BIBLICAL AND RELIGIOUS SIGNS.
The earlier signs were frequently representations of the most important
article sold in the shops before which they hung. The stocking denoted
the hosier, the gridiron the ironmonger, and so on. The early
booksellers, whose trade lay chiefly in religious books, delighted in
signs of saints, but at the Reformation the BIBLE amongst those classes,
to whom till then it had been a sealed book, became in great request,
and was sold in large numbers. Then the booksellers set it up for their
sign; it became the popular symbol of the trade, and at the present
moment instances of its use still linger with us. There was one day in
the year, St Bartholomew’s, the 24th of August, when their shops
displayed nothing but Bibles and Prayer-books. It is not impossible that
this may have been originally intended for a manifestation against
Popery, since it was the anniversary of the dreadful Protestant massacre
in Paris in 1572. The following, however, is the only allusion we have
met with relating to this custom:--“Like a bookseller’s shop on
Bartholomew day at London, the stalls of which are so adorned with
Bibles and Prayer-books, that almost nothing is left within but heathen
knowledge.”[366]
One of the last BIBLE signs was about twenty years ago, at a
public-house in Shire Lane, Temple Bar. It was an old established house
of call for printers.
The Bible being such a common sign, booksellers had to “wear their rue
with a difference,” as Ophelia says, and adopt different colours,
amongst which the BLUE BIBLE was one of the most common. “Prynne’s
Histrio-Mastrix” was “printed for Michael Sparke, and sold at the Blue
Bible, in Green Arbour Court, Little Old Bailey, 1632.” This blue
colour, so common on the signboard, was not chosen without meaning, but
on account of its symbolic virtue. Blue, from its permanency, being an
emblem of truth, hence Lydgate, speaking of Delilah, Samson’s mistress,
in his translation from Boccacio, (MS. Harl. 2251,) says--
“Insteade of _blew, which steadfaste is and clene_,
She weraed colours of many a diverse grene.”
It also signified piety and sincerity. Randle Holme[367] says--
“This colour, _blew_, doth represent the sky on a clear, sun-shining
day, when all clouds are exiled. Job, speaking to the busy searchers
of God’s mysteries, saith (Job xi. 17,) ‘That then shall the residue
of their lives be as clear as the noonday.’ Which to the judgment of
men (through the pureness of the air) is of _azure_ colour or light
_blew_, and signifieth _piety and sincerity_.”
Other booksellers chose the THREE BIBLES, which was a very common sign
of the trade on London Bridge in the seventeenth and eighteenth
centuries: of one of them, Charles Tyne, trades tokens are
extant,--great curiosities to the numismatist, as booksellers were not
in the habit of issuing them. The sign of the Three Bibles seems to have
originated from the stationers’ arms, which are _arg._ on a chevron
between _three bibles_, _or_ a falcon volant between two roses, the Holy
Ghost in chief. One bookseller, on account of his selling stationery,
also added _three inkbottles_ to the favourite three Bibles, as we see
from an advertisement, giving the price of playing cards in 1711:--
“Sold by Henry Parson, Stationer at the THREE BIBLES AND THREE
INKBOTTLES, near St Magnus’ Church, on London Bridge, the best
principal superfine Picket Cards, at 2s. 6d. a dozen; the best
principal Ombro Cards, at 2s. 9d. a dozen; the best principal
superfine Basset Cards, at 3s. 6d. a dozen; with all other Cards and
Stationery Wares at Reasonable Rates.”[368]
Combinations of the Bible with other objects were very common, some of
them symbolic, as the BIBLE AND CROWN, which sign originated during the
political troubles in the reign of Charles I. It was at this time when
the clergy and the court party constantly tried to convince the people
of the divine prerogative of the Crown, that the “Bible and Crown”
became the standing toast of the Cavaliers and those opposed to the
Parliament leaders. As a sign it has been used for a century and a half
by the firm of Rivington the publishers. The old wood carving, painted
and gilt in the style of the early signs, was taken down from over the
shop in Paternoster Row in 1853, when this firm removed westward. It is
still in their possession. Cobbett, the political agitator and
publisher, in the beginning of this century chose the sign of the BIBLE,
CROWN, AND CONSTITUTION; but the general tenor of his life was such,
that his enemies said he put them up merely that he might afterwards be
able to say he had pulled them down. A BIBLE, SCEPTRE, AND CROWN,
carved in wood, may still be seen on the top of an ale-house of that
name in High Holborn. The crown and sceptre in this case are placed on
two closed Bibles.
The BIBLE AND LAMB, _i.e._, the Holy Lamb, we find mentioned in an
advertisement in the _Publick Advertiser_, March 1, 1759--
“To be had at the BIBLE AND LAMB, near Temple Bar, on the Strand Side,
the Skin for Pains in the Limbs, Price 2s.”
Books also were sold here, for in those days booksellers and toyshops
were the usual repositories for quack medicines.
The BIBLE AND DOVE, _i.e._, the Holy Ghost, was the sign of John Penn,
bookseller, over against St Bride’s Church, Fleet Street, 1718; and the
BIBLE AND PEACOCK, the sign of Benjamin Crayle, bookseller, at the west
end of St Paul’s, in 1688. If not a combination of two signs, the bird
may have been added on account of its being the type of the
Resurrection, in which quality it is found represented in the Catacombs,
a symbolism arising from the supposed incorruptibility of its
flesh.[369] Various other combinations occur, as the BIBLE AND KEY.
Rowland Hall, a printer of the sixteenth century, had for his sign the
HALF EAGLE AND KEY, (see Heraldic Signs,) of which the Bible and Key may
be a free imitation. It was the sign of B. Dod, bookseller, in Ave Maria
Lane, 1761; whilst the GOLDEN KEY AND BIBLE was that of L. Stoke, a
bookseller at Charing Cross, 1711. The “Bible and Key” is also the name
of a certain Coscinomanteia, somewhat similar to the Sortes Virgilianæ.
This method of divination was performed in two ways, in the first,
(stated by Matthew of Paris to have been frequently practised at the
election of bishops,) the Bible was opened on the altar, and the
prediction taken from the chapter which first caught the eye on opening
the book; the other was by placing two written papers, one negative, the
other affirmative, of the matter in question, under the pall of the
altar, which, after solemn prayers, was believed would be decided by
divine judgment. Gregory of Tours mentions another method by the
Psalms.[370]
At the present day “Bible and Key” divinations are often attempted by
those who believe in fortune-telling and vaticinations. The method
adopted is as follows:--A key is placed, with the bow or handle sticking
out, between the leaves of a Bible, on Ruth i. 16:
“And Ruth said, Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from
following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where
thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy people shall be my people, and thy God
my God.”
The Bible is then firmly tied up, most effectually with a garter, and
balanced by the bow of the key on the fore-fingers of the right hands of
two persons, the one who wishes to consult the oracle, the other any
person standing near. The book is then addressed with these
words--“Pray, Mr Bible, be good enough to tell me if ---- or not?” If
the question be answered in the affirmative the key will swing round,
turn off the finger, and the Bible fall down; if in the negative, it
will remain steady in its position. Not only upon matrimonial, but upon
all sorts of questions, this oracle may be consulted.
Further combinations are the BIBLE AND SUN. The SUN was the sign of
Wynkyn de Worde, and the printers that succeeded him in his house. It
may, however, in this combination have been an emblem of the Sun of
Truth, or the Light of the World. It was the sign of J. Newberry, in St
Paul’s Churchyard, the publisher of Goldsmith’s “Vicar of Wakefield;”
also of C. Bates, near Pie Corner; and of Richard Reynolds, in the
Poultry, both ballad printers in the times of Charles II. and William
III. Then there is the BIBLE AND BALL, a sign of a bookseller in Ave
Maria Lane in 1761, who probably hung up a Globe to indicate the sale of
globes and maps; and the BIBLE AND DIAL, over against St Dunstan’s
Church, Fleet Street, in 1720, was the sign of the notorious Edmund
Curll, who was pilloried at Charing Cross, and pilloried in Pope’s
verses. _The Dial_ was, in all likelihood, a sun-dial on the front wall
of his house.
