“Posteth it over as fast as he can galope, for eyther he has two places to serve, or else there are some games to be playde in the afternoon, as lying for the whetstone,[628] heathenish dauncing for the ring, a beare or a bull to be baited, or else a jackanapes to ride on horsebacke, or an interlude to be playde in the church. We speak not of [bell-] ringing after matins is done.”
Not much more than ten years ago, the good people of Paris were, every Thursday afternoon, in the summer, entertained in the Hippodrome, with “jackanapes on horseback,” dressed up like Arabs, and followed by miniature chasseurs d’Afrique, to the great gratification of our martial neighbours. This sign is named in an advertisement, of the year 1700, for a mare stolen by a “lusty black man with a brown coat,”[629] notice of the mare to be given “to Mr John Wright, at the Jackanapes on Horseback,” in Cheapside. The grinning, or, as it was written, “Grenning Iackanapes,” is a sign mentioned by Eliot in his “Fruits for the French,” or “Parlement of Pratlers,” 1593, “ouer against the Vnicorne in the Iewrie.” The [Hog in Armour], in Hanging Sword Court, Fleet Street, is mentioned in an advertisement,[630] in 1678, as the place where there was to be sold “seacole sutt for the great improvement of all sorts of lands, as well as gardens and hop grounds.” It is named amongst the absurd London signs in the Spectator 28, April 2, 1711, and is still occasionally seen, as in James’ Street, Dublin. Though the sign does not exist any longer in London, yet the name is not lost among the lower orders, it being a favourite epithet applied to rifle volunteers by costermongers, street fishmongers, and such like. A jocular name for this sign is the “pig in misery.” There is also a Goat in Armour on the Narrow Quay, Bristol, and a [Goat in Boots] on the Fulham Road, Little Chelsea. In 1663 this house was called the Goat, and enjoyed the right of commonage for two cows and one heifer upon Chelsea Heath.
“How the goat became equipped in boots, and the designation of the house changed, have been the subject of various conjectures, the most probable of which is, that it originated in a corruption of the latter part of the Dutch legend—
‘Mercurius is der Goden Boode,’
(Mercury is the messenger of the gods,)—which being divided between each side of the sign, bearing the figure of a Mercury—a sign commonly used in the early part of the last century [?] to denote that post-horses were to be obtained—‘der Goden Boode’ became freely translated into English, ‘the Goat in Boots.’ To Le Blond[631] is attributed the execution of this sign and its motto; but whoever the original artist may have been, or the intermediate re-touchers or re-painters of the god, certain it is that the pencil of Morland, in accordance with the desire of the landlord, either transformed the Petasus of Mercury into the horned head of a goat, his talaria into spurs upon boots of huge dimension, and his caduceus into a cutlass, or thus decorated the original sign, thereby liquidating a score which he had run up here, without any other means of payment than what his pencil afforded. The sign, however, has been painted over, with additional embellishments from gold leaf, so that not the least trace of Morland’s work remains, except, perhaps, the outline.”[632]
With all deference to the opinion of Mr Croker, we cannot help thinking of this, as of many other signboard explanations, “Se non è vero è ben trovato.” 1o. the house was called the Goat in 1663; 2o. there is no proof that it ever was called the Mercury, (nor was that sign ever so common as Mr Croker asserts.) From the following quotation it will appear that as early as 1738 some Goats in Boots had already appeared, not the result of any mythological metamorphosis. The Craftsman for June 17, 1738, in ridiculing some lenient measures taken by Government, blames the signs for putting a martial spirit in the nation, and proposes that “no lion should be drawn rampant, but couchant; and none of his teeth ought to be seen without this inscription, ‘Though he shows his teeth he wont bite.’ All bucks, bulls, rams, stags, unicorns, and all other warlike animals ought to be drawn without horns. Let no general be drawn in armour, and instead of truncheons let them have muster-rolls in their hands. In like manner, I would have all admirals painted in a frock and jockey cap, like landed gentlemen. The common sign of the two Fighting Cocks might be better changed to a Cock and Hen, and that of the Valiant Trooper to a Hog in Armour, or a Goat in Jackboots, as some Hampshire and Welsh publicans have done already for the honour of their respective countries.” The sign, then, seems to be a sort of caricature of a Welshman, the Goat having always been considered the emblem of that nation, and the jackboots an indispensable article of Taffy’s costume. Thus, Captain Grose, in his “Essay on Caricatures,”[633] mentions a Welshman with his goat, leek, hay-boots, and long pedigree, as a standard joke. Not improbably the switch carried by the goat on this sign was originally a leek. Of the same origin is the well-known [Welsh Trooper], representing a man with a leek in his hat riding on a goat. This sign may still be seen in London. In the Roxburghe ballads the Welshman with his jackboots and leek occurs in an old woodcut; in other places he is drawn riding a goat, and similarly dressed.
Puss in Boots occurs at Windley, Duffield, near Derby. The Goat in Boots may have suggested the idea of making a sign of this nursery-tale hero. The Dutch shoemakers, in pursuance of the proverb, seem to have taken a particular delight in these booted animals. Various creatures in boots occur amongst the Dutch signboard inscriptions of the seventeenth century. One was the Ox in Boots, (in den gelaarsden os,) with this inscription:—
“’t Leer geeft den Schoenmaker de os daar hy schoenen van maakt om te verslyten;
Ik heb den os weer met leer tot dank gelaerst en gespoord doen conterfyten.”[634]
Another innkeeper put up the Cow in Boots, (de gelaersden koe,) and wrote beneath:—
“Ziet dees koe heeft laarzen aan
Was ’t noch een Bul dan kon het gaan.”[635]
A third, in Amsterdam, had the Cock in Boots, (de gelaarsde Haan,) with the following extraordinary rhymes:—