SAINTS, MARTYRS, ETC.
At the end of the last chapter we spoke of the profane application of
some of the most sacred things to signboard purposes. In France this was
still worse than in England. That amusing gossip, Tallemant des Réaux,
in his “Contes et Historiettes,” tells us how an innkeeper of the Rue
Montmartre, in Paris, put up for his sign the GOD’S HEAD, (_la Tête
Dieu_,) and notwithstanding all the efforts of the curé of St Eustache
to make him take it down he would not comply until compelled by the
magistrates. Though two centuries have elapsed, the French of the
present day are not much better; for in Paris, in the Rue Mondétour,
there is actually a café known as the NOM DE JESUS.
Boursault, a clever writer of the time of Louis XIV., whose indignant
letter about the Royal Arms we have noticed in a former chapter,
addressed a letter to Bizoton, one of the police magistrates, in which
he vents his anger at some of the religious signs, and complains of the
profanity of a lodging-house with the sign of the ANNUNCIATION in the
Rue de la Huchette, in which there were as many rogues and reprobates as
there were honest lodgers. Amongst the signs that shocked him most he
names _le Saint Esprit_, (the Holy Ghost,) _la Trinité_, (the Trinity,)
_l’Image Notre Dame_, &c.; but particularly one, representing Christ
taken prisoner, with the profane motto, “_Au juste prix_.” This contains
a blasphemous pun,--_juste prix_ at once signifying a _fixed price_, and
“just caught.” The sign was set up at a little ordinary in a lane
between the Rue St Honoré and the Rue Richelieu. And, though Boursault
says in his letter that he had so fumed and thundered against the
landlord that he had taken it down, yet it made its appearance again
afterwards, and was handed down to our time, since not many years ago it
might have been observed in the Cour du Dragon, above the shop of an
ironmonger.
Saints are still in full feather on the signboards in Roman Catholic
countries. Amongst hundreds of others the following may be seen in Paris
on cafés and hotels in the present day:--St Barbe, St Christophe, St
Eustache, St Joseph, St Laurent, St Marie, St Louis, St Merri, St
Michel, St Paul, St Phar, St Pierre, St Quentin, St Roc, St Thomas
d’Aquin, St Vincent de Paul, &c., &c.
A curious French sign is mentioned by Coryatt, which he saw at Amiens.
“I lay at the signe of the AVE MARIA, where I read these two verses,
written in golden letters upon the linterne of the doore, at the entry
into the Inne. This in Greeke, Της φιλοξενιας μη ἐπιλανϐανεσθε, that is,
Forget not your good entertainment; and this in Latine, HOSPITIBUS HIC
TUTA FIDES.”[402]
Saints were formerly very common on signboards, and this abuse also was
wittily ridiculed by the pungent satire of Artus Desiré, a French poet
of the fifteenth century:--
“En leur logis plein de vers et de teignes,
Où est logé le grand diable d’enfer,
Mettent de Dieu et de saints les enseignes,
Leurs ditz logis où n’y a que desroys.
Pendre font tous sur le pavé du roy
De grands tableaux et enseignes dorées,
Pour des montres qu’ils ont fort bien de quoy,
Et qu’il y a de tres grasses porées.
L’un pour enseigne aura _la Trinité_,
L’autre _Saint Jehan_, et l’autre _Saint Savin_,
L’autre _Saint Maure_, l’autre _l’Humanité_
De _Jesus Christ_ notre Sauveur divin,
De Dieu, des saintz, sont leurs crieurs de vin,[403]
Tant aux citez que villes et villages,
Des susditz sainctz les devotes images,
En prophanant leur préciosité.”[404]
Many of these saints were patrons of particular trades, and were
constantly adopted as the signs of those that followed them. Thus ST
CRISPIN was generally a shoemaker’s sign. At the present day, the gentle
craft represented by this saint live up to the proverb, and keep to the
“last;” but many publicans still have the sign of CRISPIN, SAINT
CRISPIN, JOLLY CRISPIN, or CRISPIN AND CRISPIAN, and occasionally KING
CRISPIN, (as at Morpeth.) And well may they put their houses under the
protection of this saint, since the proverb says, “_Cobblers_ and
tinkers are the best ale drinkers.” Crispin and Crispian were two Roman
brothers, sons of a king; they travelled to France to preach
Christianity, and worked at the trade of shoemakers, making sandals for
the poor, which they gave away, the angels supplying them with leather.
Hence they are considered the patrons of shoemakers. They were beheaded
at Soissons in 308. What may have contributed to their popularity in
this country is the fact of the battle of Agincourt having been fought
on their day, October 25, 1415:--
“And Crispin Crispian shall never go by
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember’d,
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers,
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition,
And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap, while any speaks
That fought with us upon St Crispin’s day.”
_Henry the Fifth_, iv. 3.
From Shakespeare we turn to the homely rhymes of a Dutch shoemaker at
the Hague, who, in the seventeenth century, had this couplet over his
door:--
“Dit is Sint Crispyn, maar ik hiet Stoffel,
Ik maak een laars, schoen en pantoffel.”[405]
A more spirited one about the same time was in Bergen op Zoom, which is
not bad satire for a Dutchman:--
“Hier in Krispyn kan men de mensch uit beestevellen
Elk schoenen na zyn voet voor gelt terstond bestellen,
Doch menig beest alheir steekt in een menschevel,
Draagt zelf zyn broeder’s huid en ’t staat dat beest nog wel.”[406]
The ST HUGH’S BONES was another sign of the gentle craft; it seems to be
extinct now, but a trades token shows that, in 1657, it was the sign of
a house in Stanhope Street, Claremarket. From a little chapbook,
entitled,--
“The Delightful, Princely, and Entertaining History of the Gentle
Craft, &c. London printed for J. Rhodes, at the corner of Bride Lane,
in Fleet Street, 1725,”
we gather that Saint Hugh was a prince’s son,[407] deeply in love with a
saintly coquette called Winifred. Having been jilted by this lady in a
very pious manner, he went travelling, resisted the temptations of
Venice,[408] like another St Anthony, passed through numberless
adventures, compared to which those of Baron Munchausen sink into
insignificance, and was finally, by a jumble of most amusing
anachronism, martyred in the reign of Diocletian, by being made to drink
a cup of the blood of his lady-love, mixed with “cold poison,” after
which, his body was hung on the gallows. But among other misfortunes in
his travels, he had been shipwrecked and lost all his wealth, so that he
had to choose a profession, which was that of shoemaker, and so well he
liked his fellow-workmen that, having nothing else to give, he
bequeathed his bones to them. After they had been “well picked by the
birds,” some shoemakers took them from the gallows, and made them into
tools, and hence their tools were named St Hugh’s Bones. They are
specified in the following rhyme, which appears to have been the
shoemakers’ shibboleth:--
“My friends, I pray, you listen to me,
And mark what Saint Hugh’s Bones shall be:
First a Drawer and a Dresser,
Two Wedges, a more and a lesser.
A pretty Block, Three Inches high,
In fashion squared like a die;
Which shall be called by proper name
A Heelblock, ah! the very same;
A Handleather and a Thumbleather likewise,
To put on Shooe-thread we must devise;
The Needle and the Thimble shall not be left alone,
The Pinchers, the Pricking Awl, and Rubbing Stone;
The Awl, Steel and Jacks, the Sowing Hairs beside,
The Stirrop holding fast, while we sow the Cow hide;
The Whetstone, the Stopping Stick, and the Paring Knife,
All this does belong to a Journeyman’s Life:
Our Apron is the shrine to wrap these Bones in,
Thus shroud we S. Hugh’s Bones in a gentle lamb’s skin.
