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.