HISTORIC SIGNS AND HISTORIC INNS
“The Greeks honoured their great men and successful commanders by erecting
statues to them,” remarks Jacob Larwood; “modern nations make the
portraits of their celebrities serve as signs for public-houses.”[12]
Certainly it would be possible to make the signboards on the inns serve as
texts for a complete history of England. There was once even a _Cæsar’s
Head_ in Great Palace Yard; and King Alfred and Canute are still
commemorated at Wantage and at Southampton; while the _King Edgar Inn_ at
Chester, represents on its sign that monarch being rowed in a wherry down
the river Dee by eight tributary kings. But for authentic and ancient
historical signs we must not refer to any earlier period than the reign of
Edward III, when inns began to be built in large numbers.
Many _Red Lion_ inns date from this reign. The red lion was the badge of
John of Gaunt, married to Constance, daughter of Don Pedro the Cruel,
King of Leon and Castille. On the other hand, John of Gaunt was the leader
of an unpopular and reactionary party, not likely to commend itself to the
innkeeper. The _Red Lion_ at Wingham, containing an old court-room and
some curious and beautifully carved oaken beams, ceilings and kings-posts,
is declared by experts to date from 1320. In this case it is more probable
that the red lion of Scotland, conquered by Edward I, is commemorated. A
landlord of the _Red Lion_ at Sittingbourne, in 1820, advertised his
establishment as “Remarkable for an entertainment made by Mr. John Norwood
for King Henry V, as he returned from the Battle of Agincourt, in France,
in the year 1415, the whole amounting to no more than nine shillings and
ninepence, wine being at that time only a penny a pint, and all other
things proportionately cheap.” The _Red Lion_ at Speldhurst, near
Tunbridge Wells, was discovered by the investigations of the late Mr.
Morris in the Inland Revenue to have possessed a licence in 1415.
[Illustration: Red Lion, Wingham]
Not all _Red Lion_ inns, however, date from the fourteenth century, for
this was also said to be the favourite badge of Cardinal Wolsey. At
Hampton-on-Thames the _Red Lion_ came into existence when that great
statesman was building Hampton Court Palace, and served to lodge the
better class of craftsmen engaged in the work. After being for centuries a
favourite meeting-place for the Royal Chase, it became a resort for
literary and dramatic folk, Dryden, Pope, Colley Cibber, Addison, Quinn,
and Kitty Clive being among the names associated with the house. In the
early part of the nineteenth century it was famous for its tulip feasts
which drew the tulip fanciers of the world to Hampton. In 1908 the
charming old Tudor structure was condemned to make way for a
street-widening scheme, and its last appearance was as the background to a
cinematograph picture, in which the house suddenly burst into flames,
frenzied occupants appeared at the windows, the heroes of the local fire
brigade flew to the rescue in the nick of time, and the fire was put out
in the most approved manner.
At Walsingham there is a large inn containing remains of
fourteenth-century work, called the _Black Lion_. Perhaps it takes its
name from the arms of Queen Philippa, of Hainault, who came hither with
her husband, Edward III, in 1361, to offer thanks for the happy conclusion
of the French Wars after the treaty of Bretigny. But both _Black Lion_ and
_Golden Lion_ may occasionally refer to the lions of Flanders and be marks
of the great immigration of Flemish weavers, ironfounders and brewers
during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries.
[Illustration: The Swan, Sutton Valence]
The _Swan_ was a favourite emblem with many of our kings, its first
mention being in the “Vow of the Swan,” when Edward I swore to take
vengeance on Scotland for the murder of Comyn. On the signboards it must
generally be ascribed to Henry IV. With Henry V and VI, the antelope is
the heraldic emblem; there is an old half-timbered _Antelope_ opposite the
Market House at Godalming, but it has recently been re-named the _White
Hart_. At Bristol and at Guildford are _White Lion_ inns, probably in
honour of Edward IV, whose arms have for supporters the _White Lion_ and
the _Black Bull_ of the house of Clarence.
Richard III reigned for too short a span to provide us with many _White
Boars_, and the few that existed hastened after his death to change their
names to that of the _Blue Boar_; a coat of blue paint was a cheap way of
converting the _White Boar_ of the fallen monarch into the _Blue Boar_ of
the Earl of Oxford, whose influence had contributed very largely to place
Henry Tudor on the throne. It was at the _Blue Boar_ at Leicester, that
Richard III slept just before the battle of Bosworth. A large richly
carved and gilded four-post bedstead was long preserved there and shown to
sightseers as the bed which he occupied. In the time of Elizabeth, a Mr.