“Now you good Yeomen of the Gentle Craft,” the story goes on, “tell me
(quoth he) how like you this? As well (replied they) as Saint George
does of his horse: for as long as we can see him fight the Dragon, we
will never part with this poesie. And it shall be concluded, That what
journeyman soever he be hereafter that cannot handle his Sword and
Buckler, his long Sword and Quarterstaff, sound the Trumpet, or play
upon the Flute, or bear his part in a Three Man’s song, and readily
reckon up his Tools in Rhime, (except he have borne colours in the
Field, being a Lieutenant, a Sergeant or Corporal,) shall forfeit and
pay a Bottle of Wine, or be counted a Colt; to which they answered all
_viva voce_, Content, Content. And then, after many merry songs, they
departed. And never after did they travel without these tools on their
backs, which ever since have been called Saint Hugh’s Bones.”
BISHOP BLAZE, or Blaize, otherwise St Blasius, is another patron of a
trade to be met with on the signboard. This worthy, Bishop of Sebaste,
in Cappadocia, is considered the patron of woolcombers, whence the sign
is very common in the clothing districts. He is represented with the
instrument of his martyrdom in his hands, an iron comb, with which the
flesh was torn from his body in 289; from this implement has been
attributed to him the invention of woolcombing. His holiday is
celebrated every seventh year by a procession and feast of the masters
and workmen of the woollen manufactories in Yorkshire and Bedfordshire;
in sheep-shearing festivals, also, a representation of him used to be
introduced; a stripling in habiliments of wool was seated on a
milk-white steed, with a lamb in his lap, the horse, the youthful
bishop, and the lamb all covered with a profusion of ribbons and
flowers.
ST JULIAN, the patron of travellers, wandering minstrels, boatmen, &c.,
was a very common inn sign, because he was supposed to provide good
lodgings for such persons. Hence two Saint Julian’s crosses, in saltier,
are in chief of the innholders’ arms, and the old motto was:--“When I
was harbourless ye lodged me.” This benevolent attention to travellers
procured him the epithet of “the good herbergeor,” and in France “_bon
herbet_.” His legend in a MS., Bodleian, 1596, fol. 4, alludes to
this:--
“Therfore yet to this day, thei that over lond wende,
They biddeth Seint Julian, anon, that gode herborw he hem sende,
And Seint Julianes Pater Noster ofte seggeth also
For his faders soule and his moderes that he hem bring therto.”
And in “Le dit des Heureux,” an old French fabliau:--
“Tu as dit la patenotre
Saint Julian à cest matin,
Soit en Roumans, soit en Latin,
Or tu seras bien ostilé.”[409]
In mediæval French, _L’hotel Saint Julien_ was synonymous with good
cheer.
“Sommes tuit vostre.
Par Saint Pierre le bon Apostre,
L’ostel aurez Saint Julien,”[410]
says Mabile to her feigned uncle, in the fabliau of “Boivin de Provins;”
and a similar idea appears in “Cocke Lorell’s bote,” where the crew,
after the entertainment with the “relygyous women” from the Stews’ Bank,
at Colman’s Hatch,
“Blessyd theyr shyppe when they had done
And dranke about a _Saint Julyan’s torne_.”
ST MARTIN’S character as a saint was not unlike St Julian’s; hence we
find him frequently on the signboard. The most favourite representation
being the saint on horseback cutting off with his sword a piece of his
cloak, in order to clothe a naked beggar. Not only inns, but booksellers
also used his sign, as for instance Dionis Rose, (1514,) printer in the
Rue St Jacques, Paris; and Bernard Aubrey, another printer in the same
street.
“Avoir l’hotel St Martin,” in old French, meant exactly the same as
“avoir l’hotel St Julian:” thus, in the romance of Florus and Blanche:--
“_Flor._ Sovent dient par le bon vin
Qu’ils ont l’ostel Saint Martin.”[411]
And in the story of “L’Anneau,” by Jean de Boves, (which is the same as
Chaucer’s “Miller’s Tale,”) it is said of the two students at the
end:--“C’est ainsi qu’ils eûrent à ses depens l’ostel Saint
Martin.”[412] These two saints, it is believed, are no longer to be
found on the signboard, but another powerful patron of travellers, ST
CHRISTOPHER, may still occasionally be met with, as for instance in
Bath, where in the seventeenth century it was still very common. Taylor
the Water poet mentions it as the sign of an inn at Eton, and it occurs
on various trades tokens of London shops, inns, and taverns. This
saint’s intercession was thought efficacious against all danger from
fire, flood, and earthquake, whence it became a custom to paint his
image of a colossal size on walls of churches and houses, sometimes
occupying the whole height of the building, so that it might be seen
from a great distance. Generally he was represented wading through a
river, with the infant Christ on his shoulders, and leaning on a
flowering rod. Such representations are met with in every part of
Western Europe; they still remain in many places in England, as at St
James’ Church, South Elmham, Suffolk; Bibury Church, Gloucestershire;
Beddington, Surrey; Croydon; Hengrave; West Wickham, &c., &c., &c. They
were also very numerous on the Continent; in the porch of St Mark’s,
Venice, there is a mosaic bust of him, with these words:--
“Christophori Sancti speciem quicumque tuetur
Illo namque die nullo languore tenetur.”[413]
A somewhat similar inscription occurs under one of the very earliest
block prints, (now in the possession of Earl Spencer,) evidently made
for pasting against the walls in inns, and other places frequented by
travellers and pilgrims. Under it are the following words:--
“Cristofori faciem die quacumque tueris
Illo nempe die morte malâ non morieris.
millesimo ccccxx. tercio.”[414]
Travellers even carried his figure about with them, either on their hat
or on their breast, as we gather from Chaucer’s “Yeoman”--
“A Cristofre on his brest of silver shene.”
In the “Pleasant Conceits of Old Hobson the Londoner,” 1607, a jest is
related, made by that dry old joker at the expense of Saint Christopher,
which again illustrates the levity with which religious matters were
treated in those days:--
“Maister Hobson and another of his neighboris on a time walking to
Southwarke faire, by chance dranke in a house, which had the signe of
Sa. Christopher, of the which signe the goodman of the house gave this
commendation, Saint Christopher (quoth he) when hee lived upon the
earth bore the greatest burden that ever was, which was this, he bore
Christ over a river; nay, there was one (quoth Maister Hobson) that
bore a greater burden. Who was that? (quoth the innkeeper) Marry,
(quoth Maister Hobson) the asse that bore him and his mother. So was
the innekeeper called asse by craft.”
The house in which this joke was perpetrated is enumerated by Stowe
amongst the principal inns of Southwark.
ST LUKE still figures as the sign of two or three public-houses in
London. Being the patron of painters, it certainly was the least the
sign-painters could do to honour his portrait with an occasional
appearance on the signboard. Yet it must be confessed St Luke was but a
sorry hand at painting. There is a portrait of the Holy Virgin painted
by him preserved in the Church of Silivria, on the shores of the Sea of
Marmora; but such a daub! the most modest village sign-painter would be
ashamed of the production. Yet, for all that, the thing works miracles,
and the only wonder is that its first effort in this line was not to
change itself into a good picture. We wonder at the Virgin, too, and
expected better from her taste; for in Valencia Cathedral there is
another portrait of her painted by Alonzo Cano, which is one of the most
lovely female heads we ever had the happiness to gaze upon. And so well
pleased was the Holy Virgin with this likeness, that she deigned to
descend from heaven to compliment the blessed artist upon his work. So
says the legend, and so the old beadle tells the travellers. But Luke
possessed other attributes. Aubrey tells us: “At Stoke Verdon, in the
Parish of Broad Chalke, was a chapell (in the chapell close by the
farm-house) dedicated to Saint Luke, _who is the Patron_ or Tutelar
_Saint of the Horne Beasts, and those that have to do with them_,”
&c.[415] This arose evidently from the Ox being his emblem, as the Lion
was of St Mark, the Eagle of St John, and the Angel of St Matthew. For
this reason St Luke was doubtless often chosen as the sign of inns
frequented by farmers and graziers.
