Every merchant formerly carried a signet-ring, on which was engraved, not his coat-of-arms, but his mark or signet. Thus, a curious signet-ring was found lying in the bed of the river while digging the foundations of London Bridge. At first it was believed to be Sir Thomas Gresham’s, but that seems now to be impossible. It is engraved in The London and Middlesex Notebook (p. 195). The device contains the initials of the owner, with an arrangement of lines probably not intended to have any meaning except that they should be recognised as forming part of Sir Thomas Gresham’s signet. Armed with this ring as an introduction, a messenger could buy and sell for the merchant—it being presumed that the ring never left its owner save to be used as a letter of recommendation and introduction. Sometimes the signet-ring was worn on the thumb. Other merchants’ devices are figured in the “Notebook.”
Foreigners have revealed to us some very curious and rather startling peculiarities of the custom of kissing as practised by our ancestors. Thus as early as 1466 a Bohemian nobleman named Leo von Rozmital visited England, and in the Journal of his Travel (1577) it is noted that “it is the custom there, that on the arrival of a distinguished stranger from foreign parts, maids and matrons go to the inn and welcome him with gifts. Another custom is observed there, which is that, when guests arrive at an inn, the hostess with all her family go out to meet and receive them; and the guests are required to kiss them all, and this among the English was the same as shaking hands among other nations.” Erasmus, in 1499, wrote a Latin letter from England to his friend Fausto Anfrelini, an Italian poet, exhorting him in a strain of playful levity to think no more of his gout, but to betake himself to England; for (he remarks) “here are girls with angels’ faces, so kind and obliging, that you would far prefer them to all your Muses. Besides, there is a custom here never to be sufficiently recommended. Wherever you come you are received with a kiss by all; when you take your leave you are dismissed with kisses; you return, kisses are repeated. They come to visit you, kisses again; they leave you, you kiss them all round. Should they meet you anywhere, kisses in abundance; in fine, wherever you move, there is nothing but kisses.” In 1527 Cardinal Wolsey was appointed Ambassador Extraordinary to France. He was accompanied by George Cavendish, his gentleman usher, who wrote a Life of the Cardinal. Cavendish had gone forward to prepare his lord’s lodging. He says: “And I being there (at the Sire de Créqui’s Castle at Moreuil, about twelve miles from Amiens) tarrying a while, my lady Créqui issued out of her chamber into her dining chamber, where I attended her coming, who received me very gently like her noble estate, having a traine of twelve gentlewomen. And when she and her traine was come all out, she saide unto me, ‘For as much,’ quoth she, ‘as ye be an Englishman whose custome is to kisse all ladies and gentlemen in your country without offense, although it is not soe here with us in this realme, yet I will be so bould as kisse you, and soe ye shall doe all my maids.’ By meanes whereof I kissed her and all her maides.” In the narrative of the visit of the Spanish nobleman, the Duke de Najera, in 1543–44, we are told that “after the dancing was finished (which lasted several hours) the Queen entred again into her chamber, having previously called one of the noblemen who spoke Spanish, to offer in her name, some presents to the Duke, who again kissed her hand; and on his requesting the same favour of the Princess Mary, she would by no means permit it, but offered him her lips, and the Duke saluted her, and did the same to all the other ladies.” A Greek traveller, Nicander Nucius, came to England in 1545, and remarks: “They display great simplicity and absence of jealousy in their usages towards females. For not only do those who are of the same family and household kiss them on the mouth with salutations and embraces, but even those too who have never seen them. And to themselves this appears by no means indecent.” Again, when the Constable of Castile appeared at the Court of Whitehall on Saturday afternoon, 18th August 1604, after kissing Her Majesty’s hands he requested permission to salute the ladies of honour (twenty in number, standing in a row, and beautiful exceedingly) according to the custom of the country, and any neglect of which is taken as an affront. Whereupon the Queen having given him leave, His Excellency complied with the custom, much to the satisfaction of the ladies.
In Shakespeare’s Henry VIII., at the Cardinal’s banquet, the King says to Anne Bullen:—
“Sweetheart,
I were unmannerly, to take you out,
And not to kiss you.”
In dancing it appears to have been the customary fee of a lady’s partner. A further illustration of the custom may be seen. Foreigners of the male sex, and especially Frenchmen, are in the more frequent habit of kissing each other, and probably not the ladies. Misson, a Frenchman who travelled in England about 1697, says: “The people of England, when they meet, never salute one another, otherwise than by giving one another their hands, and shaking them heartily; they no more dream of pulling off their hats, than the women do of pulling off their headcloths.”
The sin of great cities we may pass over; that of early marriage is still, as it was in Stubbes’ time, a very terrible evil; the sin of drunkenness is with us still, and is present in every country. The side of charity that consists in giving doles to the poor was then neglected, and is now destroyed. We still suffer from money-lenders, though they can no longer conduct us to a life-long prison.
“Beleeve mee,” says Stubbes, “it greeveth mee to heare (walking in the streats) the pitiful cryes, and miserable complaints of poore prisoners in durance for debt, and like so to continue all their life, destitute of libertie, meat, drink (though of the meanest sorte), and clothing to their backs, lying in filthie strawe, and lothsome dung, wursse than anie dogge, voide of all charitable consolation and brotherly comfort in this World, wishing and thyrsting after death to set them at libertie, and loose them from their shackles, giues, and yron bands.” (Stubbes.)
As for the boys of this century, I have always thought their favourite haunt was the river, or the river-side. On the river they rowed about among the fishermen, and the swans above Bridge; the Queen’s Barge swept past them with its trumpets and its hangings gorgeous to behold; the Lord Mayor and the Companies were borne along before them in state and splendour such as we have forgotten—surely nothing could have been more splendid than these barges with their long lines of flashing oars and their bows gilt and carved, and the carved work of the covered seat of state, and the servants in their green and gold. Below Bridge, in the Port, they rowed in and out among the ships as boys will about Portsmouth Harbour now; the name of each ship with her port was written on her lofty stern. The figure-head of each was bright as paint and gold would make it. If they were allowed to go on board there were sailors full of yarns, with strange things to show as well as to tell. If they went as far down as Deptford, there was Drake’s ship, the ship which had gone all round the world—all round the world! If they stayed ashore, there were taverns in Wapping and St. Katherine’s, where they could snatch the fearful joy of seeing the sailors drink and fight, the foreign sailors and the English sailors, and the sailors from the North Country, and those of London and the Cinque Ports. The river and the river-side were famous schools to fill the minds of London boys with an ardour for adventure; a yearning for the way of war; a burning desire to cross the seas and visit far countries; and a thirst for geography; and all the London boys of every class regularly attended the classes of this Academy.