TAVERN SIGNS
Hotel is a French term, derived from hostil, a lordly house, a palace. The designation Public House, signifying a house of public resort for refreshment and conviviality, is a modern substitute for Tavern, derived from the Latin taberna, a hut, a wooden booth; frequently also for Inn, or rather, as originally written, Inne, which expressed the Anglo-Saxon for a mansion. And here we may at once observe that by far the majority of our mediæval inns and Hostelries [see Hotel] grew out of the mansions of the nobility during the prolonged absence of their owners. At such times the privilege of utilizing the mansion for his own profit naturally fell to the family’s most trustworthy dependent, viz., the head gamekeeper, whose green costume gave existence to the sign of The Green Man, when, after quitting the family’s service, he set up an inn on his own account either in connection with his own cottage or abutting on the public highway. Nevertheless, this sign had nothing in common with that of The Green Man and Still, expressive of a herbalist bringing his herbs to a distillery, and which was doubtless the sign of a herbalist turned innkeeper.
As the family arms always occupied a prominent position on the front of the mansion these soon became known far and wide, though scarcely in accordance with their full heraldic significance. Briefly, the most conspicuous object in them sufficed to impress itself upon the minds of travellers as the distinguishing sign of the establishment; so that, instead of speaking of lions gules and lions azure, &c., they simplified matters by referring to red and blue lions, &c. Such was the origin, then, of The Red Lion, The Blue Lion, and many another familiar sign of this character. Moreover, as a variation of the same device entered into the arms of different families, it happened that the most conspicuous object in them became popular in different parts of the country at the same time. Another fruitful source of the rapid multiplication of a particular sign throughout the same county, and even upon the same estate, was the fact that as often as a retired dependent of a nobleman’s family turned innkeeper, he was pretty certain to name his establishment in accordance with the popular description of the original inn or mansion. If it chanced, however, that that sign had already been appropriated by another innkeeper in the immediate vicinity, the full cognizance of the ground landlord was adopted. Thus, in the Midland Counties there is no sign so common as The Bear and Ragged Staff, which was the cognizance of the Earl of Warwick, the King Maker. Similarly, The Boar’s Head was the cognizance of the Gordons; The Black Bull, that of the House of Clare; and The Talbot, that of the House of Shrewsbury. Another oft-to-be-met-with sign is The Chequers, which comprised the arms of the Earls of Fitzwarren who, in the time of the Plantagenets, held the right of granting the vintners their licences. Later in our history the same cognizance was adopted by the Stuarts. As every one is aware, The Red Rose was the recognized badge of the Lancastrians, and The White Rose that of the Yorkists. It may be assumed that these two signs were naturally more popular throughout the country at large during the Wars of the Roses than at any subsequent period. During that turbulent period of English history, too, the devices of the several adherents of the rival houses were not unfrequently chosen in commemoration of a particular event; as, for example, after the Battle of Barnet, when The Star, the badge of the Earl of Oxford who decided the fate of that day, sprang up as an inn-sign in all directions, except, of course, upon Yorkist ground.
Where the innkeeper was not bound by any ties of gratitude or regard to the ground landlord he evinced his loyalty to the reigning monarch by adopting a portion of the royal arms. As examples of this class:—The White Swan was the badge of Edward III. and of Henry IV.; The White Swan and Antelope, of Henry V.; The White Hart, and The Sun, both of Richard II.; The White Lion, of Edward IV. as Earl of March, and The Three Suns, of Edward IV. as King of England; The Eagle, of Queen Mary; The Blue Boar, of Richard III.; The Red Dragon, that of Henry VII., chosen for his standard after the Battle of Bosworth Field, and The Greyhound, his original badge as King. The Rose is the symbol of England, just as The Thistle stands for Scotland, The Shamrock for Ireland, and The Leek for Wales. A very general expression of loyalty, again, was conveyed in the sign of The Crown, which, by the way, was shrewdly complimentary to the reigning house without offering offence to the partisans of a rival claimant to the throne. The Rose and Crown had reference originally to the union of the red and white roses in the House of Tudor by the marriage of Henry VII. with Elizabeth, the daughter of Edward IV., in the year 1486; The Crown and Sceptre must have originated in the mind of one who had been witness to the elaborate ceremonial peculiar to a coronation; while The Crown and Anchor signified the reliance which was placed in the exalted person that wore the crown.
