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Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Delightful Corruption: The Language of English Pub Names

It has been said that England and the U.S. are “two countries divided by a common language.” But the two nations are also divided by historic differences between their respective drinking establishments: an English pub and an American bar.

Most Americans have a vague idea that a pub is just a British version of an American bar, and know perhaps that pubs serve beer, ale, and stout, and possibly such “pub food” as a “ploughman’s lunch,” fish and chips, or steak and kidney pie—but any Englishman knows there is much more to it than that.

The English pub is a “publick house,” or inn, that, as an institution, was born in the twelfth century, as a stopping-place for wayfarers at the time of the Crusades. “Ye Olde Trip to Jerusalem,” a pub established in Nottingham in 1189, is thought to be the oldest in England. Many a “soldier of Christ,” on his way to wrest the Holy Land from the Infidels, must have stopped for a pint at the Nottingham pub, and its name and the names of many other pubs are, in fact, bits of English politics and history that have been passed down through the centuries. Other pub names that date from the time of the Crusades are the “Saracen’s Head” and the “Lamb & Flag.” The lamb, of course, was the symbol of Christ (the “Lamb of God”), and the flag, the heraldic flag of the Crusaders.

For two reasons, in those early days, it was important that a “publick house” have a name that evoked a visual image that could be converted to a recognizable pub sign. The first reason was that much of the population of the time was illiterate, and the second reason was that King Richard II, in 1393, passed a fiat making pub signs compulsory, in order to make them identifiable to the official ale taster, who would then license them—and collect a fee for the crown.

After the Crusades, some pub names originated as dysphemisms [coarser, ruder substitutions for other words, with the point being to render insult], while others were innocent corruptions of language, allusions to heraldic symbols, or references to a  pub’s patrons.

According to one bit of pub folklore, in a north Buckinghamshire town called Stony Stratford, which was built along an old Roman road, the London coach would stop to change horses at a pub called “The Bull.” The Birmingham coach also stopped in Stony Stratford to changed its horses, but it stopped across the road, at “The Cock Inn.” While they waited for the horses to be changed, the passengers from both coaches would pass the time by having a pint, talking, and exchanging news at the two pubs. Needless to say, the accuracy of the news deteriorated with each additional pint that was drunk; hence the phrase “cock and bull story” as a made-up or greatly embellished story.

Although some of them are based on fact, some stories behind pub names are only that—stories—and many of them probably cock-and-bull stories at that. Even when they are mostly true, they are like a game of telephone played over many centuries, and so the details provided by the different storytellers differ. Ms. Picky’s personal favorite is the version of the story below about the origin of “Elephant and Castle.”

The Bag o’ Nails. This odd-sounding name is considered a corruption of “Bacchanals,” a word used to describe a riotous, drunken celebration.

The Black Buoy. The pub sign of “The Black Buoy” depicts a type of float or marine marker, but the name is thought to have come from another source altogether. King Charles I was executed in 1649, at the climax of the English Civil War. The Parliament of Scotland proclaimed his black-haired and dark-complexioned son, Charles II, King of Great Britain and Ireland, but the English, now operating as a republic, did not accept him, and England entered the period known now as the English Interregnum, under Oliver Cromwell. When Cromwell defeated Charles in battle, Charles fled to mainland Europe, where he spent nine years in exile. Upon Cromwell’s death, however, the monarchy was restored, and Charles II, the Restoration King, known as the “Black Boy,” was able to return to England and rule Britain.

The Bull and Bush. This pub name is presumed to have come from a corruption of the name given to the victory of Henry VIII at the harbor of Boulogne: “Boulogne Bouche.”

The Cat and the Fiddle. There is more than one story about the origin of this name. One is that it is a corruption of “Caton Fidele,” the  faithful governor of Calais; the other is that it is a corruption of Catherine la Fidèle [Catherine the Faithful], a reference to the wife of Peter the Great of Russia.

