,

And with Duke Humphrey dine.”[24]

After the great fire of 1666, many of the houses that were rebuilt,

instead of the former wooden signboards projecting in the streets,

adopted signs carved in stone, and generally painted or gilt, let into

the front of the house, beneath the first floor windows. Many of these

signs are still to be seen, and will be noticed in their respective

places. But in those streets not visited by the fire, things continued

on the old footing, each shopkeeper being fired with a noble ambition to

project his sign a few inches farther than his neighbour. The

consequence was that, what with the narrow streets, the penthouses, and

the signboards, the air and light of the heavens were well-nigh

intercepted from the luckless wayfarers through the streets of London.

We can picture to ourselves the unfortunate plumed, feathered, silken

gallant of the period walking, in his low shoes and silk stockings,

through the ill-paved dirty streets, on a stormy November day, when the

honours were equally divided between fog, sleet, snow, and rain, (and no

umbrellas, be it remembered,) with flower-pots blown from the

penthouses, spouts sending down shower-baths from almost every house,

and the streaming signs swinging overhead on their rusty, creaking

hinges. Certainly the evil was great, and demanded that redress which

Charles II. gave in the seventh year of his reign, when a new Act

“ordered that in all the streets no signboard shall hang across, but

that the sign shall be fixed against the balconies, or some convenient

part of the side of the house.”

The Parisians, also, were suffering from the same enormities; everything

was of Brobdignagian proportions. “J’ai vu,” says an essayist of the

middle of the seventeenth century, “suspendu aux boutiques des volants

de six pieds de hauteur, des perles grosses comme des tonneaux, des

plumes qui allaient au troisième étage.”[25] There, also, the scalpel of

the law was at last applied to the evil; for, in 1669, a royal order was

issued to prohibit these monstrous signs, and the practice of advancing

them too far into the streets, “which made the thoroughfares close in

the daytime, and prevented the lights of the lamps from spreading

properly at night.”

[Illustration: PLATE II.

BUSH.

(MS. of the 14th century.)

BUSH.

(Bayeux tapestry, 11th cent.)

CROSS.

(Luttrell Psalter, 11th century.)

ALE-POLE.

(Picture of Wouwverman, 17th cent.)

BLACK JACK AND PEWTER PLATTER.

(Print by Schavelin, 1480.)

NAG’S HEAD.

(Cheapside. 1640.)

BUSH.

(MS. of the 15th cent.)]

Still, with all their faults, the signs had some advantages for the

wayfarer; even their dissonant creaking, according to the old weather

proverb, was not without its use:--

“But when the swinging signs your ears offend

With creaking noise, then rainy floods impend.”

GAY’S _Trivia_, canto i.

This indeed, from the various allusions made to it in the literature of

the last century, was regarded as a very general hint to the lounger,

either to hurry home, or hail a sedan-chair or coach. Gay, in his

didactic--_flâneur_--poem, points out another benefit to be derived from

the signboards:--

“If drawn by Bus’ness to a street unknown,

Let the sworn Porter point thee through the town;

Be sure observe the Signs, for Signs remain

Like faithful Landmarks to the walking Train.”

Besides, they offered constant matter of thought, speculation, and

amusement to the curious observer. Even Dean Swift, and the Lord High

Treasurer Harley,

“Would try to read the lines

Writ underneath the country signs.”

And certainly these productions of the country muse are often highly

amusing. Unfortunately for the compilers of the present work, they have

never been collected and preserved; although they would form a not

unimportant and characteristic contribution to our popular literature.

Our Dutch neighbours have paid more attention to this subject, and a

great number of their signboard inscriptions were, towards the close of

the seventeenth century, gathered in a curious little 12mo volume,[26]

to which we shall often refer. Nay, so much attention was devoted to

this branch of literature in that country, that a certain H. van den

Berg, in 1693, wrote a little volume,[27] which he entitled a “Banquet,”

giving verses adapted for all manner of shops and signboards; so that a

shopkeeper at a loss for an inscription had only to open the book and

make his selection; for there were rhymes in it both serious and

jocular, suitable to everybody’s taste. The majority of the Dutch

signboard inscriptions of that day seem to have been eminently

characteristic of the spirit of the nation. No such inscriptions could

be brought before “a discerning public,” without the patronage of some

holy man mentioned in the Scriptures, whose name was to stand there for

no other purpose than to give the Dutch poet an opportunity of making a

jingling rhyme; thus, for instance,--

“Jacob was David’s neef maar ’t waren geen Zwagers.

Hier slypt men allerhande Barbiers gereedschappen, ook voor vischwyven

en slagers.”[28]

Or another example:--

“Men vischte Moses uit de Biezen,

Hier trekt men tanden en Kiezen.”[29]

In the beginning of the eighteenth century, we find the following signs

named, which puzzled a person of an inquisitive turn of mind, who wrote

to the _British Apollo_,[30] (the meagre _Notes and Queries_ of those

days,) in the hope of eliciting an explanation of their quaint

combination:--

“I’m amazed at the Signs

As I pass through the Town,

To see the odd mixture:

A Magpie and Crown,

The Whale and the Crow,

The Razor and Hen,

The Leg and Seven Stars,

The Axe and the Bottle,

The Tun and the Lute,

The Eagle and Child,

The Shovel and Boot.”

All these signs are also named by Tom Brown:[31]--“The first amusements

we encountered were the variety and contradictory language of the signs,

enough to persuade a man there were no rules of concord among the

citizens. Here we saw Joseph’s Dream, the Bull and Mouth, the Whale and

Crow, the Shovel and Boot, the Leg and Star, the Bible and Swan, the

Frying-pan and Drum, the Lute and Tun, the Hog in Armour, and a

thousand others that the wise men that put them there can give no reason

for.”

From this enumeration, we see that a century had worked great changes in

the signs. Those of the beginning of the seventeenth century were all

simple, and had no combinations. But now we meet very heterogeneous

objects joined together. Various reasons can be found to account for

this. First, it must be borne in mind that most of the London signs had

no inscription to tell the public “this is a lion,” or, “this is a

bear;” hence the vulgar could easily make mistakes, and call an object

by a wrong name, which might give rise to an absurd combination, as in

the case of the Leg and Star; which, perhaps, was nothing else but the

two insignia of the order of the Garter; the garter being represented in

its natural place, on the leg, and the star of the order beside it.

Secondly, the name might be corrupted through faulty pronunciation; and

when the sign was to be repainted, or imitated in another street, those

objects would be represented by which it was best known. Thus the Shovel

and Boot might have been a corruption of the Shovel and Boat, since the

Shovel and Ship is still a very common sign in places where grain is

carried by canal boats; whilst the Bull and Mouth is said to be a

corruption of the Boulogne Mouth--the Mouth of Boulogne Harbour.

Finally, whimsical shopkeepers would frequently aim at the most odd

combination they could imagine, for no other reason but to attract

attention. Taking these premises into consideration, some of the signs

which so puzzled Tom Brown might be easily accounted for; the Axe and

Bottle, in this way, might have been a corruption of the Battle-axe. The

Bible and Swan, a sign in honour of Luther, who is generally represented

by the symbol of a swan, a figure of which many Lutheran Churches have

on their steeple instead of a weathercock; whilst the Lute and Tun was

clearly a pun on the name of Luton, similar to the Bolt and Tun of Prior

Bolton, who adopted this device as his rebus.

Other causes of combinations, and many very amusing and instructive

remarks about signs, are given in the following from the _Spectator_,

No. 28, April 2, 1710:--

“There is nothing like sound literature and good sense to be met with in

those objects, that are everywhere thrusting themselves out to the eye

and endeavouring to become visible. Our streets are filled with _blue

boars_, _black swans_, and _red lions_, not to mention _flying-pigs_

and _hogs in armour_, with many creatures more extraordinary than any in

the deserts of Africa. Strange that one, who has all the birds and

beasts in nature to choose out of, should live at the sign of an _ens

rationis_.

“My first task, therefore, should be like that of Hercules, to clear the

city from monsters. In the second place, I should forbid that creatures

of jarring and incongruous natures should be joined together in the same

sign; such as the _Bell and the Neat’s Tongue_, the _Dog and the

Gridiron_. The _Fox and the Goose_ may be supposed to have met, but what

has the _Fox and the Seven Stars_ to do together? And when did the _Lamb

and Dolphin_ ever meet except upon a signpost? As for the _Cat and

Fiddle_, there is a conceit in it, and therefore I do not intend that

anything I have here said should affect it. I must, however, observe to

you upon this subject, that it is usual for a young tradesman, at his

first setting up, to add to his own sign that of the master whom he

served, as the husband, after marriage, gives a place to his mistress’s

arms in his own coat. This I take to have given rise to many of those

absurdities which are committed over our heads; and, as I am informed,

first occasioned the _Three Nuns and a Hare_, which we see so frequently

joined together. I would therefore establish certain rules for the

determining how far one tradesman may give the sign of another, and in

what case he may be allowed to quarter it with his own.

“In the third place, I would enjoin every shop to make use of a sign

which bears some affinity to the wares in which it deals. What can be

more inconsistent than to see a bawd at the sign of the _Angel_, or a

tailor at the _Lion_? A cook should not live at the _Boot_, nor a

shoemaker at the _Roasted Pig_; and yet, for want of this regulation, I

have seen a _Goat_ set up before the door of a perfumer, and the _French

King’s Head_ at a sword-cutler’s.

