THE VILLAGE INN
Monastic inns--Village inns--Highwaymen--Inn signs--Famous inns--
Man-traps.
In almost every village in England there is an inn. Before the
Reformation there were very few of these hostelries, as travellers
were always accommodated at the monasteries, each of which, as we have
seen, had a hospitium, or guest-house, where their wants were attended
to by special officers appointed for the purpose, and where they could
remain for several days. But the destruction of the monasteries
produced many changes in the condition of the country; it introduced
the necessity of a poor law, for the poor were always relieved by the
monasteries; it required the erection of schools and places for
education, as all the education of the country had been carried on in
these monastic buildings; and when the old guesthouses ceased to
exist, travellers, merchants, and pedlars required some place in which
to lodge when they moved about the country, and inns became plentiful
as time went on. Hence in almost every village in England there is an
inn, which is generally a landmark; and if you wish to direct a
stranger to some place where he desires to go, you doubtless tell him
to turn to the right by "The Bull," or to keep straight on until he
comes to "The Magpie." Indeed, a friend of mine, who is a strong
teetotaler, asserts that the only good use inns have is to help people
to find their road. But old inns have a great history. In former days
they used to be meeting-places of plotters and conspirators. All the
distinguished people in the country used to pass through the villages
and towns on the great roads through the country, and when the horses
were being changed they used to partake of the good fare which the
landlord provided. Those were busy times for the old inns, when there
was stabling for fifty or sixty horses, and the coaches used to rattle
through the village to the inn door long before the iron horses began
to drag their freight of passengers along the iron roads, and the
scream of the engines took the place of the cheerful notes of the
posthorn.
Sometimes a gentleman would ride to an inn door on a beautiful,
fleet-looking steed, and receive a hearty welcome from the landlord;
but the pistols in his belt looked ominous, and presently some
soldiers would steal noiselessly into the inn where the gentleman was
refreshing himself, and there would be heard the sounds of vigorous
fighting; and often, in some wonderful way, Claude Duval or the noted
Dick would fight his way out, whistle to his steed, jump into the
saddle, and ride away before his less nimble pursuers had recovered
from their astonishment. Very many exciting scenes have taken place in
our old inns, but in these days railways have changed all things; and
in many streets where the coaches used to rattle along, and the place
was alive with merry sounds, the moss now grows, and all is silence
and desolation. We should certainly think it inconvenient to take
three days to travel from London to Bath, and it would not be pleasant
to have a visit from Dick Turpin on the way, and to have all one's
valuables appropriated by that notorious highwayman; but in these days
of worry and busy bustling it would be refreshing to catch a glimpse
of those quiet times when people were not so much in a hurry, and to
hear the sound of the posthorn once more instead of the whistle of the
steam-engine.
The quaint-looking pictures and curious names which attract our notice
as we pass an inn door have some queer stories to tell. We notice a very
curious collection of animals sometimes, and a strange assortment of
things; and the reason why our ancestors put some of these curious
things together is somewhat difficult for us to find out. In olden days,
other houses of tradesmen besides inns had signs. Grocers, tailors,
candlestick-makers, all had signs; but most of these have disappeared,
except one belonging to a certain sweep of my acquaintance, whose house
is adorned with the figure of a man coming out of a globe, with the
motto, "Help me through the world." Over their doors barbers still have
their poles, which represented once the fact that the barber was
prepared to bandage up wounded arms and legs, and to perform the office
of blood-letting; the stripes on the pole were intended to represent the
bandages, and the barber was the surgeon of the town. We do not seem to
have so much blood to spare as our forefathers, as the barber always
bled his customers once or twice a year, especially in the springtime,
the operation being considered very beneficial.
One reason for the curious mixture of animals and other things which we
see on signboards is that an apprentice, when he had finished his time
and begun to set up for himself, adopted some sign, and then joined with
it the sign of his old master. This will account for such curiosities as
"The Lamb and Dolphin," "The Goose and Gridiron," "The Fox and Seven
Stars," combinations of things for which it would otherwise be difficult
to account. Another reason is that signs were taken from the armorial
bearings, or crests, of some popular character, or of some great family
in the neighbourhood. For example, I may mention "The Bear with the
Ragged Staff," which was the crest of Richard Nevil, Earl of Warwick,
commonly called "The Kingmaker," who was slain in the battle of Barnet,
1471 A.D. "The Blue Boar" was one of the badges of the House of York.
"The Bull" is a very common sign, because it was a very common crest,
and we have them in all colours--black, red, white; lions also rage in
blue, white, and red attire. Sometimes we meet with "The Cross Keys,"
the keeper of which was probably an old servant or tenant of an abbey or
monastery, and chose his sign from that of the monastery with which he
was connected. Frequently, in olden times, a cross was erected at the
meeting of two or three roads, or where the pilgrims to Canterbury used
to pass; afterwards an inn was built near it, and was, in many cases,
called the Cross Inn.
One very common cause of curious signs is the way in which the original
word has been corrupted by ignorant people frequently repeating words
which they did not understand, and thus changing their whole meaning.
You may have seen an inn described as "The Swan with Two Necks"--a very
rare bird indeed. But it was never intended to disfigure the bird by
giving it two necks; the original sign was "The Swan with Two _Nicks_"
and nicks were the marks which were cut on a swan's bill to distinguish
it from other swans, so that it might be known to whom the bird
belonged. But _nicks_ became _necks_ in course of conversation, until at
last a fabulous creature with two beautifully curved necks appeared on
the signboard. This same cause will account for the two strange signs,
"Bull and Gate" and "Bull and Mouth." The original signs were "Boulogne
Gate" and "Boulogne Mouth," _i.e._ the gate and harbour of the town of
Boulogne, in France, which was captured by the English under King Henry
VIII. in the year 1544. The English were very pleased to hear of the
defeat of the French, and of the taking of that important town, and
several inns were named in honour of the event; but the French
"Boulogne" was too much for our good English mouths to speak, so it
became "Bull and."