SIMON THE TANNER OF JOPPA is an old-established house in Long-lane,
Bermondsey, and, as a sign, is supposed to be unique. It seems to have
been adopted with reference to the tanners, who frequented the house, or
it may have been the former occupation of the landlord, who gave the
sign to his house. Simon is named in Acts x. 32, “Send therefore to
Joppa, and call hither Simon, whose surname is Peter; he is lodged in
the house of one Simon a tanner, by the sea-side.”
But of all the signs coming under this class, SAINT GEORGE AND THE
DRAGON is undoubtedly the greatest favourite in England, and it is
equally well represented in other countries; for of this saint may be
said what Velleius Paterculus said about Pompey: “Quot partes terrarum
sunt, tot fecit monumenta victoriæ suæ.” In London alone there are at
present not less than sixty-six public-houses and taverns with this
name, not counting the beer-houses, coffee-houses, &c. Yet, after all,
it is very doubtful if St George ever existed, and he may be only a
popular corruption of St Michael conquering Satan, or Perseus’ romantic
delivery of Andromeda. Hence the little rhyme recorded by Aubrey, and
various other seventeenth century collectors of ana:
“To save a mayd St George the Dragon slew--
A pretty tale, if all is told be true.
Most say there are no dragons, and ’tis sayd
There was no George; pray God there was a mayd.”
St George is mentioned by Bede, who calls the 23d of April “Natale S.
Georgii Martyris.” He was, however, at that time a very recent
importation, for Adamnanus (690), who lived just before Bede, says,
speaking of Arnulphus after his return from the East: “Etiam nobis de
quodam martyre Georgio nomine narrationem contulit.” In the reign of
Canute, there was already a house of regular canons sacred to St George
at Thetford, in Norfolk. The church of St George, Southwark, is also
thought to have existed before the Conqueror. But after the Conquest,
chapels were frequently erected to him, and on the seals of this period
he is often represented without the Dragon. Edward III. had a particular
veneration for him. Many of his statutes begin: “Ad honorem omnipotentis
Dei, Sanctæ Mariæ Virginis gloriosæ, et Sancti Georgii Martyris.” It was
after the foundation of the Order of the Garter that it became such a
favourite sign. The fact that he was the patron of soldiers also
assisted his popularity on the signboard.
There still exists an old and much dilapidated stone sign of St George
and the Dragon in the front of a house on Snowhill. Frequently this sign
is abbreviated to the GEORGE. There was an inn of this name, mentioned
in 1554 as being situate on the north side of the TABARD. This inn was
very much damaged by the great fire of Southwark in 1670, and completely
burned down in 1676. But it was rebuilt, and has come down to our time.
Machyn, in his Diary, mentions several _Georges_; one of them in
connexion with an occurrence which gives a good view of these lawless
times:--
“The viij day of December 1559 was the day of the Conception of owre
Lade was a grett fyre in the Gorge in Bred stret; itt begane at vj of
the cloke at nyght and dyd gret harm to dyvers houses. The 9th of
December cam serten fellows unto the Gorge in Bred stret where the
fyre was and gutt into the howse and brake up a chest of a clothear
and toke owt xl. lb. and after cryd _fyre_, _fyre_, so that ther cam
ijc pepull, and so they took one.”
The _George_ in Lombard Street was a very old house, once the town
mansion of the Earl Ferrers, in which one of that family was murdered as
early as 1175, (see Stow.) At this house died, in 1524, Richard Earl of
Kent, who had wasted his property in gaming and extravagance; it was
then an inn, where the nobility used to put up at. George Dowdall,
Archbishop of Armagh, (1558,) was buried from this house. Finally, we
may mention a _George Inn_ at Derby, in connexion with the following
advertisement from the _Daily Advertiser_, Oct. 1758:--
“A YOUNG LADY STRAYED.--A young Lady, just come out of Derbyshire,
strayed from her Guardian. She is remarkably genteel and handsome. She
has been brought up by a farmer near Derby, and knows no other but
that they are her parents; but it is not so, for she is a lady by
birth, though of but little learning. She has no cloathes with her,
but a riding habit she used to go to market in. She will have a fine
estate, as she is an heiress, but knows not her birth, as her parents
died when she was a child, and I had the care of her, so she knows not
but that I am her mother. She has a brown silk gown that she borrowed
of her maid--that is, dy’d silk, and her riding dress a light drab,
lin’d with blue Tammy, and it has blue loops at the button-holes; she
has outgrown it; and I am sure that she is in great distress both for
money and cloaths; but whoever has relieved her I will be answerable
if they will give me a letter, where she may be found; she knows not
her own sirname. I understand she has been in Northampton for some
time; she has a cut in her forehead. Whosoever will give an account
where she is to be found shall receive twenty guineas reward. Direct
for M. W. at the _George Inn_, Derby.”
Besides the Dragon, St George is found in various other combinations, as
the GEORGE AND BLUE BOAR, High Holborn, an old inn lately come to its
end. In the seventeenth century this house was called the BLUE BOAR, and
is said to have been the house in which Cromwell and Ireton, disguised
as common troopers, intercepted a letter of King Charles to his queen.
Cromwell, the story goes on to say, finding by this letter that his
party were not likely to obtain good terms from the king, “from that day
forward resolved his ruin.”[416] Unfortunately for lovers of the
romantic, there is no foundation for this dramatic incident.
[Illustration: PLATE XII.
GRINDING OLD INTO YOUNG.
(From an old woodcut, circa 1720.)
FIVE ALLS.
(From an old print by Kay. The figures represent Dr Hunter, a famous
Scotch clergyman; Erskine the lawyer; a farmer; His Sacred Majesty
George III.; and the gentleman whose name should never be mentioned to
ears polite.)]
The GEORGE AND THIRTEEN CANTONS, kept by the great Bob Travers, is
another odd combination, occurring in Church Street, Soho; it is,
however, easily explained when we learn that there is another
public-house called the THIRTEEN CANTONS, in King Street, also in Soho.
This sign was put up in reference to the thirteen Protestant cantons of
Switzerland--a compliment to the numerous Swiss who inhabit the
neighbourhood.
But the strangest combination of all is that of the GEORGE AND VULTURE.
At present there are three public-houses in London with this sign: one
in St George-in-the-East, one in Wapping, and one in Haberdasher Street,
Hoxton. As in the “Live Vulture,” (see p. 224,) the only obvious
explanation for this strange combination seems to be the possibility of
a vulture having been exhibited at this house. Vultures were still
considered great curiosities as late as the eighteenth century. In 1726,
one of the attractions at Peckham Fair was a menagerie, and amongst the
animals exhibited the vulture was described in the following terms:--
“The noble Vulture Cock, brought from Archangall, having the finest
talons of any bird that seeks her prey; the forepart of his head is
covered with hair; the second part resembles the wool of a black;
below that is a white ring, having a ruff that he cloaks his head with
at night.”
It is a name of some standing. “Near Ball Alley was the _George Inn_,
since the Fire, rebuilt with very good houses, well Inhabited, and
warehouses, being a large open yard, and called George Yard, at the
farther end of which is the GEORGE AND VULTURE Tavern, which is a large
house and of a great trade, having a passage into St Michael’s Alley,”
[Cornhill].[417] There was another tavern of this name on the east side
of the high road, nearly opposite Bruce Green, Tottenham, in early times
much frequented by the citizens of London taking their recreations. It
is mentioned in the “Search after Claret” as early as 1691. Several
coins of the reign of Queen Elizabeth and Charles I. were discovered on
pulling down the old house. A coat of arms of Queen Elizabeth was fixed
over the front door, but at the demolition of the building it was put
up at the back of a house in Hale Lane. After the fashion of the time,
the house was duly puffed up in newspaper poems. The following is copied
from a newspaper-cutting circa 1761-62, and as it enumerates the
attractions of a suburban tea-garden of the period, may be quoted here
at full length:--
“If lur’d to roam in Summer Hours,
Your Thoughts incline tow’rd Tott’nham Bow’rs.[418]
Here end your airing Tour and rest
Where _Cole_ invites each friendly Guest:
Intent on signs, the prying Eye,
The GEORGE AND VULTURE will descry;
Here the kind Landlord glad attends
To wellcome all his chearfull Friends
Who, leaving City smoke, delight
To range where various scenes invite.