“An ingenious foreigner observes that several of those gentlemen who

value themselves upon their families, and overlook such as are bred to

trades, bear the tools of their forefathers in their coats of arms. I

will not examine how true this is in fact; but though it may not be

necessary for posterity thus to set up the sign of their forefathers, I

think it highly proper that those who actually profess the trade should

shew some such mark of it before their doors.

“When the name gives an occasion for an ingenious signpost, I would

likewise advise the owner to take that opportunity of letting the world

know who he is. It would have been ridiculous for the ingenious Mrs

Salmon to have lived at the sign of the trout, for which reason she has

erected before her house the figure of the fish that is her namesake. Mr

Bell has likewise distinguished himself by a device of the same nature.

And here, sir, I must beg leave to observe to you, that this particular

figure of a Bell has given occasion to several pieces of wit in this

head. A man of your reading must know that Abel Drugger gained great

applause by it in the time of Ben Jonson. Our Apocryphal heathen god is

also represented by this figure, which, in conjunction with the

Dragon,[32] makes a very handsome picture in several of our streets. As

for the _Bell Savage_, which is the sign of a savage man standing by a

bell, I was formerly very much puzzled upon the conceit of it, till I

accidentally fell into the reading of an old romance translated out of

the French, which gives an account of a very beautiful woman, who was

found in a wilderness, and is called _la Belle Sauvage_, and is

everywhere translated by our countrymen _the Bell Savage_.[33] This

piece of philology will, I hope, convince you that I have made signposts

my study, and consequently qualified myself for the employment which I

solicit at your hands. But before I conclude my letter, I must

communicate to you another remark which I have made upon the subject

with which I am now entertaining you--namely, that I can give a shrewd

guess at the humour of the inhabitant by the sign that hangs before his

door. A surly, choleric fellow generally makes choice of a _Bear_, as

men of milder dispositions frequently live at the _Lamb_. Seeing _a

Punchbowl_ painted upon a sign near Charing Cross, and very curiously

garnished, with a couple of angels hovering over it and squeezing a

lemon into it, I had the curiosity to ask after the master of the house,

and found upon inquiry, as I had guessed by the little _agrémens_ upon

his sign, that he was a Frenchman.”

Another reason for “quartering” signs was on removing from one shop to

another, when it was customary to add the sign of the old shop to that

of the new one.

“WHEREAS Anthony Wilton, who lived at the GREEN CROSS publick-house

against the new Turnpike on New Cross Hill, has been removed for two

years past to the new boarded house now the sign of the GREEN CROSS

AND KROSS KEYES on the same hill,” &c.--_Weekly Journal_, November 22,

1718.

“THOMAS BLACKALL and Francis Ives, Mercers, are removed from the SEVEN

STARS on Ludgate Hill to the BLACK LION AND SEVEN STARS over the

way.”--_Daily Courant_, November 17, 1718.

“PETER DUNCOMBE and Saunders Dancer, who lived at the NAKED BOY in

Great Russell Street, Covent Garden, removed to the NAKED BOY AND

MITRE, near Sommerset House, Strand,” &c.--_Postboy_, January 2-4,

1711.

“RICHARD MEARES, Musical Instrument maker, is removed from y’ GOLDEN

VIOL in Leaden Hall Street to y’ North side of St Paul’s Churchyard,

at y’ GOLDEN VIOL AND HAUTBOY, where he sells all sorts of musical

instruments,” &c.--[Bagford bills.]

To increase this complexity still more, came the corruption of names

arising from pronunciation; thus Mr Burn, in his introduction to the

“Beaufoy Tokens,” mentions the sign of Pique and Carreau, on a

gambling-house at Newport, Isle of Wight, which was Englished into the

Pig and Carrot; again, the same sign at Godmanchester was still more

obliterated into the Pig and Checkers. The sign of the Island Queen I

have frequently heard, either in jest or in ignorance, called the

Iceland Queen. The editor of the recently-published “Slang Dictionary”

remarks that he has seen the name of the once popular premier, George

Canning, metamorphosed on an alehouse-sign into the George and Cannon;

so the GOLDEN FARMER became the Jolly Farmer; whilst the Four Alls, in

Whitechapel, were altered into the Four Awls. Along with this practice,

there is a tendency to translate a sign into a sort of jocular slang

phrase; thus, in the seventeenth century, the BLACKMOORSHEAD AND

WOOLPACK, in Pimlico, was called the DEVIL AND BAG OF NAILS by those

that frequented that tavern, and by the last part of that name the house

is still called at the present day. Thus the Elephant and Castle is

vulgarly rendered as the _Pig and Tinderbox_; the Bear and Ragged Staff,

the _Angel and Flute_; the Eagle and Child, the _Bird and Bantling_; the

Hog in Armour, the Pig in Misery; the Pig in the Pound, the _Gentleman

in Trouble_, &c.

Some further information, in illustration of the different signboards,

is to be obtained from the _Adventurer_, No. 9, (1752:)--

“It cannot be doubted but that signs were intended originally to express

the several occupations of their owners, and to bear some affinity in

their external designations with the wares to be disposed of, or the

business carried on within. Hence the Hand and Shears is justly

appropriated to tailors, and the Hand and Pen to writing-masters;

though the very reverend and right worthy order of my neighbours, the

Fleet-parsons, have assumed it to themselves as a mark of ‘marriages

performed without imposition.’ The Woolpack plainly points out to us a

woollen draper; the Naked Boy elegantly reminds us of the necessity of

clothing; and the Golden Fleece figuratively denotes the riches of our

staple commodity; but are not the Hen and Chickens and the Three Pigeons

the unquestionable right of the poulterer, and not to be usurped by the

vender of silk or linen?

“It would be useless to enumerate the gross blunders committed in this

point by almost every branch of trade. I shall therefore confine myself

chiefly to the numerous fraternity of publicans, whose extravagance in

this affair calls aloud for reprehension and restraint. Their modest

ancestors were contented with a plain Bough stuck up before their doors,

whence arose the wise proverb, ‘Good Wine needs no Bush;’ but how have

they since deviated from their ancient simplicity! They have ransacked

earth, air, and seas, called down sun, moon, and stars to their

assistance, and exhibited all the monsters that ever teemed from

fantastic imagination. Their Hogs in Armour, their Blue Boars, Black

Bears, Green Dragons, and Golden Lions, have already been sufficiently

exposed by your brother essay-writers:--

‘Sus horridus, atraque Tigris,

Squamosusque Draco, et fulva cervice Leæna.

VIRGIL.

‘With foamy tusks to seem a bristly boar,

Or imitate the lion’s angry roar;

Or kiss a dragon, or a tiger stare.’--DRYDEN.

“It is no wonder that these gentlemen who indulged themselves in such

unwarrantable liberties, should have so little regard to the choice of

signs adapted to their mystery. There can be no objection made to the

Bunch of Grapes, the Rummer, or the Tuns; but would not any one inquire

for a hosier at the Leg, or for a locksmith at the Cross Keys? and who

would expect anything but water to be sold at the Fountain? The

Turkshead may fairly intimate that a seraglio is kept within; the Rose

may be strained to some propriety of meaning, as the business transacted

there may be said to be done ‘under the rose;’ but why must the Angel,

the Lamb, and the Mitre be the designations of the seats of drunkenness

or prostitution?

“Some regard should likewise be paid by tradesmen to their situation;

or, in other words, to the propriety of the place; and in this, too,

the publicans are notoriously faulty. The King’s Arms, and the Star and

Garter, are aptly enough placed at the court end of the town, and in the

neighbourhood of the royal palace; Shakespeare’s Head takes his station

by one playhouse, and Ben Jonson’s by the other; Hell is a public-house

adjoining to Westminster Hall, as the Devil Tavern is to the lawyers’

quarter in the Temple: but what has the Crown to do by the ’Change, or

the Gun, the Ship, or the Anchor anywhere but at Tower Hill, at Wapping,

or Deptford?

“It was certainly from a noble spirit of doing honour to a superior

desert, that our forefathers used to hang out the heads of those who

were particularly eminent in their professions. Hence we see Galen and

Paracelsus exalted before the shops of chemists; and the great names of

Tully, Dryden, and Pope, &c., immortalised on the rubric posts[34] of

booksellers, while their heads denominate the learned repositors of

their works. But I know not whence it happens that publicans have

claimed a right to the physiognomies of kings and heroes, as I cannot

find out, by the most painful researches, that there is any alliance

between them. Lebec, as he was an excellent cook, is the fit

representative of luxury; and Broughton, that renowned athletic

champion, has an indisputable right to put up his own head if he

pleases; but what reason can there be why the glorious Duke William

should draw porter, or the brave Admiral Vernon retail flip? Why must

Queen Anne keep a ginshop, and King Charles inform us of a

skittle-ground? Propriety of character, I think, require that these

illustrious personages should be deposed from their lofty stations, and

I would recommend hereafter that the alderman’s effigy should accompany

his Intire Butt Beer, and that the comely face of that public-spirited

patriot who first reduced the price of punch and raised its reputation

_Pro Bono Publico_, should be set up wherever three penn’orth of warm

rum is to be sold.

