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THREE KINGS—ASTRONOMICAL SIGNS.

‘Gaspar and Melchior and Balthazar

Came to Cologne on the broad-breasted Rhine,

And founded there a temple, which is yet

A fragment, but the wonder of the world.’

Lord Tennyson: MS.

AN interesting group of City signs is that connected with the Three Kings, showing as it does what a hold the sacred legend, handed down to us from a remote past, continued to have on popular imagination till comparatively recent years. In the Guildhall Museum there is a stone bas-relief of the Three Kings, brought from No. 7, Bucklersbury when the house was rebuilt some years ago. The figures are represented standing in similar attitudes; they have sceptres in their right hands, the left arm being in each case folded across the breast. The figure to the spectator’s left has flowing hair; that in the centre is of negro type; the one to the right is distinguished by a large moustache. A bas-relief from Lambeth Hill, also in the Guildhall Museum, is somewhat similar in design; the king on the left has a crown, the others diadems; it is dated 1667. Another sign from Lambeth Hill—the Three Crowns—was also put up in 1667, and may possibly have belonged to the same house.

The sign of the Three Kings was an appropriate one for inns, because on account of their journey they were considered the patron saints of travellers: it is also said to have been used in England by mercers, because they imported fine linen from Cologne. Bearing on this is a passage to be found among the Harleian manuscripts, No. 5910, vol. i., fol. 193, which, though already quoted by Larwood and Hotten in their ‘History of Sign-boards,’ is so much to the point that I venture to give it again:

‘Mersers in thouse dayes war Genirall Marchantes and traded in all sortes of Rich Goodes, besides those of scelckes [silks] as they do nou at this day; but they brought into England fine Leninn thered [linen thread] gurdeles [girdles] finenly worked from Collin [Cologne]. Collin, the city which then at that time of day florished much and afforded rayre commodetes, and these merchāts that vsually traded to that citye set vp their singes ouer ther dores of ther Houses the three kinges of Collin, with the Armes of that Citye, which was the Three Crouens of the former kings in memorye of them, and by those singes the people knew in what wares they deld in.’

This was written by Bagford, the antiquary and ‘biblioclast,’ whose spelling was original, to say the least.

Innumerable traditions, myths, and allegories, have by degrees been grafted on to the brief Gospel narrative of the Three Magi; St. Matthew, the only Evangelist who mentions them,[10] gives no authority for fixing their number at three, nor for assigning to them a higher rank than that of Magi, or disciples of Zoroaster; but we may with reason hold that they are referred to in Ps. lxxii. 10, 11: ‘The Kings of Tharsis and of the Isles shall give presents, the Kings of Arabia and Saba shall bring gifts.’ This passage is recited in the Roman Catholic offices of the Epiphany, and on it no doubt is founded their claim to kingly rank. It has been generally said that to Leo the Great, or to St. Maximus of Turin, may be ascribed the traditional number; Dr. Northcote,[11] however, considers that Origen, who was born at Alexandria, a.d. 185, had the same idea. St. Augustine taught that they were three in number, from the three kinds of gifts that they offered—gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

Few subjects have been oftener treated in Christian art than that of these astronomer kings who, guided by a star from the East, came to worship the infant Saviour at Bethlehem. The early Christians painted the scene, but, following literally the words of St. Matthew, they varied their number, and showed no signs of royalty. De Rossi in his ‘Roma Sotteranea,’ speaks of upwards of twenty representations of the subject in the Catacombs. The Virgin Mother is, in these paintings, generally represented sitting at the side, with the Child in her lap and the three Magi before her, but sometimes she is in the middle; and here, in order, perhaps, to keep the balance of the composition, the number of Magi is either increased or diminished; there are four, as in the cemetery of St. Domitilla, or only two, as in that of SS. Peter and Marcellinus. In Harper’s New Monthly Magazine for January, 1888, an illustration is given of this latter painting.[12] The two Magi approach from either side; they are plainly dressed with short tunics, cloaks, and Phrygian caps, and bear their gifts on golden trays or dishes. De Rossi assigns it to the second half of the third century; that of St. Domitilla is supposed to be somewhat earlier.

