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Title: Club Life of London, Volume II (of 2) - With Anecdotes of the Clubs, Coffee-Houses and Taverns of - the Metropolis During the 17th, 18th, and 19th Centuries
Author: Timbs, John
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "Club Life of London, Volume II (of 2) - With Anecdotes of the Clubs, Coffee-Houses and Taverns of - the Metropolis During the 17th, 18th, and 19th Centuries" ***

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produced from images generously made available by The
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Transcriber's Note:

  Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have
  been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

  Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.

  On page 31, either 1660 or 1669 is a possible typo.

  On page 131, "The 4th Edward IV." is possibly a typo.

  On page 154, "Dan Rowlandson" should possibly be "Dan Rawlinson".

  On page 262, "Belvidere" is a possible typo for "Belvedere".








     Publisher in Ordinary to Her Majesty.




     EARLY COFFEE-HOUSES                                             1

     GARRAWAY'S COFFEE-HOUSE                                         6

     JONATHAN'S COFFEE-HOUSE                                        11

     RAINBOW COFFEE-HOUSE                                           14

     NANDO'S COFFEE-HOUSE                                           18

     DICK'S COFFEE-HOUSE                                            20

     THE "LLOYD'S" OF THE TIME OF CHARLES II                        21

     LLOYD'S COFFEE-HOUSE                                           24

     THE JERUSALEM COFFEE-HOUSE                                     30

     BAKER'S COFFEE-HOUSE                                           30

     COFFEE-HOUSES OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY                        31

     COFFEE-HOUSE SHARPERS IN 1776                                  42

     DON SALTERO'S COFFEE-HOUSE                                     44

     SALOOP-HOUSES                                                  48

     THE SMYRNA COFFEE-HOUSE                                        49

     ST. JAMES'S COFFEE-HOUSE                                       50

     THE BRITISH COFFEE-HOUSE                                       55

     WILL'S COFFEE-HOUSE                                            56

     BUTTON'S COFFEE-HOUSE                                          64

     DEAN SWIFT AT BUTTON'S                                         73

     TOM'S COFFEE-HOUSE                                             75

     THE BEDFORD COFFEE-HOUSE, IN COVENT GARDEN                     76

     MACKLIN'S COFFEE-HOUSE ORATORY                                 82

     TOM KING'S COFFEE-HOUSE                                        84

     PIAZZA COFFEE-HOUSE                                            87

     THE CHAPTER COFFEE-HOUSE                                       88

     CHILD'S COFFEE-HOUSE                                           90

     LONDON COFFEE-HOUSE                                            92

     TURK'S HEAD COFFEE-HOUSE, IN CHANGE ALLEY                      93

     SQUIRE'S COFFEE-HOUSE                                          96

     SLAUGHTER'S COFFEE-HOUSE                                       99

     WILL'S AND SERLE'S COFFEE-HOUSES                              104

     THE GRECIAN COFFEE-HOUSE                                      105

     GEORGE'S COFFEE-HOUSE                                         107

     THE PERCY COFFEE-HOUSE                                        108

     PEELE'S COFFEE-HOUSE                                          109


     THE TAVERNS OF OLD LONDON                                     110

     THE BEAR AT THE BRIDGE-FOOT                                   122

     MERMAID TAVERNS                                               124

     THE BOAR'S HEAD TAVERN                                        124

     THREE CRANES IN THE VINTRY                                    128

     LONDON STONE TAVERN                                           128

     THE ROBIN HOOD                                                129

     PONTACK'S, ABCHURCH LANE                                      130

     POPE'S HEAD TAVERN                                            131

     THE OLD SWAN, THAMES-STREET                                   132

     COCK TAVERN, THREADNEEDLE-STREET                              133

     CROWN TAVERN, THREADNEEDLE-STREET                             134

     THE KING'S HEAD TAVERN, IN THE POULTRY                        135

     THE MITRE, IN WOOD-STREET                                     141

     THE SALUTATION AND CAT TAVERN                                 142

     "SALUTATION" TAVERNS                                          144

     QUEEN'S ARMS, ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD                           145

     DOLLY'S, PATERNOSTER ROW                                      146

     ALDERSGATE TAVERNS                                            147

     "THE MOURNING CROWN"                                          150

     JERUSALEM TAVERNS, CLERKENWELL                                150

     WHITE HART TAVERN, BISHOPSGATE WITHOUT                        152

     THE MITRE, IN FENCHURCH-STREET                                154

     THE KING'S HEAD, FENCHURCH-STREET                             155

     THE ELEPHANT, FENCHURCH-STREET                                156

     THE AFRICAN, ST. MICHAEL'S ALLEY                              157

     THE GRAVE MAURICE TAVERN                                      159

     MATHEMATICAL SOCIETY, SPITALFIELDS                            160

     GLOBE TAVERN, FLEET-STREET                                    161

     THE DEVIL TAVERN                                              162

     THE YOUNG DEVIL TAVERN                                        169

     COCK TAVERN, FLEET-STREET                                     170

     THE HERCULES' PILLARS TAVERNS                                 171

     HOLE-IN-THE-WALL TAVERNS                                      173

     THE MITRE, IN FLEET-STREET                                    175

     SHIP TAVERN, TEMPLE BAR                                       177

     THE PALSGRAVE HEAD, TEMPLE BAR                                178

     HEYCOCK'S, TEMPLE BAR                                         178

     THE CROWN AND ANCHOR, STRAND                                  179

     THE CANARY-HOUSE, IN THE STRAND                               180

     THE FOUNTAIN TAVERN                                           181

     TAVERN LIFE OF SIR RICHARD STEELE                             182

     CLARE MARKET TAVERNS                                          184

     THE CRAVEN HEAD, DRURY LANE                                   185

     THE COCK TAVERN, IN BOW-STREET                                187

     THE QUEEN'S HEAD, BOW-STREET                                  188

     THE SHAKSPEARE TAVERN                                         189

     SHUTER, AND HIS TAVERN PLACES                                 191

     THE ROSE TAVERN, COVENT GARDEN                                192

     EVANS'S, COVENT GARDEN                                        194

     THE FLEECE, COVENT GARDEN                                     196

     THE BEDFORD HEAD, COVENT GARDEN                               197

     THE SALUTATION, TAVISTOCK STREET                              197

     THE CONSTITUTION TAVERN, COVENT GARDEN                        199

     THE CIDER CELLAR                                              199

     OFFLEY'S, HENRIETTA-STREET                                    201

     THE RUMMER TAVERN                                             202

     SPRING GARDEN TAVERNS                                         204

     "HEAVEN" AND "HELL" TAVERNS, WESTMINSTER                      206

     "BELLAMY'S KITCHEN"                                           208

     A COFFEE-HOUSE CANARY BIRD                                    210

     STAR AND GARTER, PALL MALL                                    211

     THATCHED HOUSE TAVERN                                         217

     "THE RUNNING FOOTMAN," MAY FAIR                               219

     PICCADILLY INNS AND TAVERNS                                   221

     ISLINGTON TAVERNS                                             224

     COPENHAGEN HOUSE                                              229

     TOPHAM, THE STRONG MAN, AND HIS TAVERNS                       232

     THE CASTLE TAVERN, HOLBORN                                    234

     MARYLEBONE AND PADDINGTON TAVERNS                             236

     KENSINGTON AND BROMPTON TAVERNS                               242

     KNIGHTSBRIDGE TAVERNS                                         249

     RANELAGH GARDENS                                              255

     CREMORNE TAVERN AND GARDENS                                   257

     THE MULBERRY GARDEN                                           258

     PIMLICO TAVERNS                                               259

     LAMBETH,--VAUXHALL TAVERNS AND GARDENS, ETC.                  260

     FREEMASONS' LODGES                                            263

     WHITEBAIT TAVERNS                                             267

     THE LONDON TAVERN                                             274

     THE CLARENDON HOTEL                                           279

     FREEMASONS' TAVERN, GREAT QUEEN-STREET                        280

     THE ALBION, ALDERSGATE-STREET                                 283

     ST. JAMES'S HALL                                              284

     THEATRICAL TAVERNS                                            285


     BEEFSTEAK SOCIETY                                             286

     WHITE'S CLUB                                                   287

     THE ROYAL ACADEMY CLUB                                        289

     DESTRUCTION OF TAVERNS BY FIRE                                290

     THE TZAR OF MUSCOVY'S HEAD, TOWER-STREET                      291

     ROSE TAVERN, TOWER-STREET                                     292

     THE NAG'S HEAD TAVERN, CHEAPSIDE                              293

     THE HUMMUMS, COVENT GARDEN                                    295

     ORIGIN OF TAVERN SIGNS                                        296

     INDEX TO THE FIRST VOLUME                                     305

     INDEX TO THE SECOND VOLUME                                    313

  [Illustration: "The Lion's Head," at Button's Coffee-House.]




Coffee is thus mentioned by Bacon, in his _Sylva Sylvarum_:--"They
have in _Turkey_ a _drink_ called _Coffee_, made of a _Berry_ of the
same name, as Black as _Soot_, and of a _Strong Sent_, but not
_Aromatical_; which they take, beaten into Powder, in _Water_, as Hot
as they can _Drink_ it; and they take it, and sit at it in their
_Coffee Houses_, which are like our _Taverns_. The _Drink_ comforteth
the _Brain_, and _Heart_, and helpeth _Digestion_."

And in Burton's _Anatomy of Melancholy_, part i., sec. 2, occurs,
"Turks in their coffee-houses, which much resemble our taverns." The
date is 1621, several years before coffee-houses were introduced into

In 1650, Wood tells us, was opened at Oxford, the first coffee-house,
by Jacobs, a Jew, "at the Angel, in the parish of St. Peter in the
East; and there it was, by some who delighted in novelty, drank."

There was once an odd notion prevalent that coffee was unwholesome,
and would bring its drinkers to an untimely end. Yet, Voltaire,
Fontenelle, and Fourcroy, who were great coffee-drinkers, lived to a
good old age. Laugh at Madame de Sévigné, who foretold that coffee and
Racine would be forgotten together!

A manuscript note, written by Oldys, the celebrated antiquary, states
that "The use of coffee in England was first known in 1657. [It will
be seen, as above, that Oldys is incorrect.] Mr. Edwards, a Turkey
merchant, brought from Smyrna to London one Pasqua Rosee, a Ragusan
youth, who prepared this drink for him every morning. But the novelty
thereof drawing too much company to him, he allowed his said servant,
with another of his son-in-law, to sell it publicly, and they set up
the first coffee-house in London, in St. Michael's alley, in Cornhill.
The sign was Pasqua Rosee's own head." Oldys is slightly in error
here; Rosee commenced his coffee-house in 1652, and one Jacobs, a Jew,
as we have just seen, had established a similar undertaking at Oxford,
two years earlier. One of Rosee's original shop or hand-bills, the
only mode of advertising in those days, is as follows:--


     "_First made and publickly sold in England by Pasqua Rosee._

     "The grain or berry called coffee, groweth upon little trees
     only in the deserts of Arabia. It is brought from thence,
     and drunk generally throughout all the Grand Seignour's
     dominions. It is a simple, innocent thing, composed into a
     drink, by being dried in an oven, and ground to powder, and
     boiled up with spring water, and about half a pint of it to
     be drunk fasting an hour before, and not eating an hour
     after, and to be taken as hot as possibly can be endured;
     the which will never fetch the skin off the mouth, or raise
     any blisters by reason of that heat.

     "The Turks' drink at meals and other times is usually water,
     and their diet consists much of fruit; the crudities whereof
     are very much corrected by this drink.

     "The quality of this drink is cold and dry; and though it be
     a drier, yet it neither heats nor inflames more than hot
     posset. It so incloseth the orifice of the stomach, and
     fortifies the heat within, that it is very good to help
     digestion; and therefore of great use to be taken about
     three or four o'clock afternoon, as well as in the morning.
     It much quickens the spirits, and makes the heart lightsome;
     it is good against sore eyes, and the better if you hold
     your head over it and take in the steam that way. It
     suppresseth fumes exceedingly, and therefore is good against
     the head-ache, and will very much stop any defluxion of
     rheums, that distil from the head upon the stomach, and so
     prevent and help consumptions and the cough of the lungs.

     "It is excellent to prevent and cure the dropsy, gout,[1]
     and scurvy. It is known by experience to be better than any
     other drying drink for people in years, or children that
     have any running humours upon them, as the king's evil, &c.
     It is a most excellent remedy against the spleen,
     hypochondriac winds, and the like. It will prevent
     drowsiness, and make one fit for business, if one have
     occasion to watch, and therefore you are not to drink of it
     after supper, unless you intend to be watchful, for it will
     hinder sleep for three or four hours.

     "It is observed that in Turkey, where this is generally
     drunk, that they are not troubled with the stone, gout,
     dropsy, or scurvy, and that their skins are exceeding clear
     and white. It is neither laxative nor restringent.

     "_Made and sold in St. Michael's-alley, in Cornhill, by
     Pasqua Rosee, at the sign of his own head._"

The new beverage had its opponents, as well as its advocates. The
following extracts from _An invective against Coffee_, published about
the same period, informs us that Rosee's partner, the servant of Mr.
Edwards's son-in-law, was a coachman; while it controverts the
statement that hot coffee will not scald the mouth, and ridicules the
broken English of the Ragusan:--


     "A coachman was the first (here) coffee made,
     And ever since the rest drive on the trade:
     '_Me no good Engalash!_' and sure enough,
     He played the quack to salve his Stygian stuff;
     '_Ver boon for de stomach, de cough, de phthisick._'
     And I believe him, for it looks like physic.
     Coffee a crust is charred into a coal,
     The smell and taste of the mock china bowl;
     Where huff and puff, they labour out their lungs,
     Lest, Dives-like, they should bewail their tongues.
     And yet they tell ye that it will not burn,
     Though on the jury blisters you return;
     Whose furious heat does make the water rise,
     And still through the alembics of your eyes.
     Dread and desire, you fall to 't snap by snap,
     As hungry dogs do scalding porridge lap.
     But to cure drunkards it has got great fame;
     Posset or porridge, will 't not do the same?
     Confusion hurries all into one scene,
     Like Noah's ark, the clean and the unclean.
     And now, alas! the drench has credit got,
     And he's no gentleman that drinks it not;
     That such a dwarf should rise to such a stature!
     But custom is but a remove from nature.
     A little dish and a large coffee-house,
     What is it but a mountain and a mouse?"

Notwithstanding this opposition, coffee soon became a favourite drink,
and the shops, where it was sold, places of general resort.

There appears to have been a great anxiety that the Coffee-house,
while open to all ranks, should be conducted under such restraints as
might prevent the better class of customers from being annoyed.
Accordingly, the following regulations, printed on large sheets of
paper, were hung up in conspicuous positions on the walls:--

     "_Enter, Sirs, freely, but first, if you please,
     Peruse our civil orders, which are these._

     First, gentry, tradesmen, all are welcome hither,
     And may without affront sit down together:
     Pre-eminence of place none here should mind,
     But take the next fit seat that he can find:
     Nor need any, if finer persons come,
     Rise up for to assign to them his room;
     To limit men's expense, we think not fair,
     But let him forfeit twelve-pence that shall swear:
     He that shall any quarrel here begin,
     Shall give each man a dish t' atone the sin;
     And so shall he, whose compliments extend
     So far to drink in coffee to his friend;
     Let noise of loud disputes be quite forborne,
     Nor maudlin lovers here in corners mourn,
     But all be brisk and talk, but not too much;
     On sacred things, let none presume to touch,
     Nor profane Scripture, nor saucily wrong
     Affairs of state with an irreverent tongue:
     Let mirth be innocent, and each man see
     That all his jests without reflection be;
     To keep the house more quiet and from blame,
     We banish hence cards, dice, and every game;
     Nor can allow of wagers, that exceed
     Five shillings, which ofttimes do troubles breed;
     Let all that's lost or forfeited be spent
     In such good liquor as the house doth vent.
     And customers endeavour, to their powers,
     For to observe still, seasonable hours.
     Lastly, let each man what he calls for pay,
     And so you're welcome to come every day."

In a print of the period, five persons are shown in a coffee-house,
one smoking, evidently, from their dresses, of different ranks of
life; they are seated at a table, on which are small basins without
saucers, and tobacco-pipes, while a waiter is serving the coffee.


[1] In the French colonies, where Coffee is more used than in the
English, Gout is scarcely known.


This noted Coffee-house, situated in Change-alley, Cornhill, has a
threefold celebrity: tea was first sold in England here; it was a
place of great resort in the time of the South Sea Bubble; and has
since been a place of great mercantile transactions. The original
proprietor was Thomas Garway, tobacconist and coffee-man, the first
who retailed tea, recommending for the cure of all disorders; the
following is the substance of his shop bill:--"Tea in England hath
been sold in the leaf for six pounds, and sometimes for ten pounds the
pound weight, and in respect of its former scarceness and dearness,
it hath been only used as a regalia in high treatments and
entertainments, and presents made thereof to princes and grandees till
the year 1651." The said Thomas Garway did purchase a quantity
thereof, and first publicly sold the said tea in leaf and drink, made
according to the directions of the most knowing merchants and
travellers into those Eastern countries; and upon knowledge and
experience of the said Garway's continued care and industry in
obtaining the best tea, and making drink thereof, very many noblemen,
physicians, merchants, and gentlemen of quality, have ever since sent
to him for the said leaf, and daily resort to his house in
Exchange-alley, aforesaid, to drink the drink thereof; and to the end
that all persons of eminence and quality, gentlemen, and others, who
have occasion for tea in leaf, may be supplied, these are to give
notice that the said Thomas Garway hath tea to sell from "sixteen to
fifty shillings per pound." (See the document entire in Ellis's
_Letters_, series iv. 58.)

Ogilby, the compiler of the _Britannia_, had his standing lottery of
books at Mr. Garway's Coffee-house from April 7, 1673, till wholly
drawn off. And, in the _Journey through England_, 1722, Garraway's,
Robins's, and Joe's, are described as the three celebrated
Coffee-houses: in the first, the People of Quality, who have business
in the City, and the most considerable and wealthy citizens, frequent.
In the second the Foreign Banquiers, and often even Foreign Ministers.
And in the third, the Buyers and Sellers of Stock.

Wines were sold at Garraway's in 1673, "by the candle," that is, by
auction, while an inch of candle burns. In _The Tatler_, No. 147, we
read: "Upon my coming home last night, I found a very handsome present
of French wine left for me, as a taste of 216 hogsheads, which are to
be put to sale at 20_l._ a hogshead, at Garraway's Coffee-house, in
Exchange-alley," &c. The sale by candle is not, however, by
candle-light, but during the day. At the commencement of the sale,
when the auctioneer has read a description of the property, and the
conditions on which it is to be disposed of, a piece of candle,
usually an inch long, is lighted, and he who is the last bidder at the
time the light goes out is declared the purchaser.

Swift, in his "Ballad on the South Sea Scheme," 1721, did not forget

     "There is a gulf, where thousands fell,
       Here all the bold adventurers came,
     A narrow sound, though deep as hell,
       'Change alley is the dreadful name.

     "Subscribers here by thousands float,
       And jostle one another down,
     Each paddling in his leaky boat,
       And here they fish for gold and drown.

     "Now buried in the depths below,
       Now mounted up to heaven again,
     They reel and stagger to and fro,
       At their wits' end, like drunken men.

     "Meantime secure on Garway cliffs,
       A savage race, by shipwrecks fed,
     Lie waiting for the founder'd skiffs,
       And strip the bodies of the dead."

Dr. Radcliffe, who was a rash speculator in the South Sea Scheme, was
usually planted at a table at Garraway's about Exchange time, to watch
the turn of the market; and here he was seated when the footman of his
powerful rival, Dr. Edward Hannes, came into Garraway's and inquired,
by way of a puff, if Dr. H. was there. Dr. Radcliffe, who was
surrounded with several apothecaries and chirurgeons that flocked
about him, cried out, "Dr. Hannes was not there," and desired to know
"who wanted him?" the fellow's reply was, "such a lord and such a
lord;" but he was taken up with the dry rebuke, "No, no, friend, you
are mistaken; the Doctor wants those lords." One of Radcliffe's
ventures was five thousand guineas upon one South Sea project. When he
was told at Garraway's that 'twas all lost, "Why," said he, "'tis but
going up five thousand pair of stairs more." "This answer," says Tom
Brown, "deserved a statue."

As a Coffee-house, and one of the oldest class, which has withstood,
by the well-acquired fame of its proprietors, the ravages of time, and
the changes that economy and new generations produce, none can be
compared to Garraway's. This name must be familiar with most people in
and out of the City; and, notwithstanding our disposition to make
allowance for the want of knowledge some of our neighbours of the
West-end profess in relation to men and things east of Temple Bar, it
must be supposed that the noble personage who said, when asked by a
merchant to pay him a visit in one of these places, "that he willingly
would, if his friend could tell him where to change horses," had
forgotten this establishment, which fostered so great a quantity of
dishonoured paper, when in other City coffee-houses it had gone
begging at 1_s._ and 2_s._ in the pound.[2]

Garraway's has long been famous as a sandwich and drinking room, for
sherry, pale ale, and punch. Tea and coffee are still served. It is
said that the sandwich-maker is occupied two hours in cutting and
arranging the sandwiches before the day's consumption commences. The
sale-room is an old fashioned first-floor apartment, with a small
rostrum for the seller, and a few commonly grained settles for the
buyers. Here sales of drugs, mahogany, and timber are periodically
held. Twenty or thirty property and other sales sometimes take place
in a day. The walls and windows of the lower room are covered with
sale placards, which are unsentimental evidences of the mutability of
human affairs.

"In 1840 and 1841, when the tea speculation was at its height, and
prices were fluctuating 6_d._ and 8_d._ per pound, on the arrival of
every mail, Garraway's was frequented every night by a host of the
smaller fry of dealers, when there was more excitement than ever
occurred on 'Change when the most important intelligence arrived.
Champagne and anchovy toasts were the order of the night; and every
one came, ate and drank, and went, as he pleased without the least
question concerning the score, yet the bills were discharged; and this
plan continued for several months."--_The City._

Here, likewise, we find this redeeming picture:--"The members of the
little _coterie_, who take the dark corner under the clock, have for
years visited this house; they number two or three old, steady
merchants, a solicitor, and a gentleman who almost devotes the whole
of his time and talents to philanthropic objects,--for instance, the
getting up of a Ball for Shipwrecked Mariners and their families; or
the organization of a Dinner for the benefit of the Distressed
Needlewomen of the Metropolis; they are a very quiet party, and enjoy
the privilege of their _séance_, uninterrupted by visitors."

We may here mention a tavern of the South Sea time, where the "Globe
_permits_" fraud was very successful. These were nothing more than
square pieces of card on which was a wax seal of the sign of the Globe
Tavern, situated in the neighbourhood of Change-alley, with the
inscription, "Sail-cloth Permits." The possessors enjoyed no other
advantage from them than permission to subscribe at some future time
to a new sail-cloth manufactory projected by one who was known to be a
man of fortune, but who was afterwards involved in the peculation and
punishment of the South Sea Directors. These Permits sold for as much
as sixty guineas in the Alley.


[2] _The City_, 2nd edition.


This is another Change-alley Coffee-house, which is described in the
_Tatler_, No. 38, as "the general mart of stock-jobbers;" and the
_Spectator_, No. 1, tells us that he "sometimes passes for a Jew in
the assembly of stock-jobbers at Jonathan's." This was the rendezvous,
where gambling of all sorts was carried on; notwithstanding a formal
prohibition against the assemblage of the jobbers, issued by the City
of London, which prohibition continued unrepealed until 1825.

In the _Anatomy of Exchange Alley_, 1719, we read:--"The centre of the
jobbing is in the kingdom of Exchange-alley and its adjacencies. The
limits are easily surrounded in about a minute and a half: viz.
stepping out of Jonathan's into the Alley, you turn your face full
south; moving on a few paces, and then turning due east, you advance
to Garraway's; from thence going out at the other door, you go on
still east into Birchin-lane; and then halting a little at the
Sword-blade Bank, to do much mischief in fewest words, you immediately
face to the north, enter Cornhill, visit two or three petty provinces
there in your way west; and thus having boxed your compass, and sailed
round the whole stock-jobbing globe, you turn into Jonathan's again;
and so, as most of the great follies of life oblige us to do, you end
just where you began."

Mrs. Centlivre, in her comedy of _A Bold Stroke for a Wife_, has a
scene from Jonathan's at the above period: while the stock-jobbers are
talking, the coffee-boys are crying "Fresh coffee, gentlemen, fresh
coffee! Bohea tea, gentlemen!"

Here is another picture of Jonathan's, during the South Sea mania;
though not by an eye-witness, it groups, from various authorities, the
life of the place and the time:--"At a table a few yards off sat a
couple of men engaged in the discussion of a newly-started scheme.
Plunging his hand impatiently under the deep silver-buttoned flap of
his frock-coat of cinnamon cloth and drawing out a paper, the more
business-looking of the pair commenced eagerly to read out figures
intended to convince the listener, who took a jewelled snuff-box from
the deep pocket of the green brocade waistcoat which overflapped his
thigh, and, tapping the lid, enjoyed a pinch of perfumed Turkish as he
leaned back lazily in his chair. Somewhat further off, standing in the
middle of the room, was a keen-eyed lawyer, counting on his fingers
the probable results of a certain speculation in human hair, to which
a fresh-coloured farmer from St. Albans, on whose boots the mud of the
cattle market was not dry, listened with a face of stolid avarice,
clutching the stag-horn handle of his thonged whip as vigorously as if
it were the wealth he coveted. There strode a Nonconformist divine,
with S. S. S. in every line of his face, greedy for the gold that
perisheth; here a bishop, whose truer place was Garraway's, edged his
cassock through the crowd; sturdy ship-captains, whose manners smack
of blustering breezes, and who hailed their acquaintance as if through
a speaking-trumpet in a storm--booksellers' hacks from Grub-street,
who were wont to borrow ink-bottles and just one sheet of paper at the
bar of the Black Swan in St. Martin's-lane, and whose tarnished lace,
when not altogether torn away, showed a suspicious coppery redness
underneath--Jews of every grade, from the thriving promoter of a
company for importing ashes from Spain or extracting stearine from
sunflower seeds to the seller of sailor slops from Wapping-in-the-Wose,
come to look for a skipper who had bilked him--a sprinkling of
well-to-do merchants--and a host of those flashy hangers-on to the
skirts of commerce, who brighten up in days of maniacal speculation,
and are always ready to dispose of shares in some unopened mine or
some untried invention--passed and repassed with continuous change and
murmur before the squire's eyes during the quarter of an hour that he
sat there."--_Pictures of the Periods, by W. F. Collier LL.D._


The Rainbow, in Fleet-street, appears to have been the second
Coffee-house opened in the metropolis.

"The first Coffee-house in London," says Aubrey (MS. in the Bodleian
Library), "was in St. Michael's-alley, in Cornhill, opposite to the
church, which was set up by one ---- Bowman (coachman to Mr. Hodges, a
Turkey merchant, who putt him upon it), in or about the yeare 1652.
'Twas about four yeares before any other was sett up, and that was by
Mr. Farr." This was the Rainbow.

Another account states that one Edwards, a Turkey merchant, on his
return from the East, brought with him a Ragusian Greek servant, named
Pasqua Rosee, who prepared coffee every morning for his master, and
with the coachman above named set up the first Coffee-house in St.
Michael's-alley; but they soon quarrelled and separated, the coachman
establishing himself in St. Michael's churchyard.--(See pp. 2 and 4,

Aubrey wrote the above in 1680, and Mr. Farr had then become a person
of consequence. In his _Lives_, Aubrey notes:--"When coffee first came
in, Sir Henry Blount was a great upholder of it, and hath ever since
been a great frequenter of coffee-houses, especially Mr. Farre's, at
the Rainbowe, by Inner Temple Gate."

Farr was originally a barber. His success as a coffee-man appears to
have annoyed his neighbours; and at the inquest at St. Dunstan's, Dec.
21st, 1657, among the presentments of nuisances were the
following:--"We present James Farr, barber, for making and selling of
a drink called coffee, whereby in making the same he annoyeth his
neighbours by evill smells; and for keeping of fire for the most part
night and day, whereby his chimney and chamber hath been set on fire,
to the great danger and affrightment of his neighbours." However, Farr
was not ousted; he probably promised reform, or amended the alleged
annoyance: he remained at the Rainbow, and rose to be a person of
eminence and repute in the parish. He issued a token, date 1666--an
arched rainbow based on clouds, doubtless, from the Great Fire--to
indicate that with him all was yet safe, and the Rainbow still
radiant. There is one of his tokens in the Beaufoy collection, at
Guildhall, and so far as is known to Mr. Burn, the rainbow does not
occur on any other tradesman's token. The house was let off into
tenements: books were printed here at this very time "for Samuel
Speed, at the sign of the Rainbow, near the Inner Temple Gate, in
Fleet-street." The Phoenix Fire Office was established here about
1682. Hatton, in 1708, evidently attributed Farr's nuisance to the
_coffee itself_ saying: "Who would have thought London would ever have
had three thousand such nuisances, and that coffee would have been (as
now) so much drank by the best of quality, and physicians?" The
nuisance was in Farr's chimney and carelessness, not in the coffee.
Yet, in our statute-book anno 1660 (12 Car. II. c. 24), a duty of
4_d._ was laid upon every gallon of coffee made and sold. A statute of
1663 directs that all Coffee-houses should be licensed at the Quarter
Sessions. And in 1675, Charles II. issued a proclamation to shut up
the Coffee-houses, charged with being seminaries of sedition; but in a
few days he suspended this proclamation by a second.

The _Spectator_, No. 16, notices some gay frequenters of the
Rainbow:--"I have received a letter desiring me to be very satirical
upon the little muff that is now in fashion; another informs me of a
pair of silver garters buckled below the knee, that have been lately
seen at the Rainbow Coffee-house in Fleet-street."

Mr. Moncrieff, the dramatist, used to tell that about 1780, this house
was kept by his grandfather, Alexander Moncrieff, when it retained its
original title of "The Rainbow Coffee-house." The old Coffee-room had
a lofty bay-window, at the south end, looking into the Temple: and the
room was separated from the kitchen only by a glazed partition: in the
bay was the table for the elders. The house has long been a tavern;
all the old rooms have been swept away, and a large and lofty
dining-room erected in their place.

In a paper read to the British Archæological Association, by Mr. E. B.
Price, we find coffee and canary thus brought into interesting
comparison, illustrated by the exhibition of one of Farr's Rainbow
tokens; and another inscribed "At the Canary House in the Strand,
1_d_., 1665," bearing also the word "Canary" in the monogram. Having
noticed the prosecution of Farr, and his triumph over his
fellow-parishioners, Mr. Price says:--"The opposition to coffee
continued; people viewed it with distrust, and even with alarm: and we
can sympathize with them in their alarm: when we consider that they
entertained a notion that coffee would eventually put an end to the
species; that the _genus homo_ would some day or other be utterly
extinguished. With our knowledge of the beneficial effect of this
article on the community, and its almost universal adoption in the
present day, we may smile, and wonder while we smile, at the bare
possibility of such a notion ever having prevailed. That it did so, we
have ample evidence in the "Women's Petition against Coffee," in the
year 1674, cited by D'Israeli, _Curiosities of Literature_, vol. iv.,
and in which they complain that coffee "made men as unfruitful as the
deserts whence that unhappy berry is said to be brought: that the
offspring of our mighty ancestors would dwindle into a succession of
apes and pigmies," etc. The same authority gives us an extract from a
very amusing poem of 1663, in which the writer wonders that any man
should prefer Coffee to Canary, terming them English apes, and proudly
referring them to the days of Beaumont and Fletcher and Ben Jonson.
_They_, says he,

         "Drank pure nectar as the gods drink too
     Sublimed with rich _Canary_; say, shall then
     These less than coffee's self, these coffee-men,
     These sons of nothing, that can hardly make
     Their broth for laughing how the jest does take,
     Yet grin, and give ye for the vine's pure blood
     A loathsome potion--not yet understood,
     Syrup of soot, or essence of old shoes,
     Dasht with diurnals or the book of news?"

One of the weaknesses of "rare Ben" was his _penchant_ for Canary. And
it would seem that the Mermaid, in Bread-street, was the house in
which he enjoyed it most:

     "But that which most doth take my muse and me,
     Is a pure cup of rich _Canary wine_,
     Which is the Mermaid's now, but shall be mine."

Granger states that Charles I. raised Ben's pension from 100 marks to
100 pounds, and added a tierce of canary, which salary and its
appendage, he says, have ever since been continued to poets laureate.

Reverting to the Rainbow (says Mr. Price), "it has been frequently
remarked by 'tavern-goers,' that many of our snuggest and most
comfortable taverns are hidden from vulgar gaze, and unapproachable
except through courts, blind alleys, or but half-lighted passages." Of
this description was the house in question. But few of its many
nightly, or rather midnightly patrons and frequenters, knew aught of
it beyond its famed "stewed cheeses," and its "stout," with the
various "et ceteras" of good cheer. They little dreamed, and perhaps
as little cared to know, that, more than two centuries back, the
Rainbow flourished as a bookseller's shop; as appears by the
title-page of Trussell's _History of England_, which states it to be
"printed by M. D., for Ephraim Dawson, and are to bee sold in Fleet
Street, at the signe of the Rainbowe, neere the Inner-Temple Gate,


Was the house at the east corner of Inner Temple-lane, No. 17,
Fleet-street, and next-door to the shop of Bernard Lintot, the
bookseller; though it has been by some confused with Groom's house,
No. 16. Nando's was the favourite haunt of Lord Thurlow, before he
dashed into law practice. At this Coffee-house a large attendance of
professional loungers was attracted by the fame of the punch and the
charms of the landlady, which, with the small wits, were duly admired
by and at the bar. One evening, the famous cause of Douglas _v._. the
Duke of Hamilton was the topic of discussion, when Thurlow being
present, it was suggested, half in earnest, to appoint him junior
counsel, which was done. This employment brought him acquainted with
the Duchess of Queensberry, who saw at once the value of a man like
Thurlow, and recommended Lord Bute to secure him by a silk gown.

The house, formerly Nando's, has been for many years a hair-dresser's.
It is inscribed "Formerly the palace of Henry VIII. and Cardinal
Wolsey." The structure is of the time of James I., and has an enriched
ceiling inscribed P (triple plumed).