“I have been used to consider several signs, for the frequency of which

it is difficult to give any other reason, as so many hieroglyphics with

a hidden meaning, satirising the follies of the people, or conveying

instruction to the passer-by. I am afraid that the stale jest on our

citizens gave rise to so many Horns in public streets; and the number of

Castles floating with the wind was probably designed as a ridicule on

those erected by soaring projectors. Tumbledown Dick, in the borough of

Southwark, is a fine moral on the instability of greatness, and the

consequences of ambition; but there is a most ill-natured sarcasm

against the fair sex exhibited on a sign in Broad Street, St Giles’s, of

a headless female figure called the Good Woman.

‘Quale portentum neque militaris

Daunia in latis alit esculetis,

Nec Jubæ tellus generat, leonum

Arida Nutrix.’--HORACE.

‘No beast of such portentous size

In warlike Daunia’s forest lies,

Nor such the tawny lion reigns

Fierce on his native Afric’s plains.’--FRANCIS.

“A discerning eye may also discover in many of our signs evident marks

of the religion prevalent amongst us before the Reformation. St George,

as the tutelary saint of this nation, may escape the censure of

superstition; but St Dunstan, with his tongs ready to take hold of

Satan’s nose, and the legions of Angels, Nuns, Crosses, and Holy Lambs,

certainly had their origin in the days of Popery.

“Among the many signs which are appropriated to some particular

business, and yet have not the least connexion with it, I cannot as yet

find any relation between blue balls and pawnbrokers. Nor could I

conceive the intent of that long pole putting out at the entrance of a

barber’s shop, till a friend of mine, a learned etymologist and

glossariographer, assured me that the use of this pole took its rise

from the corruption of an old English word. ‘It is probable,’ says he,

‘that our primitive tonsors used to stick up a wooden block or head, or

poll, as it was called, before their shop windows, to denote their

occupation; and afterwards, through a confounding of different things

with a like pronunciation, they put up the parti-coloured staff of

enormous length, which is now called a pole, and appropriated to

barbers.’”[35]

The remarks of the _Adventurer_ have brought us down to the middle of

the eighteenth century, when the necessity for signs was not so great as

formerly. Education was spreading fast, and reading had become a very

general acquirement; yet it would appear that the exhibitors of

signboards wished to make up in extravagance what they had lost in use.

“Be it known, however, to posterity,” says a writer in the _Gentleman’s

Magazine_, “that long after signs became unnecessary, it was not unusual

for an opulent shopkeeper to lay out as much upon a sign, and the

curious ironwork with which it was fixed in the house, so as to project

nearly in the middle of the street, as would furnish a less considerable

dealer with a stock in trade. I have been credibly informed that there

were many signs and sign irons upon Ludgate Hill which cost several

hundred pounds, and that as much was laid out by a mercer on the sign of

the Queen’s Head, as would have gone a good way towards decorating the

original for a birthday.” Misson, a French traveller who visited England

in 1719, thus speaks about the signs:--

“By a decree of the police, the signs of Paris must be small, and not

too far advanced from the houses. At London, they are commonly very

large, and jut out so far, that in some narrow streets they touch one

another; nay, and run across almost quite to the other side. They are

generally adorned with carving and gilding; and there are several

that, with the branches of iron which support them, cost above a

hundred guineas. They seldom write upon the signs the name of the

thing represented in it, so that there is no need of Molière’s

inspector. But this does not at all please the German and other

travelling strangers; because, for want of the things being so named,

they have not an opportunity of learning their names in England, as

they stroll along the streets. Out of London, and particularly in

villages, the signs of inns are suspended in the middle of a great

wooden portal, which may be looked upon as a kind of triumphal arch to

the honour of Bacchus.”

M. Grosley, another Frenchman, who made a voyage through England in

1765, makes very similar remarks. As soon as he landed at Dover, he

observes,--

“I saw nothing remarkable, but the enormous size of the public-house

signs, the ridiculous magnificence of the ornaments with which they

are overcharged, the height of a sort of triumphal arches that support

them, and most of which cross the streets,” &c. Elsewhere he says, “In

fact nothing can be more inconsistent than the choice and the placing

of the ornaments, with which the signposts and the outside of the

shops of the citizens are loaded.”

But gaudy and richly ornamented as they were, it would seem that, after

all, the pictures were bad, and that the absence of inscriptions was not

to be lamented, for those that existed only “made fritters of English.”

The _Tatler_, No. 18, amused his readers at the expense of their

spelling:--“There is an offence I have a thousand times lamented, but

fear I shall never see remedied, which is that, in a nation where

learning is so frequent as in Great Britain, there should be so many

gross errors as there are, in the very direction of things wherein

accuracy is necessary for the conduct of life. This is notoriously

observed by all men of letters when they first come to town, (at which

time they are usually curious that way,) in the inscriptions on

signposts. I have cause to know this matter as well as anybody, for I

have, when I went to Merchant Taylor’s School, suffered stripes for

spelling after the signs I observed in my way; though at the same time,

I must confess, staring at those inscriptions first gave me an idea and

curiosity for medals, in which I have since arrived at some knowledge.

Many a man has lost his way and his dinner, by this general want of

skill in orthography; for, considering that the paintings are usually so

very bad that you cannot know the animal under whose sign you are to

live that day, how must the stranger be misled, if it is wrong spelled

as well as ill painted? I have a cousin now in town, who has answered

under bachelor at Queen’s College, whose name is Humphrey Mopstaff, (he

is akin to us by his mother;) this young man, going to see a relation in

Barbican, wandered a whole day by the mistake of one letter; for it was

written, ‘This is the Beer,’ instead of ‘This is the Bear.’ He was set

right at last by inquiring for the house of a fellow who could not read,

and knew the place mechanically, only by having been often drunk there.

. . . I propose that every tradesman in the city of London and

Westminster shall give me a sixpence a quarter for keeping their signs

in repair as to the grammatical part; and I will take into my house a

Swiss count[36] of my acquaintance, who can remember all their names

without book, for despatch’ sake, setting up the head of the said

foreigner for my sign, the features being strong and fit to hang high.”

Had the signs murdered only the king’s English, it might have been

forgiven; but even the lives of his majesty’s subjects were not secure

from them; for, leaving alone the complaints raised about their

preventing the circulation of fresh air, a more serious charge was

brought against them in 1718, when a sign in Bride’s Lane, Fleet Street,

by its weight dragged down the front of the house, and in its fall

killed two young ladies, the king’s jeweller, and a cobbler. A

commission of inquiry into the nuisance was appointed; but, like most

commissions and committees, they talked a great deal and had some

dinners; in the meantime the public interest and excitement abated, and

matters remained as they were.

In the year 1762 considerable attention was directed to signboards by

Bonnell Thornton, a clever wag, who, to burlesque the exhibitions of the

Society of Artists, got up an Exhibition of Signboards. In a preliminary

advertisement, and in his published catalogue, he described it as the

“EXHIBITION OF THE SOCIETY OF SIGN-PAINTERS of all the curious signs to

be met with in town or country, together with such original designs as

might be transmitted to them, as specimens of the native genius of the

nation.” Hogarth, who understood a joke as well as any man in England,

entered into the spirit of the humour, was on the _hanging committee_,

and added a few touches to heighten the absurdity. The whole affair

proved a great success.[37]

This comical exhibition was the greatest glory to which signboards were

permitted to attain, as not more than four years after they had a fall

from which they never recovered. Education had now so generally spread,

that the majority of the people could read sufficiently well to decipher

a name and a number. The continual exhibition of pictures in the streets

and thoroughfares consequently became useless; the information they

conveyed could be imparted in a more convenient and simple manner,

whilst their evils could be avoided. The strong feeling of corporations,

too, had set in steadily against signboards, and henceforth they were

doomed.

Paris, this time, set the example: by an act of September 17, 1761, M.

de Sartines, Lieutenant de Police, ordered that, in a month’s time from

the publication of the act, all signboards in Paris and its suburbs were

to be fixed against the walls of the houses, and not to project more

than four inches, including the border, frame, or other

ornaments;--also, all the signposts and sign irons were to be removed

from the streets and thoroughfares, and the passage cleared.

London soon followed: in the _Daily News_, November 1762, we find:--“The

signs in Duke’s Court, St Martin’s Lane, were all taken down and affixed

to the front of the houses.” Thus Westminster had the honour to begin

the innovation, by procuring an act with ample powers to improve the

pavement, &c., of the streets; and this act also sealed the doom of the

signboards, which, as in Paris, were ordered to be affixed to the

houses. This was enforced by a statute of 2 Geo. III. c. 21, enlarged at

various times. Other parishes were longer in making up their mind; but

the great disparity in the appearance of the streets westward from

Temple Bar, and those eastward, at last made the Corporation of London

follow the example, and adopt similar improvements. Suitable powers to

carry out the scheme were soon obtained. In the 6 Geo. III. the Court of

Common Council appointed commissions, and in a few months all the

parishes began to clear away: St Botolph in 1767; St Leonard,

Shoreditch, in 1768; St Martin’s-le-Grand in 1769; and Marylebone in

1770.[38] By these acts--

“The commissioners are empowered to take down and remove all signs or

other emblems used to denote the trade, occupation, or calling of any

person or persons, signposts, signirons, balconies, penthouses,

showboards, spouts, and gutters, projecting into any of the said

streets, &c., and all other encroachments, projections, and annoyances

whatsoever, within the said cities and liberties, and cause the same,

or such parts thereof as they think fit, to be affixed or placed on

the fronts of the houses, shops, warehouses, or buildings to which

they belong, and return to the owner so much as shall not be put up

again or otherwise made use of in such alterations; and any person

having, placing, erecting, or building any sign, signpost, or other

post, signirons, balcony, penthouse, obstruction, or annoyance, is

subject to a penalty of £5, and twenty shillings a day for continuing

the same.”[39]

With the signboards, of course, went the signposts. The removing of the

posts, and paving of the streets with Scotch granite, gave rise to the

following epigram:--

“The Scottish new pavement well deserves our praise;

To the Scotch we’re obliged, too, for mending our ways;

But this we can never forgive, for they say

As that they have taken our posts all away.”