Of the Apocryphal Books there is only one example among the signboards,
viz., BEL AND THE DRAGON, which was at one time not uncommon, more
particularly with apothecaries. It was represented by a Bell and a
Dragon, as appears from the _Spectator_, No. 28. “One Apocryphical
Heathen God is also represented by this figure [of a Bell], which, in
conjunction with the Dragon, makes a very handsome picture in several of
our streets.” Although at the first glance this sign seems taken from
the doubtful books of the Old Testament, still there is nothing in the
Apocryphal book which could in any way prompt the choice of it for a
signboard. After all, it may possibly be only a combination, or
corruption, of two other signs. There still remain a few public-houses
which employ it,--as in Worship Street; at Cookham, Maidenhead; at
Norton in the Moors, &c., whilst in Boss Street, Horsely Down, there is
a variation in the form of the BELL AND GRIFFIN. From a handbill of
Topham, the Strong Man,[371] we see that it was vulgarly called the KING
ASTYAGES ARMS, for no better reason than because King Astyages is the
first name in the story: the incident related in the Book of Bel and the
Dragon having taken place after his death.
[Illustration: PLATE XI.
HOLE IN THE WALL.
(“Guide for Malt-Worms.” Circa 1720.)
STAR, OR BUSH.
(MS., circa 1425.)
BARLEY MOW.
(Hogarth’s print of Beer St.)
DOG AND DUCK.
(In the brick wall of Bethlehem Hospital.)
FLYING HORSE.
(“Guide for Malt-Worms.” Circa 1720.)]
A very common sign of old, as well as at present, is the ADAM AND EVE.
Our first parents were constant _dramatis personæ_ in the mediæval
mysteries and pageants, on which occasions, with the _naïveté_ of those
times, Eve used to come on the stage exactly in the same costume as she
appeared to Adam before the Fall.[372] The sign was adopted by various
trades, including the publishers of books, as we may see from the
following quaint title:--
“A Protestant Picture of Jesus Christ, drawn in Scripture colours,
both for light to sinners and delight to saints. By Tho. Sympson,
M.A., Preacher of the Word at London. Sold by Edw. Thomas at the _Adam
and Eve_, in Little Britain. 1662.”
In Newgate Street there yet remains an old stone sign of the Adam and
Eve, with the date 1669. Eve is represented handing the apple to Adam,
the fatal tree is in the centre, round its stem the serpent winding. It
was the arms of the fruiterers’ company.
There is still an Adam and Eve public-house in the High Street,
Kensington, where Sheridan, on his way to and from Holland House, used
to refresh himself, and in this way managed to run up rather a long
bill, which Lord Holland had to pay for him. A still older place of
public entertainment was the Adam and Eve Tea-gardens, in Tottenham
Court Road, part of which was the last remaining vestige “of the once
respectable, if not magnificent, manor-house appertaining to the Lords
of Tottenhall.” Richardson, in 1819, said that the place had long been
celebrated as a tea-garden; there was an organ in the long room, and the
company was generally respectable, till the end of last century, when
highwaymen, footpads, pickpockets, and low women, beginning to take a
fancy to it, the magistrates interfered. The organ was banished, and the
gardens were dug up for the foundation of Eden Street. In these gardens
Lunardi came down after his unsuccessful balloon ascent from the
Artillery ground, May 16, 1783. Hogarth has represented the Adam and Eve
in the March of the Guards to Finchley. Upon the signboard of the house
is inscribed, “Tottenham Court Nursery,” in allusion to Broughton’s
Amphitheatre for Boxing, erected in this place. How amusing is this
advertisement of the great Professor’s “Nursery:”--
“From the _Gymnasium_ at _Tottenham Court_
on _Thursday next at Twelve o’clock will begin_:
A lecture on Manhood or Gymnastic Physiology, wherein the whole Theory
and Practice of the Art of Boxing will be fully explained by various
Operators on the animal Œconomy and the Principles of Championism,
illustrated by proper Experiments on the Solids and Fluids of the Body;
together with the True Method of investigating the Nature of all Blows,
Stops, Cross Buttocks, etc., incident to Combatants. The whole leading
to the most successful Method of beating a Man deaf, dumb, lame, and
blind.
by THOMAS SMALLWOOD, A.M.,
_Gymnasiast of St. Giles_,
and
THOMAS DIMMOCK, A.M.,
_Athleta of Southwark_,
(Both fellows of the _Athletic Society_.)
⁂ The Syllabus or Compendium for the use of students in Athleticks,
referring to Matters explained in this Lecture, may be had of Mr
Professor Broughton at the CROWN in Market Lane, where proper
instructions in the Art and Practice of Boxing are delivered without
Loss of Eye or Limb to the student.”
The tree with the forbidden fruit, always represented in the sign of
Adam and Eve, leads directly to the FLAMING SWORD, “which turned every
way to keep the way of the tree of life.” Being the first sword on
record, it was not inappropriately a cutler’s sign, and as such we find
it in the Banks Collection, on the shop-bill of a sword cutler in
Sweeting’s Alley, Royal Exchange, 1780. It is less appropriate at the
door of a public-house in Nottingham, for the landlord evidently cannot
desire to keep anybody out, whether saint or sinner. The vessel by which
the life of the first planter of the vine was preserved, certainly well
deserves to decorate the tavern: hence NOAH’S ARK is not an uncommon
public-house sign, though it looks very like a sarcastic reflection on
the mixed crowd that resort to the house,--not to escape the “heavy
wet,” as the animals at the Deluge, but in order to obtain some of it.
Toy-shops also constantly use it, since Noah’s Ark is generally the
favourite toy of children. Evelyn, in 1644, mentions a shop near the
Palais de Justice in Paris:
“Here is a shop called Noah’s Ark, where are sold all curiosities,
natural or artificial, Indian or European, for luxury or use, as
cabinets, shells, ivory, porcelain, dried fishes, insects, birds,
pictures, and a thousand exotic extravagances.”[373]
The Deluge was one of the standard subjects of mediæval dramatic plays.
In the third part of the Chester Whitsun plays, for instance, Noah and
the Flood make a considerable item; and at a much later period the same
subject was exhibited at Bartholomew Fair. A bill of the time of Queen
Anne[374] informs us that--
“At Crawley’s Booth, over against the Crown Tavern in Smithfield,
during the time of Bartholomew Fair, will be presented a little Opera,
called the Old Creation of the World, yet newly revived, with the
addition of _Noah’s Flood_; also several fountains playing water
during the time of the play. The last scene presents Noah and his
family coming out of the Ark, with all the beasts, two by two, and all
the fowls of the air, seen in a prospect, sitting upon trees. Likewise
over the Ark is seen the sun rising in a most glorious manner:
moreover, a multitude of angels will be seen, in a double rank, which
presents a double prospect--one for the sun, the other for a palace,
where will be seen 6 angels ringing of bells, etc.”
The Deluge was the mystery performed at Whitsuntide by the company of
dyers in London, and from this their sign of the DOVE AND RAINBOW might
have originated, unless it were adopted by them on account of the
various colours of the rainbow. On the bill of John Edwards, a silk-dyer
in Aldersgate Street, the Dove, with an olive branch in her mouth, is
represented flying underneath the Rainbow, over a landscape, with
villages, fenced fields, and a gentleman in the costume of the reign of
Charles II. Besides this there are various other dyers’ bills with the
sign of the DOVE AND RAINBOW, both among the Bagford and Banks
Collections. A few public-houses at the present day still keep up the
memory of the sign; there is one at Nottingham, and another in
Leicester.