If, on the other hand, our mediæval innkeeper chose to flatter the ground landlord without actually adopting his cognizance, he invariably named his establishment after his lordship’s family title, e.g., The Earl of March, in compliment to the Duke of Richmond, or else set up some such sign as The Hare and Hounds, The Tally Ho!, The Fox in the Hole, &c., in allusion to the sporting tastes of his patron. At times he even went so far as to enter into the religious enthusiasm of the latter by exhibiting a preference for The Angel or The Salutation, both referring to the Annunciation of the Virgin; The Three Kings, meaning the Magi who presented themselves to the Infant at Bethlehem; or The Cross Keys, the symbol of St. Peter, and the badge of the Archbishop of York. The sign of The Mitre was generally adopted by an innkeeper whose establishment stood in the vicinity of a cathedral; consequently, this particular sign abounds in cities, but is rarely to be met with in the rural districts.
During the period of the Holy Wars, if the innkeeper did not content himself with the sign of The Turk’s Head or The Saracen’s Head, that of The Golden Cross, which was the ensign carried by the Crusaders, was usually chosen. The modern sign of The Half-Moon originated in the crescent, the ensign of the Infidel. The signs of The Swan, The Pheasant, and The Peacock arose in the days of knight-errantry, when every knight selected one of these birds as an emblem of chivalry, and exerted a pride in the association. For example, one of the principal characters in the “Niebelungen Lied” is called “The Knight of the Swan.” Then, again, many innkeepers assumed a sign in honour of the patron saint of England, or in commemoration of his combat with the dragon, viz., The St. George, The St. George and Dragon, The George and Dragon, The Green Dragon, &c. The George, a common sign enough in our own day—it would be difficult to name a town that has not its “George” in the High Street—was originally connected with the dragon too; but at the commencement of the Hanoverian succession the heraldic device was painted out altogether, and the words The George were put up in its place. The like observation applies to all such signs as The King’s Arms, The Queen’s Arms, The Freemasons’ Arms, The Coachmakers’ Arms, The Saddlers’ Arms, The Carpenters’ Arms, &c., nowadays identified by name only, instead of their distinctive badge or crest. We must not omit to mention also that, since the especial function of tavern and other signs was to call attention to the character of an establishment in days when the people were unable to read, and when, therefore, the display of the owner’s name or of the name of the house would have been useless, the misapprehension of the painted device was of common occurrence. Hence the corruption of many signs from their original meaning.
Perhaps the most glaring instance of this kind originated in the sign of The Garter, or the insignia of the Order of the Garter represented in its proper position on a leg (whence we have the intelligible sign of The Star and Garter); yet the vulgar mind quite failed to grasp the idea, with a result that a house exhibiting this sign was invariably referred to as The Leg and Star. Corruptions of a different character are of later date, when the name of the house instead of the device began to make its appearance on an innkeeper’s signboard. Chief among these are:—The Cat and Fiddle, a perversion of “Caton le Fidele,” in honour of Caton, the faithful Governor of Calais; The Bag o’ Nails, of “The Bacchanals,” in reference to Pan and the Satyrs; The Goat and Compasses, of the Puritan motto “God encompass us”; The Iron Devil, of “The Hirondelle,” or swallow; The Bull and Mouth, and The Bull and Gate, of “The Boulogne Mouth” and “The Boulogne Gate,” in compliment to Henry VIII., who effected the siege of Boulogne and its harbour in 1544; The Lion and Key, of “The Lion on the Quay,” meaning a house bearing the sign of The Lion, and situated by the water-side, in order to distinguish it from other Lions in the same port; The Cat and Wheel, of “The Catherine Wheel,” the instrument of St. Catherine’s martyrdom; The Plume and Feathers, of “The Plume of Feathers,” in allusion to the Prince of Wales; The Bully Ruffian, of “The Bellerophon,” the vessel on board of which Napoleon surrendered his sword to Captain Maitland after his defeat at Waterloo; and The Blue Pig, a mere modification of “The Blue Boar.” The Pig and Whistle is a very old sign, the term whistle being a corruption of “wassail,” and pig, the Old English for a bowl or cup. Surely there could be no more fitting sign for a tavern than that which suggested the drinking of healths!
The original character of many of our country inns is at once indicated by their signs. Thus, The Coach and Horses was clearly, before the introduction of railways, a coaching establishment; while The Pack Horse announced the fact that pack-horses were let out on hire. Again, The Bear—subject to sundry modifications, such as The Brown Bear, The Black Bear, The Grizzly Bear—informed the frequenters of such resorts that bear-baiting might be witnessed on the premises; exactly as, nearer to our own day, The Dog and Duck called attention to the popular diversion of duck-hunting by spaniels in a pond. The Skittles and The Bowling Green indicated a more rational kind of sport. Once more, The Grapes conveyed the intelligence that a vinery existed in connection with the establishment; whereas The Castle, which constitutes the arms of Spain, The Globe, the arms of the King of Portugal, and The Spread Eagle, the arms of Germany, told that the wines of those respective countries were to be had there. In the north of England the sign of The Yorkshire Stingo is very common, the allusion being to an old beer of particular strength and sharpness for which the county of York has won considerable celebrity.