The spacious garden, verdant Field,
Pleasures beyond Expression yield,
The Angler here to sport inclined
In his Canal may Pastime find.
Neat racy Wine and Home-brew’d Ale
The nicest Palates may regale,
Nectarious Punch--and (cleanly grac’d)
A Larder stor’d for ev’ry Taste.
The cautious Fair may sip with Glee
The fresh’st Coffee, finest Tea.
Let none the outward _Vulture_ fear,
No _Vulture_ host inhabits here,
If too well us’d you deem ye--then
Take your Revenge and come again.”
St Paul, the patron saint of London, was formerly a common sign in the
metropolis. One of the trades tokens of a house or tavern in Petty
France, Westminster, represents the saint before his conversion, lying
on the ground, with his horse standing by him; this house was called
“the SAUL.” Perhaps this was a monkish pleasantry of the period, (as
Westminster was under the patronage of St Peter,) representing an
unpleasant event in the history of the great patron, and showing, by
simple analogy, the vast superiority of the converted St Peter. The
usual way, however, of commemorating the saint on the signboard was the
ST PAUL’S HEAD. This was the sign of a very old inn in Great Carter
Lane, (Doctors’ Commons,) opposite which Bagford lived in 1712. As an
inn, it is mentioned by Machyn, in his Diary, in 1562. “The 25 may was a
yonge man did hang ymseylff at the Polles Head, the inn in Carterlane.”
Trades tokens of this house are extant in the Beaufoy Collection. In the
eighteenth century, most of the celebrated libraries were sold at this
inn:[419] amongst others that of the bibliomaniac, Tom Rawlinson--the
Tom Folio of the _Tatler_, whose books were brought to the hammer
between 1721-33--the sale extending to seventeen or eighteen separate
auctions. The disposal of his MSS. alone occupied sixteen days. To this
tavern formerly the new sheriffs, after having been sworn in, used to
resort to receive the keys of the different jails; that ceremony
terminated, they were regaled with sack and walnuts by the keeper of
Newgate. The St Paul’s Coffee-house is built on the site of this old
inn. About 1820 there was another PAUL’S HEAD in Cateaton Street, where
a literary club used to be held “for the cultivation of forensic
eloquence.” It was under the patronage of several distinguished
characters, and had for a motto the modest words, “Sic itur ad astra.”
The vicinity of the cathedral evidently had suggested both these signs,
as well as that exhibited by Philip Waterhouse, a bookseller “at the St
Paul’s Head in Canning Street near Londonstone” in 1630. On another
sign, in the same locality, the two saints were united, viz., the SAINT
PETER AND SAINT PAUL, St Paul’s Churchyard. Of this house, also, trades
tokens are extant.
Although St Peter was, doubtless, as common on the signboard before the
Reformation as the other great saints of religious history, yet no
instances of this have come down to us. His keys, however--the famous
Cross Keys--are very common. At Dawdley, and on the road between
Warminster and Salisbury, there is a very curious sign called PETER’S
FINGER, which is believed to occur nowhere else. In all probability this
refers to the benediction of the Pope, the finger of his Holiness being
raised whilst bestowing a blessing. St Peter being the first of the
Papal line, was doubtless often represented with his finger raised in
old pictures and carvings. The following passage from Bishop Hall’s
“Satires” alludes to the finger:--
“But walk on cheerly ’till thou have espied
_St Peter’s finger_, at the churchyard side.”--Book v., sat. 2.
St Dunstan, the patron saint of the parish of that name in London, was
godfather to the DEVIL,--that is to say, to the sign of the famous
tavern of the DEVIL AND ST DUNSTAN, within Temple Bar. The legend runs,
that one day, when working at his trade of a goldsmith, he was sorely
tempted by the devil, and at length got so exasperated that he took the
red hot tongs out of the fire and caught his infernal majesty by the
nose. The identical pinchers with which this feat was performed are
still preserved at Mayfield Palace, in Sussex. They are of a very
respectable size, and formidable enough to frighten the arch one
himself. This episode in the saint’s life was represented on the
signboard of that glorious old tavern. By way of abbreviation, this
house was called THE DEVIL, though the landlord seems to have preferred
the _other_ saint’s name; for on his token we read: “_The D----_ (sic)
_and Dunstan_,” probably fearing, with a classic dread, the ill omen of
that awful name.
Allusions to this tavern are innumerable in the dramatists; one of the
earliest is in 1563, in the play of “Jack Jugeler.” William Rowley thus
mentions it in his comedy of a “Match by Midnight,” 1633:--
“_Bloodhound._ As you come by Temple Bar make a step to the Devil.
_Tim._ To the Devil, father?
_Sim._ My master means the sign of the Devil, and he cannot hurt you,
fool; there’s a saint holds him by the nose.
_Tim._ Sniggers, what does the devil and a saint both on a sign?
_Sim._ What a question is that? What does my master and his
prayer-book o’ Sundays both in a pew?”
So fond was Ben Jonson of this tavern, that he lived “without Temple
Bar, at a combmaker’s shop,” according to Aubrey, in order to be near
his favourite haunt. It must have been, therefore, in a moment of
ill-humour, when he found fault with the wine, and made the statement
that his play of the “Devil is an Ass,” (which is certainly not amongst
his best,) was written “when I and my boys drank bad wine at the Devil.”
But surely he would not have established his favourite Apollo Club at a
place where they sold bad wine. He himself composed the famous “Leges
Conviviales” for this club, which are still preserved, with the respect
due to so sacred a relic, in the banking house of Messrs Child & Co.,
erected in 1788 on the place where the tavern formerly stood. They are
twenty-four in number, some of them rather characteristic:--
“4. And the more to exact our delight whilst we stay,
Let none be debarr’d from his choice female mate.
5. Let no scent offensive the chamber infest.
10. Let our wines without mixture or scum be all fine,
Or call up the master and break his dull noddle.
16. With mirth, wit, and dancing, and singing conclude,
To regale every sense with delight in excess.
21. For generous lovers let a corner be found,
Where they in soft sighs may their passions relieve.”
The last clause was, “Focus perennis esto,” which proves that rare old
Ben understood comfort. Latin inscriptions were also in other parts of
the house. Over the clock in the kitchen might have been seen, as late
as 1731, “Si nocturna tibi noceat potatio vini, hoc in mane bibis
iterum, et erit medicina.”[420] An elegant rendering of the well-known
phrase, “A hair of the dog that bit you.” Not only Ben Jonson, but
almost all the great poets of two centuries, honoured this house with
their presence. “I dined to-day,” says Swift, in one of his letters to
Stella, “with Dr Garth and Mr Addison, at the Devil Tavern, near Temple
Bar, and Garth treated.” Numerous similar quotations might be found,
showing the visits to this place of nearly all the great literary stars
of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.
Simon Wadloe was one of the most famous landlords of this tavern. Pepys,
April 22, 1661,--“Wadlow, the Vintner at the Devil, in Fleet Street, did
lead a fine company of soldiers, all young comely men, in white
Doublets” (this was on Charles II. going from the Tower to Whitehall.)
Ben Jonson called him the king of skinkers.[421] Among the verses on the
door of the Apollo room occurred the lines--
“Hang up all the poor hop drinkers,
Cries old Sim, the king of skinkers.”