“ABRAHAM OFFERING HIS SON” was the sign of a shop in Norwich in 1750. A
stone bas-relief of the same subject (_Le Sacrifice d’Abraham_) is still
remaining in the front of a house in the Rue des Prêtres, Lille,
France. A Dutch wood-merchant, in the seventeenth century, also put up
this sign, and illustrated its application by the following rhyme:--
“‘T Hout is gehakt, opdat men ’t zou branden,
Daarom is dit in Abram’s Offerhande.”[375]
Thus, though the wood of the sacrifice played a very insignificant part
in the story, yet the simple mention of it was enough to make it a fit
subject for a Dutchman’s signboard. We have a similar instance in
JACOB’S WELL, which is common in London, as well as in the country. The
allusion here is to the well at which Christ met the woman of Samaria,
who said to him:
“Art thou greater than our father Jacob, which gave us the well, and
drank thereof himself, and his children, and his cattle? Jesus
answered and said unto her, Whosoever drinketh of this water shall
thirst again.” (S. John iv. 12.)
How cruelly these words apply to the gin-tap, at which generation after
generation drink, and after which they always thirst again. Not unlikely
the English use of this sign dates from the Puritan period.[376] Not
always, however, had the sign any direct relation to the trade of the
inmate of the house which it adorned; as, for example, MOSES AND AARON,
which occurs on a trades token of Whitechapel. In allusion to this, or a
similar sign, Tom Brown says, “Other amusements presented themselves as
thick as hops, as Moses pictured with horns, to keep Cheapside in
countenance.”[377] Even the Dutch shopkeeper, whose imagination was
generally so fertile in finding a religious subject appropriate as his
trade sign, was at a loss what to do with Moses; for a baker in
Amsterdam, in the seventeenth century, put up the sign of Moses, with
this inscription:
“Moses wierd gevist in het water,
Die hier waar haalt krygt vry gist, een Paaschbrood,
En op Korstyd een Deuvekater.”[378]
In London, however, the use of this sign may at first have been
suggested by the statues of Moses and Aaron that used to stand above the
balcony of the Old Guildhall. Connected with the history of Moses, we
find several other signs, one in particular, mentioned by Ned Ward as
the OLD PHARAOH in the town of Barley, in Cambridgeshire. It was so
named, says he, “from a stout, elevating malt liquor of the same name,
for which this house had been long famous.”[379] Why this beer was
called Pharaoh, Ned Ward does not seem to have known; but a story in the
county is current that it was so named because the beer, like the
Egyptian king of old, “would not let the people go!” It is now no longer
drunk in England, but a certain strong beer of the same name is still a
favourite beverage in Belgium. Next, in chronological order, connected
with the history of Moses, follows the BRAZEN SERPENT, the sign of
Reynold Wolfe, a bookseller and printer in St Paul’s Churchyard, 1544,
and also of both his apprentices, Henry Binneman and John Shepperde. It
had probably been imported by the foreign printers, for it was a
favourite amongst the early French and German booksellers. At the
present day it is a public-house sign in Richardson Street, Bermondsey.
What led to the adoption of this emblem was not the historical
association, but the mystical meaning which it had in the middle ages:--
“A serpent torqued with a long cross; others blazon Christ, supporting
the brazen serpent, because it was an anti-type of the passion and
death of our Saviour; for as Moses lifted up the serpent in the
wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, (Num. xxi. 8, 9; John
iii. 14,) that all that behold him, by a lively faith, may not perish,
but have everlasting life. This is the cognizance or crest of every
true believer.”[380]
The idea was no doubt borrowed from the Biblia Pauperum. The BALAAM’S
ASS, again, was one of the _dramatis personæ_ in the Whitsuntide mystery
of the company of cappers, (cap-makers,) and this is the only reason we
can imagine for his having found his way to the signboard. It occurs in
1722 in a newspaper paragraph, concerning a child born without a
stomach, the details of which are too nauseous to be introduced
here.[381]
The TWO SPIES is the last sign belonging to the history of Moses; it
represents two of the spies that went into Canaan, “and cut down from
thence a branch with one cluster of grapes, and they bare it between two
upon a staff,” (Num. xiii. 23.) This bunch of grapes made it a favourite
with publicans; at many places it may still be seen, as in Catherine
Street, Strand, (a house of old standing;) in Long Acre, &c. In Great
Windmill Street, Leicester Square, it has been corrupted into the THREE
SPIES.
After Moses there is a blank until we come to SAMSON, to whom our
national admiration for athletic sports and muscular strength has given
a prominent place on the signboard. SAMSON AND THE LION occurs on the
sign of various houses in London in the seventeenth century, as appears
from the trades tokens. It is still of frequent occurrence in country
towns, as at Dudley, Coventry, &c. It was also used on the Continent. In
Paris there is, or was, not many years ago, a _della Robbia_ ware
medallion sign in the Rue des Dragons, with the legend “_le Fort
Samson_,” representing the strong man tearing open the lion. To a sign
of SAMSON at Dordrecht, in the seventeenth century, the following
satirical inscription had been added:--
“Toen Samson door zyn kracht de leeuw belemmen kon,
De Philistynen sloeg, de vossen overwon.
Wiert hy nog door een Vrouw van zyn gezigt beroofd,
Gelooft geen vrouw dan of zy moet zyn zonder hoofd.”[382]
This admiration of strong men, which procured the signboard honours to
Samson, also made GOLIAH, or GOLIAS, a great favourite. In the Horse
Market, Castle Barnard, he is actually treated just like a duke,
admiral, or any other public-house hero, for there the sign is entitled
the GOLIAH HEAD. Some doubts, however, may be entertained whether by
Golias or Goliah, (for the name is spelt both ways,) the Philistine
giant and champion was always intended. Towards the end of the twelfth
century there lived a man of wit, with the real or assumed name of
Golias, who wrote the “Apocalypsis Goliæ,” and other burlesque verses.
He was the leader of a jovial sect called Goliardois, of which Chaucer’s
Miller was one. “He was a jangler and a goliardeis.” Such a person
might, therefore, have been a very appropriate tutelary deity for an
alehouse.[383]
Goliah’s conqueror, KING DAVID, liberally shared the honours with his
victim, and he still figures on various signboards. There is a KING
DAVID’S inn in Bristol, and a DAVID AND HARP in Limehouse; whilst in
Paris, the Rue de la Harpe is said to owe its name to a sign of King
David playing on the harp. David’s unfortunate son, ABSALOM, was a
peruke-maker’s very expressive emblem, both in France and in England, to
show the utility of wigs. Thus a barber at a town in Northamptonshire
used this inscription:
“ABSALOM, hadst thou worn a perriwig, thou hadst not been hanged.”
Which a brother peruke-maker versified, under a sign representing the
death of Absalom, with David weeping. He wrote up thus:
“Oh Absalom! oh Absalom!
Oh Absalom! my son,
If thou hadst worn a perriwig,
Thou hadst not been undone.”
Psalm xlii. seems to be very profanely hinted at in the sign of the
WHITE HART AND FOUNTAIN, Royal Mint Street, which, if not a combination
of two well-known signs, apparently alludes to the words, “As the hart
panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God.”
THE PANTING HART (_het dorstige Hert_, or _het Heigent Hert_,) was
formerly a very common beer-house sign in Holland. In the seventeenth
century there was one with the following inscription at Amsterdam:--
“Gelyk het hert by frisch water sig komt te verblyden,
Komt also in myn huys om u van dorst te bevryden.”[384]
Another one at Leyden had the following rhyme:--
“Gelyk een hart van jagen moe lust te drinken water rein,
Also verkoopt men hier tot versterking van de maag, toebak, bier en
Brandewyn.”[385]
The wise king Solomon does not appear to have ever been honoured with a
signboard portrait, but his enthusiastic admirer, the QUEEN OF SABA,
figured before the tavern kept by Dick Tarlton the jester, in
Gracechurch Street. This Queen of Saba, or Sheba, was a usual figure in
pageants. There is a letter of Secretary Barlow, in “Nugæ Antiquæ,”
telling how the Queen of Sheba fell down and upset her casket in the lap
of the King of Denmark--when on his drunken visit to James I.--who “got
not a little defiled with the presents of the queen; such as wine,
cream, jelly, beverages, cakes, spices, and other good matters.”
