The arms of Henry Dagge, Esq.

 A recent conversation on Social media drew my attention to the arms of Henry Dagge, Esq.

They are historically recorded at the Foundling Hospital in London, preserved today in the parish archives of St. Pancras, and documented in historical architectural surveys. These arms were painted by the celebrated 18th-century glass-painter William Peckitt in 1766 into one of the chapel windows at the Foundling Hospital to commemorate Henry Dagge’s appointment as a Governor of the institution.

The arms (Argent, a chevron Sable between five nuns, three in chief and two in base, proper) form a classic example of canting arms. The surname Dagges (or Dagg) sounds phonetically or rhythmically close to "dags", which in Middle English and dialect referred to dangling shreds, tags, or the ornamental, jagged-cut edges of medieval clothing (dagges or dagging), or alternatively relates to daggers (dagg / dague).

In Middle English, the word dagge was borrowed from the Old French dague but evolved to specifically mean "a shred, tag, or strip (as of cloth or leather)" or "ornamental points or incisions on the edges of a garment." During the 14th and 15th centuries, "dagging" was a highly popular fashion trend where the hems and sleeves of tunics, gowns, and hoods were deliberately slit or slashed into decorative, jagged shapes (resembling leaves, tongues, or battlements). As a surname, it would have been given as a nickname to someone who wore or manufactured these fashionable, jaggedly-cut garments.

The five nuns in their black-and-white habits (Sable on Argent) with hanging coifs/veils visually mirror the dangling, notched, or dark-trimmed strips (dagges) of fabric or hoods characteristic of medieval dagged apparel, and create a witty, visual play on the word itself. The crest of a demi-nun holding a book proper further anchors the motif.

His coat of arms is historically preserved and documented in 18th-century local topographies and armorial collections:

• The Foundling Hospital Chapel Windows: Henry Dagge became a Governor of the Foundling Hospital in 1766. His arms were famously painted by the York glass artist William Peckitt on the chapel windows of the hospital along with other notable governors.

• Daniel Lysons' The Environs of London (1795): His arms are formally cataloged under the parish of St. Pancras, where Lysons details the stained-glass heraldry of the Foundling Hospital.

I enjoyed emblazoning them (and adding them to my ever growing collection of punning arms) but I have to say that had I been the herald designing these arms, if the armiger had insisted upon five devout ladies (surely there must have been a reason for such) I would have avoided a chevron and either had no ordinary at all or chosen a fesse which would have avoided the nun in centre chief being squeezed in. Although I freely admit that his arms in The Chapel at Ashlyns School, Berkhamsted, have the ladies squeezed in a bit better - I tend to attempt to fill whatever space is available!

Aldriche of Weightmore - No proof given

 Not only am I fascinated by heraldic puns, I am also attracted to the unusual, or the out of the ordinary. One such coat of arms that attracted my attention was that of Aldriche of Weightmore: "Respite given for proofe of the Armes, but none made."

The record of Robert Aldriche of Weightmore in the Staffordshire Visitations record that "Respite given for proofe of the Armes, but none made." A footnote however, records that he was Bailiff to Lord Paget, and died 16th March 1656, in his 81st year, having issue by Anne his wife five sons and two daughters. On his monument at Burton-on-Trent are these arms:- Argent, on a fesse Vert a bull passant Argent.

Burke's record these arms as belonging to Aldrich Cheam co Surrey. So, is there a genealogical connection between the Staffordshire family, who failed to provide proof of their right to arms, and the Cheam family whose arms were recorded by Burke.

The exact arms (Argent, on a fesse Vert a bull passant Argent) displayed on Robert Aldriche’s monument at Burton-on-Trent and registered by the Cheam family are identical because the Cheam/Oxford branch of the family actually descended directly from Robert Aldriche of Weightmore. The connection is traced through the 1664 Visitation of Staffordshire and Oxford university records:

According to the Visitation of Staffordshire (1664), Robert Aldriche of Weightmore (d. 1656) and his wife Anne Horobin had five sons. His eldest son was Henry Aldriche (who married Judith Fraunces). Henry moved away from Staffordshire to Westminster, London, where he served as a political and local official (and was associated with Elias Ashmole).Henry’s son, Robert’s grandson, was the famous Dr Henry Aldrich (1648–1710), Dean of Christ Church, Oxford, an architect, theologian, and composer.