After the signs and posts had been removed, we can imagine how bleak and

empty the streets at first appeared; how silent in the night-time; what

a difficulty there must have been in finding out the houses and shops;

and how everybody, particularly the old people, grumbled about the

innovations.

Now _numbers_ appeared everywhere. As early as 1512 an attempt had been

made in Paris at numbering sixty-eight new houses, built in that year on

the Pont Nôtre-Dame, which were all distinguished by 1, 2, 3, 4, &c.;

yet more than two centuries elapsed before the numerical arrangement was

generally adopted. In 1787 the custom in France had become almost

universal, but was not enforced by police regulations until 1805. In

London it appears to have been attempted in the beginning of the

eighteenth century; for in Hatton’s “New View of London,” 1708, we see

that “in Prescott Street, Goodman’s Fields, instead of signs the houses

are distinguished by numbers, as the staircases in the Inns of Court and

Chancery.” In all probability reading was not sufficiently widespread at

that time to bring this novelty into general practice. Yet how much more

simple is the method of numbering, for giving a clear and unmistakable

direction, may be seen from the means resorted to to indicate a house

under the signboard system; as for instance:--

“TO BE LETT, Newbury House, in St James’s Park, next door but one to

Lady Oxford’s, having two balls at the gate, and iron rails before the

door,” &c., &c.--Advertisement in the original edition of the

_Spectator_, No. 207.

“AT HER HOUSE, the RED BALL AND ACORN, over against the GLOBE Tavern,

in Queen Street, Cheapside, near the _Three Crowns_, liveth a

Gentlewoman,” &c.

At night the difficulty of finding a house was greatly increased, for

the light of the lamps was so faint that the signs, generally hung

rather high, could scarcely be discerned. Other means, therefore, were

resorted to, as we see from the advertisement of “Doctor James Tilbrogh,

a German Doctor,” who resides “over against the New Exchange in Bedford

Street, at the sign of the Peacock, where you shall see at night two

candles burning within one of the chambers before the balcony, and a

lanthorn with a candle in it upon the balcony.” And in that strain all

directions were given: _over against_, or _next door to_, were among the

consecrated formulæ. Hence many dispensed with a picture of their own,

and clung, like parasites, to the sign opposite or next door,

particularly if it was a shop of some note. Others resorted to painting

their houses, doors, balconies, or doorposts, in some striking colour;

hence those Red, Blue, or White Houses still so common; hence also the

Blue Posts and the Green Posts. So we find a Dark House in Chequer

Alley, Moorfields, a Green Door in Craven Building, and a Blue Balcony

in Little Queen Street, all of which figure on the seventeenth century

trades tokens.[40] Those who did much trade by night, as coffee-houses,

quacks, &c., adopted lamps with coloured glasses, by which they

distinguished their houses. This custom has come down to us, and is

still adhered to by doctors, chemists, public-houses, and occasionally

by sweeps.

Yet, though the numbers were now an established fact, the shopkeepers

still clung to the old traditions, and for years continued to display

their signs, grand, gorgeous, and gigantic as ever, though affixed to

the houses. As late as 1803, a traveller thus writes about London:--“As

it is one of the principal secrets of the trade to attract the attention

of that tide of people which is constantly ebbing and flowing in the

streets, it may easily be conceived that great pains are taken to give a

striking form to the signs and devices hanging out before their shops.

The whole front of a house is frequently employed for this purpose.

Thus, in the vicinity of Ludgate Hill, the house of S----, who has

amassed a fortune of £40,000 by selling razors, is daubed with large

capitals three feet high, acquainting the public that ‘the most

excellent and superb patent razors are sold here.’ As soon, therefore,

as a shop has acquired some degree of reputation, the younger brethren

of the trade copy its device. A grocer in the city, who had a large

_Beehive_ for his sign hanging out before his shop, had allured a great

many customers. No sooner were the people seen swarming about this hive

than the old signs suddenly disappeared, and Beehives, elegantly gilt,

were substituted in their places. Hence the grocer was obliged to insert

an advertisement in the newspapers, importing ‘that he was the sole

proprietor of the original and celebrated _Beehive_.’ A similar accident

befell the shop of one E---- in Cheapside, who has a considerable demand

for his goods on account of their cheapness and excellence. The sign of

this gentleman consists in a prodigious _Grasshopper_, and as this

insect had quickly propagated its species through every part of the

city, Mr E---- has in his advertisements repeatedly requested the public

to observe that ‘the genuine Grasshopper is only to be found before his

warehouse.’ He has, however, been so successful as to persuade several

young beginners to enter into engagements with him, on conditions very

advantageous to himself, by which they have obtained a licence for

hanging out the sign of a Grasshopper before their shops, expressly

adding this clause in large capitals, that ‘they are genuine descendants

of the renowned and matchless Grasshopper of Mr E---- in

Cheapside.’”[41]

Such practices as these, however, necessarily gave the deathblow to

signboards; for, by reason of this imitation on the part of rival

shopkeepers, the main object--distinction and notoriety--was lost. How

was a stranger to know which of those innumerable Beehives in the Strand

was _the_ Beehive; or which of all those “genuine Grasshoppers” was THE

genuine one? So, gradually, the signs began to dwindle away, first in

the principal streets, then in the smaller thoroughfares and the

suburbs; finally, in the provincial towns also. The publicans only

retained them, and even they in the end were satisfied with the name

without the sign, _vox et præterea nihil_.

[Illustration: PLATE III.

MERMAID. (Cheapside, 1640.)

ALE-GARLAND. (Wouwverman, 17th cent.)

CRISPIN AND CRISPIAN. (Roxburghe Ballads. 17th century.)

TRUSTY SERVANT. (Circa 1700.)

HOG IN ARMOUR.]

In the seventeenth century signs had been sung in sprightly ballads, and

often given the groundwork for a biting satire. They continued to

inspire the popular Muse until the end, but her latter productions were

more like a wail than a ballad. There is certainly a rollicking air of

gladness about the following song, but it was the last flicker of the

lamp:--

“THE MAIL-COACH GUARD.

At each inn on the road I a welcome could find:--

At the _Fleece_ I’d my skin full of ale;

The _Two Jolly Brewers_ were just to my mind;

At the _Dolphin_ I drank like a whale.

Tom Tun at the _Hogshead_ sold pretty good stuff;

They’d capital flip at the _Boar_;

And when at the _Angel_ I’d tippled enough,

I went to the _Devil_ for more.

Then I’d always a sweetheart so snug at the _Car_;

At the _Rose_ I’d a lily so white;

Few planets could equal sweet _Nan_ at the _Star_,

No eyes ever twinkled so bright.

I’ve had many a hug at the sign of the _Bear_;

In the _Sun_ courted morning and noon;

And when night put an end to my happiness there,

I’d a sweet little girl in the _Moon_.

To sweethearts and ale I at length bid adieu,

Of wedlock to set up the sign:

_Hand-in-hand_ the _Good Woman_ I look for in you,

And the _Horns_ I hope ne’er will be mine.

Once guard to the mail, I’m now guard to the fair;

But though my commission’s laid down,

Yet while the _King’s Arms_ I’m permitted to bear,

Like a _Lion_ I’ll fight for the _Crown_.”

This was written in the beginning of the century, when eighteen hundred

was still in her teens. A considerable falling off may be observed in

the following, contributed by a correspondent of William Hone:--

“SIGNS OF LOVE AT OXFORD.

_By an Inn-consolable Lover._

She’s as light as _The Greyhound_, as fair as _The Angel_,

Her looks than _The Mitre_ more sanctified are;

But she flies like _The Roebuck_, and leaves me to range ill,

Still looking to her as my true polar _Star_.

New _Inn_-ventions I try, with new art to adore,

But my fate is, alas, to be voted a _Boar_;

My _Goats_ I forsook to contemplate her charms,

And must own she is fit for our noble _King’s Arms_;

Now _Cross’d_, and now Jockey’d, now sad, now elate,

_The Checquers_ appear but a map of my fate;

I blush’d like a _Blue Cur_, to send her a _Pheasant_,

But she call’d me a _Turk_, and rejected my present;

So I moped to _The Barley Mow_, grieved in my mind,

That _The Ark_ from the Flood ever rescued mankind!

In my dreams _Lions_ roar, and _The Green Dragon_ grins,

And fiends rise in shape of _The Seven Deadly Sins_,

When I ogle _The Bells_, should I see her approach,

I skip like a _Nag_ and jump into _The Coach_.

