On griffins, composite creatures, and the Victorian revival of heraldic design
Heraldry developed in medieval Europe as a practical system: a way of identifying armoured knights on a battlefield when faces were hidden behind visors. The rules were strict. A coat of arms had to be unique, legible at distance, and reproducible by any competent herald who had only a verbal description to work from. The grammar of heraldry — the blazon — was designed to be precise enough that a griffin described in words could be drawn correctly by someone who had never seen the original.
The griffin is one of heraldry's oldest charges. Half eagle, half lion — it combines the king of birds with the king of beasts, producing something that is theoretically more powerful than either. In practice, it is a creature that could not exist, described with the precision of a creature that does. The heraldic tradition treats this as unremarkable. The blazon for a griffin is as specific as the blazon for a horse.
The Victorian revival of heraldic design — driven partly by the Gothic Revival in architecture and partly by a general nostalgia for medieval forms — produced some of the most elaborate heraldic imagery in the tradition's history. The griffin on the Gryphus Rampant Crewneck comes from this period: a public domain illustration that combines medieval conventions with Victorian decorative excess.
We like the griffin because it is a serious description of something impossible. That seems like a useful thing to wear.
From the Collection
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