Camden, in his “Remains,” records the following epitaph on this
worthy:--
“Apollo et cohors Musarum,
Bacchus vini et uvarum,
Ceres pro pane et cervisia,
Adeste omnes cum tristitia.
Diique, Deæque, lamentate cuncti,
Simonis Vadloe funera defuncti,
Sub _signo malo_ bene vixit, mirabile!
Si ad cœlum recessit gratias _Diaboli_.”[422]
In opposition to this _Old Devil_ a YOUNG DEVIL Tavern was opened, also
in Fleet Street, in 1707, and here the first meetings of the Society of
Antiquaries were held, but the “Young Devil” was not a success, and the
house was soon closed.
Though the Devil is not a promising name for a public-house, owing to
his near connexion with evil _spirits_, yet there was a third tavern
named after--if not devoted to him--the LITTLE DEVIL, Goodman’s Fields,
Whitechapel. Ned Ward, in 1703, highly commends the punch of this house,
which he partook of in “a room neat enough to entertain Venus and the
graces.” It was a house entirely after jolly Ned’s fancy. “My landlord
was good company, my landlady good humoured, her daughter charmingly
pretty, and her maid tolerably handsome, who can laugh, cry, say her
prayers, sing a song, all in a breath, and can turn in a minute to all
sublunary points of a female compass.”[423]
THE DEVIL (_le Diable_) was also a celebrated tavern in Paris, near the
Palais de Justice. It is thus named in the “Ode à tous les Cabarets:”--
“Lieux sacrés où l’on est soumis
Aux saints oracles de Themis,
Encor que vous ayez la gloire,
De voir tout le monde à genoux,
Sans le _Diable_ et la _Tête-Noire_;[424]
Je n’approcherais pas de vous.”[425]
In the seventeenth century Paris also had its _Petit Diable_, (Little
Devil,) a tavern of some renown.
THE DEVIL’S HOUSE was the name of a favourite Sunday resort in the last
century, in the Hornsey Road, Islington. It is said to have been the
retreat of Claude Duval (_unde_ Duval’s house, Devil’s house,) the
elegant highwayman in the reign of Charles II., who infested the lanes
about Islington; but from a survey taken in 1611, it appears that the
house bore already at that time the name of “Devil’s House.” From its
general appearance it seemed to date from Queen Elizabeth’s reign. It
was surrounded by a moat filled with water, and passed by a wooden
bridge. Its attractions are held forth in the following laudatory
epistle, an example of the florid and poetical advertising in vogue when
Richardson wrote novels of six volumes all in letters--compositions too
painfully pathetic for our matter-of-fact age:--
“_To the Printer of the Publick Advertiser_.
“Sir,--Returning yesterday from a rural excursion to Hornsey, I
casually stopped for a little refreshment at an house, commonly known
by the name of _Devil’s House_, situated within two fields of
Holloway-Turnpike. I own that I was vastly surprised at so charming
and delightful a place, so near town, and at the great improvements
lately made there. The garden is well laid out, encompassed with a
beautiful moat, and a good canal in the orchard. On inquiry, I found
the landlord (remarkable for his civil and obliging behaviour) had
stocked the same with plenty of tench, carp, and other fish, with free
liberty for his customers to angle therein. Tea and hot loaves are
ready at a moment’s notice, and new milk from the cows grazing in the
pleasant meadows adjoining, with a good larder, and the best wines,
&c. In short, I know not a more agreeable place, where persons of both
sexes of genteel taste may enjoy a more innocent and delightful
amusement. But what surprised me most, was that the landlord, by a
peculiar turn of invention, had changed the _Devil’s House_ to the
_Summer House_,--a name I find it is for the future to be
distinguished by. I wish, Mr Printer, your readers as much pleasure as
myself, and am, sir, your constant reader,
“H. G.
“_May 25, 1767_.”
At Royston, Herts, there is a public-house known as the DEVIL’S HEAD.
There is no signboard, but a carved representation of his satanic
majesty’s head projects from the building, the name being underneath.
ST PATRICK is exclusively an Irish sign. He is generally represented in
the costume of a bishop, driving a flock of snakes, toads, and other
vermin before him, which he is said to have banished from Ireland. His
life is more replete with miracles than any of the other saints.
“St Patrick was a gentleman,
And came of dacent people,”
for his father was a noble Roman, who lived at Kirkpatrick, in Scotland.
The saint’s life was very active; he founded 365 churches, ordained 365
bishops, and 3000 priests, converted 12,000 persons in one district,
baptized seven kings at once, established a purgatory, and with his
staff expelled every reptile that stung or croaked. This last feat,
however, has been performed by a great many saints in different parts of
the world. Not so the feat he performed at his _death_, when, having
been beheaded, he coolly took his head under his arm, (or, according to
the best authorities, in his mouth,) and swam over the Shannon. In such
cases as the Bishop of Narbonne said about St Denis, (who walked from
Montmartre to St Denis with his head under his arm,) “_il n’y a que le
premier pas qui coute_.”[426]
In many instances, no doubt, before the Reformation, the shopkeeper
would choose his patron saint for his sign, to act as a sort of lares
and penates to his house. An example of this occurs on the following
imprint:--“Manual of Prayers, 1539. Imprynted in Bottol [St Botolph’s]
Lane, at the sygne of the WHYT BEARE, by me, Jhon Mayler, for John
Waylande, and be to sell in Powles Churchyarde, by Andrew Hester, at the
WHYT HORSE, and also by _Mychel_ Lobley, _at the sygne of the_ SAINT
MYCHEL;” this last bookseller, therefore, had chosen his own patron
saint for his sign. For the same reason another bookseller adopted, in
the early part of the sixteenth century, SAINT JOHN THE EVANGELIST--“The
Doctrynall of Good Servauntes. Imprynted at London, in Flete Strete, at
the sygne of Saynt Johan Evangelyste, by me, _Johan_ Butler.” This
Butler was a judge of the Common Pleas, as well as a bookseller. About
the same period the Evangelist was also the sign of another man of the
same profession--“Robert Wyce, dwellinge at the sygne of Seynt Johan
Euāgelyst, in Seynt Martyns parysshe, in the filde besyde Charynge
Crosse, in the bysshop of Norwytche rentys.” He was the printer of the
well-known “Pronostycacion for ever of Erra Pater; a Jewe borne in
Jewry, a doctor in Astronomye and Physicke,” which was continued for
ages after him. Robert Wyce must have been about the first bookseller
and printer in this neighbourhood, as in Queen Elizabeth’s reign the
parish contained less than one hundred people liable to be rated.[427]
We find the same as one of the oldest printer’s signs in France, on an
edition of Merlin’s Prophecies, printed at Paris in 1438, by Abraham
Verard, dwelling near the church of Notre Dame, at the sign of St John
the Evangelist.
Other saints, again, have a local reputation, and are perpetuated on the
signboards in certain localities only, as for instance ST THOMAS of
Canterbury; ST EDMUND’S HEAD, at Bury St Edmunds; and ST CUTHBERT, at
Monk’s house, near Sunderland. This saint was the first bishop of
Northumberland.
“But fain St Hilda’s nuns would learn,
If on a rock by Lindisfarne,
St Cuthbert sits and toils to frame
The seaborn weeds which bear his name,”
says Sir Walter Scott, alluding to the stalks of the Encrinites, which
are called St Cuthbert’s Beads, the saint, as the story goes, amusing
himself by stringing them together.
Hugh Singleton, a bookseller in the sixteenth century, lived at the sign
of the ST AUGUSTINE; probably he had chosen this saint from the fact of
his being a distinguished writer as well as saint. George Carter, a
shopkeeper in the seventeenth century, adopted ST ALBAN, the
protomartyr, as his sign, evidently for no other reason but because he
lived in “St Alban’s Street, near St James’s Market;” and another,
William Ellis of Tooley Street, had the sign of ST CLEMENT, perhaps on
account of his being a native of the parish of St Clement’s. Trades
tokens of both these houses are to be seen in the Beaufoy Collection.