She is crimson and white like a _Shoulder of Mutton_,

Not the _red_ of _The Ox_ was so bright when first put on;

Like _The Holly-bush_ prickles she scratches my liver,

While I moan and die like a _Swan_ by the river.”

But tame as this last performance is, it is “merry as a brass band” when

compared with a ballad sung in the streets some twenty years later,

entitled, “Laughable and Interesting Picture of Drunkenness.” Speaking

of the publicans, who call themselves “Lords,” it says:--

“If these be the Lords, there are many kinds,

For over their doors you will see many signs;

There is _The King_, and likewise _The Crown_,

And beggars are made in every town.

There is _The Queen_, and likewise her _Head_,

And many I fear to the gallows are led;

There is _The Angel_, and also _The Deer_,

Destroying health in every sphere.

There is _The Lamb_, likewise _The Fleece_,

And the fruit’s bad throughout the whole piece;

There is _The White Hart_, also _The Cross Keys_,

And many they’ve sent far over the seas.

There is _The Bull_, and likewise his _Head_.

His _Horns_ are so strong, they will gore you quite dead;

There’s _The Hare and Hounds_ that never did run,

And many’s been hung for the deeds they’ve done.

There are _Two Fighting Cocks_ that never did crow,

Where men often meet to break God’s holy vow;

There is _The New Inn_, and the _Rodney_ they say,

Which send men to jail their debts for to pay.

_The Hope_ and _The Anchor_, _The Turk_ and his _Head_,

Hundreds they’ve caused for to wander for bread;

There is _The White Horse_, also _The Woolpack_,

Take the shoes off your feet, and the clothes off your back.

_The Axe and the Cleaver_, _The Jockey and Horse_,

Some they’ve made idle, some they’ve made worse;

_The George and the Dragon_, and _Nelson_ the brave,

Many lives they’ve shorten’d and brought to the grave.

_The Fox and the Goose_, and _The Guns_ put _across_,

But all the craft is to get hold of the brass;

_The Bird in the Cage_, and the sign of _The Thrush_,

But one in the hand is worth two in the bush.”

There is an unpleasant musty air about this ballad, a taint of Seven

Dials, an odour of the ragged dresscoat, and the broken, ill-used hat.

The gay days of signboard poetry, when sparks in feathers and ruffles

sang their praises, are no more. Our forefathers were content to buy “at

the Golden Frying-pan,” but we must needs go to somebody’s emporium,

mart, repository, or make our purchases at such grand places as the

Pantocapelleion, Pantometallurgicon, or Panklibanon. The corruptions and

misapplications of the old pictorial signboards find a parallel in the

modern rendering of our ancient proverbs and sayings. When the primary

use and purpose of an article have fallen out of fashion, or become

obsolete, there is no knowing how absurdly it may not be treated by

succeeding generations. We were once taken many miles over fields and

through lanes to see the great stone coffins of some ancient Romans, but

the farmer, a sulky man, thought we were impertinent in wishing to see

his pig-troughs. In Haarlem, we were once shewn the huge cannon-ball

which killed Heemskerk, the discoverer of Nova Zembla. When not required

for exhibition, however, the good man in charge found it of great use in

grinding his mustard-seed. Amongst the middle classes of to-day, no

institution of ancient times has been more corrupted and misapplied than

heraldry. The modern “Forrester,” or member of the “Ancient Order of

Druids,” is scarcely a greater burlesque upon the original than the beer

retailers’ “Arms” of the present hour.

Good wine and beer were formerly to be had at the Boar’s Head, or the

Three Tuns; but those emblems will not do now, it must be the “Arms” of

somebody or something; whence we find such anomalies as the _Angel

Arms_, (Clapham Road;) _Dunstan’s Arms_, (City Road;) _Digger’s Arms_,

(Petworth, Surrey;) _Farmer’s Arms_ and _Gardener’s Arms_, (Lancashire;)

_Grand Junction Arms_, (Praed Street, London;) _Griffin’s Arms_,

(Warrington;) _Mount Pleasant Arms_, _Paragon Arms_, (Kingston, Surrey;)

_St Paul’s Arms_, (Newcastle;) _Portcullis Arms_, (Ludlow;) _Puddler’s

Arms_, (Wellington, Shropshire;) _Railway Arms_, (Ludlow;) _Sol’s Arms_,

(Hampstead Row;) the _Vulcan Arms_, (Sheffield;) _General’s Arms_,

(Little Baddon, Essex;) the _Waterloo Arms_, (High Street, Marylebone,)

&c. Besides these, a quantity of newfangled, high-sounding, but

unmeaning names seem to be the order of the day with gin-palaces and

refreshment-houses, as, _Perseverance_, _Enterprise_, _Paragon_,

_Criterion_.

Notwithstanding these innovations, the majority of the old objects still

survive, in name at least, on the signboards of alehouses and taverns.

Their use may still be regarded as a rule with publicans and innkeepers,

although they have become the exception in other trades. Occasionally,

also, we may still come upon a painted signboard, but these are daily

becoming scarcer. Not so in France; there the good old tradition of the

painted signboard is yet kept up. We get a good glimpse of this subject

in the following:[42]--“But it is the signs that so amuse and absolutely

arrest a stranger. This is a practice that has grown into a mania at

Paris, and is even a subject for the ridicule of the stage, since many a

shopkeeper considers his sign as a primary matter, and spends a little

capital in this one outfit. Many of them exhibit figures as large as

life, painted in no humble or shabby style; while history, sacred and

classical, religion, the stage, &c., furnish subjects. You may see the

_Horatii_ and _Curiatii_--a scene from the ‘Fourberies de Scapin’ of

Molière--a group of French soldiers, with the inscription, _A la Valeur

des Soldats Français_, or a group of children inscribed _à la réunion

des Bons Enfants_,[43]--or _à la Baigneuse_, depicting a beautiful nymph

just issuing from the bath; or _à la Somnambule_, a pretty girl walking

in her sleep and nightdress, and followed by her gallant.[44]

“In ludicrous things, a barber will write under his sign:--

‘La Nature donne barbe et cheveux,

Et moi, je les coupe tous les deux.’[45]

‘A toutes les figures dédiant mes rasoirs,

Je nargue la censure des fidèles miroirs.’[46]

“Also a frequent inscription with a barber is, ‘Ici on rajeunit.’ A

breeches-maker writes up, _M----, Culottier de Mme. la Duchesse de

Devonshire_. A _perruquier_ exhibits a sign, very well painted, of an

old fop trying on a new wig, entitled, _Au ci-devant jeune homme_. A

butcher displays a bouquet of faded flowers, with this inscription, _Au

tendre Souvenir_. An eating-house exhibits a punning sign, with an ox

dressed up with bonnet, lace veil, shawl, &c., which naturally implies,

_Bœuf à-la-mode_. A pastry-cook has a very pretty little girl climbing

up to reach some cakes in a cupboard, and this sign he calls, _A la

petite Gourmande_. A stocking-maker has painted for him a lovely

creature, trying on a new stocking, at the same time exhibiting more

charms than the occasion requires to the young fellow who is on his

knees at her feet, with the very significant motto, _A la belle

occasion_.”[47]

Though it is forty years since these remarks were written, they still,

_mutatis mutandis_, apply to the present day. Even the greatest and most

fashionable shops on the Boulevards have their names or painted signs;

the subjects are mostly taken from the principal topic of conversation

at the time the establishment opened, whether politics, literature, the

drama, or fine arts: thus we have _à la Présidence_; _au Prophète_; _au

Palais d’Industrie_; _aux Enfants d’Edouard_, (the Princes in the

Tower;) _au Colosse de Rhodes_; _à la Tour de Malakoff_; _à la Tour de

Nesles_, (tragedy;) _au Sonneur de St Paul_, (tragedy;) _à la Dame

Blanche_; _à la Bataille de Solferino_; _au Trois Mousquetaires_; _au

Lingot d’Or_, (a great lottery swindle in 1852;) _à la Reine Blanche_,

&c.[48] Some of these signs are remarkably well painted, in a vigorous,

bold style, with great bravura of brush; for instance, _les Noces de

Vulcain_, on the Quai aux Fleurs, is painted in a style which would do

no discredit to the artist of _les Romains de la Décadence_. _Roger

Bontemps_ is still frequent on the French signboard, where he is

represented as a jolly rubicund toper, crowned with vine-leaves and

seated astride a tun, with a brimming tumbler in his hand; this is a

favourite sign with publicans. At the tobacconist’s door we may see a

sign representing an elderly Paul Pry-looking gentleman enjoying a pinch

of snuff. The _Bureaux des Remplacements Militaires_ particularly excel

in a gaudy display of military subjects, where the various passages of a

soldier’s life are represented with all the romance of the warriors of

the comic opera. Here can be seen the gallant troopers now courting

Jeanette or Fanchon; now charging Russians, Cabyles, or Austrians,

according to the date of the picture. Elsewhere a lancer on a fantastic

wild horse; a guide, walking with a pretty _vivandière_, or an old

grenadier with the Legion of Honour upon his breast;--“all the glorious

pomp and circumstance of war” portrayed to entice the French clodhopper

to sell himself “to death or to glory.” More pacific pictures may be

observed at the door of the midwife; there we see a sedate-looking

matron in ecstasy over the interesting young stranger she has just

ushered forth into the world, whilst paterfamilias stands with a

triumphant look in the background. Then there is the Herculean

coalheaver at the door of the _auvergnat_, who sells coals and firewood;

and landscapes with cattle at the dairyshops. But amongst the best

painted are those at the doors of the _marchands de vins et de

comestibles_, where we see frequently bunches of fruit, game, flowers,

glasses, hams, fowls, fish, all cleverly grouped together, and painted

in a dashing style. There is one, for instance, in the Rue Bellechasse,

and another in the Rue St Lazare, that are well worth inspection. These

paintings are generally on the door-posts and window-frames; they are

painted on thin white canvas, fixed with varnish at the back of a thick

piece of plateglass, and so let into the woodwork.