When Dean Henry Aldrich died in 1710, he was buried in Christ Church Cathedral, Oxford. His grand monumental inscription features the exact same arms: Argent, on a fess Vert a bull passant Argent. Because Dean Henry Aldrich was a celebrated figure in the south of England, his branch of the family became heavily tied to the gentry records of Surrey and London, including nearby Cheam. Sir Bernard Burke, compiling his General Armory centuries later, recorded the arms under "Aldrich of Cheam, co. Surrey" because that was the prominent, settled seat of the family's southern descendants by the 18th/19th century.

So why did the Staffordshire Visitations say "Respite given for proof"?

When the Heralds (specifically William Dugdale) visited Lichfield in July 1664, Robert’s second son, Jonah Aldriche, certified the family tree. Jonah claimed the right to bear these arms, but because his father Robert had been a land-agent/bailiff to Lord Paget rather than a traditional "gentleman", it seems that Jonah didn't have the official deed of grant or seal from London on hand to prove it. Because of this, it was noted that "Respite given... but none made," meaning they gave Jonah time to produce the evidence or pay the fees to the College of Arms, which he failed to do before they left the county.

Despite the failure of the Staffordshire branch to prove their arms in 1664, the family clearly kept using them. When Robert’s grandson rose to immense wealth and prestige as the Dean of Oxford, it was quite probable that the College of Arms fully recognised the family's right to them; which is why Burke formally records Robert’s ancestral arms under his descendant's Surrey location.

Ashenhurst of Ashenhurst - a Staffordshire Pun

Ashenhurst of Ashenhurst.

Arms: Or, a cockatrice, the tail nowed and terminating in a serpent's head Sable, the comb, wattles, and head gules, in the beak a sprig vert.

Crest: A cockatrice as in the arms.

The family took its name from Ashenhurst Hall, located near Leek in the Staffordshire Moorlands, where they were established for centuries as prominent local gentry. In the late 16th century, Ralph Ashenhurst married the heiress of Beard Hall in Derbyshire*. This union significantly expanded the family's wealth, landholdings, and influence across county lines. However, the Ashenhursts achieved their greatest historical notoriety during the 1640s and 1650s as staunch Parliamentarians (Roundheads) fighting against King Charles I.

Randle Ashenhurst and his brother Edward both served as high-ranking Colonels for the Parliamentary forces. Edward notably seized the estate of Walton Grange, in the market town of Stone, during the conflict. Randle’s son, Captain (later Colonel) John Ashenhurst, became a dominant military figure in Staffordshire. In 1644, he successfully led the siege and capture of Biddulph Hall, a heavily fortified Royalist stronghold.

Following the Royalist defeat at the Battle of Worcester in 1651, Colonel John Ashenhurst was commissioned to hunt down the fleeing King Charles II. Leading a troop of cavalry, Ashenhurst famously searched Boscobel House and nearly captured the King, who famously escaped by hiding in a nearby oak tree (the Royal Oak).

The return of the monarchy (the Restoration) in 1660 brought an end to the family's golden era in Staffordshire. Because of their prominent anti-Royalist stance, the family's fortunes waned. Following Randle Ashenhurst’s death in 1666, his son John was forced to sell Ashenhurst Hall in 1667, ending centuries of family ownership. Facing political ruin, John Ashenhurst was reportedly transported to Barbados in 1669. Other branches of the family eventually migrated to Ireland, and by the late 18th century, descendants had crossed the Atlantic to settle in Virginia and the wider United States.

The arms of the Ashenhurst family, of Ashenhurst Hall, are quite fascinating in their own right and there is a canting (punning) heraldic device found in these arms, though it relies on visual wordplay and older dialect pronunciations rather than a straightforward phonetic pun.