Douce, in his “Illustrations to Shakespeare,” has a very ingenious
explanation for the sign of the BELL SAVAGE, as derived from the QUEEN
OF SABA, which though _non è vero, ma ben trovato_. He bases his
argument on a poem of the fourteenth century, the “Romaunce of Kyng
Alisaundre,” wherein the Queen of Saba is thus mentioned:--
“In heore lond is a cité,
On of the noblest in Christianté,
Hit hotith Sabba in langage,
Thence cam _Sibely Savage_.
Of all the world the fairest queene,
To Jerusalem Salomon to seone.
For hire fair head and for hire love,
Salomon forsok his God above.”[386]
ELISHA’S RAVEN, represented with a chop in his mouth, is the sign of a
butcher in the Borough,--a curious conceit, and certainly his own
invention; at least we do not remember any other instance of the sign.
This tribute is certainly very disinterested in the butcher, for if
there were any such ravens now, it is probable that they would sadly
interfere with the trade.
Few signs have undergone so many changes as the well-known SALUTATION.
Originally it represented the angel saluting the Virgin Mary, in which
shape it was still occasionally seen in the seventeenth and eighteenth
centuries, as appears from the tavern token of Daniel Grey of Holborn.
In the times of the Commonwealth, however, “sacrarum ut humanarum rerum,
heu! vicissitudo est,” the Puritans changed it into the SOLDIER AND
CITIZEN, and in such a garb it continued long after, with this
modification, that it was represented by two citizens politely bowing to
each other. The Salutation Tavern in Billingsgate shows it thus on its
trades token, and so it was represented by the Salutation Tavern in
Newgate Street, (an engraving of which sign may still be seen in the
parlour of that old established house.) At present it is mostly rendered
by two hands conjoined, as at the Salutation Hotel, Perth, where a label
is added with the words, “You’re welcome to the city.” That Salutation
Tavern in Billingsgate was a famous place in Ben Jonson’s time; it is
named in “Bartholomew Fayre” as one of the houses where there had been
“Great sale and utterance of wine,
Besides beere and ale, and ipocras fine.”
During the civil war there was a Salutation Tavern in Holborn, in which
the following ludicrous incident happened,--if we may believe the
Royalist papers:--
“A hotte combat lately happened at the Salutation Taverne in Holburne,
where some of the Commonwealth vermin, called soldiers, had seized on
an Amazonian Virago, named Mrs Strosse, upon suspicion of being a
loyalist, and selling the Man in the Moon; but shee, by applying
beaten pepper to their eyes, disarmed them, and with their own swordes
forced them to aske her forgiveness; and down on their mary bones, and
pledge a health to the king, and confusion to their masters, and so
honourablie dismissed them. Oh! for twenty thousand such gallant
spirits; when you see that one woman can beat two or three.”[387]
At the end of the last century there was a Salutation Tavern in
Tavistock Row, called also “Mr Bunch’s,” which was one of the elegant
haunts, patronised by “the first gentleman of Europe,” otherwise the
Prince Regent. Lord Surrey and Sheridan were generally his associates in
these _escapades_. The trio went under the pseudonyms of Blackstock,
Greystock, and Thinstock, and disguised in bob wigs and smockfrocks. The
night’s entertainment generally concluded with thrashing the “Charlies,”
wrenching off knockers, breaking down signboards, and not unfrequently
with being taken to the roundhouse.
The Salutation in Newgate Street, some time called the SALUTATION AND
CAT, (a combination of two signs,) was haunted by many of the great
authors of the last century. There is a _poetical_ invitation extant to
a social feast held at this tavern, January 19, 1735/6, issued by the
two stewards, Edward Cave (of the _Gentleman’s Magazine_,) and William
Bowyer, the antiquary and printer:--
“Saturday, January 17, 1735/6.
“SIR,
You’re desired on Monday next to meet,
At _Salutation Tavern_, Newgate Street,
Supper will be on table just at eight.
(Stewards) one of St John, [Bowyer,] t’other of St John’s Gate,
[Cave.]”
Richardson the novelist was one of the _invités_. He returned a poetical
answer, too long to quote at length: the following is part of it:--
“For me, I’m much concern’d I cannot meet
At _Salutation Tavern_, Newgate Street.
Your notice, like your verse, (so sweet and short!)
If longer I’d sincerely thank’d you for it.
Howev’r, receive my wishes, sons of verse!
May every man who meets your praise rehearse!
May mirth as plenty crown your cheerful board!
And every one part happy, ---- as a lord!
That when at home by such sweet verses fir’d,
Your families may think you all inspir’d.
So wishes he, who, pre-engag’d can’t know
The pleasures that would from your meeting flow.”
In this tavern Coleridge the poet, in one of his melancholy moods, lived
for some time in seclusion, until found out by Southey, and persuaded by
him to return to his usual mode of life. Sir T. N. Talfourd, in his Life
of Charles Lamb, informs us that here Coleridge was in the habit of
meeting Lamb when in town on a visit from the University. Christ’s
Hospital, their old school, was within a few paces of the place:--
“When Coleridge quitted the University and came to town, full of
mantling hopes and glorious schemes, Lamb became his admiring
disciple. The scene of these happy meetings was a little public-house
called the _Salutation and Cat_, in the neighbourhood of Smithfield,
where they used to sup, and remain long after they had ‘heard the
chimes of midnight.’ There they discoursed of Bowles, who was the god
of Coleridge’s poetical idolatry, and of Burns and Cowper, who of
recent poets--in that season of comparative barrenness--had made the
deepest impression on Lamb; there Coleridge talked of ‘fate,
free-will, foreknowledge absolute,’ to one who desired ‘to find no
end’ of the golden maze; and there he recited his early poems with
that deep sweetness of intonation which sunk into the heart of his
hearers. To these meetings Lamb was accustomed, at all periods of his
life, to revert, as the season when his finer intellects were
quickened into action. Shortly after they had terminated, with
Coleridge’s departure from London, he thus recalled them in a
letter:--‘When I read in your little volume your nineteenth effusion,
or what you call “The Sigh,” I think I hear _you_ again. I imagine to
myself the little smoky room at the _Salutation and Cat_, where we
have sat together through the winter nights, beguiling the cares of
life with poesy.’ This was early in 1769, and in 1818, when dedicating
his works--then first collected--to his earliest friend, he thus spoke
of the same meetings:--’Some of the sonnets, which shall be carelessly
turned over by the general reader, may happily awaken in you
remembrances which I should be sorry should be ever totally
extinct--the memory “of summer days and of delightful years,” even so
far back as those old suppers at our old inn--when life was fresh and
topics exhaustless--and you first kindled in me, if not the power, yet
the love of poetry, and beauty, and kindliness.’”
