At the Sign of the Barbers Pole | Page 3

under my
sign, it might be the making of me and mine for ever."
"But what do you intend for your sign?" inquired the cleric.
"The 'Jolly Barber,' if it please your reverence, with a razor in one hand
and a full pot in the other."
"Well," rejoined Swift, "in that case there can be no great difficulty in
supplying you with a suitable inscription." Taking up a pen he instantly
wrote the following couplet, which was duly painted on the sign and
remained there for many years:--
"Rove not from pole to pole, but step in here, Where nought excels the
shaving but--the beer."
Another barber headed his advertisement with a parody on a couplet
from Goldsmith as follows:--
"Man wants but little beard below, Nor wants that little long."
A witty Parisian hairdresser on one of the Boulevards put up a sign
having on it a portrait of Absalom dangling by his hair from a tree, and
Joab piercing his body with a spear. Under the painting was the
following terse epigram:--
"Passans, contemplez le malheur D'Absalom pendu par la nuque; Il
aurait évité ce malheur, S'il eut porté une perruque."
The lines lose some of their piquancy when rendered into English as

follows:--
"The wretched Absalom behold, Suspended by his flowing hair: He
might have 'scaped this hapless fate Had he chosen a wig to wear."

THE BARBER'S SHOP
The old-fashioned barber has passed away. In years agone he was a
notable tradesman, and was a many-sided man of business, for he
shaved, cut hair, made wigs, bled, dressed wounds, and performed
other offices. When the daily papers were not in the hands of the people
he retailed the current news, and usually managed to scent the latest
scandal, which he was not slow to make known--in confidence, and in
an undertone, of course. He was an intelligent fellow, with wit as keen
as his razor; urbane, and having the best of tempers. It has been
truthfully said of this old-time tradesman that one might travel from
pole to pole and never encounter an ill-natured or stupid barber.
Long days are usually worked in the barber's shop, and many attempts
have been made to reduce the hours of labour. We must not forget that
compulsory early closing is by no means a new cry, as witness the
following edict, issued in the reign of Henry VI., by the Reading
Corporation: "Ordered that no barber open his shop to shave any man
after 10 o'clock at night from Easter to Michaelmas, or 9 o'clock from
Michaelmas to Easter, except it be any stranger or any worthy man of
the town that hath need: whoever doeth to the contrary to pay one
thousand tiles to the Guildhall."
[Illustration: A Barber's Shop in the Time of Queen Elizabeth.]
In the reign of Queen Elizabeth the rich families from the country
thought it no disgrace in that simple age to lodge in Fleet Street, or take
rooms above some barber's shop. At this period, indeed, the
barber-surgeon was a man of considerable importance. His shop was
the gathering-place of idle gallants, who came to have their
sword-wounds dressed after street frays. The gittern, or guitar, lay on

the counter, and this was played by a customer to pass away the time
until his turn came to have his hair trimmed, his beard starched, his
mustachios curled, and his love-locks tied up. We give a picture of a
barber's shop at this period; the place appears more like a museum than
an establishment for conducting business. We get a word picture of a
barber's shop in Greene's "Quip for an Upstart Courtier," published in
1592. It is related that the courtier sat down in the throne of a chair, and
the barber, after saluting him with a low bow, would thus address him:
"Sir, will you have your worship's hair cut after the Italian manner,
short and round, and then frounst with the curling irons to make it look
like a half-moon in a mist; or like a Spaniard, long at the ears and
curled like to the two ends of an old cast periwig; or will you be
Frenchified with a love-lock down to your shoulders, whereon you may
wear your mistress's favour? The English cut is base, and gentlemen
scorn it; novelty is dainty. Speak the word, sir, my scissors are ready to
execute your worship's will." A couple of hours were spent in combing
and dressing the ambrosial locks of the young Apollo; then the barber's
basin was washed with camphor soap. At last the beard is reached, and
with another congee the barber asks if his worship would wish it to be
shaven; "whether he would have his peak cut short and sharp, and
amiable like an inamorato, or