Old Country Inns of England

by Henry Parr Maskell; Edward W. Gregory

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.

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.