This was the office in which the Council for the Management of the
Duchy of Cornwall Estates held their sittings; for in the Calendar of
State Papers, edited by Mrs. Green, is the following entry, of the
time of Charles, created Prince of Wales four years after the death of
Henry:--"1619, Feb. 25; Prince's _Council Chamber, Fleet-street_.
--Council of the Prince of Wales to the Keepers of Brancepeth, Raby,
and Barnard Castles: The trees blown down are only to be used for
mending the pales, and no wood to be cut for firewood, nor browse for
the deer."


This old Coffee-house, No. 8, Fleet-street (south side, near Temple
Bar), was originally "Richard's," named from Richard Torner, or
Turner, to whom the house was let in 1680. The Coffee-room retains
its olden paneling, and the staircase its original balusters.

The interior of Dick's Coffee-house is engraved as a frontispiece to a
drama, called _The Coffee-house_, performed at Drury-lane Theatre in
1737. The piece met with great opposition on its representation, owing
to its being stated that the characters were intended for a particular
family (that of Mrs. Yarrow and her daughter), who kept Dick's, the
coffee-house which the artist had inadvertently selected as the

It appears that the landlady and her daughter were the reigning toast
of the Templars, who then frequented Dick's; and took the matter up so
strongly that they united to condemn the farce on the night of its
production; they succeeded, and even extended their resentment to
every thing suspected to be this author's (the Rev. James Miller) for
a considerable time after.

Richard's, as it was then called, was frequented by Cowper, when he
lived in the Temple. In his own account of his insanity, Cowper tells
us: "At breakfast I read the newspaper, and in it a letter, which, the
further I perused it, the more closely engaged my attention. I cannot
now recollect the purport of it; but before I had finished it, it
appeared demonstratively true to me that it was a libel or satire upon
me. The author appeared to be acquainted with my purpose of
self-destruction, and to have written that letter on purpose to secure
and hasten the execution of it. My mind, probably, at this time began
to be disordered; however it was, I was certainly given to a strong
delusion. I said within myself, 'Your cruelty shall be gratified; you
shall have your revenge,' and flinging down the paper in a fit of
strong passion, I rushed hastily out of the room; directing my way
towards the fields, where I intended to find some house to die in; or,
if not, determined to poison myself in a ditch, where I could meet
with one sufficiently retired."

It is worth while to revert to the earlier tenancy of the
Coffee-house, which was, wholly or in part, the original printing
office of Richard Tottel, law-printer to Edward VI., Queens Mary and
Elizabeth; the premises were attached to No. 7, Fleet-street, which
bore the sign of "The Hand and Starre," where Tottel lived, and
published the law and other works he printed. No. 7 was subsequently
occupied by Jaggard and Joel Stephens, eminent law-printers, temp.
Geo. I.-III.; and at the present day the house is most appropriately
occupied by Messrs. Butterworth, who follow the occupation Tottel did
in the days of Edward VI., being law-publishers to Queen Victoria; and
they possess the original leases, from the earliest grant, in the
reign of Henry VIII., the period of their own purchase.


During the reign of Charles II., Coffee-houses grew into such favour,
that they quickly spread over the metropolis, and were the usual
meeting-places of the roving cavaliers, who seldom visited home but to
sleep. The following song, from Jordan's _Triumphs of London_, 1675,
affords a very curious picture of the manners of the times, and the
sort of conversation then usually met with in a well-frequented house
of the sort,--the "Lloyd's" of the seventeenth century:--

     "You that delight in wit and mirth,
       And love to hear such news
     That come from all parts of the earth,
       Turks, Dutch, and Danes, and Jews:
     I'll send ye to the rendezvous,
       Where it is smoaking new;
     Go hear it at a coffee-house,
       It cannot but be true.

     "There battails and sea-fights are fought,
       And bloudy plots displaid;
     They know more things than e'er was thought,
       Or ever was bewray'd:
     No money in the minting-house
       Is half so bright and new;
     And coming from the _Coffee-House_,
       It cannot but be true.

     "Before the navies fell to work,
       They knew who should be winner;
     They there can tell ye what the Turk
       Last Sunday had to dinner.
     Who last did cut Du Ruiter's[3] corns,
       Amongst his jovial crew;
     Or who first gave the devil horns,
       Which cannot but be true.

     "A fisherman did boldly tell,
       And strongly did avouch,
     He caught a shole of mackerell,
       They parley'd all in Dutch;
     And cry'd out _Yaw, yaw, yaw, mine hare_,
       And as the draught they drew,
     They stunk for fear that Monk[4] was there:
       This sounds as if 'twere true.

     "There's nothing done in all the world,
       From monarch to the mouse;
     But every day or night 'tis hurl'd
       Into the coffee-house:
     What Lilly[5] what Booker[6] cou'd
       By art not bring about,
     At Coffee-house you'll find a brood,
       Can quickly find it out.

     "They know who shall in times to come,
       Be either made or undone,
     From great St. Peter's-street in Rome,
       To Turnbal-street[7] in London.

     "They know all that is good or hurt,
       To damn ye or to save ye;
     There is the college and the court,
       The country, camp, and navy.
     So great an university,
       I think there ne'er was any;
     In which you may a scholar be,
       For spending of a penny.

     "Here men do talk of everything,
       With large and liberal lungs,
     Like women at a gossiping,
       With double tire of tongues,
     They'll give a broadside presently,
       'Soon as you are in view:
     With stories that you'll wonder at,
       Which they will swear are true.

     "You shall know there what fashions are,
       How perriwigs are curl'd;
     And for a penny you shall hear
       All novels in the world;
     Both old and young, and great and small,
       And rich and poor you'll see;
     Therefore let's to the Coffee all,
       Come all away with me."


[3] The Dutch admiral who, in June, 1667, dashed into the Downs with a
fleet of eighty sail, and many fire-ships, blocked up the mouths of
the Medway and Thames, destroyed the fortifications at Sheerness, cut
away the paltry defences of booms and chains drawn across the rivers,
and got to Chatham, on the one side, and nearly to Gravesend on the
other; the king having spent in debauchery the money voted by
Parliament for the proper support of the English navy.

[4] General Monk and Prince Rupert were at this time commanders of the
English fleet.

[5] Lilly was the celebrated astrologer of the Protectorate, who
earned great fame at that time by predicting, in June, 1645, "if now
we fight, a victory stealeth upon us:" a lucky guess, signally
verified in the King's defeat at Naseby. Lilly thenceforth always saw
the stars favourable to the Puritans.

[6] This man was originally a fishing-tackle-maker in Tower-street,
during the reign of Charles I.; but turning enthusiast, he went about
prognosticating "the downfall of the King and Popery;" and as he and
his predictions were all on the popular side, he became a great man
with the superstitious "godly brethren" of that day.

[7] Turnbal, or Turnbull-street as it is still called, had been for a
century previous of infamous repute. In Beaumont and Fletcher's play,
the _Knight of the Burning Pestle_, one of the ladies who is
undergoing penance at the barber's, has her character sufficiently
pointed out to the audience, in her declaration, that she had been
"stolen from her friends in Turnbal-street."


Lloyd's is one of the earliest establishments of the kind; it is
referred to in a poem printed in the year 1700, called the _Wealthy
Shopkeeper, or Charitable Christian_:

     "Now to Lloyd's coffee-house he never fails,
     To read the letters, and attend the sales."

In 1710, Steele (_Tatler_, No. 246,) dates from Lloyd's his Petition
on Coffee-house Orators and Newsvendors. And Addison, in _Spectator_,
April 23, 1711, relates this droll incident:--"About a week since
there happened to me a very odd accident, by reason of which one of
these my papers of minutes which I had accidentally dropped at Lloyd's
Coffee-house, where the auctions are usually kept. Before I missed it,
there were a cluster of people who had found it, and were diverting
themselves with it at one end of the coffee-house. It had raised so
much laughter among them before I observed what they were about, that
I had not the courage to own it. The boy of the coffee-house, when
they had done with it, carried it about in his hand, asking everybody
if they had dropped a written paper; but nobody challenging it, he was
ordered by those merry gentlemen who had before perused it, to get up
into the auction-pulpit, and read it to the whole room, that if
anybody would own it, they might. The boy accordingly mounted the
pulpit, and with a very audible voice read what proved to be minutes,
which made the whole coffee-house very merry; some of them concluded
it was written by a madman, and others by somebody that had been
taking notes out of the _Spectator_. After it was read, and the boy
was coming out of the pulpit, the Spectator reached his arm out, and
desired the boy to give it him; which was done according. This drew
the whole eyes of the company upon the Spectator; but after casting a
cursory glance over it, he shook his head twice or thrice at the
reading of it, twisted it into a kind of match, and lighted his pipe
with it. 'My profound silence,' says the Spectator, 'together with the
steadiness of my countenance, and the gravity of my behaviour during
the whole transaction, raised a very loud laugh on all sides of me;
but as I had escaped all suspicion of being the author, I was very
well satisfied, and applying myself to my pipe and the _Postman_, took
no further notice of anything that passed about me.'"

Nothing is positively known of the original Lloyd; but in 1750, there
was issued an Irregular Ode, entitled _A Summer's Farewell to the
Gulph of Venice, in the Southwell Frigate_, Captain Manly, jun.,
commanding, stated to be "printed for Lloyd, well-known for obliging
the public with the Freshest and Most Authentic Ship News, and sold by
A. More, near St. Paul's, and at the Pamphlet Shops in London and
Westminster, MDCCL."

In the _Gentleman's Magazine_, for 1740, we read:--"11 March, 1740,
Mr. Baker, Master of Lloyd's Coffee-house, in Lombard-street, waited
on Sir Robert Walpole with the news of Admiral Vernon's taking
Portobello. This was the first account received thereof, and proving
true, Sir Robert was pleased to order him a handsome present."

Lloyd's is, perhaps, the oldest collective establishment in the City.
It was first under the management of a single individual, who started
it as a room where the underwriters and insurers of ships' cargoes
could meet for refreshment and conversation. The Coffee-house was
originally in Lombard-street, at the corner of Abchurch-lane;
subsequently in Pope's-head-alley, where it was called "New Lloyd's
Coffee-house;" but on February 14th, 1774, it was removed to the
north-west corner of the Royal Exchange, where it remained until the
destruction of that building by fire.

In rebuilding the Exchange, a fine suite of apartments was provided
for Lloyd's "Subscription Rooms," which are the rendezvous of the most
eminent merchants, ship-owners, underwriters, insurance, stock, and
exchange brokers. Here is obtained the earliest news of the arrival
and sailing of vessels, losses at sea, captures, recaptures,
engagements, and other shipping intelligence; and proprietors of ships
and freights are insured by the underwriters. The rooms are in the
Venetian style, with Roman enrichments. They are--1. The Subscribers'
or Underwriters', the Merchants', and the Captains' Room. At the
entrance of the room are exhibited the Shipping Lists, received from
Lloyd's agents at home and abroad, and affording particulars of
departures or arrivals of vessels, wrecks, salvage, or sale of
property saved, etc. To the right and left are "Lloyd's Books," two
enormous ledgers: right hand, ships "spoken with," or arrived at their
destined ports; left hand: records of wrecks, fires, or severe
collisions, written in a fine Roman hand, in "double lines." To assist
the underwriters in their calculations, at the end of the room is an
Anemometer, which registers the state of the wind day and night;
attached is a rain-gauge.

The life of the underwriter is one of great anxiety and speculation.
"Among the old stagers of the room, there is often strong antipathy to
the insurance of certain ships. In the case of one vessel it was
strangely followed out. She was a steady trader, named after one of
the most venerable members of the room; and it was a curious
coincidence that he invariably refused to 'write her' for 'a single
line.' Often he was joked upon the subject, and pressed to 'do a
little' for his namesake; but he as often declined, shaking his head
in a doubtful manner. One morning the subscribers were reading the
'double lines,' or the losses, and among them was this identical ship,
which had gone to pieces, and become a total wreck."--_The City_, _2nd
edit._, 1848.

The Merchants' Room is superintended by a master, who can speak
several languages: here are duplicate copies of the books in the
underwriters' room, and files of English and foreign newspapers.

The Captains' Room is a kind of coffee-room, where merchants and
ship-owners meet captains, and sales of ships, etc. take place.

The members of Lloyd's have ever been distinguished by their loyalty
and benevolent spirit. In 1802, they voted 2000_l._ to the Life-boat
subscription. On July 20, 1803, at the invasion panic, they commenced
the Patriotic Fund with 20,000_l._ 3-per-cent. Consols; besides
70,312_l._ 7_s._ individual subscriptions, and 15,000_l._ additional
donations. After the battle of the Nile, in 1798, they collected for
the widows and wounded seamen 32,423_l._; and after Lord Howe's
victory, June 1, 1794, for similar purposes, 21,281_l._ They have also
contributed 5000_l._ to the London Hospital; 1000_.l_ for the
suffering inhabitants of Russia in 1813; 1000_l._ for the relief of
the militia in our North American colonies, 1813; and 10,000_l._ for
the Waterloo subscription, in 1815. The Committee vote medals and
rewards to those who distinguish themselves in saving life from

Some years since, a member of Lloyd's drew from the books the
following lines of names contained therein:--

     "A Black and a White, with a Brown and a Green,
     And also a Gray at Lloyd's room may be seen;
     With Parson and Clark, then a Bishop and Pryor,
     And Water, how Strange adding fuel to fire;
     While, at the same time, 'twill sure pass belief,
     There's a Winter, a Garland, Furze, Bud, and a Leaf;
     With Freshfield, and Greenhill, Lovegrove, and a Dale;
     Though there's never a Breeze, there's always a Gale.
     No music is there, though a Whistler and Harper;
     There's a Blunt and a Sharp, many flats, but no sharper.
     There's a Danniell, a Samuel, a Sampson, an Abell;
     The first and the last write at the same table.
     Then there's Virtue and Faith there, with Wylie and Rasch,
     Disagreeing elsewhere, yet at Lloyd's never clash,
     There's a Long and a Short, Small, Little, and Fatt,
     With one Robert Dewar, who ne'er wears his hat:
     No drinking goes on, though there's Porter and Sack,
     Lots of Scotchmen there are, beginning with Mac;
     Macdonald, to wit, Macintosh and McGhie,
     McFarquhar, McKenzie, McAndrew, Mackie.
     An evangelized Jew, and an infidel Quaker;
     There's a Bunn and a Pye, with a Cook and a Baker,
     Though no Tradesmen or Shopmen are found, yet herewith
     Is a Taylor, a Saddler, a Paynter, a Smyth;
     Also Butler and Chapman, with Butter and Glover,
     Come up to Lloyd's room their bad risks to cover.
     Fox, Shepherd, Hart, Buck, likewise come every day;
     And though many an ass, there is only one Bray.
     There is a Mill and Miller, A-dam and a Poole,
     A Constable, Sheriff, a Law, and a Rule.
     There's a Newman, a Niemann, a Redman, a Pitman,
     Now to rhyme with the last, there is no other fit man.
     These, with Young, Cheap, and Lent, Luckie, Hastie, and Slow,
     With dear Mr. Allnutt, Allfrey, and Auldjo,
     Are all the queer names that at Lloyd's I can show."

Many of these individuals are now deceased; but a frequenter of
Lloyd's in former years will recognize the persons mentioned.


Cornhill, is one of the oldest of the City news-rooms, and is
frequented by merchants and captains connected with the commerce of
China, India, and Australia.

"The subscription-room is well-furnished with files of the principal
Canton, Hongkong, Macao, Penang, Singapore, Calcutta, Bombay, Madras,
Sydney, Hobart Town, Launceston, Adelaide, and Port Phillip papers,
and Prices Current: besides shipping lists and papers from the various
intermediate stations or ports touched at, as St. Helena, the Cape of
Good Hope, etc. The books of East India shipping include arrivals,
departures, casualties, etc. The full business is between two and
three o'clock, p.m. In 1845, John Tawell, the Slough murderer, was
captured at [traced to] the Jerusalem, which he was in the habit of
visiting, to ascertain information of the state of his property in
Sydney."--_The City_, 2nd edit., 1848.


Change-alley, is remembered as a tavern some forty years since. The
landlord, after whom it is named, may possibly have been a descendant
from "Baker," the master of Lloyd's Rooms. It has been, for many
years, a chop-house, with direct service from the gridiron, and upon
pewter; though on the first-floor, joint dinners are served: its
post-prandial punch was formerly much drunk. In the lower room is a
portrait of James, thirty-five years waiter here.


Of Ward's _Secret History_ of the Clubs of his time we have already
given several specimens. Little is known of him personally. He was,
probably, born in 1660, and early in life he visited the West Indies.
Sometime before 1669, he kept a tavern and punch-house, next door to
Gray's Inn, of which we shall speak hereafter. His works are now
rarely to be met with. His doggrel secured him a place in the
_Dunciad_, where not only his elevation to the pillory is mentioned,
but the fact is also alluded to that his productions were extensively
shipped to the Plantations or Colonies of those days,--

     "Nor sail with Ward to ape-and-monkey climes,
     Where vile mundungus trucks for viler rhymes,"

the only places, probably, where they were extensively read. In return
for the doubtful celebrity thus conferred upon his rhymes, he attacked
the satirist in a wretched production, intituled _Apollo's Maggot in
his Cups_; his expiring effort, probably, for he died, as recorded in
the pages of our first volume, on the 22nd of June, 1731. His remains
were buried in the churchyard of Old St. Pancras, his body being
followed to the grave solely by his wife and daughter, as directed by
him in his poetical will, written some six years before. We learn
from Noble that there are no less than four engraved portraits of Ned
Ward. The structure of the _London Spy_, the only work of his that at
present comes under our notice, is simple enough. The author is
self-personified as a countryman, who, tired with his "tedious
confinement to a country hutt," comes up to London; where he
fortunately meets with a quondam school-fellow,--a "man about town,"
in modern phrase,--who undertakes to introduce him to the various
scenes, sights, and mysteries of the, even then, "great metropolis:"
much like the visit, in fact, from Jerry Hawthorn to Corinthian Tom,
only anticipated by some hundred and twenty years. "We should not be
at all surprised (says the _Gentleman's Magazine_,) to find that the
stirring scenes of Pierce Egan's _Life in London_ were first suggested
by more homely pages of the _London Spy_."

At the outset of the work we have a description--not a very flattering
one, certainly--of a common coffee-house of the day, one of the many
hundreds with which London then teemed. Although coffee had been only
known in England some fifty years, coffee-houses were already among
the most favourite institutions of the land; though they had not as
yet attained the political importance which they acquired in the days
of the _Tatler_ and _Spectator_, some ten or twelve years later:--

"'Come,' says my friend, 'let us step into this coffee-house here; as
you are a stranger in the town, it will afford you some diversion.'
Accordingly in we went, where a parcel of muddling muckworms were as
busy as so many rats in an old cheese-loft; some going, some coming,
some scribbling, some talking, some drinking, some smoking, others
jangling; and the whole room stinking of tobacco, like a Dutch scoot
[schuyt], or a boatswain's cabin. The walls were hung round with gilt
frames, as a farrier's shop with horse-shoes; which contained
abundance of rarities, viz., Nectar and Ambrosia, May-dew, Golden
Elixirs, Popular Pills, Liquid Snuff, Beautifying Waters, Dentifrices,
Drops, and Lozenges; all as infallible as the Pope, 'Where every one
(as the famous Saffolde has it) above the rest, Deservedly has gain'd
the name of best:' every medicine being so catholic, it pretends to
nothing less than universality. So that, had not my friend told me
'twas a coffee-house, I should have taken it for Quacks' Hall, or the
parlour of some eminent mountebank. We each of us stuck in our mouths
a pipe of sotweed, and now began to look about us."

A description of Man's Coffee-house, situate in Scotland-yard, near
the water-side, is an excellent picture of a fashionable coffee-house
of the day. It took its name from the proprietor, Alexander Man, and
was sometimes known as Old Man's, or the Royal Coffee-house, to
distinguish it from Young Man's and Little Man's minor establishments
in the neighbourhood:--

"We now ascended a pair of stairs, which brought us into an
old-fashioned room, where a gaudy crowd of odoriferous _Tom-Essences_
were walking backwards and forwards with their hats in their hands,
not daring to convert them to their intended use, lest it should put
the foretops of their wigs into some disorder. We squeezed through
till we got to the end of the room, where, at a small table, we sat
down, and observed that it was as great a rarity to hear anybody call
for a dish of _Politician's porridge_, or any other liquor, as it is
to hear a beau call for a pipe of tobacco; their whole exercise being
to charge and discharge their nostrils, and keep the curls of their
periwigs in their proper order. The clashing of their snush-box lids,
in opening and shutting, made more noise than their tongues. Bows and
cringes of the newest mode were here exchanged, 'twixt friend and
friend, with wonderful exactness. They made a humming like so many
hornets in a country chimney, not with their talking, but with their
whispering over their new _Minuets_ and _Bories_, with their hands in
their pockets, if only freed from their snush-box. We now began to be
thoughtful of a pipe of tobacco; whereupon we ventured to call for
some instruments of evaporation, which were accordingly brought us,
but with such a kind of unwillingness, as if they would much rather
have been rid of our company; for their tables were so very neat, and
shined with rubbing, like the upper-leathers of an alderman's shoes,
and as brown as the top of a country housewife's cupboard. The floor
was as clean swept as a Sir Courtly's dining-room, which made us look
round, to see if there were no orders hung up to impose the forfeiture
of so much Mop-money upon any person that should spit out of the
chimney-corner. Notwithstanding we wanted an example to encourage us
in our porterly rudeness, we ordered them to light the wax-candle, by
which we ignified our pipes and blew about our whiffs; at which
several Sir Foplins drew their faces into as many peevish wrinkles, as
the beaux at the Bow-street Coffee-house, near Covent-garden did, when
the gentleman in masquerade came in amongst them, with his
oyster-barrel muff and turnip-buttons, to ridicule their fopperies."

A cabinet picture of the Coffee-house life of a century and a half
since is thus given in the well-known _Journey through England_ in
1714: "I am lodged," says the tourist, "in the street called Pall
Mall, the ordinary residence of all strangers, because of its vicinity
to the Queen's Palace, the Park, the Parliament House, the Theatres,
and the Chocolate and Coffee-houses, where the best company frequent.
If you would know our manner of living, 'tis thus: we rise by nine,
and those that frequent great men's levees, find entertainment at them
till eleven, or, as in Holland, go to tea-tables; about twelve the
_beau monde_ assemble in several Coffee or Chocolate houses: the best
of which are the Cocoa-tree and White's Chocolate-houses, St. James's,
the Smyrna, Mrs. Rochford's, and the British Coffee-houses; and all
these so near one another, that in less than an hour you see the
company of them all. We are carried to these places in chairs (or
sedans), which are here very cheap, a guinea a week, or a shilling per
hour, and your chairmen serve you for porters to run on errands, as
your gondoliers do at Venice.

"If it be fine weather, we take a turn into the Park till two, when we
go to dinner; and if it be dirty, you are entertained at piquet or
basset at White's, or you may talk politics at the Smyrna or St.
James's. I must not forget to tell you that the parties have their
different places, where, however, a stranger is always well received;
but a Whig will no more go to the Cocoa-tree or Ozinda's, than a Tory
will be seen at the Coffee-house, St. James's.

"The Scots go generally to the British, and a mixture of all sorts to
the Smyrna. There are other little Coffee-houses much frequented in
this neighbourhood,--Young Man's for officers, Old Man's for
stock-jobbers, pay-masters, and courtiers, and Little Man's for
sharpers. I never was so confounded in my life as when I entered into
this last: I saw two or three tables full at faro, heard the box and
dice rattling in the room above stairs, and was surrounded by a set of
sharp faces, that I was afraid would have devoured me with their eyes.
I was glad to drop two or three half crowns at faro to get off with a
clear skin, and was overjoyed I so got rid of them.

"At two, we generally go to dinner; ordinaries are not so common here
as abroad, yet the French have set up two or three good ones for the
convenience of foreigners in Suffolk-street, where one is tolerably
well served; but the general way here is to make a party at the
Coffee-house to go to dine at the tavern, where we sit till six, when
we go to the play; except you are invited to the table of some great
man, which strangers are always courted to, and nobly entertained."

We may here group the leading Coffee-houses,[8] the principal of which
will be more fully described hereafter:

"Before 1715, the number of Coffee-houses in London was reckoned at
two thousand. Every profession, trade, class, party, had its favourite
Coffee-house. The lawyers discussed law or literature, criticized the
last new play, or retailed the freshest Westminster Hall "bite" at
Nando's or the Grecian, both close on the purlieus of the Temple. Here
the young bloods of the Inns-of-Court paraded their Indian gowns and
lace caps of a morning, and swaggered in their lace coats and Mechlin
ruffles at night, after the theatre. The Cits met to discuss the rise
and fall of stocks, and to settle the rate of insurance, at Garraway's
or Jonathan's; the parsons exchanged university gossip, or commented
on Dr. Sacheverel's last sermon at Truby's or at Child's in St. Paul's
Churchyard; the soldiers mustered to grumble over their grievances at
Old or Young Man's, near Charing Cross; the St. James's and the Smyrna
were the head-quarters of the Whig politicians, while the Tories
frequented the Cocoa-tree or Ozinda's, all in St. James's-street;
Scotchmen had their house of call at Forrest's, Frenchmen at Giles's
or Old Slaughter's, in St. Martin's-lane; the gamesters shook their
elbows in White's and the Chocolate-houses round Covent Garden; the
_virtuosi_ honoured the neighbourhood of Gresham College; and the
leading wits gathered at Will's, Button's, or Tom's, in Great
Russell-street, where after the theatre was playing at piquet and the
best of conversation till midnight. At all these places, except a few
of the most aristocratic Coffee or Chocolate-houses of the West-End,
smoking was allowed. A penny was laid down at the bar on entering, and
the price of a dish of tea or coffee seems to have been two-pence:
this charge covered newspapers and lights. The established frequenters
of the house had their regular seats, and special attention from the
fair lady at the bar, and the tea or coffee boys.

"To these Coffee-houses men of all classes, who had either leisure or
money, resorted to spend both; and in them, politics, play, scandal,
criticism, and business, went on hand-in-hand. The transition from
Coffee-house to Club was easy. Thus Tom's, a Coffee-house till 1764,
in that year, by a guinea subscription, among nearly seven hundred of
the nobility, foreign ministers, gentry, and geniuses of the age,
became the place of meeting for the subscribers exclusively.[9] In the
same way, White's and the Cocoa-tree changed their character from
Chocolate-house to Club. When once a house had customers enough of
standing and good repute, and acquainted with each other, it was quite
worth while--considering the characters who, on the strength of
assurance, tolerable manners, and a laced coat, often got a footing in
these houses while they continued open to the public, to purchase
power of excluding all but subscribers."

Thus, the chief places of resort were at this period Coffee and
Chocolate-houses, in which some men almost lived, as they do at the
present day, at their Clubs. Whoever wished to find a gentleman
commonly asked, not where he resided, but which coffee-house he
frequented. No decently attired idler was excluded, provided he laid
down his penny at the bar; but this he could seldom do without
struggling through the crowd of beaux who fluttered round the lovely
bar-maid. Here the proud nobleman or country squire was not to be
distinguished from the genteel thief and daring highwayman. "Pray,
sir," says Aimwell to Gibbet, in Farquhar's _Beaux Stratagem_, "ha'n't
I seen your face at Will's Coffee-house?" The robber's reply is: "Yes,
Sir, and at White's too."

Three of Addison's papers in the _Spectator_, (Nos. 402, 481, and
568,) are humorously descriptive of the Coffee-houses of this period.
No. 403 opens with the remark that "the courts of two countries do not
so much differ from one another, as the Court and the City, in their
peculiar ways of life and conversation. In short, the inhabitants of
St. James's, notwithstanding they live under the same laws, and speak
the same language, are a distinct people from those of Cheapside, who
are likewise removed from those of the Temple on the one side, and
those of Smithfield on the other, by several climates and degrees in
their way of thinking and conversing together." For this reason, the
author takes a ramble through London and Westminster, to gather the
opinions of his ingenious countrymen upon a current report of the King
of France's death. "I know the faces of all the principal politicians
within the bills of mortality; and as every Coffee-house has some
particular statesman belonging to it, who is the mouth of the street
where he lives, I always take care to place myself near him, in order
to know his judgment on the present posture of affairs. And, as I
foresaw, the above report would produce a new face of things in
Europe, and many curious speculations in our British Coffee-houses, I
was very desirous to learn the thoughts of our most eminent
politicians on that occasion.

"That I might begin as near the fountain-head as possible, I first of
all called in at St. James's, where I found the whole outward room in
a buzz of politics; the speculations were but very indifferent towards
the door, but grew finer as you advanced to the upper end of the room,
and were so much improved by a knot of theorists, who sat in the inner
room, within the steams of the coffee-pot, that I there heard the
whole Spanish monarchy disposed of, and all the line of Bourbons
provided for in less than a quarter of an hour.

"I afterwards called in at Giles's, where I saw a board of French
gentlemen sitting upon the life and death of their grand monarque.
Those among them who had espoused the Whig interest very positively
affirmed that he had departed this life about a week since, and
therefore, proceeded without any further delay to the release of their
friends in the galleys, and to their own re-establishment; but,
finding they could not agree among themselves, I proceeded on my
intended progress.

"Upon my arrival at Jenny Man's I saw an alert young fellow that
cocked his hat upon a friend of his, who entered just at the same time
with myself, and accosted him after the following manner: 'Well, Jack,
the old prig is dead at last. Sharp's the word. Now or never, boy. Up
to the walls of Paris, directly;' with several other deep reflections
of the same nature.

"I met with very little variation in the politics between Charing
Cross and Covent Garden. And, upon my going into Will's, I found their
discourse was gone off, from the death of the French King, to that of
Monsieur Boileau, Racine, Corneille, and several other poets, whom
they regretted on this occasion as persons who would have obliged the
world with very noble elegies on the death of so great a prince, and
so eminent a patron of learning.

"At a Coffee-house near the Temple, I found a couple of young
gentlemen engaged very smartly in a dispute on the succession to the
Spanish monarchy. One of them seemed to have been retained as advocate
for the Duke of Anjou, the other for his Imperial Majesty. They were
both for regarding the title to that kingdom by the statute laws of
England: but finding them going out of my depth, I pressed forward to
Paul's Churchyard, where I listened with great attention to a learned
man, who gave the company an account of the deplorable state of France
during the minority of the deceased King.

"I then turned on my right hand into Fish-street, where the chief
politician of that quarter, upon hearing the news, (after having taken
a pipe of tobacco, and ruminated for some time,) 'If,' says he, 'the
King of France is certainly dead, we shall have plenty of mackerel
this season: our fishery will not be disturbed by privateers, as it
has been for these ten years past.' He afterwards considered how the
death of this great man would affect our pilchards, and by several
other remarks infused a general joy into his whole audience.

"I afterwards entered a by-coffee-house that stood at the upper end of
a narrow lane, where I met with a conjuror, engaged very warmly with a
laceman who was the great support of a neighbouring conventicle. The
matter in debate was whether the late French King was most like
Augustus Cæsar, or Nero. The controversy was carried on with great
heat on both sides, and as each of them looked upon me very frequently
during the course of their debate, I was under some apprehension that
they would appeal to me, and therefore laid down my penny at the bar,
and made the best of my way to Cheapside.

"I here gazed upon the signs for some time before I found one to my
purpose. The first object I met in the coffee-room was a person who
expressed a great grief for the death of the French King; but upon his
explaining himself, I found his sorrow did not arise from the loss of
the monarch, but for his having sold out of the Bank about three days
before he heard the news of it. Upon which a haberdasher, who was the
oracle of the Coffee-house, and had his circle of admirers about him,
called several to witness that he had declared his opinion, above a
week before, that the French King was certainly dead; to which he
added, that, considering the late advices we had received from France,
it was impossible that it could be otherwise. As he was laying these
together, and debating to his hearers with great authority, there came
a gentleman from Garraway's, who told us that there were several
letters from France just come in, with advice that the King was in
good health, and was gone out a hunting the very morning the post came
away; upon which the haberdasher stole off his hat that hung upon a
wooden peg by him, and retired to his shop with great confusion. This
intelligence put a stop to my travels, which I had prosecuted with so
much satisfaction; not being a little pleased to hear so many
different opinions upon so great an event, and to observe how
naturally, upon such a piece of news, every one is apt to consider it
to his particular interest and advantage."


[8] From the National Review, No. 8.

[9] We question whether the Coffee-house general business was entirely
given up immediately after the transition.


The following remarks by Sir John Fielding[10] upon the dangerous
classes to be found in our metropolitan Coffee-houses three-quarters
of a century since, are described as "necessary Cautions to all
Strangers resorting thereto."

"A stranger or foreigner should particularly frequent the
Coffee-houses in London. These are very numerous in every part of the
town; will give him the best insight into the different characters of
the people, and the justest notion of the inhabitants in general, of
all the houses of public resort these are the least dangerous. Yet,
some of these are not entirely free from sharpers. The deceivers of
this denomination are generally descended from families of some
repute, have had the groundwork of a genteel education, and are
capable of making a tolerable appearance. Having been equally profuse
of their own substance and character, and learned, by having been
undone, the ways of undoing, they lie in wait for those who have more
wealth and less knowledge of the town. By joining you in discourse, by
admiring what you say, by an officiousness to wait upon you, and to
assist you in anything you want to have or know, they insinuate
themselves into the company and acquaintance of strangers, whom they
watch every opportunity of fleecing. And if one finds in you the least
inclination to cards, dice, the billiard-table, bowling-green, or any
other sort of gaming, you are morally sure of being taken in. For this
set of gentry are adepts in all the arts of knavery and tricking. If,
therefore, you should observe a person, without any previous
acquaintance, paying you extraordinary marks of civility; if he puts
in for a share of your conversation with a pretended air of deference;
if he tenders his assistance, courts your acquaintance, and would be
suddenly thought your friend, avoid him as a pest; for these are the
usual baits by which the unwary are caught."


[10] 'The Magistrate: Description of London and Westminster,' 1776.


Among the curiosities of Old Chelsea, almost as well known as its
china, was the Coffee-house and Museum, No. 18, Cheyne Walk, opened by
a barber, named Salter, in 1695. Sir Hans Sloane contributed some of
the refuse gimcracks of his own collection; and Vice-Admiral Munden,
who had been long on the coast of Spain, where he had acquired a
fondness for Spanish titles, named the keeper of the house _Don
Saltero_, and his coffee-house and museum, _Don Saltero's_.

