5 x 11: The Code of Heraldry

The fifth semantic level present in the arms of St Edward the Confessor repeats the geographic inspiration of the previous referent's metonymy: Wincestrin. Besides the direct allusion to Winchester we may see now the verbal depiction of its river Itchen. Similarly, in an older analysis, we had applied the river Danube as a contiguity to Sagremor and Buda. It was impossible to find an Anglo-Norman name for this hydronym, therefore we used the English equivalent as a denominant. We don't even know if a specific Anglo-Norman word existed but seemingly it wouldn't be much more different than Itchen.

However, the second part of our parophony, the designant, keeps using Anglo-Norman and this type of language mix is usually called linguistic hybridization. In parophonies it results frequently from the ignorance on how to express both components adopting just one language, as it was the case here. But it may also appear with local words surviving in the vocabulary of a lingua franca. In Portuguese, for example, Gothic and Arabic terms arise simultaneously with Latin in order to build designants.

This parophony is built with Itchen ~ I chenne (ano. one pitcher), but the last component needs to be adjusted before we could compare all its phonemes with those appearing in the denominant. A first metonymy diverges from a common writing symbol “I”, easy to be acknowledged and sustained by other occurrences in our researching work. It's responsible for the transformation of “I” from a letter “i” into a Roman numeral that stands for one.

I(chenne) < I (letter i) < I

I (chenne) < I (number 1) < I

Moreover, we observe the use of a pair of graphemes “ch” with two possible sounds, conveniently adapted to assist the parophony. The first instance when Itchen must be compared with the similar sound of chenne, where “ch” sounds as [S]. The second instance occurs when meaning is built and we need the word that signifies “one pitcher”, that is, chenne, and “ch” now sounds as [k], like other known forms - cane and canne - very near or equal to the modern pronunciation in French. A similar example takes place in the arms of the first kings of Portugal for their capital Coimbra. To denote that the same group of letters shape different sounds we baptized this recurring phenomenon a homographic heterophony.

ch(enne) > [k(@n)]

ch(enne) < [S(@n)]

After the conclusion of accommodation and pairing we calculate a discretion index, k = 0.19. The procedure had to apply a longer formula, used to compensate the scarce number of phonemes and consequent unbalance (see Formula 3.1 at p. 51 in the thesis). To obtain it we additionally considered the total number of transformations (j = 1) divided by the square of the maximum value between the denominant and designant, max (D, d)² = max (4, 4)² = (4)² = 16. Therefore we subtracted 1/16 = 0.0625 from our main formula to produce 0.250 - 0.0625 and the value of k = 0.19.

A second metonymy will justify the blue in the heraldic plot of St Edward's arms. We had already mentioned that the application of the said tincture wasn't compatible with a sky, in this blazon at least. It's a fact that crosses and birds would fit perfectly in such a background but it's again a fact that the martlets aren't flying in the shield of St Edward. Blue is doubtlessly used for water in heraldry; however, five martlets floating around a sinking cross seem an appalling concept. What then?

The designant chenne (ano. pitcher) was also understood as a measure of capacity for liquids, a meaning reinforced by the Roman numeral I that precedes it. A measure largely employed with water and wine and with bulk solids likewise. The next transformation uses whatever could be inside the pitcher as a defining idea, instead of the pitcher itself. In a similar but reversed manner we say: “I've drank a glass of milk” and not “I've drank the contents of a glass of milk”. But the contents we're talking about are effectively water for a few good reasons.

The most obvious motivation should be that azure is the colour of water in heraldry, whereas purpure would be proper for wine, argent for milk and so on. Secondly, the relatively small quantity of a pitcher was just enough to “wet” the field, allowing the birds and the cross to be supported by the ground. Thirdly, although being represented by blue, water is transparent and if used on top of everything no staining would be perceived. Fourthly, we could say that, to begin with, it also represents a river, no need to mention what is it made of. Finally, we must answer the question - What kind of liquid would be respectable enough to match the five birds representing the sanctity of Edward and the symbol of Christ Himself? It shouldn't spoil, foul or in any way desecrate the plot already organized.

The answer could only be holy water, a perfect match for the sanctified flock of birds and for the cross. Incidentally it's commonly spread by aspersion, meaning that maybe it rests on top of all charges, still considering the aforesaid transparency. Note that the expression in Anglo-Norman is euwe benette, but it may be easily admitted for the end of the 14^th century that English could affect the metonymy. But it wouldn't even be needed in its strictest form, due to the extended religious environment of the blazon. Without a doubt the whole is influenced by the status of Edward as a saint. Formally, we have another converging metonymization:

Edward > St Edward > saint > holy

one pitcher > contents > holy water > holy

Furthermore we need to justify the blue convention for water. The perception of this colour in shallow extensions is normally seen as caused by reflection and scattering of sky light, but it doesn't suit well a generalization. Supplementary the sea is intrinsically blue even during a thunderstorm when the sky has tones of grey. This blue is faintly seen in snow and ice, all resulting from the same physical phenomenon. Those were probably the shades of blue inspiring heraldry and also many other representations of water too. Still, as oceans are its most powerful, large and majestic expression, the mechanism of sublimation emerged to paint any form or amount of water blue; a triple converging metonymy:

sea > bluish

seawater > bluish

any water > bluish

That should end our comments on the arms of St Edward the Confessor, but we just happened to find a sixth semantic level, so this series isn't finishing now as stated before. Luckily enough it won't harm the sequence of presentation within the prior levels; instead it's more like a complement enclosing everything we've already said.