St Laurent was the sign of an inn in Lawrence Lane, Cheapside, but from
a border of blossoms or flowers round it, it was commonly called
BLOSSOMS, or by corruption, BOSOM’S INN--such at least is the
explanation of Stow:--
“Antiquities in this lane--[St Laurence Lane, Cheapside]--I find none
other than that, among many fair houses, there is one large inn for
the receipt of travellers called _Blossom’s Inn_, but corruptly
_Bosom’s Inn_, and hath to sign St Laurence the deacon in a border of
blossoms or flowers.”
Flowers are said to have sprung up at the martyrdom of this saint, who
was roasted alive on a gridiron. But in the “History of Thomas of
Reading,” ch. ii., another version is given, which seems, however,
little else than a joke:--
“Our jolly clothiers kept up their courage and went to Bosom’s Inn, so
called from a greasy old fellow who built it, who always went nudging
with his head in his _bosom_ winter and summer, so that they called
him the picture of old Winter.”
In 1522 the Emperor Charles V. honoured Henry VIII. with a visit; at
first his intention was to come with a retinue of 2044 persons and 1127
horses, but subsequently he reduced them to 2000 persons and 1000
horses. To lodge these visitors, various “inns for horses” were “seen
and viewed,” amongst which “St Laurance, otherwise called Bosoms Yn,” is
noted down to have “xx beddes and a stable for lx horses.”[428] It is
curious, in this list of inns, to observe the proportion of beds as
compared with stabling room, showing how most of the followers of a
nobleman on a journey had to shift for themselves and sleep in the straw
or elsewhere. On the occasion of this imperial visit, the city
authorities were evidently afraid of being drunk dry by the many
Flemings in the train of the Emperor. To avoid this calamity, a return
was made of all the wine to be found at the eleven wine merchants, and
the twenty-eight principal taverns then in London, the sum total of
which was 809 pipes.[429]
In the sixteenth century the house seems already to have been famous as
a carrier’s inn, (which it continued for three centuries,) as appears
from the following allusion:--“Yet have I naturally cherisht and hugt it
in my bosome, even as a carrier at Bosome’s Inne doth a cheese under his
arms.”[430] A satirical tract about Banks and his horse “Marocius
Extaticus,” (reprinted by the Percy Society,) gives the names of its
authors as “John Dando the wiredrawer of Hadley, and Harrie Hunt, head
ostler of _Besomes Inne_.” Another domestic of this establishment is
handed down to posterity in Ben Jonson’s “Masque of Christmass,”
presented at Court in 1616, where the following lines occur:--
“But now comes Tom of _Bosom’s Inn_,
And he presenteth Misrule.”[431]
The CATHERINE WHEEL was formerly a very common sign, most likely adopted
from its being the badge of the order of the knights of Saint Catherine
of Mount Sinai, created anno 1063, for the protection of pilgrims on
their way to and from the Holy Sepulchre. Hence it was a suggestive, if
not eloquent sign for an inn, as it intimated that the host was of the
brotherhood, although in a humble way, and would protect the travellers
from robbery in his inn,--in the shape of high charges and
exactions,--just as the knights of St Catherine protected them on the
high road from robbery by brigands. These knights wore a white habit
embroidered with a Catherine wheel, (_i.e._ a wheel armed with spikes,)
and traversed with a sword stained with blood.[432] There were also
mysteries in which St Catherine played a favourite part, one of which
was acted by young ladies on the entry of Queen Catherine of Arragon
(queen to our Henry VIII.) in London in 1501; in honour of this queen
the sign may occasionally have been put up. The Catherine wheel was also
a charge in the Turners’ arms. Flecknoe tells us, in his “Enigmatical
Characters,” (1658,) that the Puritans changed it into the CAT AND
WHEEL, under which name it is still to be seen on a public-house at
Castle Green, Bristol. In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries the
Catherine Wheel was a famous carrier’s inn in Southwark; and at the
present day there is still an old public-house in Bishopsgate Street
Without, inscribed, “Ye old Catherine Wheel, 1594.”[433]
Besides these, there were other signs expressing a religious idea, such
as the HEART IN BIBLE, which occurs under one of the Luttrell
Ballads:--“The Citizens’ joys for the Rebuilding of London, printed by
P. Lillicross, for Richard Head, at the HEART IN BIBLE, in Little
Britain, where you may have Mr Matthews, his approved and universal
pills for all diseases, 1667.” Another bookseller on London Bridge,
Eliz. Smith, 1691, had the HAND AND BIBLE. Biblical phrases also were
employed, as for instance, the LION AND LAMB, which occurs on several
seventeenth century trades tokens of Snowhill, Southwark, &c., and is
still much in vogue. It is an emblematical representation of the
Millennium, when “the lion shall lie down by the kid.” In the last
century there was a Lion and Lamb on a signboard at Sheffield, with the
following poetical effusion:--
“If the Lyon show’d kill the Lamb,
We’ll kill the Lyon--if we can;
But if the Lamb show’d kill the Lyon,
We’ll kill the Lamb to make a Pye on.”
The antithesis to this sign, namely, the WOLF AND LAMB, occurs
occasionally, as in Charles Street, Leicester, and in a few other
places. In Grosvenor Street it was probably once represented by a lion
and a kid, but the public, not minding the text, called the sign the
LION AND GOAT, and that name it still bears. THE LION AND ADDER,
Nottingham, Newark, and various other places, or the LION AND SNAKE, as
at Bailgate, Lincoln, come from Psalm xci. 13, where the godly are
reminded:--“Thou shalt tread upon the _Lion and Adder_, the young lion
and the dragon shalt thou trample under feet.” These two signs
apparently came in use during the Commonwealth. They have a decided
flavour of the time when Scripture language formed the common speech of
every day life.
The LAMB AND FLAG is another sign common all over England, representing
originally the holy lamb with the nimbus and banner, but now so little
understood by the publicans, that on an alehouse at Swindon, it is
pictured with a spear, to which a red-white-and-blue streamer is
appended. It may also be of heraldic origin, for it was the coat of arms
of the Templars, and the crest of the merchant tailors. The LAMB AND
ANCHOR, Milk Street, Bristol, seems to be a mystical representation of
hope in Christ; both these last signs date from before the Reformation.
From that period also dates the sign of the BLEEDING HEART, the
emblematical representation of the five sorrowful mysteries of the
Rosary, viz., the heart of the Holy Virgin pierced with five swords.
There is still an ale-house of this name in Charles Street, Hatton
Garden, and Bleeding Heart Yard, adjoining the public-house, is
immortalised in “Little Dorrit.” The WOUNDED HEART, one of the signs in
Norwich in 1750,[434] had the same meaning. The Heart was a constant
emblem of the Holy Virgin in the middle ages; thus, on the clog
almanacs, all the feasts of St Mary were indicated by a heart. It was
not an uncommon sign in former times. The HEART AND BALL appears on a
trades token as the sign of a house in Little Britain, the Ball being
simply some silk mercer’s addition; and the GOLDEN HEART[435] was a sign
in Greenwich in 1737, next door to which Dr Johnson used to live when he
was newly come to town, and wrote the Parliamentary articles for the
_Gentleman’s Magazine_. At present there are three public-houses with
this sign in Bristol, and in other places it may be met with.
HEAVEN was a house of entertainment near Westminster Hall; the present
committee rooms of the House of Commons are erected on its site. Butler
alludes to this house in “Hudibras,” p. 3:--
“False Heaven at the end of the Hall.”