The place, however, would, in all probability, have enjoyed little
beyond its local fame, had not Sir Richard Steele immortalized the Don
and Don Saltero's in _The Tatler_, No. 34, June 28, 1700; wherein he
tells us of the necessity of travelling to know the world by his
journey for fresh air, no further than the village of Chelsea, of
which he fancied that he could give an immediate description, from the
five fields, where the robbers lie in wait, to the Coffee-house, where
the literati sit in council. But he found, even in a place so near
town as this, there were enormities and persons of eminence, whom he
before knew nothing of.

The Coffee-house was almost absorbed by the Museum. "When I came into
the Coffee-house," says Steele, "I had not time to salute the company,
before my eyes were diverted by ten thousand gimcracks round the room,
and on the ceiling. When my first astonishment was over, comes to me a
sage of thin and meagre countenance, which aspect made me doubt
whether reading or fretting had made it so philosophic; but I very
soon perceived him to be of that sort which the ancients call
'gingivistee,' in our language 'tooth-drawers,' I immediately had a
respect for the man; for these practical philosophers go upon a very
practical hypothesis, not to cure, but to take away the part affected.
My love of mankind made me very benevolent to Mr. Salter, for such is
the name of this eminent barber and antiquary."

The Don was famous for his punch and his skill on the fiddle; he also
drew teeth, and wrote verses; he described his museum in several
stanzas, one of which is--

     "Monsters of all sorts are seen:
       Strange things in nature as they grew so;
     Some relicks of the Sheba Queen,
       And fragments of the fam'd Bob Crusoe."

Steele then plunges into a deep thought why barbers should go further
in hitting the ridiculous than any other set of men; and maintains
that Don Saltero is descended in a right line, not from John
Tradescant, as he himself asserts, but from the memorable companion of
the Knight of Mancha. Steele then certifies that all the worthy
citizens who travel to see the Don's rarities, his double-barrelled
pistols, targets, coats of mail, his sclopeta, and sword of Toledo,
were left to his ancestor by the said Don Quixote, and by his ancestor
to all his progeny down to Saltero. Though Steele thus goes far in
favour of Don Saltero's great merit, he objects to his imposing
several names (without his licence) on the collection he has made, to
the abuse of the good people of England; one of which is particularly
calculated to deceive religious persons, to the great scandal of the
well-disposed, and may introduce heterodox opinions. [Among the
curiosities presented by Admiral Munden was a coffin, containing the
body or relics of a Spanish saint, who had wrought miracles.] "He
shows you a straw hat, which," says Steele, "I know to be made by
Madge Peskad, within three miles of Bedford; and tells you 'It is
Pontius Pilate's wife's chambermaid's sister's hat.' To my knowledge
of this very hat, it may be added that the covering of straw was never
used among the Jews, since it was demanded of them to make bricks
without it. Therefore, this is nothing but, under the specious
pretence of learning and antiquities, to impose upon the world. There
are other things which I cannot tolerate among his rarities, as, the
china figure of the lady in the glass-case; the Italian engine, for
the imprisonment of those who go abroad with it; both of which I
hereby order to be taken down, or else he may expect to have his
letters patent for making punch superseded, be debarred wearing his
muff next winter, or ever coming to London without his wife."
Babillard says that Salter had an old grey muff, and that, by wearing
it up to his nose, he was distinguishable at the distance of a quarter
of a mile. His wife was none of the best, being much addicted to
scolding; and Salter, who liked his glass, if he could make a trip to
London by himself, was in no haste to return.

Don Saltero's proved very attractive as an exhibition, and drew crowds
to the coffee-house. A catalogue was published, of which were printed
more than forty editions. Smollett, the novelist, was among the
donors. The catalogue, in 1760, comprehended the following
rarities:--Tigers' tusks; the Pope's candle; the skeleton of a
Guinea-pig; a fly-cap monkey; a piece of the true Cross; the Four
Evangelists' heads cut on a cherry-stone; the King of Morocco's
tobacco-pipe; Mary Queen of Scots' pincushion; Queen Elizabeth's
prayer-book; a pair of Nun's stockings; Job's ears, which grew on a
tree; a frog in a tobacco-stopper; and five hundred more odd relics!
The Don had a rival, as appears by "A Catalogue of the Rarities to be
seen at Adams's, at the Royal Swan, in Kingsland-road, leading from
Shoreditch Church, 1756." Mr. Adams exhibited, for the entertainment
of the curious, "Miss Jenny Cameron's shoes; Adam's eldest daughter's
hat; the heart of the famous Bess Adams, that was hanged at Tyburn
with Lawyer Carr, January 18, 1736-7; Sir Walter Raleigh's
tobacco-pipe; Vicar of Bray's clogs; engine to shell green peas with;
teeth that grew in a fish's belly; Black Jack's ribs; the very comb
that Abraham combed his son Isaac and Jacob's head with; Wat Tyler's
spurs; rope that cured Captain Lowry of the head-ach, ear-ach,
tooth-ach, and belly-ach; Adam's key of the fore and back door of the
Garden of Eden, &c., &c." These are only a few out of five hundred
others equally marvellous.

The Don, in 1723, issued a curious rhyming advertisement of his
Curiosities, dated "Chelsea Knackatory," and in one line he calls it
"My Museum Coffee-house."

In Dr. Franklin's _Life_ we read:--"Some gentlemen from the country
went by water to see the College, and Don Saltero's Curiosities, at
Chelsea." They were shown in the coffee-room till August, 1799, when
the collection was mostly sold or dispersed; a few gimcracks were left
until about 1825, when we were informed on the premises, they were
thrown away! The house is now a tavern, with the sign of "The Don
Saltero's Coffee-house."

The success of Don Saltero, in attracting visitors to his
coffee-house, induced the proprietor of the Chelsea Bun-house to make
a similar collection of rarities, to attract customers for the buns;
and to some extent it was successful.


What was, in our time, occasionally sold at stalls in the streets of
London, with this name, was a decoction of sassafras; but it was
originally made from Salep, the roots of _Orchis mascula_, a common
plant of our meadows, the tubers of which, being cleaned and peeled,
are lightly browned in an oven. Salep was much recommended in the last
century by Dr. Percival, who stated that salep had the property of
concealing the taste of salt water, which property it was thought
might be turned to account in long sea-voyages. The root has been
considered as containing the largest portion of nutritious matter in
the smallest space; and when boiled, it was much used in this country
before the introduction of tea and coffee, and their greatly reduced
prices. Salep is now almost entirely disused in Great Britain; but we
remember many saloop-stalls in our streets. We believe the last house
in which it was sold, to have been Read's Coffee-house, in
Fleet-street. The landlord of the noted Mug-house, in Salisbury-square,
was one Read. (See CLUBS, p. 52.)


In Pall Mall, was, in the reign of Queen Anne, famous for "that
cluster of wise-heads" found sitting every evening, from the left side
of the fire to the door. The following announcement in the _Tatler_,
No. 78, is amusing: "This is to give notice to all ingenious gentlemen
in and about the cities of London and Westminster, who have a mind to
be instructed in the noble sciences of music, poetry, and politics,
that they repair to the Smyrna Coffee-house, in Pall Mall, betwixt the
hours of eight and ten at night, where they may be instructed gratis,
with elaborate essays by word of mouth," on all or any of the
above-mentioned arts. The disciples are to prepare their bodies with
three dishes of bohea, and to purge their brains with two pinches of
snuff. If any young student gives indication of parts, by listening
attentively, or asking a pertinent question, one of the professors
shall distinguish him, by taking snuff out of his box in the presence
of the whole audience.

"N.B. The seat of learning is now removed from the corner of the
chimney, on the left hand towards the window, to the round table in
the middle of the floor over against the fire; a revolution much
lamented by the porters and chairmen, who were much edified through a
pane of glass that remained broken all the last summer."

Prior and Swift were much together at the Smyrna: we read of their
sitting there two hours, "receiving acquaintance;" and one entry of
Swift's tells us that he walked a little in the Park till Prior made
him go with him to the Smyrna Coffee-house. It seemed to be the place
to _talk politics_; but there is a more agreeable record of it in
association with our "Poet of the Year," thus given by Cunningham: "In
the printed copy of Thomson's proposals for publishing, by
subscription, the Four Seasons, with a Hymn on their succession, the
following note is appended:--'Subscriptions now taken in by the
author, at the Smyrna Coffee-house, Pall Mall.'"[11] We find the
Smyrna in a list of Coffee-Houses in 1810.


[11] The Dane Coffee-house, between the Upper and Lower Malls,
Hammersmith, was frequented by Thomson, who wrote here a part of his
_Winter_. On the Terrace resided, for many years, Arthur Murphy, and
Loutherbourg, the painter. The latter died there, in 1812.


This was the famous Whig Coffee-house from the time of Queen Anne till
late in the reign of George III. It was the last house but one on the
south-west corner of St. James's-street, and is thus mentioned in No.
1 of the _Tatler_: "Foreign and Domestic News you will have from St.
James's Coffee-house." It occurs also in the passage quoted at page
39, from the _Spectator_. The St. James's was much frequented by
Swift; letters for him were left here. In his Journal to Stella he
says: "I met Mr. Harley, and he asked me how long I had learnt the
trick of writing to myself? He had seen your letter through the glass
case at the Coffee-house, and would swear it was my hand." The letters
from Stella were enclosed under cover to Addison.

Elliot, who kept the coffee-house, was, on occasions, placed on a
friendly footing with his guests. Swift, in his Journal to Stella,
Nov. 19, 1710, records an odd instance of this familiarity: "This
evening I christened our coffee-man Elliot's child; when the rogue had
a most noble supper, and Steele and I sat amongst some scurvy company
over a bowl of punch."

In the first advertisement of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu's _Town
Eclogues_, they are stated to have been read over at the St. James's
Coffee-house, when they were considered by the general voice to be
productions of a Lady of Quality. From the proximity of the house to
St. James's Palace, it was much frequented by the Guards; and we read
of its being no uncommon circumstance to see Dr. Joseph Warton at
breakfast in the St. James's Coffee-house, surrounded by officers of
the Guards, who listened with the utmost attention and pleasure to his

To show the order and regularity observed at the St. James's, we may
quote the following advertisement, appended to the _Tatler_, No.
25:--"To prevent all mistakes that may happen among gentlemen of the
other end of the town, who come but once a week to St. James's
Coffee-house, either by miscalling the servants, or requiring such
things from them as are not properly within their respective
provinces; this is to give notice that Kidney, keeper of the
book-debts of the outlying customers, and observer of those who go off
without paying, having resigned that employment, is succeeded by John
Sowton; to whose place of enterer of messages and first
coffee-grinder, William Bird is promoted; and Samuel Burdock comes as
shoe-cleaner in the room of the said Bird."

But the St. James's is more memorable as the house where originated
Goldsmith's celebrated poem, _Retaliation_. The poet belonged to a
temporary association of men of talent, some of them members of the
Club, who dined together occasionally here. At these dinners he was
generally the last to arrive. On one occasion, when he was later than
usual, a whim seized the company to write epitaphs on him as "the late
Dr. Goldsmith," and several were thrown off in a playful vein. The
only one extant was written by Garrick, and has been preserved, very
probably, by its pungency:--

     "Here lies poet Goldsmith, for shortness called Noll;
     He wrote like an angel, but talked like poor Poll."

Goldsmith did not relish the sarcasm, especially coming from such a
quarter; and, by way of _retaliation_, he produced the famous poem, of
which Cumberland has left a very interesting account, but which Mr.
Forster, in his _Life of Goldsmith_, states to be "pure romance." The
poem itself, however, with what was prefixed to it when published,
sufficiently explains its own origin. What had formerly been abrupt
and strange in Goldsmith's manners, had now so visibly increased, as
to become matter of increased sport to such as were ignorant of its
cause; and a proposition made at one of the dinners, when he was
absent, to write a series of epitaphs upon him (his "country dialect"
and his awkward person) was agreed to and put in practice by several
of the guests. The active aggressors appear to have been Garrick,
Doctor Bernard, Richard Burke, and Caleb Whitefoord. Cumberland says
he, too, wrote an epitaph; but it was complimentary and grave, and
hence the grateful return he received. Mr. Forster considers Garrick's
epitaph to indicate the tone of all. This, with the rest, was read to
Goldsmith when he next appeared at the St. James's Coffee-house, where
Cumberland, however, says he never again met his friends. But "the
Doctor was called on for Retaliation," says the friend who published
the poem with that name, "and at their next meeting, produced the
following, which I think adds one leaf to his immortal wreath."
"_Retaliation_," says Sir Walter Scott, "had the effect of placing the
author on a more equal footing with his Society than he had ever
before assumed."

Cumberland's account differs from the version formerly received, which
intimates that the epitaphs were written before Goldsmith arrived:
whereas the pun, "the late Dr. Goldsmith," appears to have suggested
the writing of the epitaphs. In the _Retaliation_, Goldsmith has not
spared the characters and failings of his associates, but has drawn
them with satire, at once pungent and good-humoured. Garrick is
smartly chastised; Burke, the Dinner-bell of the House of Commons, is
not let off; and of all the more distinguished names of the Club,
Thomson, Cumberland, and Reynolds alone escape the lash of the
satirist. The former is not mentioned, and the two latter are even
dismissed with unqualified and affectionate applause.

Still, we quote Cumberland's account of the _Retaliation_, which is
very amusing from the closely circumstantial manner in which the
incidents are narrated, although they have so little relationship to
truth:--"It was upon a proposal started by Edmund Burke, that a party
of friends who had dined together at Sir Joshua Reynolds's and my
house, should meet at the St. James's Coffee-house, which accordingly
took place, and was repeated occasionally with much festivity and
good fellowship. Dr. Bernard, Dean of Derry; a very amiable and old
friend of mine, Dr. Douglas, since Bishop of Salisbury; Johnson, David
Garrick, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Oliver Goldsmith, Edmund and Richard
Burke, Hickey, with two or three others, constituted our party. At one
of these meetings an idea was suggested of extemporary epitaphs upon
the parties present: pen and ink were called for, and Garrick,
off-hand, wrote an epitaph with a good deal of humour, upon poor
Goldsmith, who was the first in jest, as he proved to be in reality,
that we committed to the grave. The Dean also gave him an epitaph, and
Sir Joshua illuminated the Dean's verses with a sketch of his bust in
pen-and-ink, inimitably caricatured. Neither Johnson nor Burke wrote
anything, and when I perceived that Oliver was rather sore, and seemed
to watch me with that kind of attention which indicated his
expectation of something in the same kind of burlesque with theirs; I
thought it time to press the joke no further, and wrote a few couplets
at a side-table, which, when I had finished, and was called upon by
the company to exhibit, Goldsmith, with much agitation, besought me to
spare him; and I was about to tear them, when Johnson wrested them out
of my hand, and in a loud voice read them at the table. I have now
lost recollection of them, and, in fact, they were little worth
remembering; but as they were serious and complimentary, the effect
upon Goldsmith was the more pleasing, for being so entirely
unexpected. The concluding line, which was the only one I can call to
mind, was:--

     "'All mourn the poet, I lament the man.'

This I recollect, because he repeated it several times, and seemed
much gratified by it. At our next meeting he produced his epitaphs,
as they stand in the little posthumous poem above mentioned, and this
was the last time he ever enjoyed the company of his friends."[12]

Mr. Cunningham tells us that the St. James's was closed about 1806;
and a large pile of building looking down Pall Mall, erected on its

The globular oil-lamp was first exhibited by its inventor, Michael
Cole, at the door of the St. James's Coffee-house, in 1709; in the
patent he obtained, it is mentioned as "a new kind of light."


[12] _Cumberland's Memoirs_, vol. i.


In Cockspur-street, "long a house of call for Scotchmen," has been
fortunate in its landladies. In 1759, it was kept by the sister of
Bishop Douglas, so well known for his works against Lauder and Bower,
which may explain its Scottish fame. At another period it was kept by
Mrs. Anderson, described in Mackenzie's _Life of Home_ as "a woman of
uncommon talents, and the most agreeable conversation."[13]

The British figures in a political faction of 1750, at which date
Walpole writes to Sir Horace Mann: "The Argyll carried all the Scotch
against the turnpike; they were willing to be carried, for the Duke of
Bedford, in case it should have come into the Lords, had writ to the
sixteen Peers, to solicit their votes; but with so little difference,
that he enclosed all the letters under one cover directed to the
British Coffee-house."


[13] _Cunningham's Walpole_, vol. ii. p. 196, note.


Will's, the predecessor of Button's, and even more celebrated than
that Coffee-house, was kept by William Urwin, and was the house on the
north side of Russell-street at the end of Bow-street--the corner
house--now occupied as a ham and beef shop, and numbered twenty-three.
"It was Dryden who made Will's Coffee-house the great resort of the
wits of his time." (_Pope_ and _Spence_). The room in which the poet
was accustomed to sit was on the first floor; and his place was the
place of honour by fire-side in the winter; and at the corner of the
balcony, looking over the street, in fine weather; he called the two
places his winter and his summer seat. This was called the dining-room
floor in the last century. The company did not sit in boxes, as
subsequently, but at various tables which were dispersed through the
room. Smoking was permitted in the public room: it was then so much in
vogue that it does not seem to have been considered a nuisance. Here,
as in other similar places of meeting, the visitors divided themselves
into parties; and we are told by Ward, that the young beaux and wits,
who seldom approached the principal table, thought it a great honour
to have a pinch out of Dryden's snuff-box.

Dean Lockier has left this life-like picture of his interview with the
presiding genius at Will's:--"I was about seventeen when I first came
up to town," says the Dean, "an odd-looking boy, with short rough
hair, and that sort of awkwardness which one always brings up at first
out of the country with one. However, in spite of my bashfulness and
appearance, I used, now and then, to thrust myself into Will's, to
have the pleasure of seeing the most celebrated wits of that time, who
then resorted thither. The second time that ever I was there, Mr.
Dryden was speaking of his own things, as he frequently did,
especially of such as had been lately published. 'If anything of mine
is good,' says he, ''tis _Mac-Flecno_; and I value myself the more
upon it, because it is the first piece of ridicule written in
heroics.' On hearing this I plucked up my spirit so far as to say, in
a voice but just loud enough to be heard, 'that _Mac-Flecno_ was a
very fine poem, but that I had not imagined it to be the first that
was ever writ that way.' On this, Dryden turned short upon me, as
surprised at my interposing; asked me how long 'I had been a dealer in
poetry;' and added, with a smile, 'Pray, Sir, what is it that you did
imagine to have been writ so before?'--I named Boileau's _Lutrin_, and
Tassoni's _Secchia Rapita_, which I had read, and knew Dryden had
borrowed some strokes from each. ''Tis true,' said Dryden, 'I had
forgot them.' A little after, Dryden went out, and in going, spoke to
me again, and desired me to come and see him the next day. I was
highly delighted with the invitation; went to see him accordingly; and
was well acquainted with him after, as long as he lived."

Will's Coffee-house was the open market for libels and lampoons, the
latter named from the established burden formerly sung to them:--

     "Lampone, lampone, camerada lampone."

There was a drunken fellow, named Julian, who was a characterless
frequenter of Will's, and Sir Walter Scott has given this account of
him and his vocation:--

"Upon the general practice of writing lampoons, and the necessity of
finding some mode of dispersing them, which should diffuse the scandal
widely while the authors remained concealed, was founded the
self-erected office of Julian, Secretary, as he calls himself, to the
Muses. This person attended Will's, the Wits' Coffee-house, as it was
called; and dispersed among the crowds who frequented that place of
gay resort copies of the lampoons which had been privately
communicated to him by their authors. 'He is described,' says Mr.
Malone, 'as a very drunken fellow, and at one time was confined for a
liable.' Several satires were written, in the form of addresses to him
as well as the following. There is one among the _State Poems_

     "'Julian, in verse, to ease thy wants I write,
     Not moved by envy, malice, or by spite,
     Or pleased with the empty names of wit and sense,
     But merely to supply thy want of pence:
     This did inspire my muse, when out at heel,
     She saw her needy secretary reel;
     Grieved that a man, so useful to the age,
     Should foot it in so mean an equipage;
     A crying scandal that the fees of sense
     Should not be able to support the expense
     Of a poor scribe, who never thought of wants,
     When able to procure a cup of Nantz.'

"Another, called a 'Consoling Epistle to Julian,' is said to have been
written by the Duke of Buckingham.

"From a passage in one of the _Letters from the Dead to the Living_,
we learn, that after Julian's death, and the madness of his successor,
called Summerton, lampoon felt a sensible decay; and there was no more
that brisk spirit of verse, that used to watch the follies and vices
of the men and women of figure, that they could not start new ones
faster than lampoons exposed them."

How these lampoons were concocted we gather from Bays, in the _Hind
and the Panther transversed_:--"'Tis a trifle hardly worth owning; I
was 'tother day at Will's, throwing out something of that nature; and,
i' gad, the hint was taken, and out came that picture; indeed, the
poor fellow was so civil as to present me with a dozen of 'em for my
friends; I think I have here one in my pocket.... Ay, ay, I can do it
if I list, tho' you must not think I have been so dull as to mind
these things myself; but 'tis the advantage of our Coffee-house, that
from their talk, one may write a very good polemical discourse,
without ever troubling one's head with the books of controversy."

Tom Brown describes "a Wit and a Beau set up with little or no
expense. A pair of red stockings and a sword-knot set up one, and
peeping once a day in at Will's, and two or three second-hand sayings,
the other."

Pepys, one night, going to fetch home his wife, stopped in Covent
Garden, at the Great Coffee-house there, as he called Will's, where he
never was before: "Where," he adds, "Dryden, the poet (I knew at
Cambridge), and all the Wits of the town, and Harris the player, and
Mr. Hoole of our College. And had I had time then, or could at other
times, it will be good coming thither, for there, I perceive, is very
witty and pleasant discourse. But I could not tarry; and, as it was
late, they were all ready to go away."

Addison passed each day alike, and much in the manner that Dryden did.
Dryden employed his mornings in writing, dined _en famille_, and then
went to Will's, "only he came home earlier o' nights."

Pope, when very young, was impressed with such veneration for Dryden,
that he persuaded some friends to take him to Will's Coffee-house, and
was delighted that he could say that he had seen Dryden. Sir Charles
Wogan, too, brought up Pope from the Forest of Windsor, to dress _à la
mode_, and introduce at Will's Coffee-house. Pope afterwards described
Dryden as "a plump man with a down look, and not very conversible;"
and Cibber could tell no more "but that he remembered him a decent old
man, arbitor of critical disputes at Will's." Prior sings of--

           "the younger Stiles,
     Whom Dryden pedagogues at Will's!"

Most of the hostile criticisms on his Plays, which Dryden has noticed
in his various Prefaces, appear to have been made at his favourite
haunt, Will's Coffee-house.

Dryden is generally said to have been returning from Will's to his
house in Gerard-street, when he was cudgelled in Rose-street by three
persons hired for the purpose by Wilmot, Earl of Rochester, in the
winter of 1679. The assault, or "the Rose-alley Ambuscade," certainly
took place; but it is not so certain that Dryden was on his way from
Will's, and he then lived in Long Acre, not Gerard-street.

It is worthy of remark that Swift was accustomed to speak
disparagingly of Will's, as in his _Rhapsody on Poetry_:--

     "Be sure at Will's the following day
     Lie snug, and hear what critics say;
     And if you find the general vogue
     Pronounces you a stupid rogue,
     Damns all your thoughts as low and little;
     Sit still, and swallow down your spittle."

Swift thought little of the frequenters of Will's: he used to say,
"the worst conversation he ever heard in his life was at Will's
Coffee-house, where the wits (as they were called) used formerly to
assemble; that is to say, five or six men, who had writ plays or at
least prologues, or had a share in a miscellany, came thither, and
entertained one another with their trifling composures, in so
important an air as if they had been the noblest efforts of human
nature, or that the fate of kingdoms depended on them."

In the first number of the _Tatler_, Poetry is promised under the
article of Will's Coffee-house. The place, however, changed after
Dryden's time: "you used to see songs, epigrams, and satires in the
hands of every man you met; you have now only a pack of cards; and
instead of the cavils about the turn of the expression, the elegance
of the style, and the like, the learned now dispute only about the
truth of the game." "In old times, we used to sit upon a play here,
after it was acted, but now the entertainment's turned another way."

The _Spectator_ is sometimes seen "thrusting his head into a round of
politicians at Will's, and listening with great attention to the
narratives that are made in these little circular audiences." Then, we
have as an instance of no one member of human society but that would
have some little pretension for some degree in it, "like him who came
to Will's Coffee-house upon the merit of having writ a posie of a
ring." And, "Robin, the porter who waits at Will's, is the best man in
town for carrying a billet: the fellow has a thin body, swift step,
demure looks, sufficient sense, and knows the town."[15]

After Dryden's death in 1701, Will's continued for about ten years to
be still the Wits' Coffee-house, as we see by Ned Ward's account, and
by that in the _Journey through England_ in 1722.

Pope entered with keen relish into society, and courted the
correspondence of the town wits and coffee-house critics. Among his
early friends was Mr. Henry Cromwell, one of the _cousinry_ of the
Protector's family: he was a bachelor, and spent most of his time in
London; he had some pretensions to scholarship and literature, having
translated several of Ovid's Elegies, for Tonson's Miscellany. With
Wycherley, Gay, Dennis, the popular actors and actresses of the day,
and with all the frequenters of Will's, Cromwell was familiar. He had
done more than take a pinch out of Dryden's snuff-box, which was a
point of high ambition and honour at Will's; he had quarrelled with
him about a frail poetess, Mrs. Elizabeth Thomas, whom Dryden had
christened Corinna, and who was also known as Sappho. Gay
characterized this literary and eccentric beau as

     "Honest, hatless Cromwell, with red breeches;"

it being his custom to carry his hat in his hand when walking with
ladies. What with ladies and literature, rehearsals and reviews, and
critical attention to the quality of his coffee and Brazil snuff,
Henry Cromwell's time was fully occupied in town. Cromwell was a
dangerous acquaintance for Pope at the age of sixteen or seventeen,
but he was a very agreeable one. Most of Pope's letters to his friend
are addressed to him at the Blue Ball, in Great Wild-street, near
Drury-lane; and others to "Widow Hambledon's Coffee-house at the end
of Princes-street, near Drury-lane, London." Cromwell made one visit
to Binfield; on his return to London, Pope wrote to him, "referring to
the ladies in particular," and to his favourite coffee:

     "As long as Mocha's happy tree shall grow,
     While berries crackle, or while mills shall go;
     While smoking streams from silver spouts shall glide
     Or China's earth receive the sable tide,
     While Coffee shall to British nymphs be dear,
     While fragrant steams the bended head shall cheer,
     Or grateful bitters shall delight the taste,
     So long her honours, name, and praise shall last."

Even at this early period Pope seems to have relied for relief from
headache to the steam of coffee, which he inhaled for this purpose
throughout the whole of his life.[16]

The Taverns and Coffee-houses supplied the place of the Clubs we have
since seen established. Although no exclusive subscription belonged to
any of these, we find by the account which Colley Cibber gives of his
first visit to Will's, in Covent Garden, that it required an
introduction to this Society not to be considered as an impertinent
intruder. There the veteran Dryden had long presided over all the
acknowledged wits and poets of the day, and those who had the
pretension to be reckoned among them. The politicians assembled at the
St. James's Coffee-house, from whence all the articles of political
news in the first _Tatlers_ are dated. The learned frequented the
Grecian Coffee-house in Devereux-court. Locket's, in Gerard-street,
Soho, and Pontac's, were the fashionable taverns where the young and
gay met to dine: and White's and other chocolate houses seem to have
been the resort of the same company in the morning. Three o'clock, or
at latest four, was the dining-hour of the most fashionable persons in
London, for in the country no such late hours had been adopted. In
London, therefore, soon after six, the men began to assemble at the
coffee-house they frequented if they were not setting in for hard
drinking, which seems to have been much less indulged in private
houses than in taverns. The ladies made visits to one another, which
it must be owned was a much less waste of time when considered as an
amusement for the evening, than now, as being a morning occupation.


[14] Will's Coffee-house first had the title of the Red Cow, then of
the Rose, and, we believe, is the same house alluded to in the
pleasant story in the second number of the _Tatler_:--

     "Supper and friends expect we at the Rose."

The Rose, however, was a common sign for houses of public

[15] _The Spectator_, No. 398.

[16] Carruthers: Life of Pope.


Will's was the great resort for the wits of Dryden's time, after whose
death it was transferred to Button's. Pope describes the houses as
"opposite each other, in Russell-street, Covent Garden," where Addison
established Daniel Button, in a new house, about 1712; and his fame,
after the production of _Cato_, drew many of the Whigs thither. Button
had been servant to the Countess of Warwick. The house is more
correctly described as "over against Tom's, near the middle of the
south side of the street."

Addison was the great patron of Button's; but it is said that when he
suffered any vexation from his Countess, he withdrew the company from
Button's house. His chief companions, before he married Lady Warwick,
were Steele, Budgell, Philips, Carey, Davenant, and Colonel Brett. He
used to breakfast with one or other of them in St. James's-place, dine
at taverns with them, then to Button's, and then to some tavern again,
for supper in the evening; and this was the usual round of his life,
as Pope tells us, in Spence's _Anecdotes_; where Pope also says:
"Addison usually studied all the morning, then met his party at
Button's, dined there, and stayed five or six hours; and sometimes far
into the night. I was of the company for about a year, but found it
too much for me: it hurt my health, and so I quitted it." Again:
"There had been a coldness between me and Mr. Addison for some time,
and we had not been in company together for a good while anywhere but
at Button's Coffee-house, where I used to see him almost every day."

Here Pope is reported to have said of Patrick, the lexicographer, that
"a dictionary-maker might know the meaning of one word, but not of two
put together."

Button's was the receiving-house for contributions to _The Guardian_,
for which purpose was put up a lion's head letter-box, in imitation of
the celebrated lion at Venice, as humorously announced. Thus:--

"N.B.--Mr. Ironside has, within five weeks last past, muzzled three
lions, gorged five, and killed one. On Monday next the skin of the
dead one will be hung up, _in terrorem_, at Button's Coffee-house,
over against Tom's in Covent Garden."[17]

     "Button's Coffee-house,--

"Mr. Ironside, I have observed that this day you make mention of
Will's Coffee-house, as a place where people are too polite to hold a
man in discourse by the button. Everybody knows your honour frequents
this house, therefore they will take an advantage against me, and say
if my company was as civil as that at Will's. You would say so.
Therefore pray your honour do not be afraid of doing me justice,
because people would think it may be a conceit below you on this
occasion to name the name of your humble servant, Daniel Button.--The
young poets are in the back room, and take their places as you

"I intend to publish once every week the roarings of the Lion, and
hope to make him roar so loud as to be heard over all the British

"I have, I know not how, been drawn into tattle of myself, _more
majorum_, almost the length of a whole _Guardian_. I shall therefore
fill up the remaining part of it with what still relates to my own
person, and my correspondents. Now I would have them all know that on
the 20th instant it is my intention to erect a Lion's Head, in
imitation of those I have described in Venice, through which all the
private commonwealth is said to pass. This head is to open a most wide
and voracious mouth, which shall take in such letters and papers as
are conveyed to me by my correspondents, it being my resolution to
have a particular regard to all such matters as come to my hands
through the mouth of the Lion. There will be under it a box, of which
the key will be in my own custody, to receive such papers as are
dropped into it. Whatever the Lion swallows I shall digest for the use
of the publick. This head requires some time to finish, the workmen
being resolved to give it several masterly touches, and to represent
it as ravenous as possible. It will be set up in Button's
Coffee-house, in Covent Garden, who is directed to shew the way to the
Lion's Head, and to instruct any young author how to convey his works
into the mouth of it with safety and secrecy."[19]

"I think myself obliged to acquaint the publick, that the Lion's Head,
of which I advertised them about a fortnight ago, is now erected at
Button's Coffee-house, in Russell-street, Covent Garden, where it
opens its mouth at all hours for the reception of such intelligence as
shall be thrown into it. It is reckoned an excellent piece of
workmanship, and was designed by a great hand in imitation of the
antique Egyptian lion, the face of it being compounded out of that of
a lion and a wizard. The features are strong and well furrowed. The
whiskers are admired by all that have seen them. It is planted on the
western side of the Coffee-house, holding its paws under the chin,
upon a box, which contains everything that he swallows. He is, indeed,
a proper emblem of knowledge and action, being all head and paws."[20]

"Being obliged, at present, to attend a particular affair of my own, I
do empower my printer to look into the arcana of the lion, and select
out of them such as may be of publick utility; and Mr. Button is
hereby authorized and commanded to give my said printer free ingress
and egress to the lion, without any hindrance, lest, or molestation
whatsoever, until such time as he shall receive orders to the
contrary. And, for so doing, this shall be his warrant."[21]

"My Lion, whose jaws are at all times open to intelligence, informs
me that there are a few enormous weapons still in being; but that they
are to be met with only in gaming-houses and some of the obscure
retreats of lovers, in and about Drury-lane and Covent Garden."[22]

This memorable Lion's Head was tolerably well carved: through the
mouth the letters were dropped into a till at Button's; and beneath
were inscribed these two lines from Martial:--

     "Cervantur magnis isti Cervicibus ungues:
       Non nisi delictâ pascitur ille ferâ."

The head was designed by Hogarth, and is etched in Ireland's
_Illustrations_. Lord Chesterfield is said to have once offered for
the Head fifty guineas. From Button's it was removed to the
Shakspeare's Head Tavern, under the Piazza, kept by a person named
Tomkyns; and in 1751, was, for a short time, placed in the Bedford
Coffee-house immediately adjoining the Shakspeare, and there employed
as a letter-box by Dr. John Hill, for his _Inspector_. In 1769,
Tomkyns was succeeded by his waiter, Campbell, as proprietor of the
tavern and lion's head, and by him the latter was retained until Nov.
8, 1804, when it was purchased by Mr. Charles Richardson, of
Richardson's Hotel, for £17. 10_s._, who also possessed the original
sign of the Shakspeare's Head. After Mr. Richardson's death in 1827,
the Lion's Head devolved to his son, of whom it was bought by the Duke
of Bedford, and deposited at Woburn Abbey, where it still remains.

Pope was subjected to much annoyance and insult at Button's. Sir
Samuel Garth wrote to Gay, that everybody was pleased with Pope's
Translation, "but a few at Button's;" to which Gay adds, to Pope, "I
am confirmed that at Button's your character is made very free with,
as to morals, etc."