Let us see how the subject was treated in early mosaics. A very famous one is that in the Basilica of S. Maria Maggiore at Rome, dating, it seems, from about a.d. 432–440. Here the Child sits alone on a large chair or pedestal, His hand raised in benediction; a nimbus surmounted by a cross marks His divine origin. The mosaic is said to have been altered in the time of Pope Benedict XIV.[13]; the Magi would appear to have been originally three in number, and without the insignia of royalty. In the great mosaic of St. Apollinare Nuovo at Ravenna, they approach with measured steps, and bending in attitudes of reverence: on their heads were crowns, since exchanged for baronial caps. The Virgin sits enthroned in state, the Child on her lap; two angels on either side attend them. According to the ‘Liber Pontificalis’ of Ravenna, this work was executed a.d. 553–556, under the direction of Bishop Agnellus.

The legend as it has come down to us gradually assumed concrete form. Our first detailed account of the appearance of the Three Kings is from the pen of a Western writer—the Venerable Bede—who founded it, probably, on reports from Italy or the East. In his treatise ‘De Collectaneis,’ he names and describes them thus:[14] ‘The first is said to have been called Melchior, an old man gray-headed, with flowing beard and locks; he presented gold to the Lord, the King. Gaspar, the second, was young, beardless, and ruddy; he with frankincense, as an oblation worthy of God, honoured God. The third, by name Baltassar, was dark-complexioned,[15] and had a full beard; he by means of myrrh signified that the Son of Man should die.’ He then describes their dresses.

It has been said[16] that this account may probably be traced to early quasi-dramatic representations. ‘In any such performance, names of some kind would become a matter of necessity, and were probably invented at random.’ Though the names given in the above passage are those with which we are familiar, many others have, perhaps with equal authority, been applied to them.

The nationality of the Three Kings has been as much discussed as the time taken on their journey. The natural inference would appear to be that they belonged to the priestly caste of Persia; Cornelius à Lapide considers that they were Eastern Arabians. He says: ‘The more common opinion of the Fathers and Doctors is that the Magi came on the thirteenth day from the first appearance of the star and the birth of Christ, whence the Church celebrates the mystery on the twelfth day after Christmas.’[17] In their old age they were said to have been baptized by St. Thomas, and to have associated with him in preaching the Gospel. Lastly, some have asserted that they were slain by idolaters; L. Dexter in his chronicle, under a.d. 70, adds: ‘In Arabia Felix, in the City of Sessania, took place the martyrdom of the three royal Magi; Gaspar, Balthazar, Melchior.’

We are told that early in the fourth century their bodies were discovered, and moved to Constantinople by the pious Empress Helena. Thence they found their way to Milan, being enshrined in the church of San Eustorgio. A few years later their fame was increased by the institution of the Feast of the Three Kings, which has been ascribed to Pope Julius, the first of that name. After the taking of Milan[18] by the Emperor Frederick Barbarossa, in the year 1162, the precious relics were granted to Reinaldus, Archbishop of Cologne, who brought them to that city, which proved to be their final resting-place. Cologne, proud of the honour, adopted as her arms, argent, on a chief gules, three royal crowns or; and so we have an interesting heraldic record of this event.