Clarke, who kept the house, accidentally discovered a huge store of gold
coins of the reign of Richard III, underneath the planks of the bedstead.
He concealed his good fortune and thus from a poor condition he became
rich, but this ill-gotten wealth brought a curse in its train. A
maid-servant plotted with seven ruffians to rob the inn. Mrs. Clarke,
interrupting them at their work, was strangled by the maid-servant, who
was sentenced to be drawn and burnt, and her seven accomplices were hanged
in the Market Place at Leicester in 1613.
Another sign which disappeared utterly after the Battle of Bosworth, was
the _White Rose_; but the _Red Rose of Lancaster_ is not uncommon at the
present time in the County Palatine. The _Rose and Crown_, or _Rose and
Portcullis_, are the royal signs of Henry VII’s reign. But as the _Rose_
was in mediæval times regarded as an emblem of Our Lady, “Rosa Mystica,”
besides being a national emblem, the numerous _Rose_ inns must not be
attributed to this period without more positive historical evidence. Such
doubts are not likely to arise with regard to the _King’s Head_, a sign
nearly always adorned with a lifelike portrait of bluff King Harry. Many
of these houses are old monastic or collegiate property, whose lessees
were anxious by the change of sign, to acknowledge their acceptance of the
situation. It is not necessary to fare a long distance from town to find
an old _King’s Head_. In the village of Roehampton, a short mile from
Putney, the much married monarch may still be recognized on the battered,
faded signboard hanging over an obelisk-shaped post in front of the long
low inn, faced with shingles. Within the house are many quaint
low-ceilinged rooms and some curious relics.
[Illustration: King’s Head, Roehampton]
“Good Queen Bess,” either by portrait or bust, is associated with the
_Queen’s Head_, although in this case painter or modeller had to be
careful, as the Virgin Queen was exceedingly particular. If her effigy
proved to be uncomely, or not lifelike in her opinion, it was liable to
destruction and the perpetrator to suffer from her serious displeasure. A
proclamation of 1563, complains that “a grete number of her loving
subjects are much greved and to take grete offence with the errors and
deformities allredy committed by sondry persons in this behalf,” and
orders that means be taken to “prohibit the shewing and publication of
such as are apparently deformed, until they may be reformed which are
reformable.” Many of the _Queen’s Head_ inns may owe their origin to Sir
Walter Raleigh, who, in the thirtieth year of that reign obtained a patent
“to make licence for keeping of taverns and retailing of wines through
England.” The _Queen’s Head_ at Islington, a noble structure with an
elaborately-carved front and richly ornamented ceilings, has always been
connected traditionally with Sir Walter. Either in this house, or at the
_Old Pied Bull_ close by, occurred that amusing episode in the early
history of tobacco smoking. His servant, happening to be carrying in a
pail of water, observed to his horror clouds of smoke issuing from
Raleigh’s mouth, and imagining him to be on fire, with admirable presence
of mind poured the liquid in a deluge over the knight.[13] Both inns have
unfortunately been pulled down.
With James I, the arms of England and Scotland were united, and the
Unicorn appears for the first time. There are many _Unicorn_ inns in the
South of England; but the fabulous beast was also a sign used by
apothecaries, possibly because the horn (really that of the Narwhal) was
supposed to detect the presence of poison. Albertus Magnus mentions
(without endorsing) a belief current in his time that knife-handles made
of this substance would sweat, if poison was brought into the room. Fuller
was more credulous.
Charles I took refuge at the _Unicorn Inn_ at Weobly, in Herefordshire, on
September 5th, 1645, and this inn was afterwards called the _Crown_. It is
now a private house.