Cibber, in a letter to Pope, says:--"When you used to pass your hours
at Button's, you were even there remarkable for your satirical itch of
provocation; scarce was there a gentleman of any pretension to wit,
whom your unguarded temper had not fallen upon in some biting epigram,
among which you once caught a pastoral Tartar, whose resentment, that
your punishment might be proportionate to the smart of your poetry,
had stuck up a birchen rod in the room, to be ready whenever you might
come within reach of it; and at this rate you writ and rallied and
writ on, till you rhymed yourself quite out of the coffee-house." The
"pastoral Tartar" was Ambrose Philips, who, says Johnson, "hung up a
rod at Button's, with which he threatened to chastise Pope."

Pope, in a letter to Craggs, thus explains the affair:--"Mr. Philips
did express himself with much indignation against me one evening at
Button's Coffee-house, (as I was told,) saying that I was entered into
a cabal with Dean Swift and others, to write against the Whig
interest, and in particular to undermine his own reputation and that
of his friends, Steele and Addison; but Mr. Philips never opened his
lips to my face, on this or any like occasion, though I was almost
every night in the same room with him, nor ever offered me any
indecorum. Mr. Addison came to me a night or two after Philips had
talked in this idle manner, and assured me of his disbelief of what
had been said, of the friendship we should always maintain, and
desired I would say nothing further of it. My Lord Halifax did me the
honour to stir in this matter, by speaking to several people to
obviate a false aspersion, which might have done me no small prejudice
with one party. However, Philips did all he could secretly to continue
the report with the Hanover Club, and kept in his hands the
subscriptions paid for me to him, as secretary to that Club. The heads
of it have since given him to understand, that they take it ill; but
(upon the terms I ought to be with such a man,) I would not ask him
for this money, but commissioned one of the players, his equals, to
receive it. This is the whole matter; but as to the secret grounds of
this malignity, they will make a very pleasant history when we meet."

Another account says that the rod was hung up at the bar of Button's,
and that Pope avoided it by remaining at home--"his usual custom."
Philips was known for his courage and superior dexterity with the
sword: he afterwards became justice of the peace, and used to mention
Pope, whenever he could get a man in authority to listen to him, as an
enemy to the Government.

At Button's the leading company, particularly Addison and Steele, met
in large flowing flaxen wigs. Sir Godfrey Kneller, too, was a

The master died in 1731, when in the _Daily Advertiser_, Oct. 5,
appeared the following:--"On Sunday morning, died, after three days'
illness, Mr. Button, who formerly kept Button's Coffee-house, in
Russell-street, Covent Garden; a very noted house for wits, being the
place where the Lyon produced the famous _Tatlers_ and _Spectators_,
written by the late Mr. Secretary Addison and Sir Richard Steele,
Knt., which works will transmit their names with honour to posterity."
Mr. Cunningham found in the vestry-books of St. Paul's, Covent Garden:
"1719, April 16. Received of Mr. Daniel Button, for two places in the
pew No. 18, on the south side of the north Isle,--2_l._ 2_s._" J. T.
Smith states that a few years after Button, the Coffee-house declined,
and Button's name appeared in the books of St. Paul's, as receiving an
allowance from the parish.

Button's continued in vogue until Addison's death and Steele's
retirement into Wales, after which the house was deserted; the
coffee-drinkers went to the Bedford Coffee-house, the dinner-parties
to the Shakspeare.

Among other wits who frequented Button's were Swift, Arbuthnot,
Savage, Budgell, Martin Folkes, and Drs. Garth and Armstrong. In 1720,
Hogarth mentions "four drawings in Indian ink" of the characters at
Button's Coffee-house. In these were sketches of Arbuthnot, Addison,
Pope, (as it is conjectured,) and a certain Count Viviani, identified
years afterwards by Horace Walpole, when the drawings came under his
notice. They subsequently came into Ireland's possession.[23]

Jemmy Maclaine, or M'Clean, the fashionable highwayman, was a frequent
visitor at Button's. Mr. John Taylor, of the _Sun_ newspaper,
describes Maclaine as a tall, showy, good-looking man. A Mr. Donaldson
told Taylor that, observing Maclaine paid particular attention to the
bar-maid of the Coffee-house, the daughter of the landlord, he gave a
hint to the father of Maclaine's dubious character. The father
cautioned the daughter against the highwayman's addresses, and
imprudently told her by whose advice he put her on her guard; she as
imprudently told Maclaine. The next time Donaldson visited the
Coffee-room, and was sitting in one of the boxes, Maclaine entered,
and in a loud tone said, "Mr. Donaldson, I wish to _spake_ to you in a
private room." Mr. D. being unarmed, and naturally afraid of being
alone with such a man, said, in answer, that as nothing could pass
between them that he did not wish the whole world to know, he begged
leave to decline the invitation. "Very well," said Maclaine, as he
left the room, "we shall meet again." A day or two after, as Mr.
Donaldson was walking near Richmond, in the evening, he saw Maclaine
on horseback; but, fortunately, at that moment, a gentleman's carriage
appeared in view, when Maclaine immediately turned his horse towards
the carriage, and Donaldson hurried into the protection of Richmond as
fast as he could. But for the appearance of the carriage, which
presented better prey, it is probable that Maclaine would have shot
Mr. Donaldson immediately.

Maclaine's father was an Irish Dean; his brother was a Calvinist
minister in great esteem at the Hague. Maclaine himself has been a
grocer in Welbeck-street, but losing a wife that he loved extremely,
and by whom he had one little girl, he quitted his business with two
hundred pounds in his pocket, which he soon spent, and then took to
the road with only one companion, Plunket, a journeyman apothecary.

Maclaine was taken in the autumn of 1750, by selling a laced waistcoat
to a pawnbroker in Monmouth-street, who happened to carry it to the
very man who had just sold the lace. Maclaine impeached his companion,
Plunket, but he was not taken. The former got into verse: Gray, in his
_Long Story_, sings:

     "A sudden fit of ague shook him;
     He stood as mute as poor M'Lean."

Button's subsequently became a private house, and here Mrs. Inchbald
lodged, probably, after the death of her sister, for whose support she
practised such noble and generous self-denial. Mrs. Inchbald's income
was now 172_l._ a year, and we are told that she now went to reside in
a boarding-house, where she enjoyed more of the comforts of life.
Phillips, the publisher, offered her a thousand pounds for her
Memoirs, which she declined. She died in a boarding-house at
Kensington, on the 1st of August, 1821; leaving about 6000_l._
judiciously divided amongst her relatives. Her simple and parsimonious
habits were very strange. "Last Thursday," she writes, "I finished
scouring my bedroom, while a coach with a coronet and two footmen
waited at my door to take me an airing."

"One of the most agreeable memories connected with Button's," says
Leigh Hunt, "is that of Garth, a man whom, for the sprightliness and
generosity of his nature, it is a pleasure to name. He was one of the
most amiable and intelligent of a most amiable and intelligent class
of men--the physicians."


[17] _The Guardian_, No. 71.

[18] _The Guardian_, No. 85.

[19] _The Guardian_, No. 93.

[20] _The Guardian_, No. 114.

[21] _The Guardian_, No. 142.

[22] _The Guardian_, No. 171.

[23] From Mr. Sala's vivid "William Hogarth;" Cornhill Magazine, vol.
i. p. 428.


It was just after Queen Anne's accession that Swift made acquaintance
with the leaders of the wits at Button's. Ambrose Philips refers to
him as the strange clergyman whom the frequenters of the Coffee-house
had observed for some days. He knew no one, no one knew him. He would
lay his hat down on a table, and walk up and down at a brisk pace for
half an hour without speaking to any one, or seeming to pay attention
to anything that was going forward. Then he would snatch up his hat,
pay his money at the bar, and walk off, without having opened his
lips. The frequenters of the room had christened him "the mad parson."
One evening, as Mr. Addison and the rest were observing him, they saw
him cast his eyes several times upon a gentleman in boots, who seemed
to be just come out of the country. At last, Swift advanced towards
this bucolic gentleman, as if intending to address him. They were all
eager to hear what the dumb parson had to say, and immediately quitted
their seats to get near him. Swift went up to the country gentleman,
and in a very abrupt manner, without any previous salute, asked him,
"Pray, Sir, do you know any good weather in the world?" After staring
a little at the singularity of Swift's manner and the oddity of the
question, the gentleman answered, "Yes, Sir, I thank God I remember a
great deal of good weather in my time."--"That is more," replied
Swift, "than I can say; I never remember any weather that was not too
hot or too cold, too wet or too dry; but, however God Almighty
contrives it, at the end of the year 'tis all very well."

Sir Walter Scott gives, upon the authority of Dr. Wall, of Worcester,
who had it from Dr. Arbuthnot himself, the following anecdote--less
coarse than the version generally told. Swift was seated by the fire
at Button's: there was sand on the floor of the coffee-room, and
Arbuthnot, with a design to play upon this original figure, offered
him a letter, which he had been just addressing, saying at the same
time, "There--sand that."--"I have got no sand," answered Swift, "but
I can help you to a little _gravel_." This he said so significantly,
that Arbuthnot hastily snatched back his letter, to save it from the
fate of the capital of Lilliput.


In Birchin-lane, Cornhill, though in the main a mercantile resort,
acquired some celebrity from its having been frequented by Garrick,
who, to keep up an interest in the City, appeared here about twice in
a winter at 'Change time, when it was the rendezvous of young
merchants. Hawkins says: "After all that has been said of Mr. Garrick,
envy must own that he owed his celebrity to his merit; and yet, of
that himself seemed so diffident, that he practised sundry little but
innocent arts, to insure the favour of the public:" yet, he did more.
When a rising actor complained to Mrs. Garrick that the newspapers
abused him, the widow replied, "You should write your own criticisms;
David always did."

One evening, Murphy was at Tom's, when Colley Cibber was playing at
whist, with an old general for his partner. As the cards were dealt to
him, he took up every one in turn, and expressed his disappointment at
each indifferent one. In the progress of the game he did not follow
suit, and his partner said, "What! have you not a spade, Mr. Cibber?"
The latter, looking at his cards, answered, "Oh yes, a thousand;"
which drew a very peevish comment from the general. On which, Cibber,
who was shockingly addicted to swearing, replied, "Don't be angry, for
---- I can play ten times worse if I like."


This celebrated resort once attracted so much attention as to have
published, "Memoirs of the Bedford Coffee-house," two editions, 1751
and 1763. It stood "under the Piazza, in Covent Garden," in the
north-west corner, near the entrance to the theatre, and has long
ceased to exist.

In _The Connoisseur_, No. 1, 1754, we are assured that "this
Coffee-house is every night crowded with men of parts. Almost every
one you meet is a polite scholar and a wit. Jokes and bon-mots are
echoed from box to box: every branch of literature is critically
examined, and the merit of every production of the press, or
performance of the theatres, weighed and determined."

And in the above-named _Memoirs_, we read that "this spot has been
signalized for many years as the emporium of wit, the seat of
criticism, and the standard of taste.--Names of those who frequented
the house:--Foote, Mr. Fielding, Mr. Woodward, Mr. Leone, Mr. Murphy,
Mopsy, Dr. Arne. Dr. Arne was the only man in a suit of velvet in the

Stacie kept the Bedford when John and Henry Fielding, Hogarth,
Churchill, Woodward, Lloyd, Dr. Goldsmith, and many others met there
and held a gossiping shilling rubber club. Henry Fielding was a very
merry fellow.

The _Inspector_ appears to have given rise to this reign of the
Bedford, when there was placed here the Lion from Button's, which
proved so serviceable to Steele, and once more fixed the dominion of
wit in Covent Garden.

The reign of wit and pleasantry did not, however, cease at the Bedford
at the demise of the _Inspector_. A race of punsters next succeeded. A
particular box was allotted to this occasion, out of the hearing of
the lady at the bar, that the _double entendres_, which were sometimes
very indelicate, might not offend her.

The Bedford was beset with scandalous nuisances, of which the
following letter, from Arthur Murphy to Garrick, April 10, 1769,
presents a pretty picture:

"Tiger Roach (who used to bully at the Bedford Coffee-house because
his name was Roach) is set up by Wilkes's friends to burlesque Luttrel
and his pretensions. I own I do not know a more ridiculous
circumstance than to be a joint candidate with the Tiger. O'Brien used
to take him off very pleasantly, and perhaps you may, from his
representation, have some idea of this important wight. He used to sit
with a half-starved look, a black patch upon his cheek, pale with the
idea of murder, or with rank cowardice, a quivering lip, and a
downcast eye. In that manner he used to sit at a table all alone, and
his soliloquy, interrupted now and then with faint attempts to throw
off a little saliva, was to the following effect:--'Hut! hut! a
mercer's 'prentice with a bag-wig;--d--n my s--l, if I would not
skiver a dozen of them like larks! Hut! hut! I don't understand such
airs!--I'd cudgel him back, breast, and belly, for three skips of a
louse!--How do you do, Pat! Hut! hut! God's blood--Larry, I'm glad to
see you;--'Prentices! a fine thing indeed!--Hut! hut! How do you,
Dominick!--D--n my s--l, what's here to do!' These were the
meditations of this agreeable youth. From one of these reveries he
started up one night, when I was there, called a Mr. Bagnell out of
the room, and most heroically stabbed him in the dark, the other
having no weapon to defend himself with. In this career the Tiger
persisted, till at length a Mr. Lennard brandished a whip over his
head, and stood in a menacing attitude, commanding him to ask pardon
directly. The Tiger shrank from the danger, and with a faint voice
pronounced--'Hut! what signifies it between you and me? Well! well! I
ask your pardon,' 'Speak louder, sir; I don't hear a word you say.'
And indeed he was so very tall, that it seemed as if the sound, sent
feebly from below, could not ascend to such a height. This is the hero
who is to figure at Brentford."

Foote's favourite Coffee-house was the Bedford. He was also a constant
frequenter of Tom's, and took a lead in the Club held there, and
already described.[24]

Dr. Barrowby, the well-known newsmonger of the Bedford, and the
satirical critic of the day, has left this whole-length sketch of
Foote:--"One evening (he says), he saw a young man extravagantly
dressed out in a frock suit of green and silver lace, bag-wig, sword,
bouquet, and point-ruffles, enter the room (at the Bedford), and
immediately join the critical circle at the upper end. Nobody
recognised him; but such was the ease of his bearing, and the point of
humour and remark with which he at once took up the conversation, that
his presence seemed to disconcert no one, and a sort of pleased buzz
of 'who is he?' was still going round the room unanswered, when a
handsome carriage stopped at the door; he rose, and quitted the room,
and the servants announced that his name was Foote, that he was a
young gentleman of family and fortune, a student of the Inner Temple,
and that the carriage had called for him on its way to the assembly of
a lady of fashion." Dr. Barrowby once turned the laugh against Foote
at the Bedford, when he was ostentatiously showing his gold repeater,
with the remark--"Why, my watch does not go!" "It soon _will go_,"
quietly remarked the Doctor. Young Collins, the poet, who came to town
in 1744 to seek his fortune, made his way to the Bedford, where Foote
was supreme among the wits and critics. Like Foote, Collins was fond
of fine clothes, and walked about with a feather in his hat, very
unlike a young man who had not a single guinea he could call his own.
A letter of the time tells us that "Collins was an acceptable
companion everywhere; and among the gentlemen who loved him for a
genius, may be reckoned the Doctors Armstrong, Barrowby, Hill, Messrs.
Quin, Garrick, and Foote, who frequently took his opinion upon their
pieces before they were seen by the public. He was particularly
noticed by the geniuses who frequented the Bedford and Slaughter's

Ten years later (1754) we find Foote again supreme in his critical
corner at the Bedford. The regular frequenters of the room strove to
get admitted to his party at supper; and others got as nearly as they
could to the table, as the only humour flowed from Foote's tongue. The
Bedford was now in its highest repute.

Foote and Garrick often met at the Bedford, and many and sharp were
their encounters. They were the two great rivals of the day. Foote
usually attacked, and Garrick, who had many weak points, was mostly
the sufferer. Garrick, in early life, had been in the wine trade, and
had supplied the Bedford with wine; he was thus described by Foote as
living in Durham-yard, with three quarts of vinegar in the cellar,
calling himself a wine-merchant. How Foote must have abused the
Bedford wine of this period!

One night, Foote came into the Bedford, where Garrick was seated, and
there gave him an account of a most wonderful actor he had just seen.
Garrick was on the tenters of suspense, and there Foote kept him a
full hour. At last Foote, compassionating the suffering listener,
brought the attack to a close by asking Garrick what he thought of Mr.
Pitt's histrionic talents, when Garrick, glad of the release, declared
that if Pitt had chosen the stage, he might have been the first actor
upon it.

One night, Garrick and Foote were about to leave the Bedford together,
when the latter, in paying the bill, dropped a guinea; and not finding
it at once, said, "Where on earth can it be gone to?"--"Gone to the
devil, I think," replied Garrick, who had assisted in the
search.--"Well said, David!" was Foote's reply; "let you alone for
making a guinea go further than anybody else."

Churchill's quarrel with Hogarth began at the shilling rubber club, in
the parlour of the Bedford; when Hogarth used some very insulting
language towards Churchill, who resented it in the _Epistle_. This
quarrel showed more venom than wit:--"Never," says Walpole, "did two
angry men of their abilities throw mud with less dexterity."

Woodward, the comedian, mostly lived at the Bedford, was intimate with
Stacie, the landlord, and gave him his (W.'s) portrait, with a mask in
his hand, one of the early pictures by Sir Joshua Reynolds. Stacie
played an excellent game at whist. One morning, about two o'clock, one
of his waiters awoke him to tell him that a nobleman had knocked him
up, and had desired him to call his master to play a rubber with him
for one hundred guineas. Stacie got up, dressed himself, won the
money, and was in bed and asleep, all within an hour.

Of two houses in the Piazza, built for Francis, Earl of Bedford, we
obtain some minute information from the lease granted in 1634, to Sir
Edmund Verney, Knight Marshal to King Charles I.; these two houses
being just then erected as part of the Piazza. There are also included
in the lease the "yardes, stables, coach-houses, and gardens now layd,
or hereafter to be layd, to the said messuages," which description of
the premises seems to identify them as the two houses at the southern
end of the Piazza, adjoining to Great Russell-street, and now occupied
as the Bedford Coffee-house and Hotel. They are either the same
premises, or they immediately adjoin the premises, occupied a century
later as the Bedford Coffee-house. (Mr. John Bruce, _Archæologia_,
XXXV. 195.) The lease contains a minute specification of the
landlord's fittings and customary accommodations of what were then
some of the most fashionable residences in the metropolis. In the
attached schedule is the use of the wainscot, enumerating separately
every piece of wainscot on the premises. The tenant is bound to keep
in repair the "Portico Walke" underneath the premises; he is at all
times to have "ingresse, egresse and regresse" through the Portico
Walk; and he may "expel, put, or drive away out of the said walke any
youth or other person whatsoever which shall eyther play or be in the
said Portico Walke in offence or disturbance to the said Sir Edmund

     The inventory of the fixtures is curious. It enumerates
     every apartment, from the beer-cellar, and the strong
     beer-cellar, the scullery, the pantry, and the buttery, to
     the dining and withdrawing-rooms. Most of the rooms had
     casement windows, but the dining-room next Russell-street,
     and other principal apartments, had "shutting windowes." The
     principal rooms were also "double creasted round for
     hangings," and were wainscoted round the chimney-pieces, and
     doors and windows. In one case, a study, "south towards
     Russell-street, the whole room was wainscoted, and the hall
     in part." Most of the windows had "soil-boards" attached;
     the room-doors had generally "stock locks," in some places
     "spring plate locks" and spring bolts. There is not
     mentioned anything approaching to a fire-grate in any of the
     rooms, except perhaps in the kitchen, where occurs "a
     travers barre for the chimney."


[24] See "Club at Tom's Coffee-house," vol. i. pp. 159-164.

[25] Memoir by Moy Thomas, prefixed to Collins's Poetical Works. Bell
and Daldy, 1858.


After Macklin had retired from the stage, in 1754, he opened that
portion of the Piazza-houses, in Covent Garden, which is now the
Tavistock Hotel. Here he fitted up a large coffee-room, a theatre for
oratory, and other apartments. To a three-shilling ordinary he added a
shilling lecture, or "School of Oratory and Criticism;" he presided at
the dinner-table, and carved for the company; after which he played a
sort of "Oracle of Eloquence." Fielding has happily sketched him in
his _Voyage to Lisbon_: "Unfortunately for the fishmongers of London,
the Dory only resides in the Devonshire seas; for could any of this
company only convey one to the Temple of luxury under the Piazza,
where Macklin, the high priest, daily serves up his rich offerings,
great would be the reward of that fishmonger."

In the Lecture, Macklin undertook to make each of his audience an
orator, by teaching him how to speak. He invited hints and
discussions; the novelty of the scheme attracted the curiosity of
numbers; and this curiosity he still further excited by a very
uncommon controversy, which now subsisted either in imagination or
reality, between him and Foote, who abused one another very
openly--"Squire Sammy" having for his purpose engaged the Little
Theatre in the Haymarket.

Besides this personal attack, various subjects were debated here in
the manner of the Robin Hood Society, which filled the orator's
pocket, and proved his rhetoric of some value.

Here is one of his combats with Foote. The subject was Duelling in
Ireland, which Macklin had illustrated as far as the reign of
Elizabeth. Foote cried "Order;" he had a question to put. "Well, Sir,"
said Macklin, "what have you to say upon this subject?" "I think,
Sir," said Foote, "this matter might be settled in a few words. What
o'clock is it, Sir?" Macklin could not possibly see what the clock had
to do with a dissertation upon Duelling, but gruffly reported the hour
to be half-past nine. "Very well," said Foote, "about this time of the
night every gentleman in Ireland that can possibly afford it is in his
third bottle of claret, and therefore in a fair way of getting drunk;
and from drunkenness proceeds quarrelling, and from quarrelling,
duelling, and so there's an end of the chapter." The company were
much obliged to Foote for his interference, the hour being considered;
though Macklin did not relish the abridgment.

The success of Foote's fun upon Macklin's Lectures, led him to
establish a summer entertainment of his own at the Haymarket. He took
up Macklin's notion of applying Greek Tragedy to modern subjects, and
the squib was so successful that Foote cleared by it 500_l._, in five
nights, while the great Piazza Coffee-room in Covent Garden was shut
up, and Macklin in the _Gazette_ as a bankrupt.

But when the great plan of Mr. Macklin proved abortive, when as he
said in a former prologue, upon a nearly similar occasion--

     "From scheming, fretting, famine, and despair,
     We saw to grace restor'd an exiled player;"

when the town was sated with the seemingly-concocted quarrel between
the two theatrical geniuses, Macklin locked up his doors, all
animosity was laid aside, and they came and shook hands at the
Bedford; the group resumed their appearance, and, with a new master, a
new set of customers was seen.


This was one of the old night-houses of Covent Garden Market: it was a
rude shed immediately beneath the portico of St. Paul's Church, and
was one "well known to all gentlemen to whom beds are unknown."
Fielding in one of his Prologues says:

     "What rake is ignorant of King's Coffee-house?"

It is in the background of Hogarth's print of _Morning_, where the
prim maiden lady, walking to church, is soured with seeing two fuddled
_beaux_ from King's Coffee-house caressing two frail women. At the
door there is a drunken row, in which swords and cudgels are the

Harwood's _Alumni Etonenses_, p. 293, in the account of the Boys
elected from Eton to King's College, contains this entry: "A.D. 1713,
Thomas King, born at West Ashton, in Wiltshire, went away scholar in
apprehension that his fellowship would be denied him; and afterwards
kept that Coffee-house in Covent Garden, which was called by his own

Moll King was landlady after Tom's death: she was witty, and her house
was much frequented, though it was little better than a shed.
"Noblemen and the first _beaux_," said Stacie, "after leaving Court,
would go to her house in full dress, with swords and bags, and in rich
brocaded silk coats, and walked and conversed with persons of every
description. She would serve chimney-sweepers, gardeners, and the
market-people in common with her lords of the highest rank. Mr.
Apreece, a tall thin man in rich dress, was her constant customer. He
was called Cadwallader by the frequenters of Moll's." It is not
surprising that Moll was often fined for keeping a disorderly house.
At length, she retired from business--and the pillory--to Hampstead,
where she lived on her ill-earned gains, but paid for a pew in church,
and was charitable at appointed seasons, and died in peace in 1747.

It was at that period that Mother Needham, Mother Douglass (_alias_,
according to Foote's _Minor_, Mother Cole), and Moll King, the
tavern-keepers and the gamblers, took possession of premises abdicated
by people of fashion. Upon the south side of the market-sheds was the
noted "Finish," kept by Mrs. Butler, open all night, the last of the
Garden taverns, and only cleared away in 1829. This house was
originally the Queen's Head. Shuter was pot-boy here. Here was a
picture of the Hazard Club, at the Bedford: it was painted by Hogarth,
and filled a panel of the Coffee-room.

Captain Laroon, an amateur painter of the time of Hogarth, who often
witnessed the nocturnal revels at Moll King's, made a large and
spirited drawing of the interior of her Coffee-house, which was at
Strawberry Hill. It was bought for Walpole, by his printer, some
seventy years since. There is also an engraving of the same room, in
which is introduced a whole-length of Mr. Apreece, in a full
court-dress: an impression of this plate is extremely rare.

Justice Welsh used to say that Captain Laroon, his friend Captain
Montague, and their constant companion, Little Casey, the Link-boy,
were the three most troublesome of all his Bow-street visitors. The
portraits of these three heroes are introduced in Boitard's rare print
of "the Covent Garden Morning Frolic." Laroon is brandishing an
artichoke. C. Montague is seated, drunk, on the top of Bet Careless's
sedan, which is preceded by Little Casey, as a link-boy.

Captain Laroon also painted a large folding-screen; the figures were
full of broad humour, two representing a Quack Doctor and his Merry
Andrew, before the gaping crowd.

Laroon was deputy-chairman, under Sir Robert Walpole, of a Club,
consisting of six gentlemen only, who met, at stated times, in the
drawing-room of Scott, the marine painter, in Henrietta-street, Covent
Garden; and it was unanimously agreed by the members, that they should
be attended by Scott's wife only, who was a remarkable witty woman.
Laroon made a beautiful conversation drawing of the Club, which is
highly prized by J. T. Smith.


This establishment, at the north-eastern angle of Covent Garden
Piazza, appears to have originated with Macklin's; for we read in an
advertisement in the _Public Advertiser_, March, 5, 1756: "the Great
Piazza Coffee-room, in Covent-Garden."

The Piazza was much frequented by Sheridan; and here is located the
well-known anecdote told of his coolness during the burning of
Drury-lane Theatre, in 1809. It is said that as he sat at the Piazza,
during the fire, taking some refreshment, a friend of his having
remarked on the philosophical calmness with which he bore his
misfortune, Sheridan replied: "A man may surely be allowed to take a
glass of wine _by his own fireside_."

Sheridan and John Kemble often dined together at the Piazza, to be
handy to the theatre. During Kemble's management, Sheridan had
occasion to make a complaint, which brought a "nervous" letter from
Kemble, to which Sheridan's reply is amusing enough. Thus, he writes:
"that the management of a theatre is a situation capable of becoming
_troublesome_, is information which I do not want, and a discovery
which I thought you had made long ago." Sheridan then treats Kemble's
letter as "a nervous flight," not to be noticed seriously, adding his
anxiety for the interest of the theatre, and alluding to Kemble's
touchiness and reserve; and thus concludes:

"If there is anything amiss in your mind not arising from the
_troublesomeness_ of your situation, it is childish and unmanly not to
disclose it. The frankness with which I have dealt towards you
entitles me to expect that you should have done so.

"But I have no reason to believe this to be the case; and attributing
your letter to a disorder which I know ought not to be indulged, I
prescribe that thou shalt keep thine appointment at the Piazza
Coffee-house, to-morrow at five, and, taking four bottles of claret
instead of three, to which in sound health you might stint yourself,
forget that you ever wrote the letter, as I shall that I ever received

     "R. B. SHERIDAN."

The Piazza façade, and interior, were of Gothic design. The house has
been taken down, and in its place was built the Floral Hall, after the
Crystal Palace model.


In our first volume, pp. 179-186, we described this as a literary
place of resort in Paternoster Row, more especially in connection
with the Wittinagemot of the last century.

A very interesting account of the Chapter, at a later period, (1848,)
is given by Mrs. Gaskell. The Coffee-house is thus described:--

"Paternoster Row was for many years sacred to publishers. It is a
narrow flagged street, lying under the shadow of St. Paul's; at each
end there are posts placed, so as to prevent the passage of carriages,
and thus preserve a solemn silence for the deliberations of the
'fathers of the Row.' The dull warehouses on each side are mostly
occupied at present by wholesale stationers; if they be publishers'
shops, they show no attractive front to the dark and narrow street.
Halfway up on the left-hand side is the Chapter Coffee-house. I
visited it last June. It was then unoccupied; it had the appearance of
a dwelling-house two hundred years old or so, such as one sometimes
sees in ancient country towns; the ceilings of the small rooms were
low, and had heavy beams running across them; the walls were
wainscoted breast-high; the staircase was shallow, broad, and dark,
taking up much space in the centre of the house. This then was the
Chapter Coffee-house, which, a century ago, was the resort of all the
booksellers and publishers, and where the literary hacks, the critics,
and even the wits used to go in search of ideas or employment. This
was the place about which Chatterton wrote, in those delusive letters
he sent to his mother at Bristol, while he was starving in London.

"Years later it became the tavern frequented by university men, and
country clergymen, who were up in London for a few days, and, having
no private friends or access into society, were glad to learn what was
going on in the world of letters, from the conversation which they
were sure to hear in the coffee-room. It was a place solely frequented
by men; I believe there was but one female servant in the house. Few
people slept there: some of the stated meetings of the trade were held
in it, as they had been for more than a century; and occasionally
country booksellers, with now and then a clergyman, resorted to it. In
the long, low, dingy room upstairs, the meetings of the trade were
held. The high narrow windows looked into the gloomy Row; nothing of
motion or of change could be seen in the grim dark houses opposite, so
near and close, although the whole breadth of the Row was between. The
mighty roar of London was round, like the sound of an unseen ocean,
yet every foot-fall on the pavement below might be heard distinctly,
in that unfrequented street."

Goldsmith frequented the Chapter, and always occupied one place,
which, for many years after was the seat of literary honour there.

There are Leather Tokens of the Chapter Coffee-house in existence.


In St. Paul's Churchyard, was one of the _Spectator's_ houses.
"Sometimes," he says, "I smoke a pipe at Child's, and whilst I seem
attentive to nothing but the _Postman_, overhear the conversation of
every table in the room." It was much frequented by the clergy; for
the _Spectator_, No. 609, notices the mistake of a country gentleman
in taking all persons in scarfs for Doctors of Divinity, since only a
scarf of the first magnitude entitles him to "the appellation of
Doctor from his landlady and the _Boy at Child's_."

Child's was the resort of Dr. Mead, and other professional men of
eminence. The Fellows of the Royal Society came here. Whiston relates
that Sir Hans Sloane, Dr. Halley, and he were once at Child's, when
Dr. H., asked him, W., why he was not a member of the Royal Society?
Whiston answered, because they durst not choose a heretic. Upon which
Dr. H. said, if Sir Hans Sloane would propose him, W., he, Dr. H.,
would second it, which was done accordingly.

The propinquity of Child's to the Cathedral and Doctors' Commons, made
it the resort of the clergy, and ecclesiastical loungers. In one
respect, Child's was superseded by the Chapter, in Paternoster Row.


This Coffee-house was established previous to the year 1731, for we
find of it the following advertisement:--

"May, 1731.

"Whereas, it is customary for Coffee-houses and other Public-houses,
to take 8_s._ for a quart of Arrack, and 6_s._ for a quart of Brandy
or Rum, made into Punch:

"This is to give Notice,

"That James Ashley has opened, on Ludgate Hill, the London
Coffee-house, Punch-house, Dorchester Beer and Welsh Ale Warehouse,
where the finest and best old Arrack, Rum, and French Brandy is made
into Punch, with the other of the finest ingredients--viz., A quart
of Arrack made into Punch for six shillings; and so in proportion to
the smallest quantity, which is half-a-quartern for fourpence
halfpenny. A quart of Rum or Brandy made into Punch for four
shillings; and so in proportion to the smallest quantity, which is
half-a-quartern for fourpence halfpenny; and gentlemen may have it as
soon made as a gill of Wine can be drawn."

The premises occupy a Roman site; for, in 1800, in the rear of the
house, in a bastion of the City Wall, was found a sepulchral monument,
dedicated to Claudina Martina by her husband, a provincial Roman
soldier; here also were found a fragment of a statue of Hercules, and
a female head. In front of the Coffee-house, immediately west of St.
Martin's church, stood Ludgate.

The London Coffee-house (now a tavern) is noted for its publishers'
sales of stock and copyrights. It was within the rules of the Fleet
prison: and in the Coffee-house are "locked up" for the night such
juries from the Old Bailey Sessions, as cannot agree upon verdicts.
The house was long kept by the grandfather and father of Mr. John
Leech, the celebrated artist.

A singular incident occurred at the London Coffee-house, many years
since: Mr. Brayley, the topographer, was present at a party here, when
Mr. Broadhurst, the famous tenor, by singing a high note, caused a
wine-glass on the table to break, the bowl being separated from the

At the bar of the London Coffee-house was sold Rowley's British
Cephalic Snuff.



From _The Kingdom's Intelligencer_, a weekly paper, published by
authority, in 1662, we learn that there had just been opened a "new
Coffee-house," with the sign of the Turk's Head, where was sold by
retail "the right Coffee-powder," from 4_s._ to 6_s._ 8_d._ per pound;
that pounded in a mortar, 2_s._; East India berry, 1_s._ 6_d._; and
the right Turkie berry, well garbled, at 3_s._ "The ungarbled for
lesse, with directions how to use the same." Also Chocolate at 2_s._
6_d._ per pound; the perfumed from 4_s._ to 10_s._; "also, Sherbets
made in Turkie, of lemons, roses, and violets perfumed; and Tea, or
Chaa, according to its goodness. The house seal was Morat the Great.
Gentlemen customers and acquaintances are (the next New Year's Day)
invited to the sign of the Great Turk at this new Coffee-house, where
Coffee will be on free cost." The sign was also Morat the Great. Morat
figures as a tyrant in Dryden's _Aurung Zebe_. There is a token of
this house, with the Sultan's head, in the Beaufoy collection.