In old English folklore and dialect, the cockatrice was sometimes conflated or associated with the basilisk, which was born from a "cock's egg" hatched in a dunghill or among ashes.

A "hurst" is an archaic word for a grove, wooded hill, or thicket. The sprig vert (green sprig/branch) held in the cockatrice's beak directly symbolises a piece of vegetation or a grove, visually representing the -hurst part of the name.

Combining a creature linked to ashes with a green branch creates a living rebus for Ashen-hurst (an ash tree grove or a wooded hill of ash).

The legend of the cockatrice and the basilisk represents one of the most famous conflations in European and English folklore.

The two mythical beasts became inextricably linked in English culture during the late 14th century. When John Trevisa translated Bartholomeus Anglicus's encyclopedia de proprietatibus rerum in 1397, he translated the Latin word basiliscus as "cockatrice". From that point onward, especially through the Elizabethan era, the terms were used interchangeably in literature, dialect, and heraldry.

According to widespread folk tradition, a cockatrice or basilisk was born from a highly unusual, small, yolkless egg (historically called a "cock's egg," "fart egg," or "witch egg") supposedly laid by an elderly rooster. In standard English folklore, the egg had to be incubated by a toad or a serpent. To generate the proper heat for incubation, legends and old husbandry texts frequently specified that the egg was hatched within a dunghill, a pile of warm ashes, or compost, which provided the natural, fermenting warmth needed to bring the monster to life.

*The armorial bearings of the Beard family of Beard Hall, Derbyshire, are also a classic example of canting arms, heraldic designs that act as a visual pun on the bearer's surname.

According to the Visitations of Derbyshire (recorded by William Flower, Norroy King of Arms), the coat of arms of the Beard family of Beard Hall is: Argent, three men's faces bearded Sable within a bordure Azure (or alternatively recorded as three men's heads, couped and bearded, Proper, within a border Azure).

The arms of Beard of Beard Hall.

Remember, Remember, the 5th of November

 It's that time of year again so I make no apologies for reminding my reader that my talk featuring the armorial bearings of the Gunpowder Plotters is available for all to see. 

In this talk, we explore the heraldry, or coats of arms, used by the Gunpowder Plotters and link that heraldry to their lives and their part in the Plot. We explore their lives, their motives and their deaths. 

The Beaumont Earls of Chester

Recent study of William Flower’s The Visitation of Yorkshire (1563–1564) has certainly thrown up some unexpected curiosities. 

The appearance of an entry linking "Beaumont" as the "Earls of Chester" on Page 18 of William Flower’s The Visitation of Yorkshire (1563–1564) was certainly a surprise. The error, and I do believe that it is an error, is not mentioned in the foreword. I believe that it is due to a highly specific, late-medieval genealogical error regarding the maternal ancestry of the Barons Dacre of the North.

Page 18 of this specific visitation outlines the pedigree for "Dacre of the North." Within that lineage, the early Tudor heralds appear to have mistakenly recorded an early ancestor as marrying a daughter of the "Beaumont Earls of Chester." It seems to me that the Heralds conflated two separate entities.

The entry appears to be a historical error born from the conflation of two powerful Anglo-Norman magnates who lived during the 12th century:

The Real Earls of Chester: The early Earls of Chester were from the d'Avranches and Meschin families (such as Ranulf de Meschin and Ranulf de Blondeville). They were never Beaumonts.

The Beaumont Earls: The House of Beaumont famously held the Earldom of Leicester (alongside the Earldom of Warwick).

Because both the Earls of Chester and the Beaumont Earls of Leicester were top-tier Anglo-Norman barons who frequently intermarried, fought, and held vast, overlapping estates across the Midlands and the North of England, later Tudor heralds drafting the Dacre lineage seem to have confused the two titles into a single blended identity.

When William Flower conducted his tour of Yorkshire in 1563, he relied heavily on family rolls, oral traditions, and older, unverified manuscripts supplied by the families themselves to construct deep medieval roots. Many families sought to anchor their lineage to prestigious Conquest-era or Magna Carta-era barons.

