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.”


[ENLARGE]

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.