In course of time, however, each of these Three Kings[19] has had a shield of arms assigned to him. Perhaps the earliest examples yet known are on the roof of Norwich Cathedral. Here we find three bosses which date from the time of Bishop Lehart, who ruled that see from 1446 to 1472; on one is a blazing star, the next has seven stars, the third a star and crescent moon. The first and last of these appear on bosses at Winchester, placed there in the days of Richard Foxe, successively Bishop of Exeter, Durham and Winchester, and founder of Corpus Christi College, Oxford. He also gave relics of the three Epiphany Kings to Portchester Old Church.[20] Lord Ashburnham’s picture of the Adoration, exhibited at Burlington House in 1891, may be considered one of the most noteworthy examples illustrating this branch of the subject. It is attributed to Mabuse, and in Mr. Weale’s opinion was evidently painted about the year 1509, under strong Franciscan influence. In it are three processions in the background, of the Three Kings meeting at the Jordan. Each procession has an azure banner; on one is a blazing star, on another seven stars, and on the third a star and crescent moon. These same charges are embroidered on their robes in the foreground of the picture, and as on two of the Kings the names of Jasper[21] and Balthazar appear, we see that the star and crescent are assigned to Jasper, the blazing star to Balthazar, and the seven stars to Melchior. Different versions of the arms exist; for instance, those in a manuscript book of heraldry, which Sir David Lyndsay of the Mount, Lyon King of Arms in Scotland, caused to be executed in the year 1522, and of which Mr. David Laing published a facsimile in 1878. Here Balthazar is called King of Saba, whose assigned shield of arms is, or, on a mount vert an Ethiopian proper, habited in a tunic per pale, azure and gules, holding in the dexter hand a spear with a pennon per pale, gules and azure, and wreathed round the temples, argent and azure. Jasper is called King of Tarshish; his shield is azure, with an estoile on the dexter, and a large crescent moon on the sinister, both proper. Melchior is called King of Araby, and on his azure shield are six estoiles proper. In the British Museum, on a superb jug of stoneware, made at Raaren near Achen, about 1590, are the three shields of arms of the Three Kings of Cologne. On this jug, Balthazar has the star and crescent moon; Casper, as he is here called, the seven stars; and the Ethiopian is assigned to Melchior. A work of art truly delightful, but conveying no heraldic lesson, is the long fresco of the journey of the Three Kings by Bennozzo Gozzoli, in the Riccardi Palace at Florence, wherein the rich cavalcade is shown, winding about by rock and river and wooded landscape, on which the painter has lavished all his poetry of invention and feeling for fresh nature.

In England the story of the Three Kings was often introduced into plays and pageants.[22] In the ninth report Hist. MSS. Com., Part I., is a full description, dated 1501, of a pageant given at the Guildhall, entitled ‘The 3 Kyngs of Coleyn.’ It seems that managers of sacred plays were fined if they failed to give satisfaction, for in the records of the town of Beverley, under the year 1519, occurs the following entry: ‘Also 2s. received of Richard Trollop, Alderman of the Painters, because his play of the Three Kings of Cologne was badly and disorderly performed.’ Mr. Thomas Wright, F.S.A., in his edition of the Chester Mysteries, shows that they took place on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday of Whitsun week. To each City company was assigned a play, twenty-four in all; to the Vintners the journey of the Three Kings, and to the Mercers their offerings and return.

The lives of the Three Kings were printed by Tresyrel in Paris in 1498, and by Wynkyn de Worde in 1516. The gifts of these Kings were recorded in the following Latin verses, which, if written with blood from the little finger of a person troubled with falling sickness, and hung about the neck, were according to an old book—‘The Myrrhour of a Glasse of Healthe’—an infallible cure; it will be observed that they do not quite agree with the description given by the Venerable Bede:

‘Jaspar fert myrrham, thus Melchior, Balthazur aurum,

Hæc tria, qui secum portabit nomina regum,

Solvitur à morbo, Christi pietate, caduco.’

A mediæval ring was found some time ago at Dunwich, whereon the above lines were inscribed; it is figured in Fairholt’s ‘Rambles of an Archæologist,’ 1871. In 1794 Mr. Craven Ord, F.S.A., described a bas-relief of alabaster, in the church of Long Melford, Suffolk, representing the offerings of the Magi. It still exists in good condition; an illustration of it appeared as frontispiece to a monograph on the church printed in 1887. Another interesting memento was a leaden box found in the Thames, and drawn for Mr. Roach Smith’s ‘Collectanea Antiqua,’ i. 115; on which, in six compartments, are delineated the story of the Salutation of the Virgin and the offerings of the Three Kings.