And now a few words concerning the painters of signs. Their

head-quarters were in Harp Alley, Shoe Lane, where, until lately, gilt

grapes, sugar-loaves, lasts, teapots, &c., &c., were displayed ready for

the market. Here Messrs Barlow, Craddock, and others, whose names are

now as completely lost as their works, had their studios, and produced

some very creditable signs, both carved and painted. A few, however,

were the productions of no mean artists. The _Spectator_, January 8,

1743, No. 744, says:--

“The other day, going down Ludgate Street, several people were gaping

at a very splendid sign of Queen Elizabeth, which by far exceeded all

the other signs in the street, the painter having shewn a masterly

judgment and the carver and gilder much pomp and splendour. It looked

rather like a capital picture in a gallery than a sign in the street.”

Unfortunately the name of the artist who painted this has not come down

to us.

Those who produced the best signs, however, were not exactly the Harp

Alley sign-painters, but the coach-painters, who often united these two

branches of art. In the last century, both the coaches and sedans of the

wealthy classes were walking picture galleries, the panels being painted

with all sorts of subjects.[49] And when the men that painted these

turned their hands to sign-painting, they were sure to produce something

good. Such was Clarkson, to whom J. T. Smith ascribed the beautiful sign

of Shakespeare that formerly hung in Little Russell Street, Drury Lane,

for which he was paid £500.--John Baker, (_ob._ 1771,) who studied under

the same master as Catton, and was made a member of the Royal Academy at

its foundation.--Charles Catton (_ob._ 1798) painted several very good

signs, particularly a Lion for his friend Wright, a famous coachmaker,

at that time living in Long Acre. This picture, though it had weathered

many a storm, was still to be seen in J. T. Smith’s time, at a

coachmaker’s on the west side of Well Street, Oxford Street. A Turk’s

head, painted by him, was long admired as the sign of a mercer in York

Street, Covent Garden.--John Baptist Cipriani, (_ob._ 1785,) a

Florentine carriage-painter, living in London, also a Royal

Academician.--Samuel Wale, R.A. (_ob._ 1786) painted a celebrated

Falstaff and various other signs; the principal one was a whole length

of Shakespeare, about five feet high, which was executed for and

displayed at the door of a public-house at the north-west corner of

Little Russell Street, Drury Lane. It was enclosed in a most sumptuous

carved gilt frame, and was suspended by rich ironwork. But this splendid

object of attraction did not hang long before it was taken down, in

consequence of the Act of Parliament for removing the signs and other

obstructions in the streets of London. Such was the change in the public

appreciation consequent on the new regulations in signs, that this

representation of our great dramatic poet was sold for a trifle to Mason

the broker in Lower Grosvenor Street, where it stood at his door for

several years, until it was totally destroyed by the weather and other

accidents.[50]

The universal use of signboards furnished no little employment for the

inferior rank of painters, and sometimes even to the superior

professors. Among the most celebrated practitioners in this branch was a

person of the name of Lamb, who possessed considerable ability. His

pencil was bold and masterly, and well adapted to the subjects on which

it was generally employed. There was also Gwynne, another coach-painter,

who acquired some reputation as a marine painter, and produced a few

good signs. Robert Dalton, keeper of the pictures of King George III.,

had been apprenticed to a sign and coach-painter; so were Ralph Kirby,

drawing-master to George IV. when Prince of Wales, Thomas Wright of

Liverpool, the marine painter, Smirke, R.A., and many artists who

acquired considerable after-reputation.

Peter Monamy (_ob._ 1749) was apprenticed to a sign and house-painter on

London Bridge. It was this artist who decorated the carriage of Admiral

Byng with ships and naval trophies, and painted a portrait of Admiral

Vernon’s ship for a famous public-house of the day, well known by the

sign of the _Portobello_, a few doors north of the church in St Martin’s

Lane.[51]

Besides these, we have the “great professors,” as Edwards calls them,

who occasionally painted a sign for a freak. At the head of these stands

Hogarth, whose Man loaded with Mischief is still to be seen at 414

Oxford Street, where it is a fixture in the alehouse of that name.

Richard Wilson, R.A., (_ob._ 1782,) painted the Three Loggerheads for an

alehouse in North Wales, which gave its name to the village of

Loggerheads, near the town of Mould. The painting was still exhibited as

a signboard in 1824, though little of Wilson’s work remained, as it had

been repeatedly touched up.

George Morland painted several; the Goat in Boots on the Fulham Road is

attributed to him, but has since been painted often over; he also

painted a White Lion for an inn at Paddington, where he used to carouse

with his boon companions, Ibbetson and Rathbone; and in a small

public-house near Chelsea Bridge, Surrey, there was, as late as 1824, a

sign of the Cricketers painted by him. This painting by Morland, at the

date mentioned, had been removed inside the house, and a copy of it hung

up for the sign; unfortunately, however, the landlord used to travel

about with the original, and put it up before his booth at Staines and

Egham races, cricket matches, and similar occasions.

Ibbetson painted a sign for the village alehouse at Troutbeck, near

Ambleside, to settle a bill run up in a sketching, fishing, and

_dolce-far-niente_ expedition; the sign represented two faces, the one

thin and pale, the other jolly and rubicund; under it was the following

rhyme:--

“Thou mortal man that liv’st by bread,

What made thy face to look so red?

Thou silly fop, that looks so pale,

’Tis red with Tommy Burkett’s ale.”[52]

David Cox painted a Royal Oak for the alehouse at Bettws-y-Coed,

Denbighshire; fortunately this has been taken down, and is now preserved

behind glass inside the inn.

The elder Crome produced a sign of the Sawyers at St Martins, Norwich;

it was afterwards taken down by the owner, framed, and hung up as a

picture.

At New Inn Lane, Epsom, Harlow painted a front and a back view of Queen

Charlotte, to settle a bill he had run up; he imitated Sir Thomas

Lawrence’s style, and signed it “T. L.,” Greek Street, Soho. When

Lawrence heard this, he got in a terrible rage and said, if Harlow were

not a scoundrel, he would kick him from one street’s end to the other;

upon which Harlow very coolly remarked, that when Sir Thomas should make

up his mind to it, he hoped he would choose a short street.

In his younger days Sir Charles Ross painted a sign of the Magpie at

Sudbury, and the landlady of the house, with no small pride, gave the

informant to understand that, more than thirty years after, the

aristocratic portrait-painter came in a carriage to her house, and asked

to be shewn the old sign once more.

Herring is said to have painted some signs. Amongst them are the Flying

Dutchman, at Cottage Green, Camberwell, and a White Lion at Doncaster;

underneath the last are the words,--“_Painted by Herring_.”

Millais painted a Saint George and Dragon, with grapes round it, for the

Vidler’s Inn, Hayes, Kent; and we learn that a sign at Singleton,

Lancashire, was painted by an R.A. and an R.S., each painting one side

of it; on the front was represented a wearied pilgrim, at the back the

same refreshed, but the sign was never hung up.

Great men of former ages, also, are known to have painted signs; in the

museum at Basle, in Switzerland, there are two pictures of a school,

painted by Holbein when fourteen years old, for a sign of the

schoolmaster of the town. The Mule and Muleteer in the Sutherland

collection, is said to have been painted by Correggio as a sign for an

inn; a similar legend is told about the Young Bull of Paul Potter, in

the museum of the Hague, in Holland, which is reported to have been

painted for a butcher’s signboard. The Chaste Susannah (_la chaste

Susanne_) was formerly a fine stone bas-relief in the Rue aux Fèves,

Paris; it was attributed to Goujon, and bought as such by an amateur. A

plaster cast of it now occupies its place. Watteau executed a sign for a

milliner on the Pont Nôtre-Dame, which was thought sufficiently good to

be engraved. Horace Vernet has the name of having produced some signs in

his younger days; and there is still at the present time a sign of the

White Horse, in one of the villages in the neighbourhood of Paris, which

is pointed out as a work of Guéricault.

Besides these, there are, and have been at various times, excellent

signboards in Paris, the artists of which are not known. Thus there was,

in the beginning of the eighteenth century, a sign at the foot of the

Pont Neuf, called _le Petit Dunkerque_, which was greatly admired; and

in the reign of Louis XV. an armourer on the Pont Saint Michel had a

sign, which was so fine a work of art that it was bought as a cabinet

picture by a wealthy citizen. In the beginning of this century there was

a much admired sign on the shutters of a glass and china shop in the Rue

Royale St Honoré, which unfortunately was destroyed during some repairs

that took place upon the building passing into other hands. In 1808, the

sign of _la Fille mal gardée_, (a vaudeville,) at a mercer’s, attracted

great attention. About this period the Rue Vivienne was very rich in

good signboards; there were _la Toison de Cachemire_; _les Trois

Sultanes_; _le Couronnement de la Rosière_, and _la Joconde_, all very

good works of art. There was a gay _Comte Ory_ on the Boulevard des

Italiens, and _la Blanche Marguerite_, most comely to look upon, in the

Rue Montmartre. All these are now gone, but many good specimens of

French signboard painting may yet be met with.

