Forgotten London: The Three Squirrels of Fleet Street (Bookhounds, Trail)

Fleet Street was the early home of bankers, and several still preserve the signs with which they began business … Child's was the first on the scene and another most important business was carried on at Gosling's, a little farther to the east. The building is not very conspicuous and might easily be missed, as the old name does not appear. Its sign is the Three Squirrels, all busy eating nuts.

From London Cameos, A.H. Blake, 1930 ed.

The sign tentatively dates to the mid 1600s, and originally marked Gosling's and Sharp's goldsmiths. In the current day, it is Barclay's oldest branch. It began life as the sole trader Henry Pinckney, 1650-sh, and is mentioned in Pepys' diaries. Sir Francis Gosling joined the partnership in 1742, and Benjamin Sharpe in 1794. Though a partner, the Sharpes were junior to the Goslings, who called all the shots. Eventually the bank became one of the banks to join and form the conglomerate Barlcays, in 1896.

Goldsmith bankers are exactly what they sound like. Originally dealers in gold, they became sought after as lenders and eventually developed credit facilities, dealing in bills of exchange, the ancestor of the cheque.

As with Child's, Gosling's is also cheek-by-jowl with St. Dunstan's Church, which means it too has a Sweeny Todd connection. St. Dunstan, you may recall, is the patron saint of goldsmiths, and is also known for pulling the Devil's nose with hot tongs.

The symbolism of a squirrel and its nuts is obvious. Then, of course, there is Ratatosk, the squirrel who lives in the world-tree:

Ratatösk is the squirrel named, who has run

in Yggdrasil's ash;

he from above the eagle's words must carry,

and beneath the Nidhögg repeat

Tale-bearer, the gnawer, bore-tooth. The serpent Nidhogg, some say, will announce or herald Ragnarok; until that day, it gnaws at the roots of the world tree. The eagle at the tree's top is extremely wise, and feuds with the serpent. It is Ratatosk's daily work, and joy, to keep the feud alive by carrying messages between the eagle and the serpent.

So, in Bookhounds, from a Megapolisamantic perspective, the sign of the Three Squirrels could be used for several different workings:

• Anything to do with credit, or Credit Rating
• Anything to do with gold, or physical wealth.
• Anything to do with malice, or gossip.

From a Mythos perspective, it is no great leap from squirrel to Rat-Thing; the leap is even shorter if you link Rat-Thing with Ratatosk, bearer of great wisdom taken from the eagle, and poisonous malice taken from the serpent. 

This in turn could link the sign of the Three Squirrels to Nyarlathotep, which puts that Credit Rating bonus, gold, wealth, gossip, all within the Old One's gift. 

Story Seed: The Lavender Hill Mob

A Bookhounds rival is constantly getting the better of the shop, thanks to seemingly endless cash reserves. No matter what, this rival always has cash on hand to beat the shop's Auction pool, yet nothing else about this rival suggests bottomless reserves of cash. If anything, their personal life is on the knife edge; a lowly bank clerk in shared accommodation, never promoted, never taken seriously. Until four months ago he had no interest in incunabula and grimoires; now he's seen at every auction, buying up as much as he can.

The Awful Truth: Henry Holland has dreamed for years of the perfect robbery. He accompanies the gold every day from smelting shop to the bank, and is the model employee. However he's never been able to crack it, and is beginning to despair. 

One day, while meditating on his misfortunes, he happened to catch a glimpse of the Three Squirrels, and, quite by chance, aligned himself megapolisomantically with the sign and the Lever it represents. He began to see how his robbery could work, and to understand how he could get away with it. 

However that Lever was already occupied, by a Rat Thing who resents Henry's unwarranted intrusion. The Rat Thing is forcing Henry to buy books for it, and in exchange promises to help Henry find the accomplice he needs to carry out the bank robbery of a lifetime.

Enjoy!

