[448] Preface to his “History of the World.”
[449] Archæologia, ii., p. 169. In an article in “Notes and Queries,” No. 150, a document is quoted by which George Gower was appointed “the Queen’s Sargeant Paynter,” and Nicolas Hilliard her miniature portrait painter. No portraits of the queen painted by Gower appear, however, to be known.
[450] Lettre à M. Bizotin. “I cannot bear to see the portraits of the king, of the queen, of the dauphin, and of the other princes and princesses used as signs for shops; they whose portraits ought to be reserved for the most celebrated galleries and the most famous collections only. Would not M. d’Argenson, and you as well, M. le Commissaire, have very serious reason to be annoyed if you were to see your portrait as a sign to a public-house or to a rag-shop? Why, then, are you not annoyed in seeing the king’s portrait in such places?” Mr Boursault’s flattery is much more evident than his logic.
[451] There is a print of it in Gentleman’s Magazine, June 1794.
[452] “Memoirs of J. Decastro, comedian,” London, 1824. See under “Go,” (as “a go of gin,” “a go of rum,”) in the “Slang Dictionary,” 3d edition: John Camden Hotten, Piccadilly, London.
[453] London Gazette, Nov. 30 to Dec. 4, 1682.
[454] In Lydgate’s ballad of “London Lyckpenny,” temp. Henry VI.
[455] This touting, or standing at the door inviting the passers by to enter, was at one time a universal practice with all kind of shops, both at home and abroad. The regular phrase used to be “What do ye lack? What do ye lack?” The French dits and fabliaux teem with allusions to this custom. In the story of “Courtois d’Arras,”—a travesty of the prodigal son, in a thirteenth century garb—Courtois finds the host standing at his door shouting, “Bon vin de Soissons à 6 deniers le lot.” And in a mediæval mystery, entitled “Li jus de S. Nicholas,” the innkeeper roars out, “Céans il fait bon diner, céans il y a pain chaud et harengs chauds et vin d’Auxerre à plein tonneau.” In “Les trois Aveugles de Compiegne,” mine host thus addresses the thirsty wanderers:—
“Ci a bon vin fres et nouvel,
Ça d’Ancoire, ça de Soissons
Pain et char et vin et poissons,
Céens fet bon despendre argent,
Ostel i a à toute gent,
Céens fet moult bon heberger.”
And in the “Debats et facétieuses rencontres de Gringalet et de Guillot Gorgen son maistre,” the servant who had taken advantage of the host’s invitation, excuses himself, saying, “Le tavernier a plus de tort que moy, car passant devant sa porte, et luy étant assiz, (ainsi qu’ils sont ordinairement), il me cria me disant: Vous plaist-il de dejeuner céans? Il y a de bon pain, de bon vin et de bonne viande.” This touting at tavern doors was still practised in the last century, as appears from the following passage in Tom Brown:—“We were jogging forward into the city, when our Indian cast his eyes upon one of his own complexion, at a certain coffee-house which has the Sun staring its sign in the face, even at midnight, when the moon is queen regent of the planets, and, being willing to be acquainted with his countryman, gravely inquired what province or kingdom of India he belonged to; but the sooty dog could do nothing but grin, and show his teeth, and cry, Coffee, sir, tea, will you please to walk in, sir; a fresh pot, upon my word.”—Tom Brown, vol iii., p. 17. Not only taverns but all sorts of shops kept these barking advertisements at the door. The ballad of “London Lyckpenny” enumerates a quantity of them. “What do you lack?” was the stereotype phrase. The “Buy, buy, what’ll you buy?” of the butchers, is one of the last remains in London of this custom. At Greenwich, the practice of touting at the doors of the small coffee-houses is still kept up; and throughout the United States and Canada the custom of waiting at steamboat wharves and railway termini, to catch passengers, and worry them with recommendations to this or that hotel, is unpleasantly prevalent. The touters there are known as hotel runners.