As he my troublesome young beard did clip.”
Several of these worthies attained to great distinction, and rose from the shop to the senate.
The furniture of a barber’s shop, to those who are curious in matters of antiquity, might serve to explain the customs of a very remote period. The basin is mentioned in Ezekiel: it is the cantherus of the middle ages, which was of bright copper. From a peculiar soap, lascivium, used by the fraternity, we derive the word lather. Washing-balls were used for washing and softening the beard before shaving, and the pomatum in use was known as capillare. Various modes of frizzing and plaiting the hair, distinguished by appropriate terms, are alluded to by archæologists; but we turn a deaf ear to such traditions—our lode-star glistens near the barber’s pole, Mambrino’s helmet, bright with sunny memories of golden romance and the adventures of the knight of La Mancha. There has been some diversity of opinion as to the origin of the well-known barber’s pole. The prevalent opinion is probably the true one, that it represents the staff held in the hand by the patient phlebotomized by the barber-surgeon; and that the red ribbon coiled round it represents the tape by which the arm was compressed during the operation. And here, at the threshold, we observe the mystical union between Barbery and Surgery; and hence the dignity and professional honours to which the barbers justly lay claim. Lord Thurlow, in the House of Peers (1797) decorated the barber’s pole with somewhat different colours when he stated “that, by a statute then in force, the Barbers and Surgeons were each to use a pole. The barbers were to have theirs blue and white, striped, with no other appendage; but the surgeons’, which was the same in other respects, was likewise to have a galley-pot and a red rag, to denote the particular nature of their vocation.” Our business is not with the galley-pot, although we love the golden beard of Æsculapius well. We incline to the belief that there were no jealousies between the happy couple at an early period of their union. The fees of both professions were, doubtless, small, and seldom any but minor operations attempted; while, probably, the ignorance of both parties was so nearly balanced as to produce the desired equality so necessary to the concord of the married state. For many long years we know they jogged on together without complaint of any kind; that subsequently, if not very loving, they tolerated each other with due decorum; and that, when at last they got to wrangling and high words, they luckily obtained a divorce.
The barber’s basin certainly ranks next in importance to the pole. The basin of the proper form had the usual semi-circle cut out of the brim, that it might fit into the neck; and, in another part, a hollow place, like a little dish, to hold the soap: its office was two-fold, and was in requisition both for bleeding and shaving. To the disturbed vision of Don Quixote the brass basin glittered like burnished gold. His adventure with the village barber, mounted on his dappled grey ass, the renowned helmet, and the part it played in the astounding feats of that flower of chivalry, are known the world over, and are among the most pleasant associations connected with the barber’s trade. At a public festival in Holland, in honour of the Earl of Leicester, Holinshed says a barber set up some three score of bright copper basins on a wall, with a wax candle burning in each, and a painting of a rose and crown, and an inscription in Latin, “this made a faire shew, and was a pretie deuise.” If the fellow were an honest patriot, he deserved a pyramid of brass basins for a monument.
Punning inscriptions and quaint devices outside of the shop were frequently adopted as alluring bait for the lovers of odd whims and fancies, who thought none the worse of the man for having some spice of humour in his composition. Over a barber’s shop Hogarth has set up this inscription, “Shaving, bleeding, and teeth drawn with a touch, Ecce Signum.” Bat Pigeon, of whom honourable mention is made by both Steele and Addison, had a curious device of a bat and a pigeon, which, in its day, attracted much attention. The wig-maker’s sign of Absalom hanging from the oak by his hair, and the darts of Joab fixed in his side, is probably of French origin. The story is told of a barber at Troyes, and the inscription runs thus:
“Passans, contemplez la douleur
D’Absalon pendu par la nuque:
Il eût évité ce malheur
S’il avait porté la perruque.”
The English version is more concise: