The barber’s brush is a luxury of more modern times. Stubbe, in his “Anatomy of Abuses,” says—“When they come to washing, oh, how gingerly they behave themselves therein. For then shall your mouths be bossed with the lather or some that rinseth of the balles, (for they have their sweete balles, wherewith all they use to washe) your eyes closed must be anointed therewith also. Then snap go the fingers, ful bravely, God wot. Thus, this tragedy ended; comes the warme clothes to wipe and dry him with all.” Stubbe wrote, about 1550.

Not very long ago, a writer in the Gentleman’s Magazine, observed—“I am old enough to remember when the operation of shaving in this kingdom, was almost exclusively performed by the barbers: what I speak of is some threescore years ago, at which time gentlemen shavers were unknown. Expedition was then a prime quality in a barber, who smeared the lather over his customer’s face with his hand; for the delicate refinement of the brush had not been introduced. The lathering of the beard being finished, the operator threw off the lather, adhering to his hand, by a peculiar jerk of his arm, which caused the joints of his fingers to crack, this being a more expeditious mode of clearing the hand, than using a towel for that purpose; and, the more audible the crack, the higher the shaver stood, in his own opinion, and in that of the fraternity. This I presume is the custom alluded to by Stubbe.”

The Romans, when bald, wore wigs. Some of the emperors wore miserable periwigs. Curly locks, however becoming in a male child, are somewhat ridiculous, trained with manifest care, and descending upon the shoulders of a full grown boy of forty. In addition to the pole, a peruke was frequently employed, as the barber’s sign. There was the short bob, and the full bottom; the “hie perrawycke” and the scratch; the top piece, and the periwig with the pole lock; the curled wig with a dildo, and the travelling wig, with curled foretop and bobs; the campain wig, with a dildo on each side, and the toupet, a la mode.

It may seem a paradox to some, that the most barbarous nations should suffer the hair and beard to grow longest. The management of the hair has furnished an abundant subject matter for grave attention, in every age and nation. Cleansing, combing, crimping, and curling, clipping, and consecrating their locks gave ample occupation to the ladies and gentlemen of Greece and Rome. At the time of adolescence, and after shipwreck, the hair was cut off and sacrificed to the divinities. It was sometimes cut off, at funerals, and cast upon the pile. Curling irons were in use, at Rome. Girls wore the hair fastened upon the top of the head; matrons falling on the neck. Shaving the crown was a part of the punishment of conspirators and thieves. We know nothing, at present, in regard to the hair, which was unknown at Rome—our frizzing was their capillorum tortura. They had an instrument, called tressorium, for plaiting the hair. In the time of Edward the Confessor, the hair was worn, universally, long, the laws of England not compelling all, but the nobility, as in France, to cut the hair short, in that age.

The Romans are said, occasionally to have worn wigs of an enormous size, which gave occasion to the term, in Martial’s epigram, caput calceatum. We have no exact record of the size of those Roman wigs—but I sincerely wish, that Augustus CÆsar or—

“MÆcenas, whose high lineage springs,
From fair Etruria’s ancient kings,”

could have seen the Rev. Dr. Lathrop’s! In Mr. Ward’s journal of Samuel Curwen, that venerable and truly respectable, and amiable, old tory is represented, with precisely such a wig, but of much smaller diameter. Dr. John Lathrop died, Jan. 4, 1816, at the age of 75. He published a considerable number of sermons on various occasions, no one of which is remarkable for extraordinary talent, or learning. It was, by some intelligent persons, supposed, that the wig was a great help to him. In his latter days, he found himself unable, any longer, to bear up, under such a portentous superstructure, which really appeared to “overhang,” contrary to the statute, and he laid it aside. His influence certainly appeared to diminish, in some measure, probably, from the increasing infirmities of age; but, doubtless, in some degree, from the deposition of the wig. I honestly confess, that I never felt for Dr. Lathrop the same awful reverence, after he had laid aside this emblem of wisdom. A “wig full of learning” is an ancient saying, and Cowper makes use of it, in one of his lighter poems.

I have always looked upon barbers, as an honorable race of men, quite as much so, as brokers; the barbers seldom fail to shave more gently, and commonly dismiss an old customer, without drawing blood, or taking off the skin. We owe them a debt of gratitude withal, on other scores. How very easily they might cut our throats!

In this goodly city, at the present time, there are more than one hundred and ten gentlemen, who practice the art of barbery, beside their respective servants and apprentices. When I was a small boy—very—some sixty years ago, there were but twenty-nine, and many of them were most respectable and careful operators—an honor to their profession, and a blessing to the community.

There was Charles Gavett, in Devonshire Street, the Pudding Lane of our ancestors. Gavett was a brisk, little fellow; his tonstrina was small, and rather dark, but always full.

In Brattle Square, just behind the church, John Green kept a shop, for several years. But John became unsteady, and cut General Winslow, and some other of his customers, and scalded several others, and lost his business.

In Fish Street, which had then, but recently, ceased to be the court end of the town, there were several clever barbers—there was Thomas Grubb, and Zebulon Silvester, and James Adams, and Abraham Florence. I never heard a syllable against them, or their lather.

At No. 33, Marlborough Street, William Whipple kept a first rate establishment, and had a high name, among the dandies, as an accomplished haircutter.

Jonathan Edes kept a small shop, in Ann Street, and had a fair run of transient custom. He had always a keen edge and a delicate hand. He was greatly urged to take a larger establishment, in a more fashionable part of the town, near Cow Lane, but Mr. Edes was not ambitious, and turned a wiry edge to all such suggestions.William Mock kept a shop, in Newbury Street, an excellent shaver, but slow; his shop was not far from the White Horse. He was a peripatetic. I suspect, but am not certain, that he shaved Dr. Lemuel Hayward.

At the corner of Essex Street, old Auchmuty’s Lane, George Gideon kept a fine stand, clean towels, keen edge, and hot lather; but he had a rough, coarse hand. He had been one of the sons of liberty, and his shop being near the old site of Liberty tree, he was rather apt to take liberties with his customers’ noses, especially the noses of the disaffected.

There were two professed wig-makers, in Boston, at that time, who performed the ordinary functions of barbers beside, William Haslet, in Adams Street, and John Bosson, in Orange Street. Mr. Bosson was very famous, in his line, and in great request, among the ladies.

In Marshall’s Lane, Edward Hill was an admirable shaver; but, in the department of hair cutting, inferior to Anthony Howe, whose exceedingly neat and comfortable establishment was in South Latin School Street. An excellent hotel was then kept, by Joshua Bracket, at the sign of Cromwell’s Head, on the very spot, where Palmer keeps his fruit shop, and the very next door below the residence of Dr. John Warren. Bracket patronized Howe’s shop, and sent him many customers. Captain John Boyle, whose house and bookstore were at No. 18 Marlborough Street, patronized Anthony Howe.

Samuel Jepson kept his barbery, as the shop was sometimes called, in Temple Street, between the two bakeries of William Breed and Matthew Bayley.

James Tate was established in Purchase Street. He would have been a good barber, had he not been a poor poet. He was proud of his descent from Nahum Tate, the psalmodist, the copartner of Brady. Richard Fox kept also in Purchase Street, and had a large custom.

A much frequented barber’s shop was kept, by William Pierce, near the Boston Stone. Jonathan Farnham was an excellent barber, in Back Street. He unluckily had an ominous squint, which was inconvenient, as it impressed new comers, now and then, with a fear lest he might cut their throats. Joseph Alexander shaved in Orange Street, and Theodore Dehon, on the north side of the Old State House.

Joseph Eckley was one of the best shavers and hair cutters in town, some sixty years ago. His shop was in Wing’s Lane. Daniel Crosby, who was also a wig maker, in Newbury Street, was clerk of Trinity Church.

Augustine Raillion, whose name was often written Revaillion kept his stand, at No. 48 Newbury Street. He was much given to dogs, ponies, and other divertisements.

State Street was famous, for four accomplished barbers, sixty years ago—Stephen Francis, John Gould, John M. Lane, and Robert Smallpiece. The last was the father of Robert Smallpiece, who flourished here, some thirty years ago or more, and kept his shop, in Milk Street, opposite the Old South Church.

It is well known, that the late Robert Treat Paine wrote an ode, upon the occasion of the Spanish successes, to which he gave the title of “Spain, Commerce and Freedom, a National Ode.” It bore unquestionable marks of genius; but some of the ideas and much of the phraseology were altogether extravagant. It commenced finely—

“Sound the trumpet of fame! Strike that pÆan again!
Religion a war against tyranny wages;
From her seat springs, in armor, regenerate Spain,
Like a giant, refresh’d by the slumber of ages.
From the place, where she lay,
She leaps in array,
Like Ajax, to die in the face of the day.”

The ode contained some strange expressions—“redintegrant war”—“though the dismemberd earth effervesce and regender,” and so many more, that the ode, though evidently the work of a man of genius, was accounted bombastic. A wag of that day, published a parody, of which this Robert Smallpiece was the hero. It was called, if I mistake not—“Soap, Razors, and Hot Water, a Tonsorial Ode.” The first stanza ran thus—

“Strap that razor so keen! Strap that razor again!
And Smallpiece will shave ’em, if he can come at ’em;
From his stool, clad in aprons, he springs up amain,
Like a barber, refresh’d by the smell of pomatum.
From the place, where he lay,
He leaps in array,
To lather and shave, in the face of the day.
He has sworn from pollution our faces to clean,
Our cheeks, necks, and upper lips, whiskers and chin.”

“Paullo majora canamus.”