(next article in this series is VI/VI)

We finally arrived at the point where tinctures are considered. How sure are we that this kind of colourful parophonic supposition is reasonable enough to be accepted? Why tinctures aren't always attributed to a natural property of the entities we see outlined in blazons? Well, unfortunately things are not that simple. Nobody can be sure that such or such representation is canting, for example. Even “obvious” representations as the arms used by the King of León (Argent a lion purpure) have been denied their canting status. Some authors say that this lion may well represent the strength and character of the king, instead of a pun that remembers the name of the kingdom: Llion ~ llion (leo. lion). It's a matter of personal interpretation, which will coincide or not with the primitive intentions.

It is perfectly admissible that colours may be canting, even in a conservative view. They normally arise as plain tinctures like in Rossi ~ Rossi (ita. reds), where the full red of the shield turns this evidence into an unavoidable explanation. The parophonic methodology allows a richer domain of interpretation, even explaining small chromatic details, otherwise disdained. Contrarily, what seems to be a natural and well-behaved blue tincture may hide a surprising unsuspected signification, as the blue field used in the arms of the kings of France. Of course, most of the time figurations show their proper colours in heraldry.

What makes the denial of this kind of phenomenon somewhat unreasonable is that canting arms are perceived as a general and acknowledged manifestation in heraldry. Therefore, if it occurs in other instances, it should occur in this particular case too. The same may be said about parophony, with the difference that here the circumscribed universe is much larger. It may reach every aspect of emblazonment: figurations, separations, attitudes, tinctures, etc.

There is almost nothing left for an arbitrary choice, each heraldic trace seem to be prone to a deliberate parophonic intention or result from an immanence of the other elements already represented. But if you see blue lions, pink eagles or green skies, believe me, there is more than simple aesthetical choice there. Medievals were not fools or naïve, as some may comfortably like to think, perhaps to justify the insanity and senselessness of our own time.

But we must leave our generalizations and recall the cross and birds of St Edward. We noted before that “or” could be an appropriate tincture for our cross. Wood, gold, brass or bronze suited perfectly the artefact and could indeed be the reason behind the colour. Besides, we already proposed that the four fleurs-de-lis at the limbs would be the same present in St Edward's Crown. Couldn't it be assumed that the rest of the material of the cross was gold, a sort of yellow - case closed - or maybe not? Yes and no. We do accept that the cross appearing in the arms of St Edward was made in gold. But we shouldn't refuse other contributions from parophonies encompassing this property of the heraldic cross as long as they don't conflict. That's precisely the case and we'll see it next.

After these considerations on the cross we must now turn our attention to the birds. Martlets were inspired on swallows, a well known gregarious bird, with a small beak and tiny legs, so that we hardly can't see them, both in real life and in the simplified drawings of heraldry. Still, there are no yellow swallows and even birds with this full colour are hard to find in Europe.

The fact that martlets stand for birds in general doesn't help much, they appear in all available tinctures. The attributed arms of Sussex that include six of them - three, two and one - appear in late documents and it's difficult to draw definite conclusion from there. It looks like they were inspired by the attributed arms studied in this post, and we mention the parophony Sussex ~ Suos (lat. his) sex (lat. six), that seems to refer someone in particular. Maybe the author didn't know or ignored the parophony - Seint ~ Cinc - applied to Edward and conveniently admitted six birds in the flock, using Latin as an archaising tool. Agreeing with this inspiration, these arms should be created after the end of the 14^th century. The remaining aspects we must leave for further research.

For the general case we could admit that brown swallows were transformed into gold, a pertinent assumption, or that the glow of the cross in gold would tint the martlets. This could also be understood by some to derive from a cruciform nimbus at the circular rim around the coin and the cross, the whole spreading its light to the doves; but there are no colours in coins and Edward wasn't recognized as a saint at this time.

Let us remark one more thing about our parophonic methodology. The vast majority of the referent's metonymies are geographical and we still haven't applied none. Why is that? Probably because the arms were based on a numismatic representation and these would demand a different inspiration. Remember that the three metonymies we've already found were based on anthroponymy - Edouard ~ Et due harde - and status - Seint ~ Cinc along with C(e) roi ~ Crois. This is decidedly puzzling compared to the average, the more so if no additional parophonies existed and any geographical metonymies weren't allowed consequently.

The capital of Edward the Confessor was Winchester and only later with the Norman rule it would move to London. We saw in the arms of Sagremor - Aquincenses ~ Ac quini sentes - that demonyms may play a part in translating the referent into pictures. This is also the case for King Edward, not in the plural form used for the fictive Hungarian knight but as another circumstance of his life: someone that lived in Winchester. Notice that Edward wasn't born there; the parophony is linked to the city as the capital of the Kingdom, not as the King's birthplace.