Before closing this general survey of signboard history, we must direct

attention to the number of streets named after signs, both in England

and abroad. A walk down Fleet Street will give, in a small compass, as

many illustrations as are to be met with in any other thoroughfare in

town, for there nearly all the courts are named after signs that were

either hung within them, or at their entrance. Not only streets, but

families also have to thank signs for their names.

“Many names that seem unfitting for men, as of brutish beasts, etc.,

come from the very signes of the houses where they inhabited; for I

have heard of them which sayd they spake of knowledge, that some in

late time dwelling at the signe of the Dolphin, Bull, White Horse,

Racket, Peacocke, etc., were commonly called Thomas at the Dolphin,

Will at the Bull, George at the White Horse, Robin at the Racket,

which names, as many other of like sort, with omitting _at the_,

became afterwards hereditary to their children.”--CAMDEN’S _Remaines_,

p. 102.

As examples of such names we have, “Arrow, Axe, Barrell, Bullhead, Bell,

Block, Board, Banner, Bowles, Baskett, Cann, Coulter, Chisell, Clogg,

Crosskeys, Crosier, Funnell, Forge, Firebrand, Grapes, Griffin, Horns,

Hammer, Hamper, Hodd, Harrow, Image, (the sign originally in honour of

some saint perhaps,) Jugg, Kettle, Knife, Lance, Mallet, Maul, Mattock,

Needle, Pail, Pott, Potts, Plowe, Plane, Pipes, Pottle, Patten, Posnet,

(a purse or money-bag,) Pitcher, Rule, Rainbow, Sack, Saw, Shovel,

Shears, Scales, Silverspoon, Swords, Tankard, Tabor, (a drum,) Trowel,

Tubb and Wedge, and a good many others.”[53]

And now, having taken a passing glance at signboard history, from the

earliest times down to the present day, we may not improperly conclude

this chapter with an enumeration of the inn, tavern, and public-house

signs which occur most frequently in London, in this present year of

grace, 1864:--

12 Adam and Eves, 13 Albions, 5 Alfred’s Heads, 13 Anchor and Hopes, 18

Angels, 8 Angels and Crowns, 3 Antigallicans, 5 Artichokes, 13 Barley

Mows, 9 Beehives, 31 Bells, 7 Ben Jonsons, 5 Birds in Hand, 5 Black

Boys, 16 Black Bulls, 5 Black Dogs, 29 Black Horses, 10 Black Lions, 6

Black Swans, 19 Blue Anchors, 5 Blue Coat Boys, 6 Blue Lasts, 14 Blue

Peters, 27 Bricklayers’ Arms, 5 Bridge Houses, 22 Britannias, 15 Brown

Bears, 8 Builders’ Arms, 17 Bulls, (some combined with Bells, Butchers,

&c.,) 22 Bull’s Heads, 4 Camden Heads, 6 Capes of Good Hope, 14

Carpenters’ Arms, 19 Castles, 6 Catherine Wheels, 7 Champions, 5

Chequers, 5 Cherry-trees, 8 Cheshire Cheeses, 11 City Arms, 18 Cities of

London, and other cities, (as Canton, Paris, Quebec, &c.,) 52 Coach and

Horses, 12 Cocks, 16 Cocks in combination with Bottles, Hoops, Lions,

Magpies, &c., 6 Constitutions, 17 Coopers’ Arms, 7 Crooked Billets, 5

Cross Keys, 61 Crowns, 18 Crown and Anchors, 5 Crown and Cushions, 11

Crown and Sceptres, 17 Crowns, combined with other objects, as Anvils,

Barley Mows, Thistles, Dolphins, &c., (in all, 112 Crowns; certainly we

are a loyal nation!) 12 Devonshire Arms, 2 Devonshire Castles, 10

Dolphins, 6 Dover Castles, 34 Dukes of Wellington, 32 Dukes of York, 6

Dukes of Sussex, 16 Dukes of Clarence, 7 Dukes of Cambridge, 26 other

Dukes, (including Albemarle, Argyle, Bedford, Bridgewater, Gloucester,

&c.,) 7 various Duchesses, (as Kent, York, Oldenburgh, &c.,) 14 Duke’s

Heads, 18 Earls, (Aberdeen, Cathcart, Chatham, Durham, Essex, &c.,) 6

Edinburgh Castles, 5 Elephants and Castles, 9 Falcons, 21 Feathers, 4

Fishmongers’ Arms, 4 Five Bells, 5 Fleeces, 6 Flying Horses, 5 Fortunes

of War, 24 Fountains, 8 Foxes, 12 Foxes, combined with Grapes, Hounds,

Geese, &c., 8 Freemasons’ Arms, 8 various Generals, (Elliott, Hill,

Abercrombie, Picton, Wolfe, &c.,) 52 Georges, 14 George and Dragons, 19

George the Fourths, 31 Globes, 6 Gloster Arms, 7 Goats, 5 Golden

Anchors, 5 Golden Fleeces, 15 Golden Lions, 6 Goldsmith’s Arms, 56

Grapes, 15 Green Dragons, 4 Green Gates, 24 Green Men, 9 Greyhounds, 7

Griffins, 5 Grosvenor Arms, 8 Guns, 4 Guy of Warwicks, 6 Half-moons, 4

Hercules, 2 Hercules Pillars, 5 Holes in the Wall, 5 Hoop and Grapes, 4

Hop-poles, 12 Hopes, 11 Horns, 21 Horses and Grooms, 7 Horseshoes, 5

Horseshoe and Magpies, 6 Jacob’s Wells, 5 John Bulls, 16 various “Jolly”

people, as Jolly Anglers, Caulkers, Gardeners, &c., 12 Kings of Prussia,

10 Kings and Queens, 89 King’s Arms, 63 King’s Heads, (loyalty again!) 8

Lambs, 3 Lambs and Flags, 4 Lion and Lambs, 55 different Lords, amongst

which, 23 Lord Nelsons, 4 Magpie and Stumps, 3 Mail-coaches, 3 Men in

the Moon, 2 Marlborough Arms, 6 Marlborough Heads, 18 Marquis of

Granbys, 6 Marquis of Cornwallises, 14 various Marquises, 9 Masons’

Arms, 17 Mitres, 4 Mulberry-trees, 15 Nag’s Heads, 3 Nell Gwynns, 7

Noah’s Arks, 7 Norfolk Arms, 4 North Poles, 9 Northumberland Arms, 3 Old

Parr’s Heads, 6 Olive Branches, 6 Oxford Arms, 10 Peacocks, (1 Peahen,)

5 Perseverances, 5 Pewter Platters, 10 Phœnixes, 3 Pied Bulls, 5 Pine

Apples, 9 Pitt’s Heads, 15 Ploughs, 6 Portland Arms, 5 Portman Arms, 19

Prince Alberts, 5 Prince Alfreds, 3 Prince Arthurs, 15 other Princes,

(mostly of the Royal Family,) 43 Princes of Wales, 12 Prince Regents, 6

Princess Royals, 3 Princess Victorias, and a few of the younger

Princesses, 2 Punchbowls, 3 Queens, 3 Queen and Prince Alberts, 17

Queen Victorias, 23 Queen’s Arms, 49 Queen’s Heads, 8 Railway Taverns, 8

Red Cows, 4 Red Crosses, 73 Red Lions, 26 Rising Suns, 9 Robin Hoods, 5

Rodney Heads, 10 Roebucks, 14 Roses, 48 Rose and Crowns, 4 Royal

Alberts, 28 various Royal personages and objects, as Champions,

Cricketers, Crowns, Dukes, Forts, &c., 8 Royal Georges, 26 Royal Oaks,

13 Royal Standards, 7 Running Horses, 23 Saints, (3 Saint Andrews, 4 St

Georges, 3 St Jameses, 3 St Johns, 2 St Luke’s Heads, 2 St Martins, 2 St

Pauls, &c.,) 5 Salisbury Arms, 2 Salmons, 4 Salutations, 6 Scotch

Stores, 4 Seven Stars, 8 Shakespeare Heads, 2 Shepherds and Flocks, 2

Shepherds and Shepherdesses, 53 Ships, (23 in combination, on launch,

aground, &c.,) 3 Ship and Stars, 2 Ships and Whales, 19 Sirs, (including

4 Falstaffs, Sir John Barleycorn, Middleton, Newton, Wren, Abercrombie,

Pindar, Peel, Raleigh, Walworth, &c.,) 5 Skinners’ Arms, 4 Southampton

Arms, 4 Sportsmen, 3 Spotted Dogs, 14 Spread Eagles, 3 Stags, 3

Staghounds, 11 Stars, 17 Star and Garters, 8 Sugar-loaves, 19 Suns, 19

Swans, 9 Talbots, 4 Telegraphs, 3 Thatched Houses, 5 Thistles and

Crowns, 21 Three Compasses, 8 Three Crowns, 3 Three Cranes, 3 Three

Cups, 3 Three Kings, 19 Three Tuns, 8 Tigers, (1 Tiger Cat,) 10 Turk’s

Heads, 28 Two Brewers, 5 Two Chairmen, 4 Unicorns, 10 Unions, 2 Union

Flags, 11 Victories, 5 Vines, 3 Waggon and Horses, 10 Watermen’s Arms, 9

Weavers’ Arms, 3 Westminster Arms, 20 Wheat Sheaves, 15 White Bears, 63

White Harts, 44 White Horses, 25 White Lions, 35 White Swans, 3

Whittington and Cats, (1 Whittington and Stone,) 16 William the Fourths,

11 Windmills, 12 Windsor Castles, 4 Woodmen, 8 Woolpacks, 10 York Arms

and York Minster, 12 Yorkshire Greys.