Another token, in the same collection, is of unusual excellence,
probably by John Roettier. It has on the obverse, Morat ye Great Men
did mee call,--Sultan's head; reverse, Where eare I came I conquered
all.--In the field, Coffee, Tobacco, Sherbet, Tea, Chocolat, Retail in
Exchange Alee. "The word Tea," says Mr. Burn, "occurs on no other
tokens than those issued from 'the Great Turk' Coffee-house, in
Exchange-Alley;" in one of its advertisements, 1662, tea is from
6_s._ to 60_s._ a pound.

Competition arose. One Constantine Jennings in Threadneedle-street,
over against St. Christopher's Church, advertised that coffee,
chocolate, sherbet, and tea, the right Turkey berry, may be had as
cheap and as good of him as is any where to be had for money; and that
people may there be taught to prepare the said liquors gratis.

Pepys, in his _Diary_, tells, Sept. 25, 1669, of his sending for "a
cup of Tea, a China Drink, he had not before tasted." Henry Bennet,
Earl of Arlington, about 1666, introduced tea at Court. And, in his
Sir Charles Sedley's _Mulberry Garden_, we are told that "he who
wished to be considered a man of fashion always drank wine-and-water
at dinner, and a dish of tea afterwards." These details are condensed
from Mr. Burn's excellent _Beaufoy Catalogue_. 2nd edition, 1855.

In Gerard-street, Soho, also, was another Turk's Head Coffee-house,
where was held a Turk's Head Society; in 1777, we find Gibbon writing
to Garrick: "At this time of year, (Aug. 14,) the Society of the
Turk's Head can no longer be addressed as a corporate body, and most
of the individual members are probably dispersed: Adam Smith in
Scotland; Burke in the shades of Beaconsfield; Fox, the Lord or the
devil knows where."

This place was a kind of head-quarters for the Loyal Association
during the Rebellion of 1745.

Here was founded "The Literary Club," already described in Vol. I.,
pp. 204-219.

In 1753, several Artists met at the Turk's Head, and from thence,
their Secretary, Mr. F. M. Newton, dated a printed letter to the
Artists to form a select body for the Protection and Encouragement of
Art. Another Society of Artists met in Peter's-court, St.
Martin's-lane, from the year 1739 to 1769. After continued squabbles,
which lasted for many years, the principal Artists met together at the
Turk's Head, where many others having joined them, they petitioned the
King (George III.) to become patron of a Royal Academy of Art. His
Majesty consented; and the new Society took a room in Pall Mall,
opposite to Market-lane, where they remained until the King, in the
year 1771, granted them apartments in Old Somerset House.--_J. T.

The Turk's Head Coffee-house, No. 142, in the Strand, was a favourite
supping-house with Dr. Johnson and Boswell, in whose Life of Johnson
are several entries, commencing with 1763--"At night, Mr. Johnson and
I supped in a private room at the Turk's Head Coffee-house, in the
Strand; 'I encourage this house,' said he, 'for the mistress of it is
a good civil woman, and has not much business.'" Another entry is--"We
concluded the day at the Turk's Head Coffee-house very socially." And,
August 3, 1673--"We had our last social meeting at the Turk's Head
Coffee-house, before my setting out for foreign parts."

The name was afterwards changed to "The Turk's Head, Canada and Bath
Coffee-house," and was a well frequented tavern and hotel: it was
taken down, and a very handsome lofty house erected upon the site, at
the cost of, we believe, eight thousand pounds; it was opened as a
tavern and hotel, but did not long continue.

At the Turk's Head, or Miles's Coffee-house, New Palace-yard,
Westminster, the noted Rota Club met, founded by Harrington, in 1659:
where was a large oval table, with a passage in the middle, for Miles
to deliver his coffee. (See _Clubs_, Vol. I., pp. 15, 16).


In Fulwood's (_vulgo_ Fuller's) Rents, in Holborn, nearly opposite
Chancery-lane, in the reign of James I., lived Christopher Fulwood, in
a mansion of some pretension, of which an existing house of the period
is said to be the remains. "Some will have it," says Hatton, 1708,
"that it is called from being a _woody_ place before there were
buildings here; but its being called Fullwood's Rents (as it is in
deeds and leases), shows it to be the rents of one called Fullwood,
the owner or builder thereof." Strype describes the Rents, or court,
as running up to Gray's-Inn, "into which it has an entrance through
the gate; a place of good resort, and taken up by coffee-houses,
ale-houses, and houses of entertainment, by reason of its vicinity to
Gray's-Inn. On the east side is a handsome open place, with a handsome
freestone pavement, and better built, and inhabited by private
house-keepers. At the upper end of this court is a passage into the
Castle Tavern, a house of considerable trade, as is the Golden Griffin
Tavern, on the West side."

Here was John's, one of the earliest Coffee-houses; and adjoining
Gray's-Inn gate is a deep-coloured red-brick house, once Squire's
Coffee-house, kept by Squire, "a noted man in Fuller's Rents," who
died in 1717. The house is very roomy; it has been handsome, and has
a wide staircase. Squire's was one of the receiving-houses of the
_Spectator_: in No. 269, January 8, 1711-1712, he accepts Sir Roger de
Coverley's invitation to "smoke a pipe with him over a dish of coffee
at Squire's. As I love the old man, I take delight in complying with
everything that is agreeable to him, and accordingly waited on him to
the Coffee-house, where his venerable figure drew upon us the eyes of
the whole room. He had no sooner seated himself at the upper end of
the high table, but he called for a clean pipe, a paper of tobacco, a
dish of coffee, a wax candle, and the _Supplement_ [a periodical paper
of that time], with such an air of cheerfulness and good humour, that
all the boys in the coffee-room, (who seemed to take pleasure in
serving him,) were at once employed on his several errands, insomuch
that nobody else could come at a dish of tea, until the Knight had got
all his conveniences about him." Such was the coffee-room in the
_Spectator's_ day.

Gray's-Inn Walks, to which the Rents led, across Field-court, were
then a fashionable promenade; and here Sir Roger could "clear his
pipes in good air;" for scarcely a house intervened thence to
Hampstead. Though Ned Ward, in his _London Spy_, says--"I found none
but a parcel of superannuated debauchees, huddled up in cloaks, frieze
coats, and wadded gowns, to protect their old carcases from the
sharpness of Hampstead air; creeping up and down in pairs and leashes
no faster than the hand of a dial, or a county convict going to
execution: some talking of law, some of religion, and some of
politics. After I had walked two or three times round, I sat myself
down in the upper walk, where just before me, on a stone pedestal, we
fixed an old rusty horizontal dial, with the gnomon broke short off."
Round the sun-dial, seats were arranged in a semicircle.

Gray's-Inn Gardens were resorted to by dangerous classes. Expert
pickpockets and plausible ring-droppers found easy prey there on
crowded days; and in old plays the Gardens are repeatedly mentioned as
a place of negotiation for clandestine lovers, which led to the walks
being closed, except at stated hours.

Returning to Fulwood's Rents, we may here describe another of its
attractions, the Tavern and punch-house, within one door of
Gray's-Inn, apparently the King's Head. From some time before 1699,
until his death in 1731, Ward kept this house, which he thus
commemorates, or, in another word, puffs, in his _London Spy_: being a
vintner himself, we may rest assured that he would have penned this in
praise of no other than himself:

     "To speak but the truth of my honest friend Ned,
     The best of all vintners that ever God made;
     He's free of the beef, and as free of his bread,
     And washes both down with his glass of rare red,
     That tops all the town, and commands a good trade;
     Such wine as will cheer up the drooping King's head,
     And brisk up the soul, though our body's half dead;
     He scorns to draw bad, as he hopes to be paid;
     And now his name's up, he may e'en lie abed;
     For he'll get an estate--there's no more to be said."

We ought to have remarked, that the ox was roasted, cut up, and
distributed gratis; a piece of generosity which, by a poetic fiction,
is supposed to have inspired the above limping balderdash.


This Coffee-house, famous as the resort of painters and sculptors, in
the last century, was situated at the upper end of the west side of
St. Martin's-lane, three doors from Newport-street. Its first landlord
was Thomas Slaughter, 1692. Mr. Cunningham tells us that a second
Slaughter's (New Slaughter's), was established in the same street
about 1760, when the original establishment adopted the name of "Old
Slaughter's," by which designation it was known till within a few
years of the final demolition of the house to make way for the new
avenue between Long-acre and Leicester-square, formed 1843-44. For
many years previous to the streets of London being completely paved,
"Slaughter's" was called "The Coffee-house on the Pavement." In like
manner, "The Pavement," Moor fields, received its distinctive name.
Besides being the resort of artists, Old Slaughter's was the house of
call for Frenchmen.

St. Martin's-lane was long one of the head-quarters of the artists of
the last century. "In the time of Benjamin West," says J. T. Smith,
"and before the formation of the Royal Academy, Greek-street, St.
Martin's-lane, and Gerard-street, was their colony. Old Slaughter's
Coffee-house, in St. Martin's-lane, was their grand resort in the
evenings, and Hogarth was a constant visitor." He lived at the Golden
Head, on the eastern side of Leicester Fields, in the northern half
of the Sabloniere Hotel. The head he cut out himself from pieces of
cork, glued and bound together; it was placed over the street-door. At
this time, young Benjamin West was living in chambers, in
Bedford-street, Covent Garden, and had there set up his easel; he was
married, in 1765, at St. Martin's Church. Roubiliac was often to be
found at Slaughter's in early life; probably before he gained the
patronage of Sir Edward Walpole, through finding and returning to the
baronet the pocket-book of bank-notes, which the young maker of
monuments had picked up in Vauxhall Gardens. Sir Edward, to remunerate
his integrity, and his skill, of which he showed specimens, promised
to patronize Roubiliac through life, and he faithfully performed this
promise. Young Gainsborough, who spent three years amid the works of
the painters in St. Martin's-lane, Hayman, and Cipriani, who were all
eminently convivial, were, in all probability, frequenters of
Slaughter's. Smith tells us that Quin and Hayman were inseparable
friends, and so convivial, that they seldom parted till daylight.

Mr. Cunningham relates that here, "in early life, Wilkie would enjoy a
small dinner at a small cost. I have been told by an old frequenter of
the house, that Wilkie was always the last dropper-in for a dinner,
and that he was never seen to dine in the house by daylight. The truth
is, he slaved at his art at home till the last glimpse of daylight had

Haydon was accustomed in the early days of his fitful career, to dine
here with Wilkie. In his _Autobiography_, in the year 1808, Haydon
writes: "This period of our lives was one of great happiness: painting
all day, then dining at the Old Slaughter Chop-house, then going to
the Academy until eight, to fill up the evening, then going home to
tea--that blessing of a studious man--talking over our respective
exploits, what he [Wilkie] had been doing, and what I had done, and
then, frequently to relieve our minds fatigued by their eight and
twelve hours' work, giving vent to the most extraordinary absurdities.
Often have we made rhymes on odd names, and shouted with laughter at
each new line that was added. Sometimes lazily inclined after a good
dinner, we have lounged about, near Drury-lane or Covent Garden,
hesitating whether to go in, and often have I (knowing first that
there was nothing I wished to see) assumed a virtue I did not possess,
and pretending moral superiority, preached to Wilkie on the weakness
of not resisting such temptations for the sake of our art and our
duty, and marched him off to his studies, when he was longing to see
Mother Goose."

J. T. Smith has narrated some fifteen pages of characteristic
anecdotes of the artistic visitors of Old Slaughter's, which he refers
to as "formerly the rendezvous of Pope, Dryden, and other wits, and
much frequented by several eminently clever men of his day."

Thither came Ware, the architect, who, when a little sickly boy, was
apprenticed to a chimney-sweeper, and was seen chalking the
street-front of Whitehall, by a gentleman, who purchased the remainder
of the boy's time; gave him an excellent education; then sent him to
Italy, and, upon his return, employed him, and introduced him to his
friends as an architect. Ware was heard to tell this story, while he
was sitting to Roubiliac for his bust. Ware built Chesterfield House
and several other noble mansions, and compiled a Palladio, in folio:
he retained the soot in his skin to the day of his death. He was very
intimate with Roubiliac, who was an opposite eastern neighbour of Old
Slaughter's. Another architect, Gwynn, who competed with Mylne for
designing and building Blackfriars Bridge, was also a frequent visitor
at Old Slaughter's, as was Gravelot, who kept a drawing-school in the
Strand, nearly opposite to Southampton-street.

Hudson, who painted the Dilettanti portraits; M'Ardell, the
mezzotinto-scraper; and Luke Sullivan, the engraver of Hogarth's March
to Finchley, also frequented Old Slaughter's; likewise Theodore
Gardell, the portrait painter, who was executed for the murder of his
landlady; and Old Moser, keeper of the Drawing Academy in
Peter's-court. Richard Wilson, the landscape painter, was not a
regular customer here: his favourite house was the Constitution,
Bedford-street, Covent Garden, where he could indulge in a pot of
porter more freely, and enjoy the fun of Mortimer, the painter.

Parry, the Welsh harper, though totally blind, was one of the first
draught-players in England, and occasionally played with the
frequenters of Old Slaughter's; and here, in consequence of a bet,
Roubiliac introduced Nathaniel Smith (father of John Thomas), to play
at draughts with Parry; the game lasted about half an hour: Parry was
much agitated, and Smith proposed to give in; but as there were bets
depending, it was played out, and Smith won. This victory brought
Smith numerous challenges; and the dons of the Barn, a public-house,
in St. Martin's-lane, nearly opposite the church, invited him to
become a member; but Smith declined. The Barn, for many years, was
frequented by all the noted players of chess and draughts; and it was
there that they often decided games of the first importance, played
between persons of the highest rank, living in different parts of the

T. Rawle,[26] the inseparable companion of Captain Grose, the
antiquary, came often to Slaughter's.

It was long asserted of Slaughter's Coffee-house that there never had
been a person of that name as master of the house, but that it was
named from its having been opened for the use of the men who
slaughtered the cattle for the butchers of Newport Market, in an open
space then adjoining. "This," says J. T. Smith, "may be the fact, if
we believe that coffee was taken as refreshment by slaughtermen,
instead of purl or porter; or that it was so called by the
neighbouring butchers in derision of the numerous and fashionable
Coffee-houses of the day; as, for instance, 'The Old Man's
Coffee-house,' and 'The Young Man's Coffee-house.' Be that as it may,
in my father's time, and also within memory of the most aged people,
this Coffee-house was called '_Old_ Slaughter's,' and not The
Slaughter, or The Slaughterer's Coffee-house."

In 1827, there was sold by Stewart, Wheatley, and Adlard, in
Piccadilly, a picture attributed to Hogarth, for 150 guineas; it was
described A Conversation over a Bowl of Punch, at _Old_ Slaughter's
Coffee-house, in St. Martin's-lane, and the figures were said to be
portraits of the painter, Doctor Monsey, and the landlord, _Old_
Slaughter. But this picture, as J. T. Smith shows, was painted by
Highmore, for his father's godfather, Nathaniel Oldham, and one of the
artist's patrons; "it is neither a scene at Old Slaughter's, nor are
the portraits rightly described in the sale catalogue, but a scene at
Oldham's house, at Ealing, with an old schoolmaster, a farmer, the
artist Highmore, and Oldham himself."


[26] Rawle was one of his Majesty's accoutrement makers; and after his
death, his effects were sold by Hutchins, in King-street, Covent
Garden. Among the lots were a helmet, a sword, and several letters, of
Oliver Cromwell; also the doublet in which Cromwell dissolved the Long
Parliament. Another singular lot was a large black wig, with long
flowing curls, stated to have been worn by King Charles II.: it was
bought by Suett, the actor, who was a great collector of wigs. He
continued to act in this wig for many years, in _Tom Thumb_, and other
pieces, till it was burnt when the theatre at Birmingham was destroyed
by fire. Next morning, Suett, meeting Mrs. Booth, the mother of the
lively actress S. Booth, exclaimed, "Mrs. Booth, my wig's gone!"


At the corner of Serle-street and Portugal-street, most invitingly
facing the passage to Lincoln's Inn New-square, was Will's, of old
repute, and thus described in the _Epicure's Almanack_, 1815: "This
is, indubitably, a house of the first class, which dresses very
desirable turtle and venison, and broaches many a pipe of mature port,
double voyaged Madeira, and princely claret; wherewithal to wash down
the dust of making law-books, and take out the inky blots from rotten
parchment bonds; or if we must quote and parodize Will's, 'hath a
sweet oblivious antidote which clears the cranium of that perilous
stuff that clouds the cerebellum.'" The Coffee-house has some time
being given up.

Serle's Coffee-house is one of those mentioned in No. 49, of the
_Spectator_: "I do not know that I meet in any of my walks, objects
which move both my spleen and laughter so effectually as those young
fellows at the Grecian, Squire's, Serle's, and all other Coffee-houses
adjacent to the Law, who rise for no other purpose but to publish
their laziness."


Devereux-court, Strand, (closed in 1843,) was named from Constantine,
of Threadneedle-street, the _Grecian_ who kept it. In the _Tatler_
announcement, all accounts of learning are to be "under the title of
the Grecian;" and, in the _Tatler_, No. 6: "While other parts of the
town are amused with the present actions, [Marlborough's,] we
generally spend the evening at this table [at the Grecian], in
inquiries into antiquity, and think anything new, which gives us new
knowledge. Thus, we are making a very pleasant entertainment to
ourselves in putting the actions of Homer's Iliad into an exact

The _Spectator's_ face was very well-known at the Grecian, a
Coffee-house "adjacent to the law." Occasionally, it was the scene of
learned discussion. Thus Dr. King relates that one evening, two
gentlemen, who were constant companions, were disputing here,
concerning the accent of a Greek word. This dispute was carried to
such a length, that the two friends thought proper to determine it
with their swords: for this purpose they stepped into Devereux-court,
where one of them (Dr. King thinks his name was Fitzgerald) was run
through the body, and died on the spot.

The Grecian was Foote's morning lounge. It was handy, too, for the
young Templar, Goldsmith, and often did it echo with Oliver's
boisterous mirth; for "it had become the favourite resort of the Irish
and Lancashire Templars, whom he delighted in collecting around him,
in entertaining with a cordial and unostentatious hospitality, and in
occasionally amusing with his flute, or with whist, neither of which
he played very well!" Here Goldsmith occasionally wound up his
"Shoemaker's Holiday" with supper.

It was at the Grecian that Fleetwood Shephard told this memorable
story to Dr. Tancred Robinson, who gave Richardson permission to
repeat it. "The Earl of Dorset was in Little Britain, beating about
for books to his taste: there was _Paradise Lost_. He was surprised
with some passages he struck upon, dipping here and there and bought
it; the bookseller begged him to speak in its favour, if he liked it,
for they lay on his hands as waste paper. Jesus!--Shephard was
present. My Lord took it home, read it, and sent it to Dryden, who in
a short time returned it. 'This man,' says Dryden, 'cuts us all out,
and the ancients too!'"

The Grecian was also frequented by Fellows of the Royal Society.
Thoresby, in his _Diary_, tells us, 22 May, 1712, that "having bought
each a pair of black silk stockings in Westminster Hall, they returned
by water, and then walked, to meet his friend, Dr. Sloane, the
Secretary of the Royal Society, at the Grecian Coffee-house, by the
Temple." And, on June 12th, same year, "Thoresby attended the Royal
Society, where were present, the President, Sir Isaac Newton, both the
Secretaries, the two Professors from Oxford, Dr. Halley and Kell, with
others, whose company we after enjoyed at the Grecian Coffee-house."

In Devereux-court, also, was Tom's Coffee-house, much resorted to by
men of letters; among whom were Dr. Birch, who wrote the History of
the Royal Society; also Akenside, the poet; and there is in print a
letter of Pope's, addressed to Fortescue, his "counsel learned in the
law," at this coffee-house.


No. 213, Strand, near Temple Bar, was a noted resort in the last and
present century. When it was a coffee-house, one day, there came in
Sir James Lowther, who after changing a piece of silver with the
coffee-woman, and paying twopence for his dish of coffee, was helped
into his chariot, for he was very lame and infirm, and went home: some
little time afterwards, he returned to the same coffee-house, on
purpose to acquaint the woman who kept it, that she had given him a
bad half-penny, and demanded another in exchange for it. Sir James had
about 40,000_l._ per annum, and was at a loss whom to appoint his

Shenstone, who found

     "The warmest welcome at an inn,"

found George's to be economical. "What do you think," he writes, "must
be my expense, who love to pry into everything of the kind? Why, truly
one shilling. My company goes to George's Coffee-house, where, for
that small subscription I read all pamphlets under a three shillings'
dimension; and indeed, any larger would not be fit for coffee-house
perusal." Shenstone relates that Lord Orford was at George's, when
the mob that were carrying his Lordship in effigy, came into the box
where he was, to beg money of him, amongst others: this story Horace
Walpole contradicts, adding that he supposes Shenstone thought that
after Lord Orford quitted his place, he went to the coffee-house to
learn news.

Arthur Murphy frequented George's, "where the town wits met every
evening." Lloyd, the law-student, sings:--

     "By law let others toil to gain renown!
     Florio's a gentleman, a man o' the town.
     He nor courts clients, or the law regarding,
     Hurries from Nando's down to Covent Garden,
     Yet, he's a scholar; mark him in the pit,
     With critic catcall sound the stops of wit!
     Supreme at George's, he harangues the throng,
     Censor of style, from tragedy to song."


Rathbone-place, Oxford-street, no longer exists; but it will be kept
in recollection for its having given name to one of the most popular
publications, of its class, in our time, namely, the _Percy
Anecdotes_, "by Sholto and Reuben Percy, Brothers of the Benedictine
Monastery of Mont Benger," in 44 parts, commencing in 1820. So said
the title pages, but the names and the locality were _supposé_. Reuben
Percy was Thomas Byerley, who died in 1824; he was the brother of Sir
John Byerley, and the first editor of the _Mirror_, commenced by John
Limbird, in 1822. Sholto Percy was Joseph Clinton Robertson, who died
in 1852; he was the projector of the _Mechanics' Magazine_, which he
edited from its commencement to his death. The name of the collection
of Anecdotes was not taken, as at the time supposed, from the
popularity of the _Percy Reliques_, but from the Percy Coffee-house,
where Byerley and Robertson were accustomed to meet to talk over their
joint work. The _idea_ was, however, claimed by Sir Richard Phillips,
who stoutly maintained that it originated in a suggestion made by him
to Dr. Tilloch and Mr. Mayne, to cut the anecdotes from the many
years' files of the _Star_ newspaper, of which Dr. Tilloch was the
editor, and Mr. Byerley assistant editor; and to the latter
overhearing the suggestion, Sir Richard contested, might the _Percy
Anecdotes_ be traced. They were very successful, and a large sum was
realized by the work.


Nos. 177 and 178, Fleet-street, east corner of Fetter-lane, was one of
the Coffee-houses of the Johnsonian period; and here was long
preserved a portrait of Dr. Johnson, on the key-stone of a
chimney-piece, stated to have been painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds.
Peele's was noted for files of newspapers from these dates: _Gazette_,
1759; _Times_, 1780; _Morning Chronicle_, 1773; _Morning Post_, 1773;
_Morning Herald_, 1784; _Morning Advertiser_, 1794; and the evening
papers from their commencement. The house is now a tavern.



The changes in the manners and customs of our metropolis may be
agreeably gathered from such glimpses as we gain of the history of
"houses of entertainment" in the long lapse of centuries. Their
records present innumerable pictures in little of society and modes,
the interest of which is increased by distance. They show us how the
tavern was the great focus of news long before the newspaper fully
supplied the intellectual want. Much of the business of early times
was transacted in taverns, and it is to some extent in the present
day. According to the age, the tavern reflects the manners, the social
tastes, customs, and recreations; and there, in days when travelling
was difficult and costly, and not unattended with danger, the
traveller told his wondrous tale to many an eager listener; and the
man who rarely strayed beyond his own parish, was thus made acquainted
with the life of the world. Then, the old tavern combined, with much
of the comfort of an English home, its luxuries, without the
forethought of providing either. Its come-and-go life presented many a
useful lesson to the man who looked beyond the cheer of the moment.
The master, or taverner, was mostly a person of substance, often of
ready wit and cheerful manners--to render his public home attractive.

The "win-hous," or tavern, is enumerated among the houses of
entertainment in the time of the Saxons; and no doubt existed in
England much earlier. The peg-tankard, a specimen of which we see in
the Ashmolean Collection at Oxford, originated with the Saxons; the
pegs inside denoted how deep each guest was to drink: hence arose the
saying, "he is a peg too low," when a man was out of spirits. The
Danes were even more convivial in their habits than the Saxons, and
may be presumed to have multiplied the number of "guest houses," as
the early taverns were called. The Norman followers of the Conqueror
soon fell into the good cheer of their predecessors in England.
Although wine was made at this period in great abundance from
vineyards in various parts of England, the trade of the taverns was
principally supplied from France. The traffic for Bordeaux and the
neighbouring provinces is said to have commenced about 1154, through
the marriage of Henry II. with Eleanor of Aquitaine. The Normans were
the great carriers, and Guienne the place whence most of our wines
were brought; and which are described in this reign to have been sold
in the ships and in the wine-cellars near the public place of cookery,
on the banks of the Thames. We are now speaking of the customs of
seven centuries since; of which the public wine-cellar, known to our
time as _the Shades_, adjoining old London Bridge, was unquestionably
a relic.

The earliest dealers in wines were of two descriptions: the
_vintners_, or importers; and the _taverners_, who kept taverns for
them, and sold the wine by retail to such as came to the tavern to
drink it, or fetched it to their own homes.

In a document of the reign of Edward II., we find mentioned a
tenement called Pin Tavern, situated in the Vintry, where the Bordeaux
merchants _craned_ their wines out of lighters, and other vessels on
the Thames; and here was the famous old tavern with the sign of the
_Three Cranes_. Chaucer makes the apprentice of this period loving
better the tavern than the shop:--

     "A prentis whilom dwelt in our citee,--
     At ev'ry bridale would he sing and hoppe;
     He loved bet' the _tavern_ than the shoppe,
     For when ther any riding was in Chepe,
     Out of the shoppe thider would he lepe;
     And til that he had all the sight ysein
     And dancid wil, he wold not com agen."

Thus, the idle City apprentice was a great tavern haunter, which was
forbidden in his indenture; and to this day, the apprentice's
indenture enacts that he shall not "haunt taverns."

In a play of 1608, the apprentices of old Hobson, a rich citizen, in
1560, frequent the _Rose and Crown_, in the Poultry, and the _Dagger_,
in Cheapside.

     "_Enter Hobson, Two Prentices, and a Boy._

     "1 PREN. Prithee, fellow Goodman, set forth the ware, and
     looke to the shop a little. I'll but drink a cup of wine
     with a customer, at the Rose and Crown in the Poultry, and
     come again presently.

     "2 PREN. I must needs step to the _Dagger in Cheape_, to
     send a letter into the country unto my father. Stay, boy,
     you are the youngest prentice; look you to the shop."

In the reign of Richard II., it was ordained by statute that "the
wines of Gascoine, of Osey, and of Spain," as well as Rhenish wines,
should not be sold above sixpence the gallon; and the taverners of
this period frequently became very rich, and filled the highest civic
offices, as sheriffs and mayors. The fraternity of vintners and
taverners, anciently the Merchant Wine Tonners of Gascoyne, became the
Craft of Vintners, incorporated by Henry VI. as the Vintners' Company.

The curious old ballad of London Lyckpenny, written in the reign of
Henry V., by Lydgate, a monk of Bury, confirms the statement of the
prices in the reign of Richard II. He comes to Cornhill, when the
wine-drawer of the Pope's Head tavern, standing without the
street-door, it being the custom of drawers thus to waylay passengers,
takes the man by the hand, and says,--"Will you drink a pint of wine?"
whereunto the countryman answers, "A penny spend I may," and so drank
his wine. "For bread nothing did he pay"--for that was given in. This
is Stow's account: the ballad makes the taverner, not the drawer,
invite the countryman; and the latter, instead of getting bread for
nothing, complains of having to go away hungry:--

     "The taverner took me by the sleeve,
       'Sir,' saith he, 'will you our wine assay?'
     I answered, 'That cannot much me grieve,
       A penny can do no more than it may;'
       I drank a pint, and for it did pay;
     Yet, sore a-hungered from thence I yede,
     And, wanting money, I could not speed," etc.

There was no eating at taverns at this time, beyond a crust to relish
the wine; and he who wished to dine before he drank, had to go to the

The furnishing of the Boar's Head, in Eastcheap, with sack, in Henry
IV., is an anachronism of Shakspeare's; for the vintners kept neither
sacks, muscadels, malmseys, bastards, alicants, nor any other wines
but white and claret, until 1543. All the other sweet wines before
that time, were sold at the apothecaries' shops for no other use but
for medicine.

Taking it as the picture of a tavern a century later, we see the
alterations which had taken place. The single drawer or taverner of
Lydgate's day is now changed to a troop of waiters, besides the under
skinker, or tapster. Eating was no longer confined to the cook's row,
for we find in Falstaff's bill "a capon 2_s._ 2_d._; sack, two
gallons, 5_s._ 8_d._; anchovies and sack, after supper, 2_s._ 6_d._;
bread, one halfpenny." And there were evidently _different rooms_[27]
for the guests, as Francis[28] bids a brother waiter "Look down in the
Pomgranite;" for which purpose they had windows, or loopholes,
affording a view from the upper to the lower apartments. The custom of
naming the principal rooms in taverns and hotels is usual to the
present day.

Taverns and wine-bibbing had greatly increased in the reign of Edward
VI., when it was enacted by statute that no more than 8_d._ a gallon
should be taken for any French wines, and the consumption limited in
private houses to ten gallons each person yearly; that there should
not be "any more or great number of taverns in London of such tavernes
or wine sellers by retaile, above the number of fouretye tavernes or
wyne sellers," being less than two, upon an average to each parish.
Nor did this number much increase afterwards; for in a return made to
the Vintners' Company, late in Elizabeth's reign, there were only one
hundred and sixty-eight taverns in the whole city and suburbs.

It seems to have been the fashion among old ballad-mongers, street
chroniclers, and journalists, to sing the praises of the taverns in
rough-shod verse, and that lively rhyme which, in our day, is termed
"patter." Here are a few specimens, of various periods.

In a black-letter poem of Queen Elizabeth's reign, entitled _Newes
from Bartholomew Fayre_, there is this curious enumeration:

     "There hath been great sale and utterance of Wine,
     Besides Beere, and Ale, and Ipocras fine,
     In every country, region, and nation,
     But chiefly in Billingsgate, at the _Salutation_;
     And the _Bore's Head_, near London Stone;
     The _Swan_ at Dowgate, a tavern well knowne;
     The _Miter_ in Cheape, and then the _Bull Head_;
     And many like places that make noses red;
     The _Bore's Head_ in Old Fish-street; _Three Cranes_ in the Vintry;
     And now, of late, St. Martins in the Sentree;
     The _Windmill_ in Lothbury; the _Ship_ at th' Exchange;
     _King's Head_ in New Fish-street, where roysterers do range;
     The _Mermaid_ in Cornhill; _Red Lion_ in the Strand;
     _Three Tuns_ in Newgate Market; Old Fish-street at the _Swan_."

This enumeration omits the Mourning Bush, adjoining Aldersgate,
containing divers large rooms and lodgings, and shown in Aggas's plan
of London, in 1560. There are also omitted The Pope's Head, The London
Stone, The Dagger, The Rose and Crown, etc. Several of the above
_Signs_ have been continued to our time in the very places mentioned;
but nearly all the original buildings were destroyed in the Great Fire
of 1666; and the few which escaped have been re-built, or so altered,
that their former appearance has altogether vanished.

The following list of taverns is given by Thomas Heywood, the author
of the fine old play of _A Woman killed with Kindness_. Heywood, who
wrote in 1608, is telling us what particular houses are frequented by
particular classes of people:--

     "The Gentry to the King's Head,
     The nobles to the Crown,
     The Knights unto the Golden Fleece,
     And to the Plough the Clown.
     The churchman to the Mitre,
     The shepherd to the Star,
     The gardener hies him to the Rose,
     To the Drum the man of war;
     To the Feathers, ladies you; the Globe
     The seaman doth not scorn;
     The usurer to the Devil, and
     The townsman to the Horn.
     The huntsman to the White Hart,
     To the Ship the merchants go,
     But you who do the Muses love,
     The sign called River Po.
     The banquerout to the World's End,
     The fool to the Fortune Pie,
     Unto the Mouth the oyster-wife,
     The fiddler to the Pie.
     The punk unto the Cockatrice,
     The Drunkard to the Vine,
     The beggar to the Bush, then meet,
     And with Duke Humphrey dine."

In the _British Apollo_ of 1710, is the following doggrel:--

     "I'm amused at the signs,
       As I pass through the town,
     To see the odd mixture--
       A Magpie and Crown,
     The Whale and the Crow,
       The Razor and the Hen,
     The Leg and Seven Stars,
     The Axe and the Bottle,
       The Tun and the Lute,
     The Eagle and Child,
       The Shovel and Boot."

In _Look about You_, 1600, we read that "the drawers kept sugar folded
up in paper, ready for those who called for _sack_;" and we further
find in another old tract, that the custom existed of bringing two
cups of _silver_ in case the wine should be wanted diluted; and this
was done by rose-water and sugar, generally about a pennyworth. A
sharper in the _Bellman of London_, described as having decoyed a
countryman to a tavern, "calls for two pintes of sundry wines, the
drawer setting the wine with _two cups_, as the custome is, the
sharper tastes of one pinte, no matter which, and finds fault with the
wine, saying, ''tis too hard, but rose-water and sugar would send it
downe merrily'--and for that purpose takes up one of the cups, telling
the stranger he is well acquainted with the boy at the barre, and can
have two-pennyworth of rose-water for a penny of him; and so steps
from his seate: the stranger suspects no harme, because the fawne
guest leaves his cloake at the end of the table behind him,--but the
other takes good care not to return, and it is then found that he
hath stolen ground, and out-leaped the stranger more feet than he can
recover in haste, for the cup is leaped with him, for which the
wood-cock, that is taken in the springe, must pay fifty shillings, or
three pounds, and hath nothing but an old threadbare cloake not worth
two groats to make amends for his losses."