_Royal Oaks_ are everywhere in memory of the Boscobel Oak, and the
accession of Charles II. _Oliver Cromwell_, who had usurped the _Rose and
Crown_ in High Street, Knightsbridge, was dethroned once more to make room
for the reinstatement of the old sign. Coming nearer to our own time the
_Brunswick_ inns hail the succession of the house of Brunswick to the
English Crown. George III and George IV appear occasionally, but not so
frequently as William IV, our Sailor King. Queen Victoria’s popularity is
shown by the hundreds of _Victoria_, _Island Queen_, _Empress_ and
_Jubilee_ inns. Since the coronation of our late gracious sovereign, King
Edward VII, the duties of the justices have involved the closing of old
houses rather than the licensing of new ones. So that it is unlikely that
future generations will be able to realise the esteem and regard of his
subjects by any large number of _Edward VII_ inns. However, there will be
a considerable array of _Royal Alberts_ and _Prince of Wales_ signboards
to indicate this nation’s good feeling towards him when he was heir
apparent to the throne; the same remark will apply with regard to the
_Princess Alexandra_ and _Rose of Denmark_.
We have by no means exhausted the list of royal emblems. Some _Falcon_
inns may have taken their title from the badge of the Dukes of York; but
this was not invariably the case, when in districts where hawking was a
popular sport. The _Falcon Hotel_, near Clapham Junction, owes its name to
the river Falcon, once a considerable stream, but now only permitted to
flow through Battersea underground. The “Gun” was a Tudor sign, and the
_Gun Inn_ at Dorking, evidently dates from the reign of Edward VI. Edward
III quartered the French arms with the English; the practice was continued
by his successors and may have originated the _Fleur de Lis_ or _Flower de
Luce_ inns, where none of the local families bear this charge on their
shields. Mention of the _Fleur de Lis_ at Faversham is the one piece of
local colouring in the “Tragedy of Arden of Faversham,” formerly
attributed to Shakespeare. The _Three Frogs_, near Wokingham, is, perhaps,
a version of the arms of France; before the _entente cordiale_ it used to
be a theory widely current among patriotic Britons that the _fleur de lis_
really was intended for a heraldic representation of a frog.
Occasionally members of noble families have attained to such distinction
that their crests have been utilized for inn signs far beyond the limits
of their estates. The _Bear and Ragged Staff_ was the crest of the Earls
of Warwick; but it attained to notoriety after its adoption by the
rapacious Dudleys. Robert Dudley, afterwards Duke of Northumberland,
discarded the Green Lion, his own emblem, for the Bear and Ragged Staff
of his mother, the last heiress of the Warwick family. His fourth son,
Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, a favourite of Queen Elizabeth,
inherited the manor at Cumnor, an old possession of Abingdon Abbey. The
_Bear and Ragged Staff_ at Cumnor, and its landlord at that period, Giles
Gosling, are described in Sir Walter Scott’s novel, “Kenilworth,” wherein
is also related the tragic fate of Dudley’s unhappy countess, Amy Robsart.
Old pictures show this inn down to the middle of the last century as
retaining its thatched roof and rustic primitive appearance. On the
signboard was the name of the licensee, with the addition, “late Giles
Gosling.”
The _Eagle and Child_ was the crest of the Earls of Derby, the _Maiden
Head_, of the Dukes of Buckingham, and the _White Bear_, that of the Earls
of Kent. A still more frequent sign in the home counties, the
_Grasshopper_, shows the popularity of the great Sir Thomas Gresham, to
whom we owe the Royal Exchange and many other great City institutions. Sir
Christopher Hatton and Sir Francis Walsingham, both Elizabethan statesmen
of eminence, gave us respectively the _Hind_ and the _Tiger’s Head_. For
the _Saracen’s Head_ there will be various claimants, according to
locality, so many crusaders having adopted this charge; but a few
innkeepers of Lollard sympathies possibly adopted the sign out of
compliment to Sir John Oldcastle. Bagford informs us that the _Pelican_
was the badge of Lord Cromwell, the despoiler of monasteries, who also
stole this emblem from the Church. At Speen, near Newbury, there was a
coaching inn on the Bath Road, which provoked an epigram:
“The famous house at Speenhamland,
That stands upon the hill,
May well be called the Pelican,
From its enormous bill.”