Among other familiar country inn and tavern signs may be mentioned The Bell, referring to the silver bell that formed the prize at races previous to the Restoration; The Barley Mow, denoting the premises where the barley was housed, mowe being the Saxon term for “a heap”; and The Old Hat, which in the olden time may have been the shop of a hatter rejoicing in the sign of “The Hat,” and subsequently converted into a place of refreshment. Another distinctly tradesmanlike sign is The Ram and Teazle, which was originally chosen in compliment to the Clothiers’ Company; the lamb with the golden fleece being emblematical of wool, and the teazle, a tool used for raising the nap of the wool when woven into cloth. The Bricklayers’ Arms merely indicate a house of call for bricklayers; while The Cricketers’ Arms derives its title from a neighbouring cricket-ground. The significance of The Tankard, The Bottle, and similar signs, need not detain us. We may, however, state that The Black Jack refers to a leathern pitcher for holding beer, which took its name from the defensive breastplate of strong leather formerly worn by horsemen, and known as a Jacque, whence the term Jacket has been derived.
Signs that betray a political bias, such as The Royal Oak, The Boscobel, The Jacobite, The Hanover, &c., are altogether too numerous to mention. In the early part of the present century, too, the names of political leaders were largely drawn upon as an attraction for tavern signs, as were those also of distinguished naval and military commanders, and of the battles won by them. The Canning, The Palmerston, The Nelson, The Wellington, The Marquis of Granby, The Portobello Arms, The Trafalgar, The Waterloo, and a host of others of the like character, are everywhere to be encountered; while the old sign of The Ship carries us back to the days of Elizabeth, when the circumnavigation of the globe by Sir Francis Drake was regarded as an exploit that could scarcely be too highly honoured.
Before concluding, let us add a few words of comment upon the signal loyalty of the English people in the times we live in; for whereas our forefathers were for the most part content to express their loyalty to the throne by the choice of such vague tavern signs as The King’s Head, or The Queen’s Head, we of the nineteenth century are not nearly so half-hearted. Not only are The Victoria, The Prince Albert, The Prince of Wales, and The Prince of Wales’ Feathers honoured on every hand in the course of a day’s perambulation, but The Duke of Edinburgh, The Duke of Cambridge, The Duke of Connaught, and other members of the Royal Family, are similarly memorialized. Perhaps in the future, when the Prince of Wales shall occupy the British Throne, his descendants may also in their turn form the subject of many a tavern sign in our midst.
ROYAL SURNAMES
Alfred the Great (reigned 871 to 901) fully merited his surname because he expelled the Danes, established a navy, founded schools, and effected the restoration of law and order during one of the most critical periods of early British history. Taking the remainder of the Saxon monarchs in chronological order, we have:—Edward the Martyr (975 to 978), treacherously murdered at Corfe Castle; Ethelred the Unready (978 to 1016), who, lacking rede, or council, fled to Normandy to escape the consequences of a threatened invasion by the Danes; Edmund Ironsides (reigned 1016), whose habitual precaution of wearing a complete suit of mail availed him nothing against the fatality of assassination; Edgar Atheling (born 1017, died 1120), otherwise “Edgar of Royal Descent”; Harold Harefoot (1035 to 1039), swift of foot as a hare; and Edward the Confessor (1042 to 1066), so called on account of his holy life. The distinction between a Confessor and a Martyr in the early days of Christianity was simply this: both made an open confession of their faith, and expressed their readiness to die for it; the former, however, was never called upon to do so, whereas the latter actually suffered martyrdom.
William I. (reigned 1066 to 1087), was styled The Conqueror because he defeated the Saxons at the Battle of Hastings, and founded the Norman Dynasty in England. William II. (1087 to 1100), received the name of Rufus from his florid complexion; rufus being Latin for ruddy. Henry I. (1100 to 1135), was surnamed Beauclerc, or good clerk, in recognition of his scholarly attainments. Richard I. (1189 to 1199), styled Cœur de Leon, otherwise “The Lion Hearted,” is traditionally said to have torn the living heart out of the mouth of a lion to whose fury he was exposed by the Duke of Austria for having killed his son in battle. This extraordinary exploit surpasses the bounds of reason; still there is no doubt that he performed prodigies of valour during the Wars of the Crusades. Another British monarch who rejoiced in a surname of the leonine order was William the Lion, King of the Scots (1165 to 1214), so called because he chose a red lion rampant for his crest. It is from this king that the lions distinguished in the Royal Arms of Scotland trace their origin.