Bishop Earle, who wrote in the first half of the seventeenth century,
has left this "character" of a tavern of his time. "A tavern is a
degree, or (if you will) a pair of stairs above an alehouse, where men
are drunk with more credit and apology. If the vintner's nose be at
the door, it is a sign sufficient, but the absence of this is supplied
by the ivy-bush. It is a broacher of more news than hogsheads, and
more jests than news, which are sucked up here by some spungy brain,
and from thence squeezed into a comedy. Men come here to make merry,
but indeed make a noise, and this music above is answered with a
clinking below. The drawers are the civilest people in it, men of good
bringing up, and howsoever we esteem them, none can boast more justly
of their high calling. 'Tis the best theatre of natures, where they
are truly acted, not played, and the business as in the rest of the
world up and down, to wit, from the bottom of the cellar to the great
chamber. A melancholy man would find here matter to work upon, to see
heads, as brittle as glasses, and often broken; men come hither to
quarrel, and come here to be made friends; and if Plutarch will lend
me his simile, it is even Telephus's sword that makes wounds, and
cures them. It is the common consumption of the afternoon, and the
murderer or the maker away of a rainy day. It is the torrid zone that
scorches the face, and tobacco the gunpowder that blows it up. Much
harm would be done if the charitable vintner had not water ready for
the flames. A house of sin you may call it, but not a house of
darkness, for the candles are never out; and it is like those
countries far in the north, where it is as clear at midnight as at
mid-day. After a long sitting it becomes like a street in a dashing
shower, where the spouts are flushing above, and the conduits running
below, etc. To give you the total reckoning of it, it is the busy
man's recreation, the idle man's business, the melancholy man's
sanctuary, the stranger's welcome, the inns-of-court man's
entertainment, the scholar's kindness, and the citizen's courtesy. It
is the study of sparkling wits, and a cup of comedy their book, whence
we leave them."

The conjunction of vintner and victualler had now become common, and
would require other accommodation than those mentioned by the Bishop,
as is shown in Massinger's _New Way to pay Old Debts_, where Justice
Greedy makes Tapwell's keeping no victuals in his house as an excuse
for pulling down his sign:

     "Thou never hadst in thy house to stay men's stomachs,
     A piece of Suffolk cheese, or gammon of bacon,
     Or any esculent as the learned call it,
     For their emolument, but _sheer drink only_.
     For which gross fault I here do damn thy licence,
     Forbidding thee henceforth to tap or draw;
     For instantly I will in mine own person,
     Command the constable to pull down thy sign,
     And do't before I eat."

And the decayed vinter, who afterwards applies to Wellborn for payment
of his tavern score, answers, on his inquiring who he is:

     "A decay'd vintner, Sir;
     That might have thriv'd, but that your worship broke me
     With trusting you with muscadine and eggs,
     And _five-pound suppers_, with your after-drinkings,
     When you lodged upon the Bankside."

Dekker tells us, near this time, of regular ordinaries of three kinds:
1st. An ordinary of the longest reckoning, whither most of your
courtly gallants do resort: 2nd. A twelvepenny ordinary, frequented by
the justice of the peace, a young Knight; and a threepenny ordinary,
to which your London usurer, your stale bachelor, and your thrifty
attorney, doth resort. Then Dekker tells us of a custom, especially in
the City, to send presents of wine from one room to another, as a
complimentary mark of friendship. "Inquire," directs he, "what
gallants sup in the next room; and if they be of your acquaintance, do
not, after the City fashion, send them in a pottle of wine and your
name." Then, we read of Master Brook sending to the Castle Inn at
Windsor, a morning draught of sack.

Ned Ward, in the _London Spy_, 1709, describes several famous taverns,
and among them the Rose, anciently, the Rose and Crown, as famous for
good wine. "There was no parting," he says, "without a glass; so we
went into the Rose Tavern in the Poultry, where the wine, according to
its merit, had justly gained a reputation; and there, in a snug room,
warmed with brash and faggot, over a quart of good claret, we laughed
over our night's adventure."

"From hence, pursuant to my friend's inclination, we adjourned to the
sign of the Angel, in Fenchurch-street, where the vintner, like a
double-dealing citizen, condescended as well to draw carmen's comfort
as the consolatory juice of the vine.

"Having at the King's Head well freighted the hold of our vessels with
excellent food and delicious wine, at a small expense, we scribbled
the following lines with chalk upon the wall." (See page 98.)

The tapster was a male vendor, not "a woman who had the care of the
tap," as Tyrwhitt states. In the 17th century ballad, _The Times_,

     "The bar-boyes and the tapsters
       Leave drawing of their beere,
     And running forth in haste they cry,
       'See, where Mull'd Sack comes here!'"

The ancient drawers and tapsters were now superseded by the barmaid,
and a number of waiters: Ward describes the barmaid as "all ribbon,
lace, and feathers, and making such a noise with her bell and her
tongue together, that had half-a-dozen paper-mills been at work within
three yards of her, they'd have signified no more to her clamorous
voice than so many lutes to a drum, which alarmed two or three nimble
fellows aloft, who shot themselves downstairs with as much celerity as
a mountebank's mercury upon a rope from the top of a church-steeple,
every one charged with a mouthful of coming, coming, coming." The
barmaid (generally the vintner's daughter) is described as "bred at
the dancing-school, becoming a bar well, stepping a minuet finely,
playing sweetly on the virginals, 'John come kiss me now, now, now,'
and as proud as she was handsome."

Tom Brown sketches a flirting barmaid of the same time, "as a fine
lady that stood pulling a rope, and screaming like a peacock against
rainy weather, pinned up by herself in a little pew, all people bowing
to her as they passed by, as if she was a goddess set up to be
worshipped, armed with the chalk and sponge, (which are the principal
badges that belong to that honourable station you beheld her in,) was
the _barmaid_."

Of the nimbleness of the waiters, Ward says in another place--"That
the chief use he saw in the Monument was, for the improvement of
vintners' boys and drawers, who came every week to exercise their
supporters, and learn the tavern trip, by running up to the balcony
and down again."

Owen Swan, at the Black Swan tavern, Bartholomew Lane, is thus
apostrophized by Tom Brown for the goodness of his wine:--

     "Thee, _Owen_, since the God of wine has made
     Thee steward of the gay carousing trade,
     Whose art decaying nature still supplies,
     Warms the faint pulse, and sparkles in our eyes.
     Be bountiful like him, bring t'other _flask_,
     Were the stairs wider we would have the _cask_.
     This pow'r we from the God of wine derive,
     Draw such as this, and I'll pronounce thou'lt live."


This celebrated tavern, situated in Southwark, on the west side of the
foot of London Bridge, opposite the end of St. Olave's or
Tooley-street, was a house of considerable antiquity. We read in the
accounts of the Steward of Sir John Howard, March 6th, 1463-4 (Edward
IV.), "Item, payd for red wyn at the Bere in Southwerke, iij_d._"
Garrard, in a letter to Lord Strafford, dated 1633 intimates that
"all back-doors to taverns on the Thames are commanded to be shut up,
only the Bear at Bridge Foot is exempted, by reason of the passage to
Greenwich," which Mr. Burn suspects to have been "the avenue or way
called Bear Alley."

The Cavaliers' Ballad on the funeral pageant of Admiral Deane, killed
June 2nd, 1653, while passing by water to Henry the Seventh's Chapel,
Westminster, has the following allusion:--

     "From Greenwich towards the Bear at Bridge foot,
     He was wafted with wind that had water to't,
     But I think they brought the devil to boot,
                             Which nobody can deny."

Pepys was told by a waterman, going through the bridge, 24th Feb.
1666-7, that the mistress of the Beare Tavern, at the Bridge foot,
"did lately fling herself into the Thames, and drown herself."

The Bear must have been a characterless house, for among its
gallantries was the following, told by Wycherley to Major Pack, "just
for the oddness of the thing." It was this: "There was a house at the
Bridge Foot where persons of better condition used to resort for
pleasure and privacy. The liquor the ladies and their lovers used to
drink at these meetings was canary; and among other compliments the
gentlemen paid their mistresses, this it seems was always one, to take
hold of the bottom of their smocks, and pouring the wine through that
filter, feast their imaginations with the thought of what gave the
zesto, and so drink a health to the toast."

The Bear Tavern was taken down in December, 1761, when the labourers
found gold and silver coins, of the time of Elizabeth, to a
considerable value. The wall that enclosed the tavern was not cleared
away until 1764, when the ground was cleared and levelled quite up to
Pepper Alley stairs. There is a Token of the Bear Tavern, in the
Beaufoy cabinet, which, with other rare Southwark tokens, was found
under the floors in taking down St. Olave's Grammar School in 1839.


The celebrated Mermaid, in Bread-street, with the history of "the
Mermaid Club," has been described in Vol. I. pp. 8-10; its interest
centres in this famous company of Wits.

There was another Mermaid, in Cheapside, next to Paul's Gate, and
still another in Cornhill. Of the latter we find in Burn's Beaufoy
Catalogue, that the vintner, buried in St. Peter's, Cornhill, in 1606,
"gave forty shillings yearly to the parson for preaching four sermons
every year, so long as the lease of the Mermaid, in Cornhill, (the
tavern so called,) should endure. He also gave to the poor of the said
parish thirteen penny loaves every Sunday, during the aforesaid
lease." There are tokens of both these taverns in the Beaufoy


This celebrated Shakspearean tavern was situated in Great Eastcheap,
and is first mentioned in the time of Richard II.; the scene of the
revels of Falstaff and Henry V., when Prince of Wales, in
Shakspeare's Henry IV., Part 2. Stow relates a riot in "the cooks'
dwellings" here on St. John's eve, 1410, by Princes John and Thomas.
The tavern was destroyed in the Great Fire of 1666, but was rebuilt in
two years, as attested by a boar's head cut in stone, with the
initials of the landlord, I. T., and the date 1668, above the
first-floor window. This sign-stone is now in the Guildhall library.
The house stood between Small-alley and St. Michael's-lane, and in the
rear looked upon St. Michael's churchyard, where was buried a
_drawer_, or waiter, at the tavern, d. 1720: in the church was
interred John Rhodoway, "Vintner at the Bore's Head," 1623.

Maitland, in 1739, mentions the Boar's Head, as "the chief tavern in
London" under the sign. Goldsmith (_Essays_), Boswell (_Life of Dr.
Johnson_), and Washington Irving (_Sketch-book_), have idealized the
house as the identical place which Falstaff frequented, forgetting its
destruction in the Great Fire. The site of the Boar's Head is very
nearly that of the statue of King William IV.

In 1834, Mr. Kempe, F.S.A., exhibited to the Society of Antiquaries a
carved oak figure of Sir John Falstaff, in the costume of the 16th
century; it had supported an ornamental bracket over one side of the
door of the Boar's Head, a figure of Prince Henry sustaining that on
the other. The Falstaff was the property of one Shelton, a brazier,
whose ancestors had lived in the shop he then occupied in Great
Eastcheap, since the Great Fire. He well remembered the last
Shakspearean grand dinner-party at the Boar's Head, about 1784: at an
earlier party, Mr. Wilberforce was present. A boar's head, with tusks,
which had been suspended in a room of the tavern, perhaps the
Half-Moon or Pomegranate, (see Henry IV. act ii. sc. 4,) at the Great
Fire, fell down with the ruins of the house, and was conveyed to
Whitechapel Mount, where, many years after, it was recovered, and
identified with its former locality. At a public house, No. 12,
Miles-lane, was long preserved a tobacco-box, with a painting of the
original Boar's Head Tavern on the lid.[29]

In High-street, Southwark, in the rear of Nos. 25 and 26, was formerly
the _Boar's Head Inn_, part of Sir John Falstolf's benefaction to
Magdalen College, Oxford. Sir John was one of the bravest generals in
the French wars, under the fourth, fifth, and sixth Henries; but he is
not the Falstaff of Shakspeare. In the _Reliquiæ Hearnianæ_, edited by
Dr. Bliss, is the following entry relative to this bequest:--

     "1721. June 2.--The reason why they cannot give so good an
     account of the benefaction of Sir John Fastolf to Magd.
     Coll. is, because he gave it to the founder, and left it to
     his management, so that 'tis suppos'd 'twas swallow'd up in
     his own estate that he settled it upon the college. However,
     the college knows this, that the _Boar's Head_ in Southwark,
     which was then an inn, and still retains the name, tho'
     divided into several tenements (which bring the college
     about 150_l._ per ann.), was part of Sir John's gift."

The above property was for many years sublet to the family of the
author of the present Work, at the rent of 150_l._ per annum; the
cellar, finely vaulted, and excellent for wine, extended beneath the
entire court, consisting of two rows of tenements, and two end houses,
with galleries, the entrance being from the High-street. The premises
were taken down for the New London Bridge approaches. There was also
a noted Boar's Head in Old Fish-street.

Can he forget who has read Goldsmith's nineteenth Essay, his reverie
at the Boar's Head?--when, having confabulated with the landlord till
long after "the watchman had gone twelve," and suffused in the potency
of his wine a mutation in his ideas, of the person of the host into
that of Dame Quickly, mistress of the tavern in the days of Sir John,
is promptly effected, and the liquor they were drinking seemed shortly
converted into sack and sugar. Mrs. Quickly's recital of the history
of herself and Doll Tearsheet, whose frailties in the flesh caused
their being both sent to the house of correction, charged with having
allowed the famed Boar's Head to become a low brothel; her speedy
departure to the world of Spirits; and Falstaff's impertinences as
affecting Madame Proserpine; are followed by an enumeration of persons
who had held tenancy of the house since her time. The last hostess of
note was, according to Goldsmith's account, Jane Rouse, who, having
unfortunately quarrelled with one of her neighbours, a woman of high
repute in the parish for sanctity, but as jealous as Chaucer's Wife of
Bath, was by her accused of witchcraft, taken from her own bar,
condemned, and executed accordingly!--These were times, indeed, when
women could not scold in safety. These and other prudential
apophthegms on the part of Dame Quickly, seem to have dissolved
Goldsmith's stupor of ideality; on his awaking, the landlord is really
the landlord, and not the hostess of a former day, when "Falstaff was
in fact an agreeable old fellow, forgetting age, and showing the way
to be young at sixty-five. Age, care, wisdom, reflection, begone! I
give you to the winds. Let's have t'other bottle. Here's to the
memory of Shakspeare, Falstaff, and all the merry men of


[27] This negatives a belief common in our day that a Covent Garden
tavern was the first divided into rooms for guests.

[28] A successor of Francis, a waiter at the Boar's Head, in the last
century, had a tablet with an inscription in St. Michael's
Crooked-lane churchyard, just at the back of the tavern; setting forth
that he died, "drawer at the Boar's Head Tavern, in Great Eastcheap,"
and was noted for his honesty and sobriety; in that--

     "Tho' nurs'd among full hogsheads he defied
     The charms of wine, as well as others' pride."

He also practised the singular virtue of drawing good wine and of
taking care to "fill his pots," as appears by the closing lines of the

     "Ye that on Bacchus have a like dependance,
     Pray copy Bob in measure and attendance.'"

[29] _Curiosities of London_, p. 265.

[30] _Burn's Catalogue of the Beaufoy Tokens._


This was one of Ben Jonson's taverns, and has already been
incidentally mentioned. Strype describes it as situate in "New
Queen-street, commonly called the Three Cranes in the Vintry, a good
open street, especially that part next Cheapside, which is best built
and inhabited. At the lowest end of the street, next the Thames, is a
pair of stairs, the usual place for the Lord Mayor and Aldermen to
take water at, to go to Westminster Hall, for the new Lord Mayor to be
sworn before the Barons of the Exchequer. This place, with the Three
Cranes, is now of some account for the costermongers, where they have
their warehouse for their fruit." In Scott's _Kenilworth_ we hear much
of this Tavern.


This tavern, situated in Cannon-street, near the Stone, is stated, but
not correctly, to have been the oldest in London. Here was formed a
society, afterwards the famous Robin Hood, of which the history was
published in 1716, where it is stated to have originated in a meeting
of the editor's grandfather with the great Sir Hugh Myddelton, of New
River memory. King Charles II. was introduced to the society,
disguised, by Sir Hugh, and the King liked it so well, that he came
thrice afterwards. "He had," continues the narrative, "a piece of
black silk over his left cheek, which almost covered it; and his
eyebrows, which were quite black, he had, by some artifice or other,
converted to a light brown, or rather flaxen colour; and had otherwise
disguised himself so effectually in his apparel and his looks, that
nobody knew him but Sir Hugh, by whom he was introduced." This is very
circumstantial, but is very doubtful; since Sir Hugh Myddelton died
when Charles was in his tenth year.


Mr. Akerman describes a Token of the Robin Hood Tavern:--"IOHN
THOMLINSON AT THE. An archer fitting an arrow to his bow; a small
figure behind, holding an arrow.--Rx. IN CHISWELL STREET, 1667. In
the centre, HIS HALFE PENNY, and I. S. T." Mr. Akerman continues:

"It is easy to perceive what is intended by the representation on the
obverse of this token. Though 'Little John,' we are told, stood
upwards of six good English feet without his shoes, he is here
depicted to suit the popular humour--a dwarf in size, compared with
his friend and leader, the bold outlaw. The proximity of
Chiswell-street to Finsbury-fields may have led to the adoption of the
sign, which was doubtless at a time when archery was considered an
elegant as well as an indispensable accomplishment of an English
gentleman. It is far from obsolete now, as several low public-houses
and beer-shops in the vicinity of London testify. One of them
exhibits Robin Hood and his companion dressed in the most approved
style of 'Astley's,' and underneath the group is the following
irresistible invitation to slake your thirst:--

     "Ye archers bold and yeomen good,
     Stop and drink with Robin Hood:
     If Robin Hood is not at home,
     Stop and drink with little John.

"Our London readers could doubtless supply the variorum copies of this
elegant distich, which, as this is an age for 'Family Shakspeares,'
modernized Chaucers, and new versions of 'Robin Hood's Garland,' we
recommend to the notice of the next editor of the ballads in praise of
the Sherwood freebooter."


After the destruction of the White Bear Tavern, in the Great Fire of
1666, the proximity of the site for all purposes of business, induced
M. Pontack, the son of the President of Bordeaux, owner of a famous
claret district, to establish a tavern, with all the novelties of
French cookery, with his father's head as a sign, whence it was
popularly called "Pontack's Head." The dinners were from four or five
shillings a head "to a guinea, or what sum you pleased."

Swift frequented the tavern, and writes to Stella:--"Pontack told us,
although his wine was so good, he sold it cheaper than others; he took
but seven shillings a flask. Are not these pretty rates?" In the
_Hind and Panther Transversed_, we read of drawers:--

     "Sure these honest fellows have no knack
     Of putting off stum'd claret for Pontack."

The Fellows of the Royal Society dined at Pontack's until 1746, when
they removed to the Devil Tavern. There is a Token of the White Bear
in the Beaufoy collection; and Mr. Burn tells us, from _Metamorphoses
of the Town_, a rare tract, 1731, of Pontack's "guinea ordinary,"
"ragout of fatted snails," and "chickens not two hours from the
shell." In January, 1735, Mrs. Susannah Austin, who lately kept
Pontack's, and had acquired a considerable fortune, was married to
William Pepys, banker, in Lombard-street.


This noted tavern, which gave name to Pope's Head Alley, leading from
Cornhill to Lombard-street, is mentioned as early as the 4th Edward
IV. (1464) in the account of a wager between an Alicant goldsmith and
an English goldsmith; the Alicant stranger contending in the tavern
that "Englishmen were not so cunning in workmanship of goldsmithry as
Alicant strangers;" when work was produced by both, and the Englishman
gained the wager. The tavern was left in 1615, by Sir William Craven
to the Merchant Tailors' Company. Pepys refers to "the fine painted
room" here in 1668-9. In the tavern, April 14, 1718, Quin, the actor,
killed in self-defence, his fellow-comedian, Bowen, a clever but
hot-headed Irishman, who was jealous of Quin's reputation: in a moment
of great anger, he sent for Quin to the tavern, and as soon as he had
entered the room, Bowen placed his back against the door, drew his
sword, and bade Quin draw his. Quin, having mildly remonstrated to no
purpose, drew in his own defence, and endeavoured to disarm his
antagonist. Bowen received a wound, of which he died in three days,
having acknowledged his folly and madness, when the loss of blood had
reduced him to reason. Quin was tried and acquitted. (_Cunningham,
abridged._) The Pope's Head Tavern was in existence in 1756.


Was more than five hundred years ago a house for public entertainment:
for, in 1323, 16 Edw. II., Rose Wrytell bequeathed "the tenement of
olde tyme called the Swanne on the Hope in Thames-street," in the
parish of St. Mary-at-hill, to maintain a priest at the altar of St.
Edmund, King and Martyr, "for her soul, and the souls of her husband,
her father, and mother:" and the purposes of her bequest were
established; for, in the parish book, in 1499, is entered a
disbursement of fourpence, "for a cresset to Rose Wrytell's chantry."
Eleanor Cobham, Duchess of Gloucester, in 1440, in her public penance
for witchcraft and treason, landed at Old Swan, bearing a large taper,
her feet bare, etc.

Stow, in 1598, mentions the Old Swan as a great brew-house. Taylor,
the Water-poet, advertised the professor and author of the Barmoodo
and Vtopian tongues, dwelling "at the Old Swanne, neare London Bridge,
who will teach them at are willing to learne, with agility and

In the scurrilous Cavalier ballad of Admiral Deane's Funeral, by
water, from Greenwich to Westminster, in June, 1653, it is said:--

     "The Old Swan, as he passed by,
     Said she would sing him a dirge, lye down and die:
     Wilt thou sing to a bit of a body? quoth I,
                           Which nobody can deny."

The Old Swan Tavern and its landing-stairs were destroyed in the Great
Fire; but rebuilt. Its Token, in the Beaufoy Collection, is one of the
rarest, of large size.


This noted house, which faced the north gate of the old Royal
Exchange, was long celebrated for the excellence of its soups, which
were served at an economical price, in silver. One of its proprietors
was, it is believed, John Ellis, an eccentric character, and a writer
of some reputation, who died in 1791. Eight stanzas addressed to him
in praise of the tavern, commenced thus:--

     "When to Ellis I write, I in verse must indite,
       Come Phoebus, and give me a knock,
     For on Fryday at eight, all behind 'the 'Change gate,'
       Master Ellis will be at 'The Cock.'"

After comparing it to other houses, the Pope's Head, the King's Arms,
the Black Swan, and the Fountain, and declaring the Cock the best, it

     "'Tis time to be gone, for the 'Change has struck one:
       O 'tis an impertinent clock!
     For with Ellis I'd stay from December to May;
       I'll stick to my Friend, and 'The Cock!'"

This house was taken down in 1841; when, in a claim for compensation
made by the proprietor, the trade in three years was proved to have
been 344,720 basins of various soups--viz. 166,240 mock turtle, 3,920
giblet, 59,360 ox-tail, 31,072 bouilli, 84,128 gravy and other soups:
sometimes 500 basins of soup were sold in a day.


Upon the site of the present chief entrance to the Bank of England, in
Threadneedle-street, stood the Crown Tavern, "behind the 'Change:" it
was frequented by the Fellows of the Royal Society, when they met at
Gresham College hard by. The Crown was burnt in the Great Fire, but
was rebuilt; and about a century since, at this tavern, "it was not
unusual to draw a butt of mountain wine, containing 120 gallons, in
gills, in a morning."--_Sir John Hawkins._

Behind the Change, we read in the _Connoisseur_, 1754, a man worth a
plum used to order a twopenny mess of broth with a boiled chop in it;
placing the chop between the two crusts of a half-penny roll, he would
wrap it up in his check handkerchief, and carry it away for the
morrow's dinner.


This Tavern, which stood at the western extremity of the Stocks'
Market, was not first known by the sign of the King's Head, but the
Rose: Machin, in his Diary, Jan. 5, 1560, thus mentions it: "A
gentleman arrested for debt; Master Cobham, with divers gentlemen and
serving-men, took him from the officers, and carried him to the Rose
Tavern, where so great a fray, both the sheriffs were feign to come,
and from the Rose Tavern took all the gentlemen and their servants,
and carried them to the Compter."

The house was distinguished by the device of a large, well-painted
Rose, erected over a doorway, which was the only indication in the
main street of such an establishment. In the superior houses of the
metropolis in the sixteenth century, room was gained in the rear of
the street-line, the space in front being economized, so that the line
of shops might not be interrupted. Upon this plan, the larger taverns
in the City were constructed, wherever the ground was sufficiently
spacious behind: hence it was that the Poultry tavern of which we are
speaking, was approached through a long, narrow, covered passage,
opening into a well-lighted quadrangle, around which were the
tavern-rooms. The sign of the Rose appears to have been a costly work,
since there was the fragment of a leaf of an old account-book
preserved, when the ruins of the house were cleared after the Great
Fire, on which were written these entries:--"Pd. to Hoggestreete, the
Duche Paynter, for ye Picture of a Rose, with a Standing-bowle and
Glasses, for a Signe, xx_li._ besides Diners and Drinkings. Also for a
large Table of Walnut-tree, for a Frame; and for Iron-worke and
Hanging the Picture, v_li._" The artist who is referred to in this
memorandum, could be no other than Samuel Van Hoogstraten, a painter
of the middle of the seventeenth century, whose works in England are
very rare. He was one of the many excellent artists of the period,
who, as Walpole contemptuously says, "painted still-life, oranges and
lemons, plate, damask curtains, cloth-of-gold, and that medley of
familiar objects that strike the ignorant vulgar."

But, beside the claims of the painter, the sign of the Rose cost the
worthy tavern-keeper, a still further outlay, in the form of divers
treatings and advances made to a certain rather loose man of letters
of his acquaintance, possessed of more wit than money, and of more
convivial loyalty than either discretion or principle. Master Roger
Blythe frequently patronized the Rose Tavern as his favourite
ordinary. Like Falstaff, he was "an infinite thing" upon his host's
score; and, like his prototype also, there was no probability of his
ever discharging the account. When the Tavern-sign was about to be
erected, this Master Blythe contributed the poetry to it, after the
fashion of the time, which he swore was the envy of all the Rose
Taverns in London, and of all the poets who frequented them. "There's
your Rose at Temple Bar, and your Rose in Covent-garden, and the Rose
in Southwark: all of them indifferent good for wits, and for drawing
neat wines too; but, smite me, Master King," he would say, "if I know
one of them all fit to be set in the same hemisphere with yours! No!
for a bountiful host, a most sweet mistress, unsophisticated wines,
honest measures, a choicely-painted sign, and a witty verse to set it
forth withal,--commend me to the Rose Tavern in the Poultry!"

Even the tavern-door exhibited a joyous frontispiece; since the
entrance was flanked by two columns twisted with vines carved in wood,
which supported a small square gallery over the portico surrounded by
handsome iron-work. On the front of this gallery was erected the sign,
in a frame of similar ornaments. It consisted of a central compartment
containing the Rose, behind which appeared a tall silver cup, called
in the language of the time "a standing-bowl," with drinking-glasses.
Beneath the painting was this inscription:--

     "THIS IS
     KEPT BY

     "This Taverne's like its Signe--a lustie Rose,
     A sight of joy that sweetness doth enclose:
     The daintie Flow're well-pictur'd here is seene,
     But for its rarest sweetes--Come, Searche Within!"

The authorities of St. Peter-upon-Cornhill soon determined, on the
10th of May, 1660, in Vestry, "that the King's Arms, in painted-glass,
should be refreshed, and forthwith be set up by the Churchwarden at
the parish-charges; with whatsoever he giveth to the glazier as a
gratuity, for his care in keeping of them all this while."

The host of the Rose resolved at once to add a Crown to his sign, with
the portrait of Charles, wearing it in the centre of the flower, and
openly to name his tavern "The Royal Rose and King's Head." He
effected his design, partly by the aid of one of the many excellent
pencils which the time supplied, and partly by the inventive muse of
Master Blythe, which soon furnished him with a new poesy. There is not
any further information extant concerning the painting, but the
following remains of an entry on another torn fragment of the old
account-book already mentioned, seem to refer to the poetical
inscription beneath the picture:-- ... "_on ye Night when he made ye
Verses for my new Signe, a Soper, and v. Peeces_." The verses
themselves were as follow:--

     "Gallants, Rejoice!--This Flow're is now full-blowne;
     'Tis a Rose--Noble better'd by a Crowne;
     All you who love the Embleme and the Signe,
     Enter, and prove our Loyaltie and Wine."

Beside this inscription, Master King also recorded the auspicious
event referred to, by causing his painter to introduce into the
picture a broad-sheet, as if lying on the table with the cup and
glasses--on which appeared the title "_A Kalendar for this Happy Yeare
of Restauration 1660, now newly Imprinted_."

As the time advanced when Charles was to make his entry into the
metropolis, the streets were resounding with the voices of
ballad-singers pouring forth loyal songs, and declaring, with the
whole strength of their lungs, that

     "The King shall enjoy his own again."

Then, there were also to be heard, the ceaseless horns and
proclamations of hawkers and flying-stationers, publishing the latest
passages or rumours touching the royal progress; which, whether
genuine or not, were bought and read, and circulated, by all parties.
At length all the previous pamphlets and broad-sheets were swallowed
up by a well-known tract, still extant, which the newsmen of the time
thus proclaimed:--"Here is _A True Accompt and Narrative--of his
Majestie's safe Arrival in England--as 'twas reported to the House of
Commons, on Friday, the 25th day of this present May--with the
Resolutions of both Houses thereupon:--Also a Letter very lately writ
from Dover--relating divers remarkable Passages of His Majestie's
Reception there_."

On every side the signs and iron-work were either refreshed, or newly
gilt and painted: tapestries and rich hangings, which had engendered
moth and decay from long disuse, were flung abroad again, that they
might be ready to grace the coming pageant. The paving of the streets
was levelled and repaired for the expected cavalcade; and scaffolds
for spectators were in the course of erection throughout all the line
of march. Floods of all sorts of wines were consumed, as well in the
streets as in the taverns; and endless healths were devotedly and
energetically swallowed, at morning, noon, and night.

At this time Mistress Rebecca King was about to add another member to
Master King's household: she received from hour to hour accounts of
the proceedings as they occurred, which so stimulated her curiosity,
that she declared, first to her gossips, and then to her husband, that
she "must see the King pass the tavern, or matters might go cross with

A kind of arbour was made for Mistress Rebecca in the small iron
gallery surmounting the entrance to the tavern. This arbour was of
green boughs and flowers, hung round with tapestry and garnished with
silver plate; and here, when the guns at the Tower announced that
Charles had entered London, Mistress King took her seat, with her
children and gossips around her. All the houses in the main streets
from London-bridge to Whitehall, were decorated like the tavern with
rich silks and tapestries, hung from every scaffold, balcony, and
window; which, as Herrick says, turned the town into a park, "made
green and trimmed with boughs." The road through London, so far as
Temple-Bar, was lined on the north side by the City Companies, dressed
in their liveries, and ranged in their respective stands, with their
banners; and on the south by the soldiers of the trained-bands.

One of the wine conduits stood on the south side of the Stocks'
Market, over which Sir Robert Viner subsequently erected a triumphal
statue of Charles II. About this spot, therefore, the crowd collected
in the Market-place, aided by the fierce loyalty supplied from the
conduit, appears for a time to have brought the procession to a full
stop, at the moment when Charles, who rode between his brothers the
Dukes of York and Gloucester, was nearly opposite to the newly-named
King's Head Tavern. In this most favourable interval, Master Blythe,
who stood upon a scaffold in the doorway, took the opportunity of
elevating a silver cup of wine and shouting out a health to his
Majesty. His energetical action, as he pointed upwards to the gallery,
was not lost; and the Duke of Buckingham, who rode immediately before
the King with General Monk, directed Charles's attention to Mistress
Rebecca, saying, "Your Majesty's return is here welcomed even by a
subject as yet unborn." As the procession passed by the door of the
King's Head Tavern, the King turned towards it, raised himself in his
stirrups, and gracefully kissed his hand to Mistress Rebecca.
Immediately such a shout was raised from all who beheld it or heard of
it, as startled the crowd up to Cheapside conduit; and threw the poor
woman herself into such an ecstasy, that she was not conscious of
anything more, until she was safe in her chamber and all danger
happily over.[31]

The Tavern was rebuilt after the Great Fire, and flourished many
years. It was long a depôt in the metropolis for turtle; and in the
quadrangle of the Tavern might be seen scores of turtle, large and
lively, in huge tanks of water; or laid upward on the stone floor,
ready for their destination. The Tavern was also noted for large
dinners of the City Companies and other public bodies. The house was
refitted in 1852, but has since been closed.

Another noted Poultry Tavern was the Three Cranes, destroyed in the
Great Fire, but rebuilt, and noticed in 1698, in one of the many paper
controversies of that day. A fulminating pamphlet, entitled "_Ecclesia
et Factio_: a Dialogue between Bow Church Steeple and the Exchange
Grasshopper," elicited "An Answer to the Dragon and Grasshopper: in a
Dialogue between an Old Monkey and a Young Weasel, at the Three Cranes
Tavern, in the Poultry."


[31] Abridged from an Account of the Tavern, by an Antiquary.


Was a noted old Tavern. Pepys, in his _Diary_, Sept. 18, 1660, records
his going "to the Mitre Tavern, in Wood-street, (a house of the
greatest note in London,) where I met W. Symons, D. Scoball, and
their wives. Here some of us fell to handicap, a sport I never knew
before, which was very good." The tavern was destroyed in the Great


No. 17, Newgate-street (north side), was, according to the tradition
of the house, the tavern where Sir Christopher Wren used to smoke his
pipe, whilst St. Paul's was re-building. There is more positive
evidence of its being a place well frequented by men of letters at the
above period. Thus, there exists a poetical invitation to a social
feast held here on June 19, 1735-6, issued by the two stewards, Edward
Cave and William Bowyer:

     "Saturday, Jan. 17, 1735-6.


                       "You're desir'd on Monday next to meet
                       At Salutation Tavern, Newgate-street.
                       Supper will be on table just at eight,
     [_Stewards_] One of St. John's [Bowyer], 'tother of St. John's
                       Gate [Cave]."

This brought a poetical answer from Samuel Richardson, the novelist,
printed _in extenso_ in Bowyer's _Anecdotes_:

     "For me, I'm much concerned I cannot meet
     'At Salutation Tavern, Newgate-street.'
     Your notice, like your verse, so sweet and short!
     If longer, I'd sincerely thank you for it.
     Howe'er, receive my wishes, sons of verse!
     May every man who meets, your praise rehearse!
     May mirth, as plenty, crown your cheerful board,
     And ev'ry one part happy--as a lord!
     That when at home, (by such sweet verses fir'd)
     Your families may think you all inspir'd.
     So wishes he, who pre-engag'd, can't know
     The pleasures that would from your meeting flow."