Coming to the ballad heroes, _Guy of Warwick_ and the _Dun Cow_ slain by
him are found all through the Midlands; but they cannot compare for
popularity with _Robin Hood_, who is usually accompanied by _Little John_
on the signboard. This is not a result of the modern taste for romantic
literature. The _Robin Hood_ is mentioned as a common alehouse sign by
Samuel Rowlands in “Martin Mark-all, Beadle of Bridewell,” published in
1610. All the world loved Robin Hood, and cherished his memory as a jolly
good-natured outlaw, manly and fearless, generous to the poor and careful
for the honour of womenkind. Robin Hood alone among the revolutionary
spirits of the Middle Ages has a place on the signboards, although Wat
Tyler is remembered in connection with the _Crown Inn_ at Dartford, and
_Jack Straw’s Castle_ was until lately a great resort for holiday-makers
on Hampstead Heath. _King James and the Tinker_ inn at Enfield, which
claims on doubtful authority to be over a thousand years old, is
associated with another ballad story of which there are many versions,
such as “King Henry and the Miller of Mansfield,” or “King John and the
Miller of Charlton.” In one of these tales our old friend, the Vicar of
Bray, was dining at the _Bear_ at Maidenhead with some friends. The party
had taxed all the resources of the hotel, and when a stranger tired and
hungry asked for refreshments, the vicar only admitted him to table very
grudgingly. At the end of the meal the stranger discovered that he had
left his purse behind him, and was roundly abused by the dignitary.
However, his curate pleaded that the merry quips and anecdotes of the
guest deserved consideration; he had proved himself a good fellow and had
earned his dinner. At this moment some members of the royal staff enter,
and the guest turns out to be nothing less than his Majesty James I. So
the churlish vicar undergoes much discomfiture, and the curate receives
the reward of high preferment.
Outbursts of patriotism are a feature on the signboards. Great victories
of the British forces by land and sea, and the great military and naval
heroes have all been commemorated in their turn, beginning with the
_Crispin and Crispinian_, which greeted the troops of Henry V, as they
returned along the old Watling Street, after Agincourt (which was fought
on the feast day of these twin saints).
“Crispin Crispian shall never go by
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered.”
“Henry V,” IV, 3.
The _Bull and Mouth_ is said to be a corruption of Boulogne Mouth,
captured by Henry VIII. _Bull and Gate_ may possibly be a similar
vulgarism for Boulogne Gate. We might draw up a complete sequence of great
battles fought and fortresses taken during the last three centuries, but
those most frequently met with are _Gibraltar_, _Waterloo_, _Battle of the
Nile_, and _Trafalgar_. Admirals range from _Blake_ to _Napier_, generals
from _Marlborough_ to _Wolseley_. Not one of them is forgotten, though
_Wellington_, _Nelson_ and _Keppel_ can probably claim the largest number
of adherents. The _Marquis of Granby_, almost forgotten by the ordinary
reader of history, enjoyed a remarkable popularity in his own day, if we
are to judge by the number of portraits of this high-spirited and
courageous nobleman which hang outside public-houses. The original of Mr.
Tony Weller’s _Marquis of Granby_ is, we believe, the one at Epsom, “Quite
a model of a roadside public-house of the better class--just large enough
to be convenient, and small enough to be snug.” The sign portrayed “the
head and shoulders of a gentleman with an apoplectic countenance, in a red
coat with blue facings, and a touch of the same blue over his
three-cornered hat, for a sky. Over that again were a pair of flags;
beneath the last button of his coat were a couple of cannon; and the whole
formed an expressive and undoubted likeness of the Marquis of Granby of
glorious memory.”
But the heart of the nation was most deeply touched by the mingled triumph
and pathos at Trafalgar. _Lord Nelson_, _Victory_, and _Trafalgar_, greet
us on every high road that leads down to the sea, in the neighbourhood of
every harbour or dock, and beside the quays on every navigable river. And
it is surprising how many of these _Nelson_ inns are buildings three or
four centuries old, showing that the innkeeper was prepared to sacrifice
the sign under which he had hitherto done business and trusted to make a
new reputation under the ægis of the popular hero. We have discovered
several _Nelson_ inns of this type in Kent, though none which we recall
with more pleasure than the quaint many-gabled wooden structure with a
considerable list to starboard on the high path by the riverside at
Maidstone. Its ways are homely but hearty; the same family have remained
in possession for a period rapidly approaching the century; and almost
every article of furniture is old-fashioned and curious.
[Illustration: The Nelson, Maidstone]
The public-house has been described as “the forum of the English.” We may
sneer at pot-house politics, but it is only in the tavern, the haven of
free speech, that the burning questions of the day can be discussed with
freedom and sincerity. Washington Irving called the inn “the temple of
true liberty.” The _Punch Bowl_ was a Whig sign, because that party
preferred that beverage (possibly because it was favoured by Fox), whereas
the Tories remained faithful to old-fashioned drinks like claret and sack.