The ANGEL was derived from the Salutation, for that it originally
represented the angel appearing to the Holy Virgin at the Salutation or
Annunciation, is evident from the fact that, even as late as the
seventeenth century on nearly all the trades tokens of houses with this
sign, the Angel is represented with a scroll in his hands; and this
scroll we know, from the evidence of paintings and prints, to contain
the words addressed by the angel to the Holy Virgin: “Ave Maria, gratia
plena, Dominus tecum.” Probably at the Reformation it was considered too
Catholic a sign, and so the Holy Virgin was left out, and the angel only
retained. Among the famous houses with this sign, the well-known
starting-place of the Islington omnibuses stands foremost. It is said to
have been an established inn upwards of two hundred years. The old house
was pulled down in 1819; till that time it had preserved all the
features of a large country inn, a long front, overhanging tiled roof,
with a square inn-yard having double galleries supported by columns and
carved pilasters, with caryatides and other ornaments. It is more than
probable that it had often been used as a place for dramatic
entertainments at the period when inn-yards were customarily employed
for such purposes. “Even so late as fifty years since it was customary
for travellers approaching London, to remain all night at the Angel Inn,
Islington, rather than venture after dark to prosecute their journey
along ways which were almost equally dangerous from their bad state, and
their being so greatly infested with thieves.”[388] On the other hand,
persons walking from the city to Islington in the evening, waited near
the end of John Street, in what is now termed Northampton Street, (but
was then a rural avenue planted with trees,) until a sufficient party
had collected, who were then escorted by an armed patrol appointed for
that purpose. Another old tavern with this sign is extant in London,
behind St Clement’s Church in the Strand. To this house Bishop Hooper
was taken by the Guards, on his way to Gloucester, where he went to be
burnt, in January 1555. The house, until lately, preserved much of its
ancient aspect: it had a pointed gable, galleries, and a lattice in the
passage. This inn is named in the following curious advertisement:--
“To be sold, a Black Girl, the property of J. B----, eleven years of
age, who is extremely handy, works at her needle tolerably, and speaks
French perfectly well; is of excellent temper and willing disposition.
Inquire of W. Owen, at the _Angel Inn_, behind St Clement’s Church, in
the Strand.”--_Publick Advertiser_, March 28, 1769.
Older than either of these is the Angel Inn, at Grantham. This building
was formerly in the possession of the Knights Templars, and still
retains many remains of its former beauty, particularly the gateway,
with the heads of Edward III. and his queen Philippa of Hainault on
either side of the arch; the soffits of the windows are elegantly
groined, and the parapet of the front is very beautiful. Kings have been
entertained in this house; but it seemed to bring ill luck to them, for
the reigns of those that are recorded as having been guests in it, stand
forth in history as disturbed by violent storms--King John held his
court in it on February 23, 1213; King Richard III. on October 19, 1483;
and King Charles I. visited it May 17, 1633.
Ben Jonson, it is said, used to visit a tavern with the sign of the
Angel, at Basingstoke, kept by a Mrs Hope, whose daughter’s name was
Prudence. On one of his journeys, finding that the house had changed
both sign and mistresses, Ben wrote the following smart but not very
elegant epigram:--
“When _Hope_ and _Prudence_ kept this house, the _Angel_ kept the
door,
Now _Hope_ is dead, the _Angel_ fled, and _Prudence_ turned a w----.”
The Angel was the sign of one of the first coffee-houses in England, for
Anthony Wood tells us that, “in 1650 Jacob, a Jew, opened a coffee-house
at the Angel, in the parish of St Peter, Oxon; and there it [coffee] was
by some, who delight in noveltie, drank.” Finally, there was an Angel
Tavern in Smithfield, where the famous Joe Miller, of joking fame--a
comic actor by profession--used to play during Bartholomew Fair time. A
playbill of 1722 informs the public in large letters that--
“MILLER is not with PINKETHMAN, but by himself, AT THE ANGEL TAVERN,
next door to the King’s Bench, who acts a new Droll, called the
FAITHFUL COUPLE OR THE ROYAL SHEPHERDESS, with a very pleasant
entertainment between OLD HOB and his WIFE, and the comical humours of
MOPSY and COLLIN, with a variety of singing and dancing.
“The only Comedian now that dare,
Vie with the world and challenge the Fair.”
In France, also, the sign of the Angel is and was at all times, very
common. The Hotel de _l’Ange_, Rue de la Huchette, appears to have been
the best hotel in Paris in the sixteenth century. It was frequently
visited by foreign ambassadors: those sent by Emperor Maximilian to
Louis XII. took up their abode here; so did the ambassadors from Angus,
King of Achaia, who, in 1552, came to see France, much in the same way
as various ambassadors from all sorts of high and low latitudes
occasionally honour our Court with a visit. Chapelle, a French poet of
the seventeenth century, thus celebrates a tavern with this sign in
Paris, frequented by the wits of the period:--
“Je n’ay pas vu vostre theâtre
Qu’aussitot je ressors de là,
Pour un Ange que j’idolâtre,
A cause du bon vin qu’il a.”[389]
There being, then, such a profusion of Angels everywhere, it became
necessary to make some distinctions, and the usual means were adopted;
the Angel was gilded, and called the GOLDEN ANGEL; this, for instance,
was the sign of Ellis Gamble, a goldsmith in Cranbourn Alley, Hogarth’s
master in the art of engraving on silver; shop-bills engraved for this
house by Hogarth are still in existence. Another variety was the
GUARDIAN ANGEL, which is still the sign of an ale-house at Yarmouth.
This, too, was used in France, as we find _l’Ange Gardien_, the sign of
Pierre Witte, a bookseller in the Rue St Jacques, Paris, in the
seventeenth century.
Very common, also, were the THREE ANGELS, which may have been intended
for the three angels that appeared to Abraham, or simply the favourite
combination of three,[390] so frequent on the signboard and in
heraldry. That three angels were thought to possess mysterious power, is
evident from the following Devonshire charm for a burn:--
“Three Angels came from the north, east, and west,
One brought fire, another ice,
And the third brought the Holy Ghost,
So out fire--and in frost--
In the name of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.”
The THREE ANGELS was a very general linen-draper’s sign, for which there
seems no reason other than that the long flowing garments in which they
are generally represented, suggest their having been good customers to
the drapery business.
Angels appear in combination with various heterogenous objects, in many
of which, however, the so-called Angel is simply a Cupid. The ANGEL AND
BIBLE was a sign in the Poultry in 1680.[391] The ANGEL AND CROWN was a
not uncommon tavern decoration. The following stanza from a pamphlet,
entitled, “The Quack Vintners,” London, 1712, p. 18, shows the way in
which this sign was represented:--
“May Harry’s ANGEL be a sign he draws
Angelick nectar, that deserves applause,
Such that may make the city love the Throne,
And, like his _Angel_, still _support the Crown_.”
From this we learn it was a Cupid or Amorino supporting a crown; the
sign of the house had doubtless originally been the Crown, and the
Cupid, so common in the Renaissance style, had been added by way of
ornament, but was mistaken by the public as a constituent of the sign.
The verses probably applied to the Angel and Crown, a famous tavern in
Broad Street, behind the Royal Exchange. There was another ANGEL AND
CROWN in Islington, where convivial dinners were held in the olden time.
It was a common practice in the last and preceding centuries for the
natives of a county or parish to meet once a year and dine together. The
ceremony often commenced by a sermon, preached by a native, after which
the day was spent in pleasant conviviality, after-dinner speeches, and
mutual congratulations. The custom now has almost died out; but this is
one of the invitation tickets:
ST MARY, ISLINGTON.
SIR,
You are desidered to meet many other NATIVES of this place on Tuesday
y^{e} 11th day of April 1738 at Mrs Eliz. Grimstead’s y^{e} ANGEL AND
CROWN, in y^{e} Upper Street, about y^{e} hour of One; Then and there
w^{th} FULL DISHES, GOOD WINE AND GOOD HUMOUR to improve and make
lasting that HARMONY and FRIENDSHIP which have so long reigned among
us.
_Walter Sebbon._
_John Booth._
_Bourchier Durrell._
_James Sebbon._
STEWARDS.
N.B. THE DINNER will be on the table peremptorily at Two.
_Pray pay the Bearer Five Shillings._
That same year, another Angel and Crown Tavern in Shire Lane obtained an
unenviable notoriety, for it was there that a Mr Quarrington was
murdered and robbed by Thomas Carr, an attorney from the Temple, and
Elisabeth Adams. They were hanged at Tyburn, January 18, 1738.