The proper sign is the Salutation and Cat,--a curious combination, but
one which is explained by a lithograph, which some years ago hung in
the coffee-room. An aged dandy is saluting a friend whom he has met in
the street, and offering him a pinch out of the snuff-box which forms
the top of his wood-like cane. This box-nob was, it appears, called a
"cat"--hence the connection of terms apparently so foreign to each
other. Some, not aware of this explanation, have accounted for the
sign by supposing that a tavern called "the Cat" was at some time
pulled down, and its trade carried to the Salutation, which
thenceforward joined the sign to its own; but this is improbable,
seeing that we have never heard of _any_ tavern called "the Cat"
(although we _do_ know of "the Barking Dogs") as a sign. Neither does
the _Salutation_ take its name from any scriptural or sacred source,
as the _Angel and Trumpets_, etc.

More positive evidence there is to show of the "little smoky room at
the _Salutation and Cat_," where Coleridge and Charles Lamb sat
smoking Oronoko and drinking egg-hot; the first discoursing of his
idol, Bowles, and the other rejoicing mildly in Cowper and Burns, or
both dreaming of "Pantisocracy, and golden days to come on earth."


The sign Salutation, from scriptural or sacred source, remains to be
explained. Mr. Akerman suspects the original sign to have really
represented the Salutation of the Virgin by the Angel--"Ave Maria,
gratia plena"--a well-known legend on the jettons of the Middle Ages.
The change of representation was properly accommodated to the times.
The taverns at that period were the "gossiping shops" of the
neighbourhood; and both Puritan and Churchman frequented them for the
sake of hearing the news. The Puritans loved the good things of this
world, and relished a cup of Canary, or Noll's nose lied, holding the

     "Though the devil trepan
     The Adamical man,
       The saint stands uninfected."

Hence, perhaps, the Salutation of the Virgin was exchanged for the
"booin' and scrapin'" scene (two men bowing and greeting), represented
on a token which still exists, the tavern was celebrated in the days
of Queen Elizabeth. In some old black-letter doggrel, entitled _News
from Bartholemew Fayre_ it is mentioned for wine:--

     "There hath been great sale and utterance of wine,
     Besides beere, and ale, and Ipocras fine;
     In every country, region, and nation,
     But chiefly in Billingsgate, _at the Salutation_."

_The Flower-pot_ was originally part of a symbol of the Annunciation
to the Virgin.


Garrick appears to have kept up his interest in the City by means of
clubs, to which he paid periodical visits. We have already mentioned
the Club of young merchants, at Tom's Coffee-house, in Cornhill.
Another Club was held at the Queen's Arms Tavern, in St. Paul's
Churchyard, where used to assemble: Mr. Samuel Sharpe, the surgeon;
Mr. Paterson, the City solicitor; Mr. Draper, the bookseller; Mr.
Clutterbuck, the mercer; and a few others.

Sir John Hawkins tells us that "they were none of them drinkers, and
in order to make a reckoning, called only for French wine." These were
Garrick's standing council in theatrical affairs.

At the Queen's Arms, after a thirty years' interval, Johnson renewed
his intimacy with some of the members of his old Ivy-lane Club.

Brasbridge, the old silversmith of Fleet-street, was a member of the
Sixpenny Card-Club held at the Queen's Arms: among the members was
Henry Baldwyn, who, under the auspices of Bonnel Thornton, Colman the
elder, and Garrick, set up the _St. James's Chronicle_, which once had
the largest circulation of any evening paper. This worthy
newspaper-proprietor was considerate and generous to men of genius:
"Often," says Brasbridge, "at his hospitable board I have seen needy
authors, and others connected with his employment, whose abilities,
ill-requited as they might have been by the world in general, were by
him always appreciated." Among Brasbridge's acquaintance, also, were
John Walker, shopman to a grocer and chandler in Well-street, Ragfair,
who died worth 200,000_l._, most assuredly not gained by lending money
on doubtful security; and Ben Kenton, brought up at a charity-school,
and who realized 300,000_l._, partly at the Magpie and Crown, in


This noted tavern, established in the reign of Queen Anne, has for its
sign, the cook Dolly, who is stated to have been painted by
Gainsborough. It is still a well-appointed chop-house and tavern, and
the coffee-room, with its projecting fireplaces, has an olden air.
Nearly on the site of Dolly's, Tarlton, Queen Elizabeth's favourite
stage-clown, kept an ordinary, with the sign of the Castle. The house,
of which a token exists, was destroyed in the Great Fire, but was
rebuilt; there the "Castle Society of Music" gave their performances.
Part of the old premises were subsequently the Oxford Bible Warehouse,
destroyed by fire in 1822, and rebuilt.

The entrance to the Chop-house is in Queen's Head passage; and at
Dolly's is a window-pane painted with the head of Queen Anne, which
may explain the name of the court.

At Dolly's and Horsman's beef-steaks were eaten with gill-ale.


Two early houses of entertainment in Aldersgate were the Taborer's Inn
and the Crown. Of the former, stated to have been of the time of
Edward II., we know nothing but the name. The Crown, more recent,
stood at the End of Duck-lane, and is described in Ward's _London
Spy_, as containing a noble room, painted by Fuller, with the Muses,
the Judgment of Paris, the Contention of Ajax and Ulysses, etc. "We
were conducted by the jolly master," says Ward, "a true kinsman of the
bacchanalian family, into a large stately room, where at the first
entrance, I discerned the master-strokes of the famed Fuller's pencil;
the whole room painted by that commanding hand, that his dead figures
appeared with such lively majesty that they begat reverence in the
spectators towards the awful shadows. We accordingly bade the
complaisant waiter oblige us with a quart of his richest claret, such
as was fit only to be drank in the presence of such heroes, into whose
company he had done us the honour to introduce us. He thereupon gave
directions to his drawer, who returned with a quart of such inspiring
juice, that we thought ourselves translated into one of the houses of
the heavens, and were there drinking immortal nectar with the gods and

     "Who could such blessings when thus found resign?
     An honest vintner faithful to the vine;
     A spacious room, good paintings, and good wine."

Far more celebrated was the Mourning Bush Tavern, in the cellars of
which have been traced the massive foundations of Aldersgate, and the
portion of the City Wall which adjoins them. This tavern, one of the
largest and most ancient in London, has a curious history.

The Bush Tavern, its original name, took for its sign the _Ivy-bush_
hung up at the door. It is believed to have been the house referred to
by Stowe, as follows:--"This gate (Aldersgate) hath been at sundry
times increased with building; namely, on the south or _inner side_, a
great frame of timber, (or house of wood lathed and plastered,) hath
been added and set up containing divers large rooms and lodgings,"
which were an enlargement of the Bush. Fosbroke mentions the Bush as
the chief sign of taverns in the Middle Ages, (it being ready to
hand,) and so it continued until superseded by "a thing to resemble
one containing three or four tiers of hoops fastened one above another
with vine leaves and grapes, richly carved and gilt." He adds: "the
owner of the Mourning Bush, Aldersgate, was so affected at the
decollation of Charles I., that he _painted his bush black_." From
this period the house is scarcely mentioned until the year 1719, when
we find its name changed to the Fountain, whether from political
feeling against the then exiled House of Stuart, or the whim of the
proprietor, we cannot learn; though it is thought to have reference to
a spring on the east side of the gate. Tom Brown mentions the Fountain
satirically, with four or five topping taverns of the day, whose
landlords are charged with doctoring their wines, but whose trade was
so great that they stood fair for the alderman's gown. And, in a
letter from an old vintner in the City to one newly set up in Covent
Garden, we find the following in the way of advice: "as all the world
are wholly supported by hard and unintelligible names, you must take
care to christen your wines by some hard name, the further fetched so
much the better, and this policy will serve to recommend the most
execrable scum in your cellar. I could name several of our brethren to
you, who now stand fair to sit in the seat of justice, and sleep in
their golden chain at churches, that had been forced to knock off long
ago, if it had not been for this artifice. It saved the Sun from being
eclipsed; the Crown from being abdicated; the Rose from decaying; and
the Fountain from being dry; as well as both the Devils from being
confined to utter darkness."

Twenty years later, in a large plan of Aldersgate Ward, 1739-40, we
find the Fountain changed to the original Bush. The Fire of London had
evidently, at this time, curtailed the ancient extent of the tavern.
The exterior is shown in a print of the south side of Aldersgate; it
has the character of the larger houses, built after the Great Fire,
and immediately adjoins the gate. The last notice of the Bush, as a
place of entertainment, occurs in Maitland's _History of London_, ed.
1722, where it is described as "the Fountain, commonly called the
Mourning Bush, which has a back door into St. Anne's-lane, and is
situated near unto Aldersgate." The house was refitted in 1830. In the
basement are the original wine-vaults of the old Bush; many of the
walls are six feet thick, and bonded throughout with Roman brick. A
very agreeable account of the tavern and the antiquities of
neighbourhood was published in 1830.


In Phoenix Alley, (now Hanover Court,) Long Acre, John Taylor, the
Water Poet, kept a tavern, with the sign of "the Mourning Crown," but
this being offensive to the Commonwealth (1652), he substituted for a
sign his own head with this inscription--

     "There's many a head stands for a sign;
     Then, gentle reader, why not mine?"

He died here in the following year; and his widow in 1658.


These houses took their name from the Knights of St. John of
Jerusalem, around whose Priory, grew up the village of Clerkenwell.
The Priory Gate remains. At the Suppression, the Priory was
undermined, and blown up with gunpowder; the Gate also would probably
have been destroyed, but for its serving to define the property. In
1604, it was granted to Sir Roger Wilbraham for his life. At this time
Clerkenwell was inhabited by people of condition. Forty years later,
fashion had travelled westward; and the Gate became the
printing-office of Edward Cave, who, in 1731, published here the first
number of the _Gentleman's Magazine_, which to this day bears the Gate
for its vignette. Dr. Johnson was first engaged upon the magazine
here by Cave in 1737. At the Gate Johnson first met Richard Savage;
and here in Cave's room, when visitors called, he ate his plate of
victuals behind the screen, his dress being "so shabby that he durst
not make his appearance." Garrick, when first he came to London,
frequently called upon Johnson at the Gate. Goldsmith was also a
visitor here. When Cave grew rich, he had St. John's Gate painted,
instead of his arms, on his carriage, and engraven on his plate. After
Cave's death in 1753, the premises became the "Jerusalem"
public-house, and the "Jerusalem Tavern."

There was likewise another Jerusalem Tavern, at the corner of Red
Lion-street on Clerkenwell-green, which was the original; St. John's
Gate public-house, having assumed the name of "Jerusalem Tavern" in
consequence of the old house on the Green giving up the tavern
business, and becoming the "merchants' house." In its dank and
cobwebbed vaults John Britton served an apprenticeship to a
wine-merchant; and in reading at intervals by candle-light, first
evinced that love of literature which characterized his long life of
industry and integrity. He remembered Clerkenwell in 1787, with St.
John's Priory-church and cloisters; when Spafields were pasturage for
cows; the old garden-mansions of the aristocracy remained in
Clerkenwell-close; and Sadler's Wells, Islington Spa, Merlin's Cave,
and Bagnigge Wells, were nightly crowded with gay company.

In a friendly note, Sept. 11, 1852, Mr. Britton tells us: "Our house
sold wines in _full_ quarts, _i.e._ twelve held three gallons, wine
measure; and each bottle was marked with four lines cut by a diamond
on the neck. Our wines were famed, and the character of the house was
high, whence the Gate imitated the bottles and name."

In 1845, by the aid of "the Freemasons of the Church," and Mr. W. P.
Griffith, architect, the north and south fronts were restored. The
gateway is a good specimen of groining of the 15th century, with
moulded ribs, and bosses ornamented with shields of the arms of the
Priory, Prior Docwra, etc. The east basement is the tavern-bar, with a
beautifully moulded ceiling. The stairs are Elizabethan. The principal
room over the arch has been despoiled of its window-mullions and
groined roof. The foundation-wall of the Gate face is 10 feet 7 inches
thick, and the upper walls are nearly 4 feet, hard red brick,
stone-cased: the view from the top of the staircase-turret is
extensive. In excavating there have been discovered the original
pavement, three feet below the Gate; and the Priory walls, north,
south, and west. In 1851, there was published, by B. Foster,
proprietor of the Tavern, _Ye History of ye Priory and Gate of St.
John_. In the principal room of the Gate, over the great arch, meet
the Urban Club, a society, chiefly of authors and artists, with whom
originated the proposition to celebrate the tercentenary of the birth
of Shakespeare, in 1864.


About forty years since there stood at a short distance north of St.
Botolph's Church, a large old _hostelrie_, according to the date it
bore (1480), towards the close of the reign of Edward IV. Stow, in
1598, describes it as "a fair inn for receipt of travellers, next unto
the Parish Church of St. Botolph without Bishopsgate." It preserved
much of its original appearance, the main front consisting of three
bays of two storeys, which, with the interspaces, had throughout
casements; and above which was an overhanging storey or attic, and the
roof rising in three points. Still, this was not the original front,
which was altered in 1787: upon the old inn yard was built White Hart
Court. In 1829, the Tavern was taken down, and rebuilt, in handsome
modern style; when the entrance into Old Bedlam, and formerly called
Bedlam Gate, was widened, and the street re-named Liverpool-street. A
lithograph of the old Tavern was published in 1829.

Somewhat lower down, is the residence of Sir Paul Pindar, now
wine-vaults, with the sign of Paul Pindar's Head, corner of
Half-moon-alley, No. 160, Bishopsgate-street Without. Sir Paul was a
wealthy merchant, contemporary with Sir Thomas Gresham. The house was
built towards the end of the 16th century, with a wood-framed front
and caryatid brackets; and the principal windows bayed, their lower
fronts enriched with panels of carved work. In the first-floor front
room is a fine original ceiling in stucco, in which are the arms of
Sir Paul Pindar. In the rear of these premises, within a garden, was
formerly a lodge, of corresponding date, decorated with four
medallions, containing figures in Italian taste. In Half-moon-alley,
was the Half-moon Brewhouse, of which there is a token in the Beaufoy


Was one of the political taverns of the Civil War, and was kept by
Daniel Rawlinson, who appears to have been a staunch royalist: his
Token is preserved in the Beaufoy collection. Dr. Richard Rawlinson,
whose Jacobite principles are sufficiently on record, in a letter to
Hearne, the nonjuring antiquary at Oxford, says of "Daniel Rawlinson,
who kept the Mitre Tavern in Fenchurch-street, and of whose being
suspected in the Rump time, I have heard much. The Whigs tell this,
that upon the King's murder, January 30th, 1649, he hung his sign in
mourning: he certainly judged right; the honour of the mitre was much
eclipsed by the loss of so good a parent to the Church of England;
these rogues [the Whigs] say, this endeared him so much to the
Churchmen, that he strove amain, and got a good estate."

Pepys, who expressed great personal fear of the Plague, in his Diary,
August 6, 1666, notices that notwithstanding Dan Rowlandson's being
all last year in the country, the sickness in a great measure past,
one of his men was then dead at the Mitre of the pestilence; his wife
and one of his maids both sick, and himself shut up, which, says
Pepys, "troubles me mightily. God preserve us!"

Rawlinson's tavern, the Mitre, appears to have been destroyed in the
Great Fire, and immediately after, rebuilt; as Horace Walpole, from
Vertue's notes, states that "Isaac Fuller was much employed to paint
the great taverns in London; particularly the Mitre, in
Fenchurch-street, where he adorned all the sides of a great room, in
panels, as was then the fashion;" "the figures being as large as life;
over the chimney, a Venus, Satyr, and sleeping Cupid; a boy riding a
goat, and another fallen down:" this was, he adds, "the best part of
the performance. Saturn devouring a child, the colouring raw, and the
figure of Saturn too muscular; Mercury, Minerva, Diana, and Apollo;
Bacchus, Venus, and Ceres, embracing; a young Silenus fallen down, and
holding a goblet into which a boy was pouring wine. The Seasons
between the windows, and on the ceiling, in a large circle, two angels
supporting a mitre."

Yet, Fuller was a wretched painter, as borne out by Elsum's _Epigram
on a Drunken Sot_:--

     "His head does on his shoulder lean,
     His eyes are sunk, and hardly seen:
     Who sees this sot in his own colour
     Is apt to say, 'twas done by Fuller."

     _Burn's Beaufoy Catalogue._


No. 53 is a place of historic interest; for, the Princess Elizabeth,
having attended service at the church of Allhallows Staining, in
Langbourn Ward, on her release from the Tower, on the 19th of May,
1554, dined off pork and peas afterwards, at the King's Head in
Fenchurch Street, where the metal dish and cover she is said to have
used are still preserved. The Tavern has been of late years enlarged
and embellished, in taste accordant with its historical association;
the ancient character of the building being preserved in the
smoking-room, 60 feet in length, upon the walls of which are displayed
corslets, shields, helmets, and knightly arms.


In the year 1826 was taken down the old Elephant Tavern, which was
built before the Great Fire, and narrowly escaped its ravages. It
stood on the north side of Fenchurch-street, and was originally the
Elephant and Castle. Previous to the demolition of the premises there
were removed from the wall two pictures, which Hogarth is said to have
painted while a lodger there. About this time, a parochial
entertainment which had hitherto been given at the Elephant, was
removed to the King's Head (Henry VIII.) Tavern nearly opposite. At
this Hogarth was annoyed, and he went over to the King's Head, when an
altercation ensued, and he left, threatening to _stick them all up_ on
the Elephant taproom; this he is said to have done, and on the
opposite wall subsequently painted the Hudson's Bay Company's Porters
going to dinner, representing Fenchurch-street a century and a half
ago. The first picture was set down as Hogarth's first idea of his
Modern Midnight Conversation, in which he is supposed to have
represented the parochial party at the King's Head, though it differs
from Hogarth's print. There was a third picture, Harlequin and
Pierrot, and on the wall of the _Elephant_ first-floor was found a
picture of Harlow Bush Fair, coated over with paint.

Only two of the pictures were claimed as Hogarth's. The _Elephant_ has
been engraved; and at the foot of the print, the information as to
Hogarth having executed these paintings is rested upon the evidence of
Mrs. Hibbert, who kept the house between thirty and forty years, and
received her information from persons at that time well acquainted
with Hogarth. Still, his biographers do not record his abode in
Fenchurch-street. The Tavern has been rebuilt.


Another of the Cornhill taverns, the African, or Cole's Coffee-house,
is memorable as the last place at which Professor Porson appeared. He
had, in some measure, recovered from the effects of the fit in which
he had fallen on the 19th of September, 1808, when he was brought in a
hackney-coach to the London Institution, in the Old Jewry. Next
morning he had a long discussion with Dr. Adam Clarke, who took leave
of him at its close; and this was the last conversation Porson was
ever capable of holding on any subject.

Porson is thought to have fancied himself under restraint, and to
convince himself of the contrary, next morning, the 20th, he walked
out, and soon after went to the African, in St. Michael's Alley, which
was one of his City resorts. On entering the coffee-room, he was so
exhausted that he must have fallen, had he not caught hold of the
curtain-rod of one of the boxes, when he was recognized by Mr. J. P.
Leigh, a gentleman with whom he had frequently dined at the house. A
chair was given him; he sat down, and stared around, with a vacant and
ghastly countenance, and he evidently did not recollect Mr. Leigh. He
took a little wine, which revived him, but previously to this his head
lay upon his breast, and he was continually muttering something, but
in so low and indistinct a tone as scarcely to be audible. He then
took a little jelly dissolved in warm brandy-and-water, which
considerably roused him. Still he could make no answer to questions
addressed to him, except these words, which he repeated, probably,
twenty times:--"The gentleman said it was a lucrative piece of
business, and _I_ think so too,"--but in a very low tone. A coach was
now brought to take him to the London Institution, and he was helped
in, and accompanied by the waiter; he appeared quite senseless all the
way, and did not utter a word; and in reply to the question where they
should stop, he put his head out of the window, and waved his hand
when they came opposite the door of the Institution. Upon this Dr.
Clarke touchingly observes: "How quick the transition from the highest
degree of intellect to the lowest apprehensions of sense! On what a
precarious tenure does frail humanity hold even its choicest and most
necessary gifts."

Porson expired on the night of Sunday, September 20, with a deep
groan, exactly as the clock struck twelve, in the forty-ninth year of
his age.


There are two taverns with this name,--in St. Leonard's-road, and
Whitechapel-road. The history of the sign is curious. Many years ago
the latter house had a written sign, "The Grave Morris," but this has
been amended.

But the original was the famous Prince of Orange, Grave Maurice, of
whom we read in Howel's _Familiar Letters_. In Junius's
_Etymologicon_, Grave is explained to be Comes, or Count, as Palsgrave
is Palatine Count; of which we have an instance in Palsgrave Count, or
Elector Palatine, who married Princess Elizabeth, daughter of James I.
Their issue were the Palsgrave Charles Louis, the Grave Count or
Prince Palatine Rupert, and the Grave Count or Prince Maurice, who
alike distinguished themselves in the Civil Wars.

The two princes, Rupert and Maurice, for their loyalty and courage,
were after the Restoration, very popular; which induced the author of
the _Tavern Anecdotes_ to conjecture: "As we have an idea that the
Mount at Whitechapel was raised to overawe the City, Maurice, before
he proceeded to the west, might have the command of the work on the
east side of the metropolis, and a temporary residence on the spot
where his sign was so lately exhibited." At the close of the troubles
of the reign, the two princes retired. In 1652, they were endeavouring
to annoy the enemies of Charles II. in the West Indies; when the Grave
Maurice lost his life in a hurricane.

The sign of the Grave Maurice remained against the house in the
Whitechapel-road till the year 1806, when it was taken down to be
repainted. It represented a soldier in a hat and feather, and blue
uniform. The tradition of the neighbourhood is, that it is the
portrait of a prince of Hesse, who was a great warrior, but of so
inflexible a countenance, that he was never seen to smile in his life;
and that he was, therefore, most properly termed _Grave_.


It is curious to find that a century and a half since, science found a
home in Spitalfields, chiefly among the middle and working classes;
they met at small taverns in that locality. It appears that a
Mathematical Society, which also cultivated electricity, was
established in 1717, and met at the Monmouth's Head in Monmouth-street,
until 1725, when they removed to the White Horse Tavern, in
Wheeler-street; from thence, in 1735, to Ben Jonson's Head in
Pelham-street; and next to Crispin-street, Spitalfields. The members
were chiefly tradesmen and artisans; among those of higher rank were
Canton, Dollond, Thomas Simpson, and Crossley. The Society lent their
instruments (air-pumps, reflecting telescopes, reflecting microscopes,
electrical machines, surveying-instruments, etc.) with books for the
use of them, on the borrowers giving a note of hand for the value
thereof. The number of members was not to exceed the square of seven,
except such as were abroad or in the country; but this was increased
to the squares of eight and nine. The members met on Saturday
evenings: each present was to employ himself in some mathematical
exercise, or forfeit one penny; and if he refused to answer a question
asked by another in mathematics, he was to forfeit twopence. The
Society long cherished a taste for exact science among the residents
in the neighbourhood of Spitalfields, and accumulated a library of
nearly 3000 volumes; but in 1845, when on the point of dissolution,
the few remaining members made over their books, records, and
memorials to the Royal Astronomical Society, of which these members
were elected Fellows.[32] This amalgamation was chiefly negotiated by
Captain, afterwards Admiral Smyth.


[32] Curiosities of London, p. 678.


In the last century, when public amusements were comparatively few,
and citizens dwelt in town, the Globe in Fleet-street was noted for
its little clubs and card-parties. Here was held, for a time, the
Robin Hood Club, a Wednesday Club, and later, Oliver Goldsmith and his
friends often finished their Shoemaker's Holiday by supping at the
Globe. Among the company was a surgeon, who, living on the Surrey side
of the Thames (Blackfriars Bridge was not then built), had to take a
boat every night, at 3_s._ or 4_s._ expense, and the risk of his life;
yet, when the bridge was built, he grumbled at having a penny to pay
for crossing it. Other frequenters of the Globe were Archibald
Hamilton, "with a mind fit for a lord chancellor;" Carnan, the
bookseller, who defeated the Stationers' Company upon the almanac
trial; Dunstall, the comedian; the veteran Macklin; Akerman, the
keeper of Newgate, who always thought it most prudent not to venture
home till daylight; and William Woodfall, the reporter of the
parliamentary debates. Then there was one Glover, a surgeon, who
restored to life a man who had been hung in Dublin, and who ever after
was a plague to his deliverer. Brasbridge, the silversmith of
Fleet-street, was a frequenter of the Globe. In his eightieth year he
wrote his _Fruits of Experience_, full of pleasant gossip about the
minor gaieties of St. Bride's. He was more fond of following the
hounds than his business, and failure was the ill consequence: he
tells of a sporting party of four--that he and his partner became
bankrupt; the third, Mr. Smith, became Lord Mayor; and the fourth fell
into poverty, and was glad to accept the situation of patrol before
the house of his Lordship, whose associate he had been only a few
years before. Smith had 100,000_l._ of bad debts on his books, yet
died worth one-fourth of that sum. We remember the Globe, a
handsomely-appointed tavern, some forty years since; but it has long
ceased to be a tavern.


This celebrated Tavern is described in the present work, Vol. I., pp.
10-15, as the meeting-place of the Apollo Club. Its later history is

Mull Sack, _alias_ John Cottington, the noted highwayman of the time
of the Commonwealth, is stated to have been a constant visitor at the
Devil Tavern. In the garb and character of a man of fashion, he
appears to have levied contributions on the public as a pick-pocket
and highwayman, to a greater extent than perhaps any other individual
of his fraternity on record. He not only had the honour of picking the
pocket of Oliver Cromwell, when Lord Protector, but he afterwards
robbed King Charles II., then living in exile at Cologne, of plate
valued at £1500. Another of his feats was his robbing the wife of the
Lord General Fairfax. "This lady," we are told, "used to go to a
lecture on a weekday, to Ludgate Church, where one Mr. Jacomb
preached, being much followed by the precisians. Mull Sack, observing
this,--and that she constantly wore her watch hanging by a chain from
her waist,--against the next time she came there, dressed himself like
an officer in the army; and having his comrades attending him like
troopers, one of them takes out the pin of a coach-wheel that was
going upwards through the gate, by which means, it falling off, the
passage was obstructed; so that the lady could not alight at the
church-door, but was forced to leave her coach without. Mull Sack,
taking advantage of this, readily presented himself to her ladyship;
and having the impudence to take her from her gentleman usher, who
attended her alighting, led her by the arm into the church; and by the
way, with a pair of keen or sharp scissors for the purpose, cut the
chain in two, and got the watch clear away: she not missing it till
sermon was done, when she was going to see the time of the day." At
the Devil Tavern Mull Sack could mix with the best society, whom he
probably occasionally relieved of their watches and purses. There is
extant a very rare print of him, in which he is represented partly in
the garb of a chimney-sweep, his original avocation, and partly in the
fashionable costume of the period.[33]

In the Apollo chamber, at the Devil Tavern, were rehearsed, with
music, the Court-day Odes of the Poets Laureate: hence Pope, in the

     "Back to the Devil the loud echoes roll,
     And 'Coll!' each butcher roars at Hockley Hole."

The following epigram on the Odes rehearsals is by a wit of those

     "When Laureates make Odes, do you ask of what sort?
       Do you ask if they're good, or are evil?
     You may judge--From the Devil they come to the Court,
       And go from the Court to the Devil."

St. Dunstan's, or the Devil Tavern, is mentioned as a house of old
repute, in the interlude, _Jacke Jugeler_, 1563, where Jack, having
persuaded his cousin Jenkin,

             "As foolish a knave withall,
     As any is now, within London wall,"

that he was not himself, thrusts him from his master's door, and in
answer to Jenkin's sorrowful question--where his master and he were to
dwell, replies,

     "At the Devyll yf you lust, I can not tell!"

Ben Jonson being one night at the Devil Tavern, a country gentleman in
the company was obtrusively loquacious touching his land and
tenements; Ben, out of patience, exclaimed, "What signifies to us your
dirt and your clods? Where you have an acre of land I have ten acres
of wit!" "Have you so," retorted the countryman, "good Mr. Wise-acre?"
"Why, how now, Ben?" said one of the party, "you seem to be quite
stung!" "I was never so pricked by a hobnail before," grumbled Ben.

There is a ludicrous reference to this old place in a song describing
the visit of James I. to St. Paul's Cathedral on Sunday, 26th of
March, 1620:

     "The Maior layd downe his mace, and cry'd,
             'God save your Grace,
         And keepe our King from all evill!'
     With all my hart I then wist, the good mace had been in my fist,
     To ha' pawn'd it for supper at the _Devill_!"

We have already given the famous Apollo "Welcome," but not immortal
Ben's Rules, which have been thus happily translated by Alexander
Brome, one of the wits who frequented the Devil, and who left _Poems
and Songs_, 1661: he was an attorney in the Lord Mayor's Court:

"_Ben Jonson's Sociable Rules for the Apollo._

     "Let none but guests, or clubbers, hither come.
     Let dunces, fools, sad sordid men keep home.
     Let learned, civil, merry men, b' invited,
     And modest too; nor be choice ladies slighted.
     Let nothing in the treat offend the guests;
     More for delight than cost, prepare the feast.
     The cook and purvey'r must our palates know;
     And none contend who shall sit high or low.
     Our waiters must quick-sighted be, and dumb,
     And let the drawers quickly hear and come.
     Let not our wine be mix'd, but brisk and neat,
     Or else the drinkers may the vintners beat.
     And let our only emulation be,
     Not drinking much, but talking wittily.
     Let it be voted lawful to stir up
     Each other with a moderate chirping cup;
     Let not our company be, or talk too much;
     On serious things, or sacred, let's not touch
     With sated heads and bellies. Neither may
     Fiddlers unask'd obtrude themselves to play.
     With laughing, leaping, dancing, jests, and songs,
     And whate'er else to grateful mirth belongs,
     Let's celebrate our feasts; and let us see
     That all our jests without reflection be.
     Insipid poems let no man rehearse,
     Nor any be compelled to write a verse.
     All noise of vain disputes must be forborne,
     And let no lover in a corner mourn.
     To fight and brawl, like hectors, let none dare,
     Glasses or windows break, or hangings tear.
     Whoe'er shall publish what's here done or said
     From our society must be banishèd;
     Let none by drinking do or suffer harm,
     And, while we stay, let us be always warm."

We must now say something of the noted hosts. Simon Wadlow appears for
the last time, as a licensed vintner, in the Wardmote return, of
December, 1626; and the burial register of St. Dunstan's records:
"March 30th, 1627, Symon Wadlowe, vintner, was buried out of
Fleet-street." On St. Thomas's Day, in the last-named year, the name
of "the widow Wadlowe" appears; and in the following year, 1628, of
the eight licensed victuallers, five were widows. The widow Wadlowe's
name is returned for the last time by the Wardmote on December 21st,

The name of John Wadlow, apparently the son of old Simon, appears
first as a licensed victualler, in the Wardmote return, December 21,
1646. He issued his token, showing on its obverse St. Dunstan holding
the devil by his nose, his lower half being that of a satyr, the devil
on the signboard was as usual, _sable_; the origin of the practice
being thus satisfactorily explained by Dr. Jortin: "The devils used
often to appear to the monks in the figure of Ethiopian boys or men;
thence probably the painters learned to make the devil black."
Hogarth, in his print of the Burning of the Rumps, represents the
hanging of the effigy against the sign-board of the Devil Tavern.

In a ludicrous and boasting ballad of 1650, we read:

     "Not the Vintry Cranes, nor St. Clement's Danes,
           Nor the Devill can put us down-a."

John Wadlow's name occurs for the last time in the Wardmote return of
December, 1660. After the Great Fire, he rebuilt the Sun Tavern,
behind the Royal Exchange: he was a loyal man, and appears to have
been sufficiently wealthy to have advanced money to the Crown; his
autograph was attached to several receipts among the Exchequer
documents lately destroyed.

Hollar's Map of London, 1667, shows the site of the Devil Tavern, and
its proximity to the barrier designated Temple Bar, when the house had
become the resort of lawyers and physicians. In the rare volume of
_Cambridge Merry Jests_, printed in the reign of Charles II., the will
of a tavern-hunter has the bequeathment of "ten pounds to be drank by
lawyers and physicians at the Devil's Tavern, by Temple Bar."

_The Tatler_, October 11, 1709, contains Bickerstaff's account of the
wedding entertainment at the Devil Tavern, in honour of his sister
Jenny's marriage. He mentions "the Rules of Ben's Club in gold
letters over the chimney;" and this is the latest notice of this
celebrated ode. When, or by whom, the board was taken from "over the
chimney," Mr. Burn has failed to discover.

Swift tells Stella that Oct. 12, 1710, he dined at the Devil Tavern
with Mr. Addison and Dr. Garth, when the doctor treated.

In 1746, the Royal Society held here their Annual Dinner; and in 1752,
concerts of vocal and instrumental music were given in the great room.

A view of the exterior of the Devil Tavern, with its gable-pointed
front, engraved from a drawing by Wale, was published in Dodsley's
_London and its Environs_, 1761. The sign-iron bears its pendent
sign--the Saint painted as a half-length, and the devil behind him
grinning grimly over his shoulder. On the removal of projecting signs,
by authority, in 1764, the Devil Tavern sign was placed flat against
the front, and there remained till the demolition of the house.

Brush Collins, in March, 1775, delivered for several evenings, in the
great room, a satirical lecture on Modern Oratory. In the following
year, a Pandemonium Club was held here; and, according to a notice in
Mr. Burn's possession, "the first meeting was to be on Monday, the 4th
of November, 1776. These devils were lawyers, who were about
commencing term, to the annoyance of many a hitherto happy

From bad to worse, the Devil Tavern fell into disuse, and Messrs.
Child, the bankers, purchased the freehold in 1787, for £2800. It was
soon after demolished, and the site is now occupied by the houses
called Child's-place.

We have selected and condensed these details from Mr. Burn's
exhaustive article on the Devil Tavern, in the Beaufoy Catalogue.

There is a token of this tavern, which is very rare. The initials
stand for Simon Wadloe, embalmed in Squire Western's favourite air
"Old Sir Simon the King:"--"AT THE D. AND DVNSTANS. The representation
of the saint standing at his anvil, and pulling the nose of the 'D.'
with his pincers.--R. WITHIN TEMPLE BARRE. In the field, I. S. W."


