September 15.
“The Devil looking over Lincoln.”
On the 15th of September, 1731, “the famous devil that used to overlook Lincoln college in Oxford, was taken down, having, about two years since, lost his head, in a storm.”
On the same day in the same year “a crown, fixed on the top of Whitehall gate in the reign of king Charles II., fell down suddenly.”[342]
The origin of the statue of the devil at Oxford is not so certain as that the effigy was popular, and gave rise to the saying of “the devil looking over Lincoln.”
Satanic Superstitions.
That the devil has a “cloven foot,” which he cannot hide if it be looked for is a common belief with the vulgar. “The ground of this opinion at first,” says sir Thomas Browne, “might be his frequent appearing in the shape of a goat,” (this accounts also for his horns and tail,) “which answers this description. This was the opinion of the ancient christians, concerning the apparition of panites, fauns, and satyrs; and of this form we read of one that appeared to Anthony in the wilderness.” Mr. Brand collects, respecting this appearance, that Othello says, in the “Moor of Venice,”
“I look down towards his feet; but that’s a fable;
If that thou be’st a devil, I cannot kill thee;”
which Dr. Johnson explains: “I look towards his feet, to see, if, according to the common opinion, his feet be cloven.” There is a popular superstition both in England and Scotland relative to goats: that they are never to be seen for twenty-four hours together; and that once in that space, they pay a visit to the devil in order to have their beards combed.
Baxter, in his “World of Spirits,” mentions an anecdote from whence Mr. Brand imagines, that “this infernal visitant was in no instance treated with more sang froid on his appearing, or rather, perhaps, his imagined appearance, than by one Mr. White of Dorchester.” That gentleman was assessor to the Westminster Assembly at Lambeth, and “the devil, in a light night, stood by his bed-side: he looked awhile whether he would say or do any thing, and then said, ‘If thou hast nothing else to do, I have;’ and so turned himself to sleep.”
King James I. told his parliament in a speech on a certain occasion, that “the devil is a busy bishop.” It has been objected to this saying of “His Most Dread Majesty,” that it would have sounded well enough from a professed enemy to the bench, “but came very improperly from a king who flattered them more, and was more flattered by them, than any prince till his time.”[343]
Printers’ Devils.
As I was going the other day into Lincoln’s-inn, (says a writer in the “Grub-street Journal” of October 26, 1732,) under a great gateway, I met several lads loaded with great bundles of newspapers, which they brought from the stamp-office. They were all exceeding black and dirty; from whence I inferred they were “printers’ devils,” carrying from thence the returns of unsold newspapers, after the stamps had been cut off. They stopt under the gateway, and there laid down their loads; when one of them made the following harangue: “Devils, gentlemen, and brethren:—though I think we have no reason to be ashamed on account of the vulgar opinion concerning the origin of our name, yet we ought to acknowledge ourselves obliged to the learned herald, who, upon the death of any person of title, constantly gives an exact account of his ancient family in my London Evening Post. He says, there was one monsieur Devile, or De Ville, who came over with William the Conqueror, in company with De Laune, De Vice, De Val, D’Ashwood, D’Urfie, D’Umpling, &c. One of the sons of a descendant of this monsieur De Ville, was taken in by the famous Caxton in 1471, as an errand boy; was afterwards his apprentice, and in time an eminent printer, from whom our order took their name; but suppose they took it from infernal devils, it was not because they were messengers frequently sent in darkness, and appeared very black, but upon a reputable account, viz., John Fust, or Faustus, of Mentz, in Germany, was the inventor of printing, for which he was called a conjurer, and his art the black art. As he kept a constant succession of boys to run on errands, who were always very black, these they called devils; some of whom being raised to be his apprentices, he was said to have raised many a devil. As to the inferior order among us, called flies, employed in taking newspapers off the press, they are of later extraction, being no older than newspapers themselves. Mr. Bailey thinks, their original name was lies, taken from the papers they so took off, and the alteration occasioned thus. To hasten these boys, the pressmen used to cry flie, lie, which naturally fell into one single word lie. This conjecture is confirmed by a little corruption in the true title of the fLying Post; since, therefore, we are both comprehended under the title of devils, let us discharge our office with diligence; so may we attain, as many of our predecessors have done, to the dignity of printers, and to have an opportunity of using others as much like poor devils, as we have been used by them, or as they and authors are used by booksellers. These are an upstart profession, who have engrossed the business of bookselling, which originally belonged solely to our masters. But let them remember, that if we worship Belial and Beelzebub, the God of flies, all the world agrees, that their God is mammon.”
The preceding is from the “Gentleman’s Magazine” for October, 1732; and it is mentioned, that “at the head of the article is a picture emblematically displaying the art and mystery of printing; in which are represented a compositor, with an ass’s head; two pressmen, one with the head of a hog, the other of a horse, being names which they fix upon one another; a flie taking off the sheets, and a devil hanging them up; a messenger with a greyhound’s face kicking out the “Craftsman;” a figure with two faces, for the master, to show he prints on both sides; but the reader is cautioned against applying it to any particular person, who is, or ever was a printer; for that all the figures were intended to represent characters and not persons.”
It is a proverbial expression, not confined to our country, that “the devil is not so black as he is painted.” The French, in their usual forms of speech, mention him with great honour and respect. Thus, when they would commend any thing, they break out into this pious exclamation, “Diable! que cela est bon!” When they would represent a man honest, sincere, and sociable, they call him “un bon Diable.” Some of our own countrymen will say, a thing is “devilish good;” a lady is “devilish pretty.” In a mixture of surprise and approbation, they say, “the devil’s in this fellow, or he is a comical devil.” Others speak of the apostate angel with abhorrence, and nothing is more common than to say, “such a one is a sad devil.” I remember when I was at St. Germains, a story of a gentleman, who being in waiting at the court of king James II., and the discourse running upon demons and apparitions, the king asked him whether ever he had seen any thing of that sort. “Yes,” replied he, “last night.” His majesty asked him what he had seen. He answered, “the devil.” Being asked in what shape,—“O sir,” said he, with a sigh, “in his usual and natural shape, that of an empty bottle.”[344]