Over centuries, accurate names often blurred: a real marriage to a daughter of a Beaumont (Earl of Leicester) or a Meschin (Earl of Chester) was misremembered or mistranscribed as a "Beaumont Earl of Chester." Rather than correcting the error, the heralds appear to have recorded it as presented, cementing a fictional title into the official pages of Yorkshire's genealogical history. Incredible!

At the end of the pedigree there is an heraldic note which provides a quarterly blazon:

Beaumont, Azure, a lion rampant Or. 

Bearing in mind that my present avenue of research is to find canting arms, Beaumont means Beautiful mountain - what a missed opportunity!

Yorkshire Heraldry - Mitford

I have spent some time today researching the Visitations of Yorkshire (1563 and 1564) looking for possible examples of punning arms. Just occasionally I stumble across a coat of arms which, although not a punning coat, is a coat that "alludes" to something relating to the surname. 

Yes, I do realise that there are lots of coats of arms, especially those newly created, which have charges specifically chosen to represent aspects of the armiger's life, or family, but these coats are slightly different. I hope that the Mitford allusion will become almost self evident once explained.

The arms of Mitford (Yorkshire Visitations 1563/4)

Argent, on a fess between three moles passant Sable a mullet Or.

The choice of moles in the arms of the Mitford family is widely considered a canting (punning) coat, though it operates as an allusion to land ownership rather than a direct pun on the surname itself.

The historical coat of arms for the ancient Northumbrian family of Mitford (and their descendants, such as the Barons Redesdale and the famous Mitford sisters) is actually blazoned as: Argent, a fess between three moles Sable. The blazon recorded in the Yorkshire Visitation of 1563 and 1564 (Argent, on a fess between three moles passant Sable a mullet Or) represents a specific, cadenced branch of the family. The addition of the gold star (a mullet Or) placed on top of the central horizontal bar (on a fess) is a traditional mark of cadency used to denote a third son.

While many cants mimic the sound of the family name (like Shelley bearing whelk shells), the Mitford moles are a topographical cant representing their land ownership. In May 1369, Sir John de Mitford was granted the lands and tenements of the ville of Molesden (a township located in the ancient parish of Mitford, Northumberland). Shortly after acquiring Molesden, the family adopted three moles (traditionally referred to in old northern English as moldiwarps) into their arms to explicitly play on the name of their new estate.

Because the use of moles as a primary charge is exceptionally rare in British heraldry, this remains one of the most famous examples of an estate-based cant in English armory.

Powys Arms Wetley Rocks

Many moons ago, I wrote to the then licencee of The Powys Arms, Wetley Rocks, pointing out that the coat of arms on their pub sign was not the arms of the Powys, Lords of the Manor of Wetley Rocks, but, most incorrectly, the coat of arms of Powys County Council! My efforts to persuade them to correct the mistake did resulted in the removel of the old, faded, incorrect pub sign but, sadly, it was replaced with a sign that was not the arms of Powys but was simply a sign with the words The Powys Arms written upon it. Perhaps this was cheaper, or easier, than painting the actual, correct arms. 

The former, now replaced Inn sign at the Powys Arms, Wetley Rocks showing the coat of arms of Powys County Council (Wales). Which has absolutely nothing  to do with the arms of Powys of Westwood, Lords of the Manor of Wetley Rocks.

It saddens me that an incresing number of pubs with "Arms" names are forgetting that their name origins stem, litterally, from coats of Arms with local histories, and are replacing their signs with just words. The Powys Arms are a prime example. 

Today, a repost appeared on the Facebook page of the Staffordshire Sentinel/Leek Post and Times reposrting that, after a facelift, the pub has re-opend under the management of Julie, a new publican. Whilst I realise that the loss of true armorial pub signs is likely a result of tightening budgets, I can't help but wonder if Julie might be open to a suggestion that reinstating the proper Powys Arms on the pub sign might restore some link to the pubs past.