The Elephant and Castle. In 1625, shortly before he acceded to the English throne, Charles I visited Spain, incognito. The purpose was to negotiate a marriage to the Enfanta de Castile (as the heir to the Spanish throne was known). The marriage treaty, if successful, might have averted a war between the two nations. Alas, the Enfanta wanted Charles to convert to Catholicism, and, when he refused and returned home, war ensued. The English people, offended upon learning of the failed marriage negotiation, deliberately corrupted the title of the Spanish heir, “Enfanta de Castile” to English words that were intended to be disparaging, and one innkeeper even went so far as to name his publick house “Elephant and Castle.”

The Red Lion. This name is said to have originated from the time of James I, who was also James VI of Scotland. When he acceded to the English throne in 1603, he ordered that the heraldic emblem of the red lion of Scotland be displayed on all pubs.



The Swan with Two Necks. This name is purported to have come from the practice that dates from medieval times, when the Crown claimed ownership of all mute swans, which were considered a delicacy to be served at royal feasts. Today, although the Crown still retains the right to ownership of all unmarked mute swans in open water, the Queen exercises her ownership only on certain stretches of the River Thames and its surrounding tributaries. In order to distinguish the ownership of swans, one day a year is devoted to marking them by “nicking” their beaks, in a manner analogous to branding of cattle. One of the marks was two nicks, one on either side of the bill, and that name was corrupted, then illustrated on a pub sign, as “The Swan with Two Necks.”

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Bulletin Board

J.D. quotes a sentence:
“The world could be heading into another fully fledged credit crisis, according to Satyait Das, the author of Extreme Money: Masters of the Universe and the Cult of Risk.” —“Fully Fledged Credit Crisis May Be Ahead: Author,” Patrick Allen, www.cnbc.com, 26 Aug 2011

“Isn’t the idiom ‘full fledged’?” ask J.D. “And, if it is, is it incorrect grammar? Would it be more correct to say ‘fully fledged’?”“


Ms. Picky responds:
Well, J.D., this is a tricky one. The answer to your first question is that the idiom is indeed “full fledged” (and “fledged,” of course, means “feathered”).

The answer to your second question is that “full fledged” is correct. Here’s why:

Let us, for simplicity’s sake, take the sentence “It is full fledged.” The predicate is “is fledged,” the subject is “it,” and the predicate nominative is “full.” Here’s the diagram:

“Is fledged” is a copulative verb, like “is,” of the ilk of such copulative verbs as “appears,” “looks,” seems,” or “becomes.” Since it is a copulative verb, the predicate nominative—in this case, “full”—describes the subject, “it,” which function calls for the adjective form, full, not the adverb form, fully. It is that combination and usage that the the idiom is derived from, no matter in what other context it is used.

If you’re still not convinced, think of the phrase “full blown.” You would not for an instant think of saying “fully blown,” would you? This construction is analogous to “full fledged.”
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Maddy asks:
Brinkmanship or brinksmanship? I've always preferred the latter, mostly because I prefer the way it sounds, but I’ve discovered that I’m in the minority here. Why does everybody else use brinkmanship? Am I wrong to like the s?


Ms. Picky responds:
Ms. Picky too prefers “brinksmanship” (with the s) and would love to be able to offer a defense of her choice. Unfortunately, she can offer only a partial defense. First of all, the suffix is not “manship,” but “ship,” which, in such words as workmanship, swordsmanship, horsemanship, craftsmanship, and showmanship, is added to workman, swordsman, horseman, craftsman, and showman. This tells us that the man (yes, it is sexist, but this is an archaic form) is analogous to the Hindi wallah: a person who is master of a particular function, or profession, or who regularly performs that function, or practices that profession.

So, now we need to see if there is an s in that root word, to see whether it would carry that s into its -ship form. All the words cited, however, are old words, while the word “brinksmanship” is a recently coined word. It appears to have been coined by the press (not necessarily the arbiters of good grammar), who used it to refer to the policies of John Foster Dulles, during the Cold War. Dulles was once asked to define his “brinkmanship” [no s] policies, which he did, in an interview, but he did not use the word himself.

It comes down to personal preference then, and both forms are acceptable.

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