King John (reigned 1199 to 1216) received the surname of Lackland on account of his improvidence, which at the time of the death of his father (Henry II.) left him entirely without provision. Edward I. (1272 to 1307) was styled Longshanks from his spindle legs. The eldest son of Edward III., known as The Black Prince (born 1330, died 1376), was not exclusively addicted to the wearing of black armour, as he is usually represented in waxwork shows and picture toy-books; consequently he did not derive his surname from such an association; but, as the historian Froissart informs us, “he received his name by terror of his arms.” Seeing that at the age of sixteen he won his knightly spurs at Crecy, and ten years later took the French king prisoner at Poictiers and brought him in triumph to London, the military renown of this young warrior must have been sufficient to command respect from his enemies. John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster (born 1340, died 1399), took his title from the town of Ghent, in Flanders, where he was born. In like manner his son, Henry IV. (1399 to 1413), was styled Bolingbroke, after his native place.
Henry VIII. (reigned 1509 to 1547) was surnamed Bluff King Hal on account of his bluff manners; he also received the title of Defender of the Faith from Pope Leo X., in recognition of the tract he published against the heresy of Martin Luther. Mary, Queen of Scots (born 1542, died 1587), was known as The White Queen because she adopted white mourning for her husband, Lord Darnley. Our own Queen Mary (1547 to 1558) has been handed down to posterity under the opprobrious title of Bloody Mary, in consequence of the wholesale burnings of the Protestants under her reign. The religious persecutions of her time admit of no denial, yet they were fully equalled by those brought to light during the reign of her successor, Elizabeth, while they fell infinitely short of those characterized by the reign of Henry VIII. In one sense Elizabeth (1558 to 1603) was appropriately styled Good Queen Bess, inasmuch as she exercised due regard to the interests of the realm and the welfare of her people. Her enemies she speedily removed, but she was just as ready to bestow honours and rewards upon her nation’s worthies. Oliver Cromwell was called The Lord Protector (born 1599, died 1658) because he protected the interests of the Commonwealth. The reason why Charles II. (1660 to 1685) was dubbed The Merry Monarch must be sought in the licentiousness of the times in which he lived. Much nearer to our own day, William IV. (1830 to 1837) was distinguished by the title of The Sailor King, from the circumstance of his having entered the navy as a midshipman and worked his way upwards until he attained the rank of Lord High Admiral.
The family name of Plantagenet, derived from the Latin planta, a plant, and genista, broom, was originally assumed by Fulke Martel, Earl of Anjou, the great grandfather of Henry II., in commemoration of the incident, while on his pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchre, of having offered himself to be scourged with the stems of the broom plant by his two attendants as an atonement for the murder of the Earl of Brittany. The Tudor Dynasty was founded by Owen Tudor, a Welsh soldier stationed at Windsor, who contracted a secret marriage with Catherine, the widowed queen of Henry V. The first of the long line of the Stuart sovereigns (Scottish and English) was Walter, the Lord High Steward of Scotland, whose wife was the daughter of King Robert the Bruce. As this Walter was the sixth member of his family that had held the post of Lord High Steward, he was popularly said to belong to the Stewards, until in course of time this word became corrupted into Stuarts, and was adopted as a family name.
Charles I., Emperor of Germany (born 742, died 814), was surnamed Charlemagne, otherwise Charles the Great. The She-Wolf of France was Isabella (born 1290, died 1357), daughter of Philip IV. of France, and queen of Edward II. of England, whom she, in concert with the Earl of Mortimer, her paramour, murdered by thrusting a red-hot iron into his bowels. Pedro the Cruel, King of Castille and Leon in 1350, merited his surname owing to his cruel treatment of his two brothers, whom he murdered, and his queen, whom he poisoned. Ivan II., Czar of Russia (reigned 1533 to 1584), was styled The Terrible on account of the cruelties he inflicted upon all who offended his autocracy. Frederick I., of Germany (reigned 1152 to 1190), was surnamed Barbarossa from his red beard, barba being Latin for beard; while for his bombardment of Messina in 1848 Ferdinand, King of Naples, was nicknamed Bomba. Philippe, Duc d’Orleans, the father of Louis Philippe, King of France, assumed the name of Egalité when he joined the Republican party in 1789. Of a truth, if “Equality” was what this not unworthy Prince aspired to, he enjoyed it to the full, for he lost his head under the guillotine in common with more than twenty thousand of his fellow-citizens.