Pepys records his dining at this house in the winter of 1660, and with
due respect for the place, he put on his best fur cap for the occasion.
“I sent a porter to bring my best fur cap, and so I returned and went to
Heaven; where Luellin and I dined.”
PARADISE was a messuage in the same neighbourhood, and HELL AND
PURGATORY subterranean passages; but in the reign of James I. HELL was
the sign of a low public-house frequented by lawyers’ clerks. HEAVEN AND
HELL are mentioned, together with a third house called PURGATORY, in an
old grant dated the first year of Henry VII.[436] The THREE KINGS is a
sign representing the three Eastern magi or kings, who came to do homage
to our Saviour. We find it used as early as the sixteenth century by
Julyan Notary, in St Paul’s Churchyard, one of the earliest London
printers. The Three Kings was formerly a constant mercer’s sign. Bagford
gives the following reason for this:--
“Mersers in thouse dayes war Genirall Marchantes and traded in all
sortes of Rich Goodes, besides those of scelckes (silks) as they do
nou at this day: but they brought into England fine Leninn thered
(linen thread) gurdeles (girdles) finenly worked from Collin[437]
(Cologne.) Collin, the city which then at that time of day florished
much and afforded rayre commodetes, and these merchāts that vsually
traded to that citye, set vp ther singes ouer ther dores of ther
Houses the three kinges of Collin, with the Armes of that Citye, which
was the THREE CROUENS of the former kings in memorye of them, and by
those singes the people knew in what wares they deld in.”[438]
There is and was until lately such a sign carved in stone in front of a
house in Bucklersbury, which street was once the head quarters of the
mercers and perfumers. The three kings stood in a row, all in the same
garb and position, with their sceptres shouldered. The history of the
Three Kings was a favourite story in the middle ages. Wynkyn de Worde
printed, anno 1516, “The Lives of the Three Kinges of Collen.” The same
subject had been printed in Paris in 1498 by Tresyrel: “La Vie des Troys
Roys, Balchazar, Melchior, et Gaspard.” They also appeared in many of
the ancient plays and mysteries. In one of the Chester pageants, acted
by the shearmen and tailors, they are called Sir Jasper of Tars; Sir
Melchior, king of Araby; Sir Balthazer, king of Saba; they enjoy the
same names and kingdoms in the “Comédie de l’Adoration des Trois Roys,”
by Marguerite de Valois. Their offerings are recorded in the following
charm against falling sickness:--
“Jaspar fert myrrham, thus Melchior, Balthazar aurum,
Hæc tria qui secum portabit nomina regum
Solvitur a morbo, Christi pietate, caduco.”[439]
Another Latin distich has--
“Tres Reges Regi Regum tria dona firebant
Myrrham Homini, uncto aurum, thura dedere Deo.”[440]
Melchior was usually represented as a bearded old man, Jasper as a
beardless youth, and Balchazar as a Moor with a large beard.
This sign was as common on the Continent as in England, and at the
present day it may often be met with. Eustache Deschamps, in the
sixteenth century, thus celebrated the good cheer of one of the taverns
in Paris:--
“Prince, par la Vierge Marie,
On est à la Cossonerie,
Aux Caunettes ou _aux Trois Rois_.”
_L’Adoration des Trois Rois_ was, in 1674, the sign of François Muguet,
one of the Parisian booksellers.
Not unlikely the sign of the KINGS AND KEYS, a tavern in Fleet Street,
is an abbreviation of the _Three Kings and Cross Keys_. At
Weston-super-Mare, and at Chelmsforth, there is another sign which owes
its origin to the Three Kings, namely, the THREE QUEENS. When, in 1764,
the Paving Act for St James’ was put into execution, the sign of the
Three Queens, in Clerkenwell Green, was removed at a cost of upwards of
£200; it extended not less than seven feet from the front of the house.
_Lloyd’s Evening Post_, January 12-14, 1761, tells how two sharpers came
to this ale-house and stole the silver tankard in which their drink was
served them. Each tavern in those days possessed a number of silver
tankards, in which the well-dressed customers were served with sack and
canary. It may be imagined that the thieves were quietly on the look-out
for such a prize. The same paper gives an advertisement about two silver
pints stolen from the JOLLY BUTCHERS at Bath; in fact, similar
advertisements were of almost daily occurrence. “The Praise of Yorkshire
Ale,” 1685, also mentions--
“Selling of Ale, in Muggs,
_Silver Tankards_, Black Pots, and Little Juggs.”
One other semi-religious legend has provided a subject for many a
signboard, namely, the MAN IN THE MOON. Though this cannot strictly be
styled a religious legend, yet it may be included in this class, as the
idea is said to have originated from the incident given in Numbers xv.
32, _et seq._, “And while the children of Israel were in the wilderness,
they found a man that gathered sticks upon the Sabbath-day,” &c. Not
content with having him stoned for this desecration of the day, the
legend transferred him to the moon. It is, however, a Christian legend,
for the Jews had some Talmudical story about Jacob being in the moon; in
fact, almost every nation, whether ancient or modern, sees somebody in
it. The Man in the Moon occurs on a seventeenth century token of a
tavern in Cheapside, represented by a half-naked man within a crescent,
holding on by the horns. There is still a sign of this description in
Little Vine Street, Regent Street, and in various other places.
Generally he is represented with a bundle of sticks, a lanthorn (which,
one would think, he did not want in the moon,) and frequently a dog.
Thus Chaucer depicts him in “Cresseide,” v. 260:--
“Her gite was gray and full of spottes blacke,
And on her breast a chorl painted full even,
Bearing a bush of thorns on his backe,
Which for his theft might clime no ner y^{e} heven.”
Shakespeare also alludes to him:--
“_Steph._ I was the Man in the Moon when time was.
“_Caliban._ I have seen thee in her, and I do adore thee; my mistress
showed me thee, thy dog and bush.”--_Tempest_, ii., sc. 2.
Also--
“_Quince._ One must come in with a bush of thorns and a lanthorn, and
say he comes to disfigure or to present the person of
moonshine.”--_Midsummer Night’s Dream_, iii., sc. 1.
This bunch of thorns is alluded to by Dante, “Inferno,” canto xx. 124,
where the Man in the Moon is spoken of as Cain--
“Ma viene omai: che gia tiene il confine
D’amendue gli emisperi e tocca l’onda
Sotto Sibilia _Caino è le spine_.”[441]
And again in “Paradiso,” canto ii. 49, speaking of the moon, he asks--
“Ma detemi, che sono i segni bui
Di questi corpo, che laggiuso in terra
Fan di Cain favoleggiare altrui?”[442]
And the annotators of Dante say that Cain was placed in the moon with a
bundle of thorns on his back, similar to those he had placed on the
altar when he offered to the Lord his unwelcome sacrifice. This Man in
the Moon, whether Cain, Jacob, or the Sabbath-breaker, has been
celebrated by innumerable songs. Alex. Neckham (recently edited by Mr T.
Wright) refers to him from a very ancient ballad, and one of the oldest
songs is in the Harl. MSS., 2253, beginning:--
“Mon in the mone stond and streit,
On is bot-forke is burthen he bereth,
Hit is muche wonder that he na doun slyt
For doute lest he valle he shoddreth and skereth.
When the forst freseth muche chele he byd
The thornes beth kene is hattren to-tereth
N’is no wytht in the world that wot when he syt
Ne, bote hit bee the hegge, whot wedes he wereth.”
For all this, his life seems to be very merry, for one of the Roxburghe
Ballads (i. f., 298) informs us that--
“Our Man in the Moon drinks Clarret,
With powderbeef, turnep and carret;
If he doth so, why should not you
Drink until the sky looks blue.”