Most of the political idols obtaining a recognition over the tavern door
have been champions of reform, such as _John Wilkes_, _Sir Francis
Burdett_, _Palmerston_, and _Gladstone_. Traditionally the innkeeper was
strongly inclined to this side until the bitter attacks of a section of
the Liberal party on his business and very existence forced him in
self-protection into alliance with modern conservatism.
Little interesting fragments of local history are sometimes recorded on
the signboards. For instance, in High Street, South Norwood, there are
three public-houses in succession, the _Ship_, _Jolly Sailor_, and
_Albion_. But for these we might forget that the Croydon Canal once ran
through this district with a wharf for unloading barges. The _Sloop Inn_,
at Blackhouse, in Sussex, dates from the time when the river Ouse was
navigable as far as Lindfield. At the foot of Gipsy Hill is the _Gipsy
Queen_, named after Margaret Finch, who ruled over the encampment of
nomads in the forest and told fortunes to all comers. She died in 1760, at
the age of 109, and was buried in Beckenham Churchyard. Owing to her
constant habit of sitting with her chin resting on her knees, it was
necessary to employ a deep square box in place of an ordinary coffin for
her interment. Local worthies are not very frequent; but John Winchcombe,
the famous clothier of Newbury, “the most considerable clothier that
England ever had,” is honoured at intervals along the Bath Road as _Jack
of Newbury_. _General Wolfe_, unlike the prophets, finds special
remembrance in his own birthplace, Westerham; but Sir Walter Raleigh has
been quite overlooked at Mitcham, in spite of the fact that he was the
founder of its leading manufacture. The inhabitants of Islington are more
grateful to _Sir Hugh Middleton_ for providing them with the New River,
and more than one house bearing this sign exists in the district.
Foreign princes have occasionally attained the distinction of tavern
popularity, but none so frequently as _Frederick the Great_, whose
portrait over the inspiring words “The Glorious Protestant Hero,” was
painted on many a signboard after the battle of Rosbach, and the _King of
Prussia_ is still a familiar name. _Garibaldi_ is an instance of British
sympathy with the political aspirations of a foreign people. Many English
adventurers joined in the struggles of the young Italian nation, and its
principal hero became for the time a popular idol of the very first order.
The length to which a section of the community were led in their worship
of the red-shirted revolutionist is satirised happily in Mortimer Collins’
“Village Comedy,” wherein the local publican constantly cites “Old Garry”
as the proper person to appeal to in deciding delicate questions of
etiquette and morality.
The _Anchor_ at Liphook, on the old Portsmouth road, was a favourite
resort of Edward II, when hunting in Woolmer Forest, and Queen Anne when
visiting the Staghunt also put up here. To this inn came Samuel Pepys in
1668, “exceeding tremulous about highwaymen,” having missed his way to
Guildford while coming over Hindhead. Another inn which could many a tale
unfold, if walls had tongues as well as ears, is the _Bull_ at Coventry.
Half a dozen conspiracies have been hatched under its spreading gables.
Henry VII made it his headquarters before the Battle of Bosworth. Mary
Queen of Scots was imprisoned here for a short time; and it was the first
meeting-place for the devisers of Gunpowder Plot to blow up the Houses of
Parliament.
A handsomely-panelled and pilastered room in the _Crown and Treaty_ at
Uxbridge, is shown to visitors as part of the hall in which took place
those six months of fruitless negotiations between King and Parliament in
1644, which ended in sealing the fate of the monarchy. We have not been
able to trace the particular establishment, but it is said that an
alehouse had its share in accomplishing the restoration of Charles II. It
appears that a messenger from the Parliament carrying letters to General
Monk at Edinburgh travelled in company with one of the General’s
sergeants, and happened to mention that he also held despatches for the
Governor of Edinburgh Castle. The circumstance aroused the suspicions of
his companion. The messenger was induced to stop at a wayside inn and
plied with brandy until he became so intoxicated that the papers could be
taken from his person without detection. Then the sergeant posted by
forced stages to his general with the packet, which was opened and
perused. It turned out to contain an order for Monk’s arrest. Policy and
resentment combined to direct the eyes of Monk to Charles Stuart, and in
due course the Restoration became an accomplished fact.
[Illustration]