The ANGEL AND GLOVES at first sight seems a whimsical combination, but
is easily explained when we advert to the woodcut above the shop-bill of
Isaac Dalvy, in Little Newport Street, Soho, who, in the reign of Queen
Anne, sold gloves, &c., under this sign, which simply represented two
Cupids, each carrying a glove,--in fact, exactly the same conceit as
that of the Herculanese shoemaker, noticed in a former chapter. It is
more difficult to find a rational explanation for the ANGEL AND
STILLIARDS. The Steelyard, or Stilliard, in Upper Thames Street, was the
place where the Hanse merchants exposed their goods for sale, and was so
called from the king’s _steelyard_, or _beam_, there erected for
weighing the tonnage of goods imported into London.[392] Whether this
sign represented a Cupid with such a weighing machine, or a view of the
hall of the Hanse merchants, with a Fame flying over it, is now
impossible to decide. It may be suggested that a variation of the
well-known figure of Justice, with steelyards in place of the usual
scales, was the origin. Be this as it may, the only mention we have
found of the sign is in the following advertisement:--
“William Deval, at the ANGEL & STILLIARDS, in St Ann’s Lane, near
Aldersgate, London, maketh Castle (Castille), Marble, and white Sope
as good as any Marseilles Sope; Tryed and Proved and sold at very
Reasonable Rates.”[393]--_Domestic Intelligencer_, January 2d, 1679.
A few years later we find the ANGEL AND STILL noticed, as in the
following advertisement:--
“A well-set NEGRO, commonly called Sugar, aged about twenty years,
teeth broke before, and several scars in both his cheeks and forehead,
having absented from his Master, whosoever secures him and gives
notice to Benjamin Maynard, at the ANGEL AND STILL, at Deptford, shall
have a Guinea Reward and reasonable charges.”--_Weekly Journal_,
October 18, 1718.
In this case the still was simply added to intimate the sale of
spirituous liquors.
The ANGEL AND SUN, apparently a combination of two signs, is named as a
shop or tavern near Strandbridge, in 1663,[394] and is still the name of
a public-house in the Strand. The ANGEL AND WOOLPACK, at Bolton, is the
same sign which, near London Bridge, is called the NAKED BOY AND
WOOLPACK. A woolpack, with a negro seated on it, was at one time very
common; for a change or distinction, this negro underwent the reputed
impossible process of being washed white, and thus became a naked boy,
which, in signboard phraseology, is equivalent to an angel.
The VIRGIN was unquestionably a very common sign before the Reformation,
and it may be met with even at the present day, as, for instance, at
Ebury Hill, Worcester, and in various other places. In France it was,
and is still, much more common than in England, as might be expected.
Tallemant des Réaux tells of a miraculous tavern sign of NOTRE DAME, on
the bridge of that name, in Paris, which was observed by the faithful to
cry and shed tears, probably on account of the bad company she had to
harbour. It was taken down by order of the archbishop. At the end of the
seventeenth century there was, in the Rue de la Seine, Paris, a quack
doctor, who pretended to cure a great variety of complaints. He put up a
holy Virgin for his sign, with the words, “REFUGIUM PECCATORUM,” which
is one of the usual epithets of the holy Virgin in the Roman Catholic
Church service, very wittily, although profanely, applied in this
instance. The sign of the Virgin was also called OUR LADY, as: “Newe
Inne was a guest Inne, the sign whereof was the picture of our Lady, and
thereupon it was also called _Our Lady’s_ Inne.”[395] OUR LADY OF PITY
was the sign of Johan Redman, a bookseller in Paternoster Row, in 1542.
Johan Byddell, also a bookseller, had introduced this sign in the
beginning of that century. This Byddell, or Bedel, (who lived in Fleet
Street, next to Fleet Bridge,) had evidently borrowed it from a nearly
similar figure in Corio’s History of Milan, 1505. He afterwards lived at
the SUN, in Fleet Street, the house formerly occupied by Wynkyn de
Worde.
The prevalence of the BAPTIST’S HEAD probably dated from the time when
pilgrimages across the sea were considered good works, and the head of
St John the Baptist at Amiens Cathedral came in for a large share of
visits from English worshippers. The old monkish writers say that in 448
after Christ, the head was found in Jerusalem; in 1206 it was
transferred to Amiens, where it was kept in a salver of gold, surrounded
with a rim of pearls and precious stones.[396] Various other reasons may
be adduced for the prevalence of this sign, as the conspicuous place
occupied by St John in the Roman Catholic hagiology, and hence in
mediæval plays and mysteries; the festivities of Midsummer, (a day of
great moment in London for setting the watch;) and, finally, his being
the patron saint of the Knights of Jerusalem. It was doubtless in
compliment to those knights that the Baptist’s Head in St John’s Lane,
Clerkenwell, was named. This house seems to be the remainder of some
noble mansion of Queen Elizabeth’s time; it contains many Elizabethan
ornaments, particularly a chimney-piece, with the coats of arms of the
Radcliff and Forster families. When the house was adapted to its present
purpose, it was distinguished by the head of St John the Baptist in a
charger, now gone. Doctor Johnson is said to have been an occasional
visitor here, when returning from Edward Cave’s, the editor of the
_Gentleman’s Magazine_, whose office was close by at St John’s Gate.
Goldsmith is also reported to have made frequent calls here, when
business of a similar nature led him to the same spot. In later years it
became the _house of call_ of the prisoners on their way to the new
prison in the parish--a circumstance commemorated by Dodd in the “Old
Bailey Registers.” Another St John’s Head is mentioned by Stow in the
following accident:--
“The 11th of July (1553) Gilbert Pot, drawer to Ninion Saunders,
vintner, dwelling at St John’s Head within Ludgate, who was accused by
the said Saunders, his maister, was set on the pillory in Cheape, with
both his ears nailed and cleane cut off, for wordes speaking at the
time of the proclamation of Lady Jane; at which execution was a
trumpet bloune and a herault in his coat of armes redd his offence, in
presence of William Garrard, one of the Sheriffes of London. About 5
of the clocke the same day, in the afternoone, Ninion Saunders, master
to the said Gilbert Pot, and John Owen, a gunmaker, both gunners of
the Tower, comming from the Tower of London by water in a whirrie and
shooting London Bridge, towards the Black Fryers, were drowned at S.
Mary Loch[397] and the whirry-man saved by their oars.”
To this same saint also refers the JOHN OF JERUSALEM, a sign at the
present day in Rosoman Street, Clerkenwell, put up, like the Baptist
Head, in remembrance of the Knights of St John of Jerusalem, who
formerly had their priory in this locality.
In France this sign was equally common. Jean Carcain, one of the early
Parisian publishers and printers, (1487,) adopted it for his shop. One
of his books has the following quaint impress:--
“Parisii Sancti Pons est Michaelis in Urbe;
Multae illic aedes; notior una tamen;
Hanc cano, quae _Sacri Baptistae fronte_ notata est
Hic respondebit Bibliopola tibi;
Vis impressoris nomen quoque nosse? Joannis
Carcain nomen ei est. Ne pete plura, Vale.”[398]
It was an old signboard jocularity in France to represent St John the
Baptist by a monkey with cambric (_batiste_) ruffles and wristbands,
(_singe en batiste_.) From the parables the sign of the GOOD SAMARITAN
was borrowed, which, even at the present day, may be seen in Turner
Street, Whitechapel; Grimshaw Park, Blackburn, &c. When barbers combined
with their trade the practice of letting blood--otherwise than by “easy
shaving,”--of drawing teeth, and setting bones, they frequently adopted
this sign. In the seventeenth century, a barber-surgeon at Leeuwarden,
in Holland, wrote under his device of the Good Samaritan the following
poetical effusion:--
“Gelyk den Wyn, fyn,
Dryft zorgen uit der herten
Zoo geneest Medicyn, pyn,
En ontlast van Smarten.”[399]
The SAMARITAN WOMAN (_la Samaritaine_) is the French version of our
JACOB’S WELL, and was a common sign in Paris; everybody knows the Bains
de la Samaritaine, in which the luxurious Parisian indulges in a _fresh_
water bath in his Seine, which at that place is about as clear as the
Thames at Blackwall. In the Rue Caquerel at Rouen there is a stone
bas-relief of the Samaritan woman at the well, with the date 1580.