From whence they obtained the information it is difficult to say, but it
was a well-established fact with the old tobacconists that he could
enjoy his pipe. Thus he is represented on some of the tobacconists’
papers in the Banks Collection puffing like a steam-engine, and
underneath the words, “Who’ll smoake with y^{e} Man in y^{e} Moon?” If
these frequent allusions in songs and plays were not enough to remind
the Londoners that there was such a being, they could see him daily
amongst the figures of old St Paul’s--
“The Great Dial is your last monument; where bestow some half of the
three score minutes to observe the sauciness of the Jacks[443] that
are above the _Man in the Moon_ there; the strangeness of their motion
will quit your labour.”--DECKER’S _Gull’s Hornbook_.
[402] Coryatt’s Crudities, London, 1776, p. 15, reprinted from the
edition of 1611.
[403] In those early days the sign alone of a house was not thought to
give sufficient publicity. Touters (_crieurs_) were therefore sent about
town (a custom dating from the Romans.) Thus in the “Crieries de Paris,”
(Barbazan, Fabliaux et Contes, vol. ii., p. 277,)--
“D’autres cris on fait plusieurs,
Qui long seraient à reciter.
L’on crie vin nouveau et vieux,
Duquel l’on donne à tater.”
These touters had their statutes and privileges granted to them by
Philip Auguste in 1258, some of which are very curious.
[404] Not only had the innkeepers saints on their signboards, but the
different reception-rooms in their houses were also sanctified with some
holy name. Artus Desiré quaintly inveighs against this practice in his
“Loyaulté Consciencieuse des Tavernières:”--
“Semblablement toutes leurs chambres painctes,
Où il n’y a qu’ordure et ivrognise,
Portent les noms de benoistz sainctz et sainctes
Contre l’honneur de Dieu et son Eglise.
L’une s’apelle, à leur mode et devize,
Le _Paradis_ et l’autre _Sainct Clement_.
Et quant quelqu’un rabaste fermement,
L’hostesse crie André, Guillot, Mornable,
Laisse-moy tout, et va legerement
En _Paradis_, compter de par le Diable.
S’on si veut chauffer,
Portent le faggot
Robin avec Margot,
De par Lucifer.”
(“In the same manner all their painted rooms, in which there is nothing
but filth and drunkenness, are named after some blessed saint, contrary
to the respect due to the Lord and His Church. According to this custom
one is called the Paradise, and another St Clement. And if anybody
higgles about his bill the hostess calls out, Andrew, Will, Mornable,
leave everything, and run quickly up to the Paradise to make out the
bill, in the Devil’s name. And if anybody wants a fire, Bob or Maggy has
to carry up a faggot in the name of Lucifer.”)
[405]
“This is Saint Crispin, but my name is Kit,
I make boots, shoes, and slippers.”
[406]
“Here at the Crispin any man may for his money
Immediately obtain shoes made out of animals’ skins;
But many a brute in this town wears a human skin,
Nay, wears his own brother’s skin, and the brute looks even well in
it”
[407] So were Crispin and Crispian, and hence the trade is called the
“Gentle Craft.”
[408] The gayest city in Europe three centuries ago.
[409]
“You have said
St Julian’s prayer this morning,
Either in French or in Latin,
Now you are sure to be well lodged.”
[410]
“We are entirely at your service.
By S. Peter the good apostle
You shall have St Julian inn (or welcome.)”
[411]
“Often good wine makes them say,
That they have the inn of St Martin.”
[412]
“Thus they had at his expense the inn of St Martin.”
[413]
“Whosoever sees the image of St Christopher,
Shall that day not feel any sickness.”
[414]
“The day that you see St Christopher’s face,
That day shall you not die an evil death. 1423.”
[415] Aubrey, Remains of Judaism and Gentilism. Lansdowne MSS., No. 231.
[416] Memoirs of Roger Earl of Orrery, by Rev. Mr Th. Morris, (Earl of
Orrery’s State Letters,) 1742, fol. 15.
[417] Strype, B. ii., p. 162.
[418] Tottenham High Cross.
[419] The first library sold by auction in this country was that of Dr
Seaman, of Warwick Court, Warwick Lane, in 1676.
[420] “If your potations overnight do not agree with you, take another
glass of wine in the morning, and it will cure you.”
[421] Skinker, an old English word, synonymous to tapster, drawer.
“Bacchus the win him skinketh all about.”--CHAUCER, _Marchant’s Tale_,
9696
[422]
“Apollo and you, band of Muses,
Bacchus, god of wine and grapes,
Ceres, goddess of bread and beer,
You all must share our sorrow.
Weep all ye gods and goddesses,
Over the bier of the defunct Simon Wadloe,
He lived _well_ under an _evil_ sign,
If he goes to heaven, O miracle! thanks to the _Devil_.”
[423] Ned Ward’s “London Spy,” 1703.
[424] _La Tête Noire_, (the Moor’s head,) another famous tavern in that
locality.
[425]
“Sacred precincts, where are delivered
The holy oracles of Themis,
Though you may boast
To see everybody kneel to you,
Were it not for the _Devil_ and the _Moor’s head_
I would never come near you.”
[426] St Justin, another martyr, after his head was struck off, picked
it up, and, holding in his hand, conversed with the bystanders.
[427] Cunningham’s London.
[428] Our Harry VIII. was fully as extravagant in his retinue. When he
went over to meet Francis I. at the Camp du Drap d’or, he required 2400
beds, and stabling for 2000 horses.
[429] “Rutland Papers,” reprinted for Camden Society.
[430] Epistle Dedicatory to “Have at you to Saffron Walden,” 1596.
[431] “Misrule in a velvet cap, a sprig, a short cloak, a great yellow
ruff, like a reveller, his torch bearer bearing a rope, a cheese, and a
basket.” The names given were the real designations of the performers in
private life. Kit, the cobbler of Philpot Lane; Cis, a cook’s wife from
Scalding Alley; Nell, a milliner from Threadneedle Street; and Tom, our
drawer from Blossom’s Inn.
“And he presenteth Misrule,
Which you may know by the very show,
Albeit you never ask it;
For there you may see, what his ensignes bee,
The rope, the cheese, and the basket.”
[432] St Catherine was beheaded after having been placed between wheels
with spikes, from which she was saved by an angel descended from heaven.
[433] Several of the old carriers and coaching inns still remain in
Bishopsgate Street, under their old names, as the _Black Bull_, the
_Green Dragon_, the _Four Swans_, and (until a few months ago) the
_Flowerpot_, &c.
[434] _Gentleman’s Magazine_, March 1842.
[435] It is said that this sign, put up in French somewhere as the _cœur
doré_, was Englished into the “queer door.”
[436] Note in Gifford’s Ben Jonson, vol iv., p. 174.
[437] They were called the three kings of Cologne because they were
buried in that city. The Empress Helena brought their bones to
Constantinople, from whence they were removed to Milan, and thence in
1164 to Cologne, where they are still kept as sacred and miracle-working
relics.
[438] Harl. MSS. 5910, vol. i., fol. 193.
[439]
“Jasper brings myrrh, Melchior frankincense, Balthazar gold.
He who carries these three names of the kings about with him
Will, through Christ’s favour, be delivered of the falling sickness.”
In the trial of the smugglers for the murder of Chater and Galley,
excisemen of Chichester, in the last century, one of the prisoners was
found with this charm in his pocket. With this scrap of paper in his
possession, he had considered himself quite safe from detection.
[440]
“Three kings brought three gifts to the King of Kings.
They gave myrrh to him as man, gold as king, and frankincense as God.”
[441]
“But come now, for already hovers Cain with his bundle of thorns
On the confines of the two hemispheres, and touches the
Waves beneath Seville.”
[442]
“But tell me, what are the dark spots
On that body, which makes them down there on earth
Talk of Cain and the bundle of thorns!”
[443] Paul’s Jacks were the little automaton figures that struck the
hours in old St Paul’s. Similar puppets, or figures, were also on other
London churches.