Forgotten London: The Devil Tavern (Bookhounds of London)

I talked about my purchases last week and now it's time to make use of one: London Cameos, by A.H. Blake, F.R. Hist.S., F.R.G.S.

The entry shows a bust of Apollo, but given the condition of the book I'm not going to reproduce that here. In any case you'd get very little from the photo - ultimately one bust looks very much like another, storied history or not.

The text is as follows:

A BEN JONSON RELIC IN FLEET STREET

Child's Bank, No. 1 Fleet Street, is old in history and rich in treasure. Here is one - the Head of Apollo, which was at the back end of the Jonson Room in the Devil Tavern, afterwards taken over and incorporated into the Bank [in 1787].

At this tavern the Royal Society used to hold its meetings, and Jonson collected together congenial spirits to those festive gatherings that Herrick, the one-time clergyman, celebrated in his well-known verse:

Welcome all who lead or follow
To the oracle of Apollo.

There is no doubt that here, as on Bankside, the wit combats took place between Shakespeare and Ben Jonson, as we might say, in the presence of this bust.

Others who loved the tavern were Swift and Addison, and even Dr. Johnson.

Dr. Johnson's memorable visit was to honour the occasion of the publication of Mrs. Lennox's first novel, and he gave her a crown of laurel leaves and they kept it up till eight in the morning drinking cups of tea.

The full sign of the inn was 'The Devil and St Dunstan' and the host was the well-known Simon Wadloe, King of the Skinkers as Jonson called him.

Simon was succeeded by his widow, and then by his son John, and Pepys was mightily struck by the company of young men all in white which young Wadloe organized to greet Charles II on his entry into London at the Restoration.

**

The bust still exists, as does Child's Bank, and a plaque honouring the old Devil Tavern can be seen at Fleet Street. The blog Exploring London has more information, and mentions that among other notorious Londoners the Devil is linked to highwayman John Cottington, aka the Mull Sack.

Cottington, called the Mull Sack after his favorite tipple, robbed both Oliver Cromwell and Charles II in exile in his day. One of nineteen children of a bankrupt haberdasher who was so ruined he had to be buried by the parish, Mull Sack apprenticed as a chimney sweep before turning to a life of crime. Early in his career he married a transvestite by mistake, thinking her to be a young woman who wouldn't give up the goods before marriage. Apparently this turned his head, for soon after this he fell in with a group of fearful women calling themselves the women-shavers, whose idea of fun was to strip girls naked, shave every hair wheresoever it might be, and whip them soundly. This couldn't last forever, and the women-shavers had to flee the country, several of whom went to Barbados. [Having met some Bajans, I can well believe it.]

Mull Sack turned to a life of crime, first playing gigolo with the wife of a merchant, then when she died and the money ran out, turning pickpocket. This went reasonably well, but a botched attempt on Oliver Cromwell's purse persuaded him the time had come to take to the open road, which he did with aplomb. Sometimes solo, sometimes in company with another rogue or two, Mull Sack made the highways hot, and when not robbing carriages passed himself off as a well-to-do merchant. This is when he becomes associated with the Tavern.

He was briefly arrested and put on trial at Reading after a successful six thousand pound score, but managed through tricks and bribery to avoid penalty. Shortly after that he fled across the water with the help of his married lover, and made the acquaintance of Charles II, who he also robbed. However he obtained such secret information from this that he hoped to buy a pardon from Cromwell, and went back to England to tell all.

Unfortunately for Mull Sack the Protector was not favourably inclined, and the notorious bandit went to the gallows at Smithfield Rounds in 1655, at the age of 45.

A Skinker, incidentally, is someone who serves drink.