Jacques Dupuy, a bookseller in the Rue St Jacques, also used the
Samaritan woman as his sign, evidently because it was a subject in which
he could introduce a well, and so have the satisfaction of punning on
his name. This kind of pun was none the less relished for being
far-fetched; thus there is a stone bas-relief in the Rue Froid, at Caen,
of the MIRACULOUS DRAUGHT OF FISHES, (_la Pêche Miraculeuse_,) which, in
the early part of the seventeenth century, was placed there by a
bookseller of the name of Poisson, (Fish,) who, being an “odd fish,”
adopted this sign as a pun on his own name. At the present day, the
house is still inhabited by a bookseller of the same name and family.
Christ’s Passion does not seem to have suggested any signs in England,
although the great symbol of His death, the CROSS, was comparatively
common. In Paris there was, in 1640, a bookseller, George Josse, in the
Rue St Jacques, who had the CROWN OF THORNS (_la Couronne d’Epine_) for
his sign, probably on account of the original Crown of Thorns being one
of the relics kept at Paris. Coryatt’s remarks on this relic are rather
amusing:--
“They report in Paris that the Thorny Crown, wherewith Christ was
crowned on the Crosse, is kept in the Palace, which vpon Corpus
Christi Day, in the afternoone, was publickly shewed, as some told me;
but it was not my chance to see it. Truely, I wonder to see the
contrarieties amongst the Papists, and most ridiculous varieties
concerning their reliques, but especially about this of Christ’s
Thorny Crowne. For whereas I was after that at the Citie of Vicenza in
Italy, it was told me that in the monastery of the Dominican Fryers of
that Citie, this Crowne was kept, which Saint Lewes, King of France,
bestowed upon his brother Bartholomew, Bishop of Vicenza, and before
one of the Dominican family. Wherefore I went to the Dominican
Monastery and made suit to see it, but I had the repulse; for they
told me that it was kept vnder three or four lockes, and neuer shewed
to any by any favour whatsoeuer, but only upon Corpus Christi Day. If
this Crowne of Paris, whereof they so much bragge, be true, that of
Vicenza is false. Ho! the truth and certainty of Papistical
reliques.”[400]
CROSSES of various colours were probably amongst the first signs put up
by the newly-converted Christians, (as soon as they could effect this
with impunity,) on account of the recommendation of the early fathers,
and for their beneficial influence. Father Lactantius, who lived in the
fourth century, writes--“As Christ, whilst He lived amongst men, put the
devils to flight by His words, and restored those to their senses whom
these evil spirits had possessed; so now His followers in the name of
their Master, and by the sign of His passion, even exercise the same
dominion over them.” St Ephrem says--“_Let us paint and imprint on our
doors_ the life-giving cross; thus defended no evil will hurt you.” St
Chrysostom says the same--“_Wherefore let us with earnestness impress
this cross on our houses, and on our walls, and our windows._” St Cyril
of Alexandria introduces the Emperor Julian the apostate saying, “You
Christians adore the wood of the cross, _you engrave it on the porches
of your houses_,” &c. Hence the still prevalent custom in Roman Catholic
places of painting crosses on the walls of houses, to drive away
witches, as it is said; and these crosses being painted in different
colours, might easily serve as a sign by which to designate the house.
At the Crusades the popularity of this emblem increased: a red cross was
the badge of the Crusader, and would be put up as a sign by men who had
been to the Holy Land, or wished to court the patronage of those on
their way thither. Finally, the different orders of knighthood settled
each upon a particular colour as their distinctive mark. Thus the
knights of St John wore _white crosses_, the Templars _red crosses_, the
knights of St Lazarus _green crosses_, the Teutonic knights _black
crosses_, embroidered with gold, &c. But the most common in England was
the _red cross_, which was the cross of St George, and also of the red
cross knights, who acted as a sort of police on the roads between Europe
and the Holy Land to protect pilgrims. This badge, therefore, could not
fail to be very popular.
In France it used to be, and in all probability is still, a common rebus
to see _le signe de la croix_ represented by a swan with a cross on his
back, (_cygne de la croix_.)
Only very few signs of the cross are now remaining. The GOLDEN CROSS in
the Strand is one of these, and has been in that locality for centuries.
It was one of the first upon which the Puritans brooked their ill-humour
and hatred of popery; for in 1643 it was taken down by order of a
committee from the House of Commons, as “superstitious and idolatrous.”
This was the precursor of the fall of old Charing Cross itself. The
sign, however, was put up again at the Restoration, and figures
prominently in Canaletti’s well-known view of Charing Cross, in the
Northumberland Collection. The tavern was probably pulled down at the
formation of Trafalgar Square.
At a point on the road between Dunchurch and Daventry, where three roads
meet, there was formerly an inn with the sign of the THREE CROSSES, in
allusion to the three roads. Swift, in one of his pedestrian excursions,
happened to stop at that inn. Not being very elegantly dressed, and
rather importunate to be served, the landlady told him that she could
not leave her customers for “such as he,” upon which the Dean, who was
not the most modest, nor the most patient of men, wrote the following
epigram on one of the windows:--
“TO THE LANDLORD.
There hang three crosses at thy door,
Hang up thy wife and she’ll make four.”
The RESURRECTION was the sign of John Day, a bookseller, who, in the
reign of Queen Elizabeth, dwelt in St Sepulchre’s parish, a little above
Holbourne Conduit. It was a sort of conundrum or charade on his name,
which was carried out by his colophon, representing a man asleep, who is
wakened by another with the words, “Arise, for it is _day_.” This,
although somewhat profane, according to our present notions of such
things, was nothing strange in a time when the people, though
Protestants by name, were still strongly imbued with Roman Catholic
ideas. John Cawoode, also a printer and publisher of St Paul’s
Churchyard in 1558, had a still more profane sign--viz., the HOLY GHOST.
And this even continued till the beginning of the seventeenth century,
for in 1602 we find this identical sign used by another printer, William
Leake, who was probably his successor, and published in that year
Shakespeare’s “Venus and Adonis.” Worse still was the sign of another
bookseller in St Paul’s Churchyard in 1520, which was the
_Trinity_.[401] We must bear in mind, however, that in Roman Catholic
countries conversation upon matters of religion is not nearly so strict
and guarded as amongst believers in Protestant nations. An amusing
instance of this once occurred to the writer in Jerusalem, the great
head-quarters of Christianity. Usually the pilgrims or travellers
staying at the Latin convent there, which serves as an hotel, dine all
together in a kind of _table-d’hôte_ fashion; but for some reason it so
fell out that our party one day dined in private. The holy brother who
attended us happened to be a Spaniard, and as we had visited that
country, and were tolerably acquainted with Valladolid, his native town,
worldly recollections began to overcome the sanctity of the good monk,
and he became inexhaustible in reminiscences of his younger days. Whilst
talking with him, and refreshing ourselves with a meal of salad, grown
in the garden of Gethsemane, we had indulged in two tumblers of a pithy
white wine, quite strong enough to justify our resisting the pressing
invitations of the reverend butler to take a third glass; but the jovial
monk was not to be beaten, and finally convinced us with the following
argument: “Oh come, brother, you must take another glass, remember you
are in Jerusalem, and so take one for the Father, one for the Son, and
one for the Holy Ghost!”