In the Gentleman’s Magazine for February, 1749, vol. xix., p. 88, it is stated that the following prayer for protection was found in the linen purse of William Jackson a smuggler, who had been condemned to death for taking part in the murder of Galley and Chater, two Custom-house officers, but was so struck with horror on being measured for his irons that he died (a Roman Catholic) in Chichester Gaol a few hours after the sentence was pronounced upon him:

‘Sancti tres Reges,

Gaspar Melchior Balthazar,

Orate pro nobis nunc et in hora

Mortis nostræ.

Ces billets ont touché aux trois testes de SS. Roys à Cologne. Ils sont pour les voyageurs contre les malheurs de chemins, maux de teste, mal caduque, fievres, forçellerie, toute sorte de malefiee, mort subite.’

This paper had a rude illustration: Mr. Roach Smith gives a copy of it from a drawing by Fairholt. A similar prayer is still distributed at the shrine of the Three Kings.

Throughout Christendom the feast of the Epiphany, or Twelfth Day, holds an honoured place, as commemorating the appearance or manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles, more especially to the Kings or Wise Men, who came from the East to do Him homage. In Spain it is called Fiesta de los Reyes, in France La Fête de Rois. In the year 1792 it was there pronounced an anti-civic feast which made every priest that kept it a Royalist, and the name was for a time changed to Fête de Sans-Culottes.

It is hard to say whether the sign of the Seven Stars had its origin from the shield of an Astronomer King, Gaspar or Melchior, or from the seven bright stars of the constellation usually called the Great Bear,[23] or whether it was suggested by the mystic pages of the Apocalypse; but from whatever source derived, it was common in London about the time of the Great Fire. A fine sculptured specimen with ornamental border was to be seen in Cheapside as late as the year 1851, when Archer drew it. A cognate sign was the Sun,[24] a stone carving of which was formerly imbedded in the front of a house in the Poultry. It had at the corners the date 1668. The neighbourhood was at one time rich in astronomical signs. In 1532 Richard Collier, citizen and mercer of London, left his messuage called the Sun, in the parish of St. Mary le Bow, to be sold, and the proceeds to be devoted to the founding of a free school at Horsham in Sussex, which still exists, and is in the hands of the Mercers’ Company. Other signs of this description in Cheapside, were the Star, the Man in the Moon, and the Half-Moon—the sign of a celebrated tavern on the north side, close to Gutter Lane, rebuilt after the Great Fire. Here in 1682 Elias Ashmole presided at a dinner, given at the charge of newly accepted Freemasons; and, from a rare print of the early part of the eighteenth century, it seems that here one of their lodges was held. The following appeared in the General Advertiser in 1748:

‘Half-Moon Tavern, Cheapside.—Saturday next, the 16 April, being the anniversary of the Glorious Battle of Culloden, the Stars will assemble in the Moon, at six in the evening. Therefore, the choice spirits are desired to make their appearance and to fill up the joy.’

The house belonged to the Saddlers’ Company, and was burnt down in 1821; No. 140 is said to occupy the site.

A sculptured bas-relief of a Half-Moon still appears to the left of a doorway, on the north side of the Half-Moon Inn Yard, Borough High Street. It is about four feet from the ground and has on it the initials i t e, with date 1690; the size is only 13 by 10–½ inches. This, as far as I know, is the only inn sign of the kind in London which still remains in its original position and retains its use. The Half-Moon, though not one of the most famous Southwark hostelries, has a record of its own worth alluding to. In a rough map of about the year 1542, now in the Record Office, an inn appears to be marked on this site, but the name cannot clearly be made out. The great Southwark fire of 1676 did not extend so far east. The first undoubted note I have of it, is contained in a broadsheet printed at Fleet Bridge, September, 1689, and now in the Guildhall Library, entitled ‘A Full and True Account of the Sad and Dreadful Fire that happened in Southwark, September 22, 1689;’ from which we learn that houses were blown up, and the Falcon and Half-Moon on opposite sides of the High Street were on fire at the same time. Our sign gives the date of rebuilding in the following year, and the initials of the owner or landlord. In 1720 Strype speaks of the Half-Moon as ‘a pretty large inn and of a good trade.’ It was then in the thick of Southwark Fair, and is alluded to in the following advertisement (September, 1729):

