An important question of nomenclature concerning a splendid Oxfordshire pub — newly reopened after five years out of use and reviewed in Weekend today — can be simply put: what the L is going on?

When I wrote about the General Elliott in South Hinksey 30 years ago, that was how its name was spelt — wrongly. My researches — or rather those of local historian Malcolm Graham — determined that the general honoured was not, as had been thought, William Henry Elliott, who had a prominent role in the Napoleonic campaigns of the early 19th century. He did not become a general until 1857, ten years after the pub was first mentioned in local directories.

Instead it was George Augustus Eliott, a hero of the three-year Siege of Gibraltar, during the American War of Independence, and its Governor from 1775 to 1790. I recently stayed for a week on the Rock in the hotel named after him and, visiting the main square, studied the hinged cannon of his devising that was used to shoot downwards at the French and Spanish troops attempting to storm the British positions.

The bosses of Morrell’s Brewery, which owned the pub in the 1980s, agreed to correct the sign, which they did. But some time in the years of vicissitude since, the name was evidently altered again — not to General Elliott this time but (as readers will see from the photograph above) to General Elliot.

I hardly expect that new owners Cass and Helen Hazlewood, who are lavishing much tender loving care on the property, will feel inclined to invest at present in a new sign, though they are aware of the correct name, which appears on their publicity material, website and menus. But could I put in a plea for a correction next time one is required?

The General Eliott’s sign has, after all, an unusual claim to fame, being one of very few to be commemorated in a poem by a famous writer. Robert Graves, a visitor in the 1920s, or possibly a little earlier, found that doubt existed then, too, over the identity of the honoured general. He wrote entertainingly about it about it as follows in The General Elliott [sic]: He fell in victory’s fierce pursuit, Holed through and through with shot, A sabre sweep had hacked him deep Twixt neck and shoulderknot....

The potman cannot well recall, The ostler never knew, Whether his day was Malplaquet, The Boyne or Waterloo.

But there he hangs for tavern sign, With foolish bold regard For cock and hen and loitering men And wagons down the yard.

Raised high above the hayseed world He smokes his painted pipe, And now surveys the orchard ways, The damsons clustering ripe.

He sees the churchyard slabs beyond, Where country neighbours lie, Their brief renown set lowly down; His name assaults the sky.

He grips the tankard of brown ale That spills a generous foam: Oft-times he drinks, they say, and winks At drunk men lurching home.

No upstart hero may usurp That honoured swinging seat; His seasons pass with pipe and glass Until the tale’s complete.

And paint shall keep his buttons bright Though all the world’s forgot Whether he died for England’s pride By battle, or by pot.

You will gather, from references to a tankard and pipe, that the style of sign has changed in the years since the poem was written.