Although the English ale and refreshment houses continue to select fresh
signs from the notabilities of the hour, the Palmerston’s Head and the
Gladstone Arms for instance, they rarely choose anything of a religious
or devotional cast. One instance, however, occurs to us, and that in the
neighbourhood of London, which deserves mention. In Kentish Town, under
the Hampstead hills, the noisiest and most objectionable public-house in
the district bears the significant sign of the GOSPEL OAK. It is the
favourite resort of navvies and quarrelsome shoemakers, and took its
name, not from any inclination to piety on the part of the landlord, but
from an old oak tree in the neighbourhood, near the boundary line of
Hampstead and St Pancras parishes, a relic of the once general custom of
reading a portion of the gospel under certain trees in the parish
perambulations, equivalent to “beating the bounds.” “The boundaries and
township of the parish of Wolverhampton are,” says Shaw, in his “History
of Staffordshire,” (vol. ii., p. 165,) “in many points marked out by
what are called _Gospel Trees_;” and Herrick, in his “Hesperides,” (Ed.
1859, p. 26,) says:--
“Dearest, bury me
Under that _holy oak_, or _gospel tree_;
Where, though thou see’st not, thou may’st think upon
Me, when _thou yeerly go’st procession_.”
The old Kentish Town Gospel Oak was removed a short time since, but not
until it had given a name to the surrounding fields, to a village, (Oak
village,) and to a chapel, as well as to the public-house alluded to.
[366] New Essays and Characters, by John Stephens the younger, of
Lincoln’s Inn, Gent. London, 1631, p. 221.
[367] Randle Holme, “Academy of Armour and Blazon,” p. 52.
[368] _Postman_, Feb. 1-3, 1711.
[369] “Notandum quoq. eius (pavonis) carnem quod D. Augustinus quoq.,
lib. xxi. de civitate Dei, cap. iii., et Isidorus, lib. xii., affirmant
non putrescere.”--_Camerarius, Centur._, iii. 20, 1697. How to make this
agree with Skelton’s idea it is not very easy to explain--
“Then sayd the Pecocke,
All ye well wot,
I sing not musycal,
For my breast is decay’d.”--_Skelton’s Armory of Birds._
[370] See Fosbrooke’s Encyclopædia of Antiquities, vol. ii., p. 673.
[371] For particulars of Topham, the Strong Man, see under HISTORICAL
SIGNS.
[372] This statement is made on the authority of Hone, in his “Ancient
Mysteries.” Doubts, however, have been expressed as to the accuracy of
his data upon this particular subject.
[373] Diary of John Evelyn, Feb. 3, 1684.
[374] Bagford Collection, Bib. Harl., 5931.
[375]
“The wood is cut in order to be burned,
Therefore is this Abraham’s sacrifice.”
[376] JACOB’S INN is mentioned by Hatton, 1708, “on the east side of Red
Cross Street near the middle.”
[377] “Amusements for the Meridian of London,” 1706.
[378]
“Moses was found in the water.
Whosoever purchases his bread here shall have yeast for nought,
Besides a currant-loaf at Easter, and a spice-cake at Christmas time.”
[379] “A Step to Stirbitch Fair,” 1708.
[380] Randle Holme, B. ii., ch. xviii.
[381] _Weekly Journal_, August 4, 1722.
[382]
“Though Samson by his strength could overcome the lion,
Defeat the Philistines and master the foxes,
Yet a woman deprived him of his sight;
Never, therefore, believe a woman unless she has no head.”
This alludes to the GOOD WOMAN, described elsewhere in this work.
Samson’s history was not only painted on the signboard, but also sung in
ballads, “to the tune of the Spanish Pavin.” Amongst the Roxburgh
ballads (vol. i. fol. 366) there is one entitled “A most excellent and
famous ditty of Sampson, judge of Israel, how hee wedded a Philistyne’s
daughter, who at length forsooke him; also how hee slew a lyon and
propounded a riddle, and after how hee was falsely betrayed by Dalila,
and of his death.”
[383] See Bibliographia Britannica, voce Golias, and Wright’s History of
Caricature.
[384]
“Like to the hart which comes to the water brook to refresh himself,
So you enter my house to quench your thirst.”
[385] The first six words are literally the beginning of the psalm in
the Dutch version,--
“Like a hart the hunt escaped, wishes for the limpid water brooks,
So there is here tobacco, beer, and brandy for sale to strengthen the
stomach.”
[386] For the true origin of this sign, see under MISCELLANEOUS SIGNS.
[387] A Royalist paper, entitled, “The Man in the Moon discovering a
world of wickedness under the Sun,” July 4, 1649.
[388] Cromwell’s History of Clerkenwell, p. 32.
[389] “As soon as I had seen your theatre I left it, to go to an Angel
whom I adore on account of his good wine.”
[390] Even in the most remote periods of history _three_ was considered
a mystic number, and regarded with reverence. The Assyrians had their
triads. In Ancient Egypt every town or district had its own triad, which
it worshipped, and which was a union of certain attributes, the third
member proceeding from the other two. Sir Gardiner Wilkinson, in his
“Ancient Egyptians,” vol. iv., ch. xii., p. 230, mentions a stone with
the words “one Bail, one Athor, one Akori, hail father of the world,
hail triformous God.” Thoms, in his “Dissertation on Ancient Chinese
Vases,” says:--“The Chinese have a remarkable preference for the number
three; they say one produced two, two produced three, and three produced
all things. There is something remarkable in this last phrase; perhaps
it conveys an indistinct idea of the Trinity. The Buddhists, who are of
modern date in China, use the term ‘the three precious ones’--‘the Deity
that has ruled, the ruling Deity, and the Deity that shall rule.’ The
Taore sect have also their ‘three pure ones.’ The number three has many
associations, as the three bonds--a prince and minister, father and son,
husband and wife; the three superintendents--the treasurer, judge, and
collector of customs; the three powers--heaven, earth, and man,” &c. In
the Hindoo religion combinations of three are equally frequent: they
have several trimustis or trinities; three principal deities, Brahma,
Vishnu, and Mahadeva; another triad is Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva, or
matter, spirit, and destruction; there are three plaited locks on the
head of Radha, representing a mystical union of three principal rivers,
Ganges, Yamuna, and Sarawati. Siva has three eyes; the sun is called
three-bodied; the triangle with the Hindoos is a favourite type for the
triune co-equality, hence the pentagram (a figure composed of two
equilateral triangles, placed with the apex of the one towards the base
of the other, and so forming six triangles by the intersections of their
sides) is in great favour with them; further, they use three mystic
letters to denote their deity; have 3 × 7 hells, (seven is also a mystic
number with them and other ancient races,) and many other combinations
of three. The same preference for this number is observable in the Greek
and Roman mythology, which mentions three theocraties, three graces,
three fates, three harpies, three syrens, three heads of Cerberus, three
eggs of Leda, &c. And, taking 3 as a unit, 3 × 3 muses, 3 × 4 principal
gods, (Dii Majores,) 3 × 4 labours of Hercules, &c.
[391] _London Gazette_, Nov 8 to 11, 1680.
[392] Cunningham’s Handbook to London, p. 470.
[393] Soap, wax, tallow, and similar articles were part of the
merchandise in which the Hanse merchants dealt.
[394] _Kingdom’s Intelligencer_, April 6-13, 1663.
[395] Stow’s Survey of London.
[396] See a woodcut of an Amiens pilgrim’s token in the Journal of Brit.
Arch. Assoc., vol. i., Oct. 1848; also a detailed account of this
venerable relic in Coryatt’s Crudities vol. i, p. 17.
[397] Name of one of the arches of old London Bridge.
[398]
“In the town of Paris there is a bridge named St Michael,
On which there are many houses; but one of them is more known than the
others.
That is the house I mean, which is known by the sign of the Baptist
Head.
There the bookseller will answer you.
Would you also like to know the name of the printer? John
Carcain is his name. Now, do not ask any more. Farewell.”
[399]
“Like wine, fine,
Driveth away care;
So medicine cureth pain,
And delivers us from suffering.”
[400] Coryatt’s Crudities, vol i., p. 41.
[401] From his colophon we see that the Trinity on his sign was
represented by a triangle with a circle at each angle, respectively
containing the words PATER, FILIUS, SPIRITUS, and, between the circles,
on each of the sides of the triangle, the words NON EST, a mystical way
of representing the Trinity, very common in the middle ages.