Another name which puzzled our forefathers was "_La Belle Sauvage_"
("the Beautiful Savage"), which was named after a noted savage beauty
who was the rage at Paris. Others assert that the name of the landlady
was Isabella Savage, shortened into Bella Savage. However, in course of
time the name was altered into "Bell and Savage," and a picture
representing this odd combination stood over the door. In the same way
the original sign, "Whip and Nag," between which there is often a very
close connection, became "Whip and Egg"; and the reason why these two
articles should be placed together is not so evident. So also there does
not seem any reason for an inn to be called "Bag o' Nails"; but when we
are told that the original word was "Bacchanals," _i.e._ followers of
Bacchus, the old god of wine, we can understand how the corruption, "Bag
o' Nails," arose. Before the days of licensing, when everyone could sell
liquor who chose without obtaining any licence from the magistrates, it
was the custom to put a bush over the doorway, in order to inform the
passers-by that liquor could be purchased there. This is the origin of
the saying, "Good wine needs no bush."
[Illustration: VILLAGE INN WITH OLD TITHE BARN OF READING ABBEY]
"The Catherine Wheel" tells us the sad story of St. Catherine, who was
born at Alexandria, and for converting fifty heathen philosophers to
Christianity was sentenced by the Emperor Maxentius to death on a wheel,
devised by most ingenious cruelty, armed with knives, saws, and nails.
It is recorded that she was rescued from this fate, but was afterwards
beheaded (305 A.D.). It is curious that this instrument of torture and
the story of St. Catherine's heroism should be recorded on a signboard.
But it may have been brought before the public by a certain miracle
play, founded on the life of St. Catherine, which used to be performed
on festival days. However, the Catherine wheel appears frequently on the
coats-of-arms of several families, and it may be that the sign was taken
from these.
"The George," also, is a very popular sign; and the "St. George of
merry England" is the patron saint of this country, and the battle-cry
of her knights and yeomen of ancient days. Who does not remember that
stirring scene on St. George's Mount during the Crusades, described in
Sir Walter Scott's _Talisman_, when King Richard tore down the Austrian
banner, which the Austrian monarch had dared to erect beside the Royal
Standard of England? St George is generally represented as slaying
a dragon. He was a soldier who served gallantly under the Emperor
Diocletian, and commanded a legion of soldiers; he was a Christian,
and by the dragon whom he slew is meant the devil, red with the blood
of the Christians. So popular a personage as St. George, whose name
inspired our ancestors with courage, and was often borne by them into
the heart of the foe, would soon be recorded in paintings and become a
general sign. "The Goat" is a common sign, and is taken from the crest
of the Duke of Bedford; but "The Goat and Compasses" has puzzled many
people as to its origin. It appears to be a corruption of a pious
expression, "God encompasseth us"; and this shows how strangely words
may be twisted and converted by ignorant and careless usage.
There are some very noted inns where great events have taken place,
amongst which I may mention the Bull Inn at Coventry. Here Henry VII.
was entertained the night before the battle of Bosworth Field, when
he won for himself the English crown. Here Mary Queen of Scots was
detained by order of Elizabeth. Here the conspirators of the Gunpowder
Plot met to devise their scheme for blowing up the Houses of
Parliament. And when the citizens refused to open their gates to
Charles I. and his soldiers, no doubt there were great disputings
amongst the frequenters of "The Bull" as to what would be the result
of their disloyal refusal.
Some of the inns in remote country places did not enjoy a very enviable
reputation, and were little better than man-traps, where the
unfortunate traveller was robbed and murdered. At Blewbury, in
Berkshire, there was an inn, the landlord of which was suspected of
murdering his guests with great secrecy and mystery, and no one could
tell what he did with the bodies of the victims he was supposed to have
murdered. A few years ago an old tree in the neighbourhood of the inn
was blown down, and on digging up the roots a skeleton was found among
them. People wondered how it could have been placed there, but at last
a very old inhabitant told the story of the mysterious disappearance of
the bodies of the late landlord's guests, and the mystery was at length
accounted for. Whenever he slew a man he planted a tree, placing the
body of the murdered victim beneath it. The constables never thought of
looking there; and probably under every tree which he planted (and
there were several), when their roots are dug up, the bones of his
numerous victims will be discovered.
Another story is connected with the old "Hind's Head" at Bracknell,
which was another of these mantraps, where many travellers slept to
rise no more. One winter's night a stout-hearted farmer stayed there,
and joined several jovial companions round the kitchen fire. They ate
and drank merrily, and at last the serving-maid showed the traveller
to his chamber. She told him that he was surrounded by robbers and
murderers, showed him a trap-door at the side of the bed, on which if
he stepped he would tumble headlong into a deep well. She directed him
to tie the bed into a bundle, put it on the trap-door, and escape by
the window. He did so; down went the bundle, instead of the farmer,
into the well, and he managed to effect his escape. Rousing the
neighbourhood he captured the villains, who were all executed, and the
bones of many of their victims were found in the well. Happily such
inns were rare.
To describe the conditions of the old inns for which England was
famous, of the good fare which awaited the travellers by the coach, of
the spacious corridors, of the comfortable beds hung with silk and
smelling of lavender; to tell of all the great folk who entered their
doors--kings, queens, poets, generals, highwaymen, statesmen, grooms,
conspirators, coachmen--all this would require much space to relate.
When railways came in, their ancient glory departed; the old stables
are destroyed; grass grows in the courtyard; and the object of their
existence has almost ceased to be.