[1] Sir Gardiner Wilkinson’s Ancient Egyptians, vol. iii. p. 158. Also,

Rosellini Monumenti dell’Egitto e della Nubia.

[2] Aristotle, Problematum x. 14: “As with the things drawn above the

shops, which, though they are small, appear to have breadth and depth.”

[3] “He hung the well-known sign in the front of his house.”

[4] Hearne, Antiq. Disc., i. 39.

[5] “When the mice were conquered by the army of the weasels, (a story

which we see painted on the taverns.)”

[6] Lib. ii. sat. vii.: “I admire the position of the men that are

fighting, painted in red or in black, as if they were really alive;

striking and avoiding each other’s weapons, as if they were actually

moving.”

[7] De Oratore, lib. ii. ch. 71: “Now I shall shew you how you are, to

which he answered, ‘Do, please.’ Then I pointed with my finger towards

the Cock painted on the signboard of Marius the Cimberian, on the New

Forum, distorted, with his tongue out and hanging cheeks. Everybody

began to laugh.”

[8] Hist. Nat., xxxv. ch. 8: “After this I find that they were also

commonly placed on the Forum. Hence that joke of Crassus, the orator.

. . . On the Forum was also that of an old shepherd with a staff,

concerning which a German legate, being asked at how much he valued it,

answered that he would not care to have such a man given to him as a

present, even if he were real and alive.”

[9] “There were, namely, taverns round about the Forum, and that picture

[the Cock] had been put up as a sign.”

[10] The Bush certainly must be counted amongst the most ancient and

popular of signs. Traces of its use are not only found among Roman and

other old-world remains, but during the Middle Ages we have evidence of

its display. Indications of it are to be seen in the Bayeux tapestry, in

that part where a house is set on fire, with the inscription, _Hic domus

incenditur_, next to which appears a large building, from which projects

something very like a pole and a bush, both at the front and the back of

the building.

[11] In Cædmon’s Metrical Paraphrase of Scripture History, (_circa_ A.D.

1000,) in the drawings relating to the history of Abraham, there are

distinctly represented certain cruciform ornaments painted on the walls,

which might serve the purpose of signs. (_See_ upon this subject under

“RELIGIOUS SIGNS.”)

[12] The palace of St Laurence Poulteney, the town residence of Charles

Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, and also of the Dukes of Buckingham, was

called the Rose, from that badge being hung up in front of the house:--

“The Duke being at the Rose, within the parish

Of St Laurence Poultney.”--_Henry VIII._, a. i. s. 2.

“A house in the town of Lewes was formerly known as THE THREE PELICANS,

the fact of those birds constituting the arms of Pelham having been lost

sight of. Another is still called THE CATS,” which is nothing more than

“the arms of the Dorset family, whose supporters are two leopards

argent, spotted sable.”--LOWER, _Curiosities of Heraldry_.

[13] Rather a heavy fine, as the best ale at that time was not to be

sold for more than three-halfpence a gallon.

[14] “Purchaser, be aware when you wish to buy books issued from my

printing-office. Look at my sign, which is represented on the

title-page, and you can never be mistaken. For some evil-disposed

printers have affixed my name to their uncorrected and faulty works, in

order to secure a better sale for them.”

[15] “We beg the reader to notice the sign, for there are men who have

adopted the same title, and the name of Badius, and so filch our

labour.”

[16] “Lastly, I must draw the attention of the student to the fact that

some Florentine printers, seeing that they could not equal our diligence

in correcting and printing, have resorted to their usual artifices. To

Aldus’s Institutiones Grammaticæ, printed in their offices, they have

affixed our well-known sign of the Dolphin wound round the Anchor. But

they have so managed, that any person who is in the least acquainted

with the books of our production, cannot fail to observe that this is an

impudent fraud. For the head of the Dolphin is turned to the left,

whereas that of ours is well known to be turned to the right.”--_Preface

to Aldus’s Livy_, 1518.

[17] The number of taverns in these ten shires was “686, or

thereabouts.”

[18] “The original court roll of this presentation is still to be found

amongst the records of the Dean and Chapter of Westminster.”--LYSON’S

_Env. of London_, vol. iii. p. 74.

[19] “Whosoever shall brew ale in the town of Cambridge, with intention

of selling it, must hang out a sign, otherwise he shall forfeit his

ale.”

[20] “Art. XXIII.--Tavernkeepers must put up signboards and a bush.

. . . Nobody shall be allowed to open a tavern in the said city and its

suburbs without having a sign and a bush.”

[21] A Cheat loaf was a household loaf, “wheaten seconds

bread.”--NARES’S _Glossary_.

[22] Froe--_i.e._ _Vrouw_, woman.

[23] This was in those days a slang term for a mistress.

[24] _i.e._ Walk about in St Paul’s during the dinner hour.

[25] “I have seen, hanging from the shops, shuttlecocks six feet high,

pearls as large as a hogshead, and feathers reaching up to the third

story.”

[26] “Koddige en ernstige opschriften op Luiffels, wagens, glazen,

uithangborden en andere tafereelen door Jeroen Jeroense. Amsterdam,

1682.”

[27] “Het gestoffeerde Winkelen en Luifelen Banquet. H. van den Berg.

Amsterdam, 1693.”

[28]

“Jacob was David’s nephew, but not his brother-in-law.

All sorts of barbers’ tools ground here, also fishwives’ and butchers’

knives.”

[29]

“Moses was pick’d up among the rushes.

Teeth and grinders drawn here.”

[30] The _British Apollo_, 1710, vol. iii. p. 34.

[31] Amusements for the Meridian of London, 1708, p. 72.

[32] Bell and the Dragon, still to be met on the signboard.

[33] Addison is wrong in this derivation, (_see_ under Miscellaneous

Signs, at the end.)

[34] From Martial and other Latin poets, we learn that it was usual for

the bibliopoles of those days to advertise new works by affixing copies

of the title-pages to a post outside their shops; but whether this

method obtained in the last century, the history of Paternoster Row does

not inform us.

[35] For the _Three Balls_ of the Pawnbrokers, _see_ under Miscellaneous

Signs; for the Barber’s Pole, under Trades’ Signs.

[36] Probably John James Heidegger, director of the Opera, a very ugly

man.

[37] For a full account of the “Exhibition,” _see_ in the Supplement at

the end of this work.

[38] The last streets that kept them swinging were Wood Street and

Whitecross Street, where they remained till 1773; whilst in Holywell

Street, Strand, not more than twenty years ago, some were still dangling

above the shop doors. In the suburbs many may be observed even at the

present day.

[39] Laws, Customs, Usages, and Regulations of the City and Port of

London. By Alexander Pulling. London, 1854.

Under the 72d section of the 57 Geo. III. ch. 29, post. 315, Mr

Ballantine, some years ago, decided against a pawnbroker’s sign being

considered a nuisance, notwithstanding it projected over the footway,

unless it obstructed the circulation of light and air, or was

inconvenient or incommodious.

[40] Trades tokens were brass farthings issued by shopkeepers in the

seventeenth century, and stamped with the sign of the shop and the name

of its owner.

[41] Memorials of Nature and Art collected on a Journey in Great Britain

during the Years 1802 and 1803. By C. A. G. Gœde. London, 1808. Vol. i.

p. 68.

[42] Mementos, Historical and Classical, of a Tour through part of

France, Switzerland, and Italy, in the Years 1821 and 1822. London,

1824.

[43] _Un bon enfant_ is in French “a jolly good fellow,” as well as a

“good child.”

[44] Taken from the Opera “La Somnambula.”

[45]

“Nature provides man with hair and beard,

But I cut them both.”

[46]

“I devote my razors to all faces,

And defy the criticism of faithful mirrors.”

[47] A sort of pun, “_la belle occasion_” implying the same idea that

our shopkeepers express by their “Now is your time,” and similar puffs.

[48] Similar instances may also be occasionally met with in London; for

instance, the _Corsican Brothers_, (Coffee-house, Fulham Road.)

[49] Two or three good examples are to be seen in the South Kensington

Museum.

[50] Edwards’s Anecdotes of Painters, 1808, p. 117.

[51] J. T. Smith’s Nollekens and his Times, vol. i. p. 25.

[52] Tommy Burkett was the name of mine host. The painting is now gone,

but the verses remain.

[53] M. A. Lower’s Essay on Family Nomenclature, vol. i. p. 201.