‘At Reynolds’ Great Theatrical Booth, in the Half-Moon Inn, near the Bowling Green, during the Fair, will be presented the Beggar’s Wedding, or the Sheep Shearing, an opera called Flora, and the Humours of Harlequin.’

Hogarth introduced a hanging sign of the Half-Moon into his celebrated picture of Southwark Fair, which represents the High Street looking towards old St. George’s Church, just before its demolition. The foundation-stone of the present church was laid April 23, 1734, this picture having been painted in the previous year. In a quaint little book of 1815, called the ‘Epicure’s Almanack,’ the Half-Moon is described as ‘a large establishment; its convenient accommodations for entertaining and lodging guests extend on either side the inn yard, and are connected by a well-contrived bridge from gallery to gallery,’ which still exists.

Sir Thomas Browne was of opinion that the human face on alehouse signs, on coats of arms, etc., for the sun and moon, are relics of paganism, and that their visages originally implied Apollo and Diana. Butler in ‘Hudibras’ asks a shrewd question, as yet not effectually answered:

‘Tell me but what’s the nat’ral cause

Why on a sign no painter draws

The full moon ever, but the half?’

The crescent moon, as we have seen, appears among the armorial bearings of the Three Kings of Cologne. It was also a badge of the Percy family; Drayton in his ‘Barons’ Wars’ alludes to one of them thus:

‘The noble Piercy, in this dreedful day,

With a bright crescent in his guidon came.’

Retainers of the Percies no doubt often adopted it as a sign on this account.

According to Burn, a mark shaped like a half-moon represented sixpence in the alewife’s uncancelled score. He points out that in ‘Master W. H., his Song to his Wife at Windsor,’ printed in Captain Llewellyn’s ‘Men-miracles, and other Poems,’ 1656, duod., p. 40, mention is made of ‘the fat harlot of the tap,’ who

‘Writes at night and at noon,

For tester, half a moon;

And great round O, for a shilling.’

The woodcut attached to the ballad of ‘My Wife will be my Master,’ printed in J. P. Collier’s ‘Booke of Roxburghe Ballads,’ 1847, p. 89, clearly indicates such an alewife’s score.

Before I leave this branch of my subject, it will be well to call attention to the Half-Moon sign which projects over a shop numbered 36, about half-way up Holywell Street on the south side. This is the last—still in situ—of another class of London house-signs, and will doubtless soon be swept away together with the picturesque old street to which it belongs. The material is wood, boldly carved and gilt, with the conventional face in the centre. One of the horns was damaged, but has lately been repaired. Diprose[25] says it was once the sign of a tradesman who was staymaker to George III. About forty years ago the shop was occupied by a mercer, and the bills made out for the customers were adorned with this sign: since then it has been a bookseller’s.

The corner-post of an alley beside it, leading into the Strand, used formerly to be decorated with a carved lion’s head and paws, painted red, and acting as a corbel to support the old timbered house to which it belonged. This may have been associated with the neighbouring Lyons Inn, once a hostelry with the sign of the Lion, demolished about twenty-five years ago, and the site of which is occupied by the Globe and Opera Comique Theatres. The alley remains, and is now called, after the sign, Half-Moon Passage, but might still be described by the unsavoury name given to it in the old maps, as Strype says, ‘in contempt.’ The old house disappeared not long since, and the lion has found a home in the Guildhall Museum.