The name Devil Tavern is supposed to come from the pub's old sign, which showed the Saint pulling the Devil's nose with a pair of tongs. The precise origin is unclear; it may have come from St Dunstan-in-the-West, the nearby medieval church. If you've been following me for a while then you may remember me mentioning St Dunstan's in a different context - Sweeny Todd, the Demon Barber. The murdering scoundrel hid the remains of his victims in the crypts of St Dunstan's, accessed by underground tunnel. Saint Dunstan is also the patron of goldsmiths, and at one time the area was full of them. It may be the pub's sign was designed to flatter them, and encourage trade.

Saint Dunstan himself is supposed to have taken his turn at the forge, tongs in hand, which is why he uses them to pull the Devil's nose. According to legend the Saint was asked to make a chalice, and agreed, but during the work realized that his client was the Devil himself. Dunstan took his tongs and put them in the fire, waiting till they were red-hot. Then he turned on the Devil and caught Satan's nose in his tongs, holding tight till he felt the Devil was vanquished. "These are the tricks of Devils, who try to trap us with their snares whenever they can. But if we remain firm in the service of Christ, we can easily defeat them with his help, and they will flee from us in confusion."

So with all that in mind, let's put together a Bookhounds scenario seed:

Teachings of Apollo

One of the Bookstore's regulars is a Shakespeare obsessive, whose dream it is to track down the lost play Cardenio. Though the regular is willing to pay any price - creating a Windfall for the shop and increasing its Credit Rating - to date the characters have not been able to obtain the item.

However according to a book scout (either NPC or character) a very disreputable character claims to know "how to make Apollo speak." This peculiar gentleman says he can conjure up spirits and make them talk, and proposes to use the bust of Apollo, now kept at Child's Bank, as a focus for his ritual. All he needs are some Comte d'Erlette pamphlets as payment, and blood soaked by a hanged man's blood as a material component, and he'll get Shakespeare's ghost to give up the goods.

Though peculiar, this wizard does know the ritual and can perform it as a demonstration should the characters wish. Going through this kind of ritual first-hand is fairly traumatic (3-point Stability check), but it is convincing, and the necromancer can produce other forgeries to show he's done this sort of thing before. Besides, he points out, is it really a forgery if it's Shakespeare's own play recounted by the man himself?

The characters will need to obtain the blood-soaked earth. This is more difficult than it used to be in the days when public hangings were held at Tyburn or Smithfield. However some investigative work, and possibly a bargain with ghouls, finds a suicide's hanged corpse that nobody else has discovered yet. It's another 3-point Stability check to gather the raw materials.

They also need those pamphlets. This bit's best left to the Keeper, but a raid on some private archive or, better yet, an auction in a particularly seedy establishment - some Soho den of vice, perhaps - solves that problem.

Then they need to get into the Bank where the bust of Apollo is kept. It's the oldest bank in England and holds the accounts of the great and good, so it's reasonably secure. Difficulty 5 tests needed either to sneak or bluff past security. They can either carry off the bust or conduct the ritual in the Bank. The latter might be the easier option; Difficulty 6 tests needed to get out of the building with a life-size head-and-shoulders marble bust. There may also be megapolisomantic benefits to leaving the bust where it is; it's current location is as close as it's possible to be to the old Devil Tavern, where Shakespeare and Jonson had those famous battles of wit.

The ritual begins (5-point Stability test) and all goes well at first. Whoever's on note-taking duty gets some golden material, not just from Shakespeare but from Jonson, Swift, Dr Johnson and other guests of The Devil. It all goes wrong halfway through when the shade of Mull Sack interferes. The desperate robber doesn't like the afterlife or being ignored in favour of some scribbling buffoon, and attempts to possess one of the group. The necromancer suffers a heart attack and drops dead, leaving the Bookhounds with a partial Shakespeare script, a ritual rapidly getting out of hand, and a vengeful highwayman who will not stay in the grave if he can help it.  Using the blood-soaked earth as a weapon against Mull Sack will get rid of him, but also waste some of the ritual component that the Bookhounds need to keep Shakespeare talking. Just how greedy are the Bookhounds? Will they risk all to get a complete Cardenio?

Enjoy!