Hall Cross—originally called “Hob Cross”—was destroyed in the seventeenth-century troubles. It was a late Norman structure, and is copied in the existing Cross, set up by the Corporation, as an inscription informs the passer-by, in 1793. A weird structure it is, too, consisting of a stone pillar of five engaged shafts, reflecting credit on neither the original designer nor the restorers. But there it stands, elevated above the modern road, as evidence of a momentary aberration in favour of restoring antiquity of which the Corporation were guilty, a century or so ago. Doncastrians have purged themselves so thoroughly of that weakness in later years that they have left no other vestige of old times in their streets. The finest example of an old inn belonging to the town was destroyed in the pulling down of the “Old Angel” in 1846, in order to clear a site for the Guildhall. Others are left, but, if old-fashioned, they are scarcely picturesque: the “Angel,” “Ram,” “Elephant,” “Salutation,” and “Old George.”
In old newspaper files we find Richard Wood, of the “Reindeer” and “Ram” inns, High Street, advertising that his coaches were the best—“the horses keep good time—no racing”; from which we conclude that there had been some. It was Richard Wood, then the foremost coach-proprietor in Doncaster, who first gave employment to that celebrated painter of horses and coaches, John Frederick Herring, who, although a Londoner born, lived long and worked much at Doncaster. It was in 1814, when in his nineteenth year, that he first came to the town, the love of horses bringing him all the way. Seeing the “Royal Union” starting at eight o’clock in the morning with “Doncaster” displayed in large letters on its panels, on the inspiration of the moment he took a seat, and arrived in time to witness the horse “William” win the St. Leger.
There is a tale of his observing a man clumsily trying to paint a picture of the Duke of Wellington, seated on his charger, for the panel of a coach to be called after that hero of a hundred fights. He had, somehow, managed to worry through the figure of the Duke, and to secure a recognisable likeness of him—because, for this purpose, all that was necessary was the representation of an ascetic face and a large, beak-like nose—but he boggled at the horse. Herring offered to paint in the horse for him, and did it so well that he earned the thanks of the proprietor, who happened to appear on the scene and commissioned him to paint the insignia of the “Royal Forester,” Doncaster and Nottingham coach; a white lion on one door and a reindeer on the other. These he performed with equal credit, and taking a seat beside the proprietor in question, who, with others, mounted for a ride to “prove” the springs and christen the new coach, he at once offered himself as coachman. Mr. Wood, for it was he, was naturally surprised at the idea of a painter driving a coach, but consented to give him a trial the next day on the “Highflyer,” and to abide by the decision of the regular driver of that famous drag. The result was favourable, and Herring obtained the box-seat, not of the “Royal Forester,” but of the “Nelson,” Wakefield and Lincoln coach. He was, after two years, transferred to the Doncaster and Halifax road, and thence promoted to the “Highflyer,” painting in his leisure hours many of the signs of Doncaster’s old inns. It was when on this road that he attracted the attention of a local gentleman, who obtained him a commission for a picture which laid the foundation of his success.
Nearly all the local signs that Herring painted have disappeared. Some were taken down when he became famous, and added to private collections of pictures; while others were renewed from the effects of time and weather by being painted over by journeyman painters. Some landlords, however, knew the value of these signs well enough. There was, for instance, mine host of the “Doncaster Arms,” who, having come from cow-keeping to the inn-keeping business, determined to change the name of the house to the “Brown Cow.” He induced Herring to paint the new sign, which immediately attracted attention. According to one story, a gentleman posting north chanced to see it and stopped the postboy while he endeavoured to drive a bargain for the purchase. He offered twice as much as mine host had originally paid; ten times as much, but without avail. “Not for twenty times,” said that licensed victualler; and the connoisseur went without it.
The other version makes the traveller a very important man, travelling with four post-horses, and represents the landlord as being away, and the landlady as the obstinate holder. “I’s rare and glad, measter, my husband’s not at home,” she said, “for p’r’aps he’d ha’ let thee hae it; but I wain’t; for what it’s worth to thee it’s worth to me, so gang on.”
A list has been preserved of the signs painted by Herring at Doncaster, but they will be sought in vain to-day. They were—
| The Labour in Vain | Marsh Gate. |
| The Sloop | Marsh Gate. |
| The Brown Cow | French Gate. |
| The Stag | The Holmes. |
| The Coach and Horses | Scot Lane. |
| The White Lion | St. George Gate. |
The “Labour in Vain” represented the fruitless labour of attempting to wash a black man white.
The old sign of the “Salutation,” painted by a Dutchman in 1766, was touched up by Herring. Many years ago it was removed, but has now been replaced, and may be seen on the front of the house in Hall Cross. It is much weather-worn, and represents, in dim and uncertain fashion, two clumsy looking old gentlemen in the costume of a hundred and forty years ago, rheumatically saluting one another. The sign of the “Stag,” painted on plaster still remains, in a decaying condition.