The parophony is built using J' Wincestrin (ano. I Wintonian) ~ Juints cestrins (ano. together lemon yellow). We weren't able to find this specific Anglo-Norman word Wincestrin, or any other, for the inhabitants of Winchester. It is possible, however, to find Wincestre for the name of the city and then compare it with other known demonyms like Parisin, and infer the necessary conclusions. “Together” refers to anything that can be counted inside the shield, obviously excluding the uncountable field, needed for contrast, moreover.

Also note that Je (ano. I) is transformed into J' when preceding vocalic sounds but even before consonants in the oral practice and that the plural endings in “s” are silent. The pronunciation of the first syllable of Wincestrin could well be [win] instead of [wẼ], according to the local nature of the word. The discretion index would be slightly changed from k = 0.0 to k = 0.30, nothing to be alarmed, but we preferred to accompany the obvious intention to equalize sounds, maybe being a bit too much enthusiastic on the Frenchy aspects of Anglo-Norman.

Both the denominant and the designant see their meaning limited by metonymization. The former as two converging metonymies:

I > the coat of arms > the bearer > Edward

Wintonian > living in Winchester > the king > Edward

The latter as two simple distinct metonymies:

together > everything > figurations > cross and martlets

lemon yellow > yellowish > or

We might have classified the last metonymy as a sublimation, where the golden tone would reflect the most flattering choice among any yellow hues. But note that we already have a chromatic pretext founded on the fleurs-de-lis and further that anything yellowish would inevitably be described as or. Therefore the colour of the cross and birds must be understood not as lemon yellow but as gold, transformed and described by the emblazonment practices. This doesn't happen always, some figurations do need to keep their yellow identity in order to improve consistency. Chromatic metonymizations don't take place then, contrarily to their description in blazoning, a conventional language.

But we also need to justify why the birds are gold in the plot of the arms as a drawing. It seems insufficient to state that their colour derive from the lemon yellow parophony. This coherence keeps the whole together and helps us to assert that it would be quite difficult to emerge from other reason than intention. Cestrin is often linked with the description of precious stones. At that period, all that we could imagine would be some gems set on the cross, but they are not. Additionally, there was to technical capacity to manufacture the cross or the martlets as entirely cut from such stones.

We must look for another explanation. Let's come back to the identification of these five martlets with the sanctity of Edward through their number, Seint ~ Cinc and condition as a flock, Edouard ~ Et due harde. It's legitimate to think that the colour could be associated with this condition. They shouldn't reflect then the glow of the golden cross, as guessed before, but an inner glow of sanctity.

The glow is conventionally represented by a halo around the heads of saints when depicted as human figures. Regarding birds, the dove of the Holy Ghost normally appears as entirely white with a yellow splendour around it which comes from within. We will learn in the fifth semantic level that also the blue tincture is “holy” so there was no semantic advantage to mingle the field with a halo. That would appear an odd technique for the emblazonment of this period anyway. What happened is that the author of the blazon just simplified the glowing halo through the tincture of the martlets changed from inside. In the same manner a star was covered by a cloud and changed from yellow to black in the arms of Sagremor. A realistic technique would paint all the cloud white, but that wouldn't carry the hidden semantic component, ignoring the presence of the star. All we need is a feasible construction, that may “excuse” the determinative aspects of the parophony upwards, unusual as it may be, deriving from chance.

(next article in this series is V/VI)

This is a very brief and simple post. Our third semantic level deals with the change from four doves in the coin of King Edward to five martlets in his attributed arms. For the second time in all our analyses, like in the first semantic level, C(e) roi ~ Crois, the referent's metonymizes Edward with his status; then as a king, now as a saint. Maybe these examples were just another method to build the metonymy of the referent but the fact is that we were able to identify only a few. The overwhelming majority use geographical metonymizations.   

It's also the first time during this analysis that we (slightly) changed the verbalizing agent, Old French, to the language of conquest then still used in England, Anglo-Norman. Even despite almost three hundred years of coexistence since William the Conqueror crossed the Channel.

Hence, the parophony is achieved with Seint (ano. saint) ~ Cinc (ano. five); its discretion index is k = 0. Don't let the writing mislead you, the sounds are effectively [sẼ] ~ [sẼ]. Observe that cinc alone is pronounced [sẼk], but it has the sound of [sẼ] if placed before merlés (ano. martlets) or any other substantive plural starting with a consonantal sound in modern French.

Now we are able to understand that, as the coins were minted in the lifetime of the king, there was still no reason for describing his status as a saint. The doves, however, previously performed the parophony Edouard ~ Et due harde, as appears in his silver penny. Their number was then just an adaptation of the idea of a flock to the available “slots” around the cross.

But now we have a straightforward specification: five birds must be seen. The arrangement used for this purpose was an extra space at the base of the shield, unavailable at the coin, in order to place the fifth martlet. There is nothing more to be said. The idea of “five” follows the emergence of the designant until its accomplishment as five birds. There is no room for misinterpretations on the way.

(next article in this series is IV/VI)