[33] Jesse's 'London and its Celebrities.'


The notoriety of the Devil Tavern, as common in such cases, created an
opponent on the opposite side of Fleet-street, named "The Young
Devil." The Society of Antiquaries, who had previously met at the Bear
Tavern, in the Strand, changed their rendezvous Jan. 9, 1707-8, to the
Young Devil Tavern; but the host failed, and as Browne Willis tells
us, the Antiquaries, in or about 1709, "met at the Fountain Tavern, as
we went down into the Inner Temple, against Chancery Lane."

Later, a music-room, called the Apollo, was attempted, but with no
success: an advertisement for a concert, December 19, 1737, intimated
"tickets to be had at Will's Coffee-house, formerly the Apollo, in
Bell Yard, near Temple Bar." This may explain the Apollo Court, in
Fleet-street, unless it is found in the next page.


The Apollo Club, at the Devil Tavern, is kept in remembrance by Apollo
Court, in Fleet-street, nearly opposite; next door eastward of which
is an old tavern nearly as well known. It is, perhaps, the most
primitive place of its kind in the metropolis: it still possesses a
fragment of decoration of the time of James I., and the writer
remembers the tavern half a century ago, with considerably more of its
original panelling. It is just two centuries since (1665), when the
Plague was raging, the landlord shut up his house, and retired into
the country; and there is preserved one of the farthings referred to
in this advertisement:--"This is to certify that the master of the
Cock and Bottle, commonly called the Cock Alehouse, at Temple Bar,
hath dismissed his servants, and shut up his house, for this long
vacation, intending (God willing) to return at Michaelmas next; so
that all persons whatsoever who may have any accounts with the said
master, or _farthings belonging to the said house_, are desired to
repair thither before the 8th of this instant, and they shall receive
satisfaction." Three years later, we find Pepys frequenting this
tavern: "23rd April, 1668. Thence by water to the Temple, and there to
the Cock Alehouse, and drank, and eat a lobster, and sang, and
mightily merry. So almost night, I carried Mrs. Pierce home, and then
Knipp and I to the Temple again, and took boat, it being now night."
The tavern has a gilt signbird over the passage door, stated to have
been carved by Gibbons. Over the mantelpiece is some carving, at
least of the time of James I.; but we remember the entire room
similarly carved, and a huge black-and-gilt clock, and settle. The
head-waiter of our time lives in the verse of Laureate Tennyson--"O
plump head-waiter of the Cock!" apostrophizes the "Will Water-proof"
of the bard, in a reverie wherein he conceives William to have
undergone a transition similar to that of Jove's cup-bearer:--

     "And hence (says he) this halo lives about
       The waiter's hands, that reach
     To each his perfect pint of stout,
       His proper chop to each.
     He looks not with the common breed,
       That with the napkin dally;
     I think he came, like Ganymede,
       From some delightful valley."

And of the redoubtable bird, who is supposed to have performed the
eagle's part in this abduction, he says:--

     "The Cock was of a larger egg
       Than modern poultry drop,
     Stept forward on a firmer leg,
       And cramm'd a plumper crop."


Hercules Pillars Alley, on the south side of Fleet-street, near St.
Dunstan's Church, is described by Strype as "altogether inhabited by
such as keep Publick Houses for entertainment, for which it is of

The token of the Hercules Pillars is thus described by Mr.
Akerman:--"ED. OLDHAM AT Y HERCVLES. A crowned male figure standing
erect, and grasping a pillar with each hand.--Rx. PILLERS IN FLEET
STREET. In the field, HIS HALF PENNY, E. P. O." "From this example,"
illustratively observes Mr. Akerman, "it would seem that the locality,
called Hercules Pillars Alley, like other places in London, took its
name from the tavern. The mode of representing the pillars of Hercules
is somewhat novel; and, but for the inscription, we should have
supposed the figure to represent Samson clutching the pillars of
temple of Dagon. At the trial of Stephen Colledge, for high-treason,
in 1681, an Irishman named Haynes, swore that he walked to the
Hercules Pillars with the accused, and that in a room upstairs
Colledge spoke of his treasonable designs and feeling. On another
occasion the parties walked from Richard's coffee-house[34] to this
tavern, where it was sworn they had a similar conference. Colledge, in
his defence, denies the truth of the allegation, and declares that the
walk from the coffee-house to the tavern is not more than a bow-shot,
and that during such walk the witness had all the conversation to
himself, though he had sworn that treasonable expressions had been
made use of on their way thither.

"Pepys frequented this tavern: in one part of his _Diary_ he says,
'With Mr. Creed to Hercules Pillars, where we drank.' In another, 'In
Fleet-street I met with Mr. Salisbury, who is now grown in less than
two years' time so great a limner that he is become excellent and gets
a great deal of money at it. I took him to Hercules Pillars to

Again: "After the play was done, we met with Mr. Bateller and W.
Hewer, and Talbot Pepys, and they followed us in a hackney-coach; and
we all supped at Hercules Pillars; and there I did give the best
supper I could, and pretty merry; and so home between eleven and
twelve at night." "At noon, my wife came to me at my tailor's, and I
sent her home, and myself and Tom dined at Hercules Pillars."

Another noted "Hercules Pillars" was at Hyde Park Corner, near
Hamilton-place, on the site of what is now the pavement opposite Lord
Willoughby's. "Here," says Cunningham, "Squire Western put his horses
up when in pursuit of Tom Jones; and here Field Marshal the Marquis of
Gransby was often found." And Wycherley, in his _Plain Dealer_, 1676,
makes the spendthrift, Jerry Blackacre, talk of picking up his
mortgaged silver "out of most of the ale-houses between Hercules
Pillars and the Boatswain in Wapping."

Hyde Park Corner was noted for its petty taverns, some of which
remained as late as 1805. It was to one of these taverns that Steele
took Savage to dine, and where Sir Richard dictated and Savage wrote a
pamphlet, which he went out and sold for two guineas, with which the
reckoning was paid. Steele then "returned home, having retired that
day only to avoid his creditors, and composed the pamphlet only to
discharge his reckoning."


[34] Subsequently "Dick's."


This odd sign exists in Chancery-lane, at a house on the east side,
immediately opposite the old gate of Lincoln's-Inn; "and," says Mr.
Burn, "being supported by the dependants on legal functionaries,
appears to have undergone fewer changes than the law, retaining all
the vigour of a new establishment." There is another "Hole in the
Wall" in St. Dunstan's-court, Fleet-street, much frequented by

Mr. Akerman says:--"It was a popular sign, and several taverns bore
the same designation, which probably originated in a certain tavern
being situated in some umbrageous recess in the old City walls. Many
of the most popular and most frequented taverns of the present day are
located in twilight courts and alleys, into which Phoebus peeps at
Midsummer-tide only when on the meridian. Such localities may have
been selected on more than one account: they not only afforded good
skulking 'holes' for those who loved drinking better than work; but
beer and other liquors keep better in the shade. These haunts, like
Lady Mary's farm, were--

     'In summer shady, and in winter warm.'

Rawlins, the engraver of the fine and much coveted Oxford Crown, with
a view of the city under the horse, dates a quaint supplicatory letter
to John Evelyn, 'from the Hole in the Wall, in St. Martin's;' no
misnomer, we will be sworn, in that aggregation of debt and
dissipation, when debtors were imprisoned with a very remote chance of
redemption. In the days of Rye-house and Meal-Tub plots, philanthropy
overlooked such little matters; and Small Debts Bills were not dreamt
of in the philosophy of speculative legislators. Among other places
which bore the designation of the Hole in the Wall, there was one in
Chandos-street, in which the famous Duval, the highwayman, was
apprehended after an attack on--two bottles of wine, probably drugged
by a 'friend' or mistress."


This was the true Johnsonian Mitre, so often referred to in _Boswell's
Life_; but it has earlier fame. Here, in 1640, Lilly met Old Will
Poole, the astrologer, then living in Ram-alley. The Royal Society
Club dined at the Mitre from 1743 to 1750, the Society then meeting in
Crane-court, nearly opposite. The Society of Antiquaries met some time
at the Mitre. Dr. Macmichael, in _The Gold-headed Cane_, makes Dr.
Radcliffe say:--"I never recollect to have spent a more delightful
evening than that at the Mitre Tavern, in Fleet-street, where my good
friend Billy Nutly, who was indeed the better half of me, had been
prevailed upon to accept of a small temporary assistance, and joined
our party, the Earl of Denbigh, Lords Colepeper and Stowel, and Mr.

The house has a token:--WILLIAM PAGET AT THE. A mitre.--Rx. MITRE IN
FLEET STREET. In the field, W. E. P.

Johnson's Mitre is commonly thought to be the tavern with that sign,
which still exists in Mitre-court, over against Fetter-lane; where is
shown a cast of Nollekens' bust of Johnson, in confirmation of this
house being his resort. Such was not the case; Boswell distinctly
states it to have been the Mitre Tavern _in_ _Fleet-street_; and the
records by Lilly and the Royal Society, alike specify "in
Fleet-street," which Mr. Burn, in his excellent account of the Beaufoy
Tokens, explains was the house, No. 39, Fleet-street, that Macklin
opened, in 1788, as the Poet's Gallery; and lastly, Saunders's
auction-rooms. It was taken down to enlarge the site for Messrs.
Hoares' new banking-house. The now Mitre Tavern, in Mitre-court, was
originally called Joe's Coffee-house; and on the shutting up of the
old Mitre, in Fleet-street, took its name; this being four years after
Johnson's death.

The Mitre was Dr. Johnson's favourite supper-house, the parties
including Goldsmith, Percy, Hawkesworth, and Boswell; there was
planned the tour to the Hebrides. Johnson had a strange nervous
feeling, which made him uneasy if he had not touched every post
between the Mitre and his own lodgings. Johnson took Goldsmith to the
Mitre, where Boswell and the Doctor had supped together in the
previous month, when Boswell spoke of Goldsmith's "very loose, odd,
scrambling kind of life," and Johnson defended him as one of our first
men as an author, and a very worthy man;--adding, "he has been loose
in his principles, but he is coming right." Boswell was impatient of
Goldsmith from the first hour of their acquaintance. Chamberlain
Clarke, who died in 1831, aged 92, was the last surviving of Dr.
Johnson's Mitre friends. Mr. William Scott, Lord Stowell, also
frequented the Mitre.

Boswell has this remarkable passage respecting the house:--"We had a
good supper, and port-wine, of which he (Johnson) sometimes drank a
bottle. The orthodox high-church sound of THE MITRE--the figure and
manner of the celebrated SAMUEL JOHNSON--the extraordinary power and
precision of his conversation, and the pride arising from finding
myself admitted as his companion, produced a variety of sensations,
and a pleasing elevation of mind, beyond what I had ever experienced."


This noted Tavern, the site of which is now denoted by Ship-yard, is
mentioned among the grants to Sir Christopher Hatton, 1571. There is,
in the Beaufoy Collection, a Ship token, dated 1649, which is evidence
that the inner tavern of that sign was then extant. It was also called
the Drake, from the ship painted as the sign being that in which Sir
Francis Drake voyaged round the world. Faithorne, the celebrated
engraver, kept shop, next door to the Drake. "The Ship Tavern, in the
Butcher-row, near Temple Bar," occurs in an advertisement so late as
June, 1756.

The taverns about Temple Bar were formerly numerous; and the folly of
disfiguring sign-boards was then, as at a later date, a street frolic.
"Sir John Denham, the poet, when a student at Lincoln's-Inn, in 1635,
though generally temperate as a drinker, having stayed late at a
tavern with some fellow-students, induced them to join him in 'a
frolic,' to obtain a pot of ink and a plasterer's brush, and blot out
all the signs between Temple Bar and Charing Cross. Aubrey relates
that R. Estcourt, Esq., carried the ink-pot: and that next day it
caused great confusion; but it happened Sir John and his comrades were
discovered, and it cost them some moneys."


This once celebrated Tavern, opposite the Ship, occupied the site of
Palsgrave-place, on the south side of the Strand, near Temple Bar. The
Palsgrave Frederick, afterwards King of Bohemia, was affianced to the
Princess Elizabeth (only daughter of James I.), in the old banqueting
house at Whitehall, December 27, 1612, when the sign was, doubtless,
set up in compliment to him. There is a token of the house in the
Beaufoy Collection. (See _Burn's Catalogue_, p. 225.)

Here Prior and Montague, in _The Hind and Panther Transversed_, make
the Country Mouse and the City Mouse bilk the Hackney Coachman:

     "But now at Piccadilly they arrive,
     And taking coach, t'wards Temple Bar they drive,
     But at St. Clement's eat out the back;
     And slipping through the Palsgrave, bilkt poor hack."


Near the Palsgrave's Head tavern, was Heycock's Ordinary, much
frequented by Parliament men and gallants. Andrew Marvell usually
dined here: one day, having eaten heartily of boiled beef, with some
roasted pigeons and asparagus, he drank his pint of port; and on the
coming in of the reckoning, taking a piece of money out of his
pocket, held it up, and addressing his associates, certain members of
Parliament, known to be in the pay of the Crown, said, "Gentlemen, who
would lett himself out for hire, while he can have such a dinner for


This famous tavern extended from Arundel-street eastward to
Milford-lane, in the rear of the south side of the Strand, and
occupied the site of an older house with the same sign. Strype, in
1729, described it as "the Crown Tavern; a large and curious house,
with good rooms and other conveniences fit for entertainments." Here
was instituted the Academy of Music in 1710; and here the Royal
Society Club, who had previously met at the Mitre in Fleet-street,
removed in 1780, and dined here for the first time on December 21, and
here they continued until the tavern was converted into a club-house
in 1847.

The second tavern was built in 1790. Its first landlord was Thomas
Simpkin, a very corpulent man, who, in superintending the serving of a
large dinner, leaned over a balustrade, which broke, when he fell from
a considerable height to the ground, and was killed. The sign appears
to have been originally "The Crown," to which may have been added the
Anchor, from its being the emblem of St. Clement's, opposite; or from
the Lord High Admiral having once resided on the site. The tavern
contained a ball-room, 84 feet by 35 feet 6 inches; in 1798, on the
birthday of C. J. Fox, was given in this house, a banquet to 2000
persons, when the Duke of Norfolk presided. The large room was noted
for political meetings in the stormy Tory and Radical times; and the
Crown and Anchor was long the rallying-point of the Westminster
electors. The room would hold 2500 persons: one of the latest popular
orators who spoke here was Daniel O'Connell, M.P. There was originally
an entrance to the house from the Strand, by a long passage, such as
was the usual approach to our old metropolitan taverns. The premises
were entirely destroyed by fire, in 1854, but have been rebuilt.[35]

Here Johnson and Boswell occasionally supped; and here Johnson
quarrelled with Percy about old Dr. Monsey. Thither was brought the
altar-piece (St. Cecilia), painted by Kent for St. Clement's Church,
whence it was removed, in 1725, by order of Bishop Gibson, on the
supposition that the picture contained portraits of the Pretender's
wife and children.


[35] See Whittington Club, Vol. I. p. 313.


There is a rare Token of this house, with the date, 1665. The locality
of the "Canary House in the Strande," says Mr. E. B. Price, "is now,
perhaps, impossible to trace; and it is, perhaps, as vain to attempt a
description of the wine from which it took its name, and which was so
celebrated in that and the preceding century. Some have erroneously
identified it with sack. We find it mentioned among the various
drinks which Gascoyne so virtuously inveighs against in his _Delicate
Diet for daintie mouthde Droonkardes_, published in 1576: "_We_ must
have March beere, dooble-dooble Beere, Dagger ale, Bragget, Renish
wine, White wine, French wine, Gascoyne wine, Sack, Hollocke, Canaria
wine, _Vino greco_, _Vinum amabile_, and al the wines that may be
gotten. Yea, wine of its selfe is not sufficient; but Suger, Limons,
and sundry sortes of Spices must be drowned therein." The bibbers of
this famed wine were wont to be termed "Canary birds." Of its
qualities we can perhaps form the best estimate from the colloquy
between "mine hostess of the Boar's Head and Doll Tearsheet;" in which
the former charges the latter with having "drunk too much _Canaries_;
and that's a _marvellous searching wine, and it perfumes the blood ere
one can say, What's this?_"[36]


[36] We learn from Collier's _Roxburghe Ballads_ (_Lit. Gaz._ No.
1566) that in the reign of James I. "sparkling sack" was sold at 1_s._
6_d._ per quart, and "Canary--pure French wine," at 7 pence.


Strand, now the site of Nos. 101 and 102, Ries's Divan, gave the name
to the Fountain Club, composed of political opponents of Sir Robert
Walpole. Strype describes it as "a very fine Tavern, with excellent
vaults, good rooms for entertainment, and a curious kitchen for
dressing of meat, which, with the good wine there sold, make it well
resorted to." Dennis, the Critic, describes his supping here with
Loggan, the painter, and others, and that after supper they "drank Mr.
Wycherley's health by name of Captain Wycherley."

Here, Feb. 12, 1742, was held a great meeting, at which near 300
members of both Houses of Parliament were present, to consider the
ministerial crisis, when the Duke of Argyll observed to Mr. Pulteney,
that a grain of honesty was worth a cart-load of gold. The meeting was
held too late to be of any avail, to which Sir Charles Hanbury
Williams alludes in one of his odes to Pulteney, invoking his Muse

     "Then enlarge on his cunning and wit;
       Say, how he harang'd at the Fountain;
     Say, how the old patriots were bit,
       And a mouse was produc'd by a mountain."

Upon the Tavern site was a Drawing Academy, of which Cosway and
Wheatley were pupils; here also was the lecture-room of John Thelwall,
the political elocutionist. At No. 101, Ackermann, the printseller,
illuminated his gallery with cannel coal, when gas-lighting was a

In Fountain-court, named from the Tavern, is the Coal-hole Tavern,
upon the site of a coal-yard; it was much resorted to by Edmund Kean,
and was one of the earliest night taverns for singing.


Among the four hundred letters of Steele's preserved in the British
Museum, are some written from his tavern haunts, a few weeks after
marriage, to his "Dearest being on earth:"

     "_Eight o'clock, Fountain Tavern, Oct. 22, 1707._

     "My dear,

     "I beg of you not to be uneasy; for I have done a great deal
     of business to-day very successfully, and wait an hour or
     two about my _Gazette_."

In the next, he does "not come home to dinner, being obliged to attend
to some business abroad." Then he writes from the Devil Tavern, Temple
Bar, January 3, 1707-8, as follows:--

     "I have partly succeeded in my business, and enclose two
     guineas as earnest of more. Dear Prue, I cannot come home to
     dinner; I languish for your welfare, and will never be a
     moment careless more.

     "Your faithful husband," etc.

Within a few days, he writes from a Pall Mall tavern:--

     "Dear Wife,

     "Mr. Edgecombe, Ned Ask, and Mr. Lumley, have desired me to
     sit an hour with them at the George, in Pall Mall, for which
     I desire your patience till twelve o'clock, and that you
     will go to bed," etc.

When money-matters were getting worse, Steele found it necessary to
sleep away from home for a day or two, and he writes:--

     "_Tennis-court Coffee-house, May 5, 1708._

     "Dear Wife,

     "I hope I have done this day what will be pleasing to you;
     in the meantime shall lie this night at a baker's, one Leg,
     over against the Devil Tavern, at Charing Cross. I shall be
     able to confront the fools who wish me uneasy, and shall
     have the satisfaction to see thee cheerful and at ease.

     "If the printer's boy be at home, send him hither; and let
     Mr. Todd send by the boy my night-gown, slippers, and clean
     linen. You shall hear from me early in the morning," etc.

He is found excusing his coming home, being "invited to supper at Mr.
Boyle's." "Dear Prue," he says on this occasion, "do not send after
me, for I shall be ridiculous." There were _Caudles_ in those


[37] Lives of Wits and Humourists, vol. i. p. 134.


Clare Market lying between the two great theatres, its butchers were
the arbiters of the galleries, the leaders of theatrical rows, the
musicians at actresses' marriages, the chief mourners at players'
funerals. In and around the market were the signs of the Sun; the Bull
and Butcher, afterwards Spiller's Head; the Grange; the Bull's Head,
where met "the Shepherd and his Flock Club," and where Dr. Radcliffe
was carousing when he received news of the loss of his 5000_l._
venture. Here met weekly a Club of Artists, of which society Hogarth
was a member, and he engraved for them a silver tankard with a
shepherd and his flock. Next is the Black Jack in Portsmouth-street,
the haunt of Joe Miller, the comedian, and where he uttered his
time-honoured "Jests:" the house remains, but the sign has
disappeared. Miller died in 1738, and was buried in St. Clement's
upper ground, in Portugal-street, where his gravestone was inscribed
with the following epitaph, written by Stephen Duck: "Here lie the
remains of honest Joe Miller, who was a tender husband, a sincere
friend, a facetious companion, and an excellent comedian. He departed
this life the 15th day of August, 1738, aged 54 years.

     "If humour, wit, and honesty could save
     The humorous, witty, honest, from the grave,
     This grave had not so soon its tenant found,
     With honesty, and wit, and humour crown'd.
     Or could esteem and love preserve our health,
     And guard us longer from the stroke of Death,
     The stroke of Death on him had later fell,
     Whom all mankind esteem'd and loved so well."

The stone was restored by the parish grave-digger at the close of the
last century; and in 1816, a new stone was set up by Mr. Jarvis Buck,
churchwarden, who added S. Duck to the epitaph. The burial-ground has
been cleared away, and the site has been added to the grounds of
King's College Hospital.

At the Black Jack, also called the Jump, (from Jack Sheppard having
once jumped out of a first-floor window, to escape his pursuers, the
thief-takers,) a Club known as "the Honourable Society of Jackers,"
met until 1816. The roll of the fraternity "numbers many of the
popular actors since the time of Joe Miller, and some of the wits;
from John Kemble, Palmer, and Theodore Hook down to Kean, Liston, and
the mercurial John Pritt Harley. Since the dissolution of this last
relic of the sociality of the Joe Miller age, 'wit-combats' have been
comparatively unknown at the Old Black Jack."[38]


[38] Jo. Miller; a Biography, 1848.


This modern Tavern was part of the offices of Craven House, and the
adjoining stabling belonged to the mansion; the extensive cellars
still remain, though blocked up.

Craven House was built for William Lord Craven, the hero of
Creutznach, upon part of the site of Drury House, and was a large
square pile of brick, four storeys high, which occupied the site of
the present Craven-buildings, built in 1723. That portion of the
mansion abutting on Magpie-alley, now Newcastle-street, was called
Bohemia House, and was early in the last century, converted into a
tavern, with the sign of the head of its former mistress, the Queen of
Bohemia. But a destructive fire happening in the neighbourhood, the
tavern was shut up, and the building suffered to decay; till, at
length, in 1802, what remained of the dilapidated mansion was pulled
down, and the materials sold; and upon the ground, in 1803, Philip
Astley erected his Olympic Pavilion, which was burnt down in 1849.

The Craven Head was some time kept by William Oxberry, the comedian,
who first appeared on the stage in 1807; he also edited a large
collection of dramas. Another landlord of the Craven Head was Robert
Hales, "the Norfolk Giant" (height 7 ft. 6 in.), who, after visiting
the United States, where Barnum made a speculation of the giant, and
28,000 persons flocked to see him in ten days,--in January, 1851,
returned to England, and took the Craven Head Tavern. On April 11th
Hales had the honour of being presented to the Queen and Royal Family,
when Her Majesty gave him a gold watch and chain, which he wore to the
day of his death. His health had been much impaired by the close
confinement of the caravans in which he exhibited. He died in 1863, of
consumption. Hales was cheerful and well-informed. He had visited
several Continental capitals, and had been presented to Louis
Philippe, King of the French.


This Tavern, of indecent notoriety, was situated about the middle of
the east side of Bow-street, then consisting of very good houses, well
inhabited, and resorted to by gentry for lodgings. Here Wycherley and
his first wife, the Countess of Drogheda, lodged over against the
Cock, "whither, if he at any time were with his friends, he was
obliged to leave the windows open, that the lady might see there was
no woman in the company, or she would be immediately in a downright
raving condition." (_Dennis's Letters._)

The Cock Tavern was the resort of the rakes and Mohocks of that day,
when the house was kept by a woman called "Oxford Kate." Here took
place the indecent exposure, which has been told by Johnson, in his
life of Sackville, Lord Dorset. "Sackville, who was then Lord
Buckhurst, with Sir Charles Sedley, and Sir Thomas Ogle, got drunk at
the Cock, in Bow-street, by Covent-garden, and going into the balcony,
exposed themselves to the company in very indecent postures. At last,
as they grew warmer, Sedley stood forth naked, and harangued the
populace in such profane language, that the public indignation was
awakened; the crowd attempted to force the door, and being repulsed,
drove in the performers with stones, and broke the windows of the
house. For this misdemeanour they were indicted, and Sedley was fined
five hundred pounds; what was the sentence of the others is not known.
Sedley employed Killegrew and another to procure a remission of the
King, but (mark the friendship of the dissolute!) they begged the fine
for themselves, and exacted it to the last groat."

Sir John Coventry had supped at the Cock Tavern, on the night when, in
his way home, his nose was cut to the bone, at the corner of
Suffolk-street, in the Haymarket, "for reflecting on the King, who,
therefore, determined to _set a mark_ upon him:" he was watched; when
attacked, he stood up to the wall, and snatched the flambeau out of
the servant's hands, and with that in one hand, and the sword in the
other, he defended himself, but was soon disarmed, and his nose was
cut to the bone; it was so well sewed up, that the scar was scarce to
be discerned. This attempt at assassination occasioned the Coventry
Act, 22 and 23 Car. II. c. 1, by which specific provisions were made
against the offence of maiming, cutting off, or disabling, a limb or


This Tavern, in Duke's Court, was once kept by a facetious person,
named Jupp, and is associated with a piece of humour, which may either
be matter of fact, or interpreted as a pleasant satire upon
etymological fancies. One evening, two well-known characters, Annesley
Shay and Bob Todrington (the latter caricatured by Old Dighton), met
at the Queen's Head, and at the bar asked for "half a quartern" each,
with a little cold water. They continued to drink until they had
swallowed four-and-twenty half-quarterns in water, when Shay said to
the other, "Now, we'll go." "Oh, no," replied he, "we'll have another,
and then go." This did not satisfy the Hibernians, and they continued
drinking on till three in the morning, when they both agreed to go; so
that under the idea of going they made a long stay, and this was the
origin of drinking, or calling for, goes of liquor; but another,
determined to eke out the measure his own way, used to call for a
quartern at a time, and these, in the exercise of his humour, he
called _stays_. We find the above in the very pleasant _Etymological
Compendium_, third edition, revised and improved by Merton A. Thoms,


Of this noted theatrical tavern, in the Piazza, Covent Garden, several
details were received by Mr. John Green, in 1815, from Twigg, who was
apprentice at the Shakspeare. They had generally fifty turtles at a
time; and upon an average from ten to fifteen were dressed every week;
and it was not unusual to send forty quarts of turtle soup a-week into
the country, as far as Yorkshire.

The sign of Shakspeare, painted by Wale, cost nearly 200_l._: it
projected at the corner, over the street, with very rich iron-work.
Dick Milton was once landlord; he was a great gamester, and once won
40,000_l._ He would frequently start with his coach-and-six, which he
would keep about six months, and then sell it. He was so much
reduced, and his credit so bad, at times, as to send out for a dozen
of wine for his customers; it was sold at 16s. a bottle. This is
chronicled as the first tavern in London that had rooms; and from this
house the other taverns were supplied with waiters. Here were held
three clubs--the Madras, Bengal, and Bombay.

Twigg was cook at the Shakspeare. The largest dinner ever dressed here
consisted of 108 made-dishes, besides hams, etc., and vegetables; this
was the dinner to Admiral Keppel, when he was made First Lord of the
Admiralty. Twigg told of another dinner to Sir Richard Simmons, of
Earl's Court, Mr. Small, and three other gentlemen; it consisted of
the following dishes:--A turbot, of 40lb., a Thames salmon, a haunch
of venison, French beans and cucumbers, a green goose, an apricot
tart, and green peas. The dinner was dressed by Twigg, and it came to
about seven guineas a head.

The Shakspeare is stated to have been the first tavern in Covent
Garden. Twigg relates of Tomkins, the landlord, that his father had
been a man of opulence in the City, but failed for vast sums. Tomkins
kept his coach and his country-house, but was no gambler, as has been
reported. He died worth 40,000_l._ His daughter married Mr. Longman,
the music-seller. Tomkins had never less than a hundred pipes of wine
in his cellar; he kept seven waiters, one cellar-man, and a boy. Each
waiter was smartly dressed in his ruffles, and thought it a bad week
if he did not make 7_l._ Stacie, who partly served his apprenticeship
to Tomkins, told Twigg, that he had betted nearly 3000_l._ upon one of
his racehorses of the name of Goldfinder. Stacie won, and afterwards
sold the horse for a large sum.

There was likewise a Shakspeare Tavern in Little Russell-street,
opposite Drury-lane Theatre; the sign was altered in 1828, to the


Shuter, the actor, at the age of twelve, was pot-boy at the Queen's
Head (afterwards Mrs. Butler's), in Covent Garden, where he was so
kind to the rats in the cellar, by giving them sops from porter, (for,
in his time, any person might have a toast in his beer,) that they
would creep about him and upon him; he would carry them about between
his shirt and his waistcoat, and even call them by their names. Shuter
was next pot-boy at the Blue Posts, opposite Brydges-street, then kept
by Ellidge, and afterwards by Carter, who played well at billiards, on
account of the length of his arms. Shuter used to carry beer to the
players, behind the scenes at Drury-lane Theatre, and elsewhere, and
being noticed by Hippisley, was taken as his servant, and brought on
the stage. He had also been at the house next the Blue Posts,--the
Sun, in Russell-street, which was frequented by Hippisley. Mr.
Theophilus Forrest, when he paid Shuter his money, allowed him in his
latter days, two guineas per week, found him calling for gin, and his
shirt was worn to half its original size. Latterly, he was hooted by
the boys in the street: he became a Methodist, and died at King John's
Palace, Tottenham Court Road.


This noted Tavern, on the east side of Brydges-street, flourished in
the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, and from its contiguity to
Drury-lane Theatre, and close connection with it, was frequented by
courtiers and men of letters, of loose character, and other gentry of
no character at all. The scenes of _The Morning Ramble, or the Town
Humour_, 1672, are laid "at the Rose Tavern, in Covent Garden," which
was constantly a scene of drunken broils, midnight orgies, and
murderous assaults, by men of fashion, who were designated "Hectors,"
and whose chief pleasure lay in frequenting taverns for the running
through of some fuddled toper, whom wine had made valiant. Shadwell,
in his comedy of the _Scowrers_, 1691, written at a time when
obedience to the laws was enforced, and these excesses had in
consequence declined, observes of these cowardly ruffians: "They were
brave fellows, indeed! In those days a man could not go from the Rose
Tavern to the Piazza once, but he must venture his life twice."

Women of a certain freedom of character frequented taverns at the
commencement of the last century, and the Rose, doubtless, resembled
the box-lobby of a theatre. In the _Rake Reformed_, 1718, this tavern
is thus noticed:

     "Not far from thence appears a pendent sign,
     Whose bush declares the product of the vine,
     Whence to the traveller's sight the full-blown Rose
     Its dazzling beauties doth in gold disclose;
     And painted faces flock in tally'd clothes."

Dramatists and poets resorted to the house, and about 1726, Gay and
other wits, by clubbing verses, concocted the well-known love ditty,
entitled _Molly Mogg of the Rose_, in compliment to the then barmaid
or waitress. The Welsh ballad, _Gwinfrid Shones_, printed in 1733, has
also this tribute to Molly Mogg, as a celebrated toast:

     "Some sing Molly Mogg of the Rose,
       And call her the Oakingham pelle;
     Whilst others does farces compose,
       On peautiful Molle Lepelle."

Hogarth's third print of the Rake's Progress, published in 1735,
exhibits a principal room in the Rose Tavern: Lethercoat, the fellow
with a bright pewter dish and a candle, is a portrait; he was for many
years a porter attached to the house.

Garrick, when he enlarged Drury-lane Theatre, in 1776, raised the new
front designed by Robert Adam, took in the whole of the tavern, as a
convenience to the theatre, and retained the sign of the Rose in an
oval compartment, as a conspicuous part of the decoration, which is
shown in a popular engraving by J. T. Smith.

In D'Urfey's Songs, 1719, we find these allusions to the Rose:

       "_A Song in Praise of Chalk, by W. Pettis._

         "We the lads at the Rose
         A patron have chose,
     Who's as void as the best is of thinking;
         And without dedication,
         Will assist in his station,
     And maintains us in eating and drinking."

       "_Song.--The Nose._

     "Three merry lads met at the Rose,
     To speak in the praises of the nose:
     The flat, the sharp, the Roman snout,
     The hawk's nose circled round about;
     The crooked nose that stands awry,
     The ruby nose of scarlet dye;
     The brazen nose without a face,
     That doth the learned college grace.
     Invention often barren grows,
     Yet still there's matter in the nose."


At the north-west corner of Covent Garden Market is a lofty edifice,
which, with the building that preceded it, possesses a host of
interesting associations. Sir Kenelm Digby came to live here after the
Restoration of Charles II.: here he was much visited by the
philosophers of his day, and built in the garden in the rear of the
house a laboratory. The mansion was altered, if not rebuilt, for the
Earl of Orford, better known as Admiral Russell, who, in 1692,
defeated Admiral de Tourville, and ruined the French fleet. The façade
of the house originally resembled the forecastle of a ship. The fine
old staircase is formed of part of the vessel Admiral Russell
commanded at La Hogue; it has handsomely carved anchors, ropes, and
the coronet and initials of Lord Orford. The Earl died here in 1727;
and the house was afterwards occupied by Thomas, Lord Archer, until
1768; and by James West, the great collector of books, etc., and
President of the Royal Society, who died in 1772.

Mr. Twigg recollected Lord Archer's garden (now the site of the
singing-room), at the back of the Grand Hotel, about 1765, well
stocked; mushrooms and cucumbers were grown there in high perfection.

In 1774, the house was opened by David Low as an hotel; the first
family hotel, it is said, in London. Gold, silver, and copper medals
were struck, and given by Low, as advertisements of his house; the
gold to the princes, silver to the nobility, and copper to the public
generally. About 1794, Mrs. Hudson, then proprietor, advertised her
hotel, "with stabling for one hundred noblemen and horses." The next
proprietors were Richardson and Joy.

At the beginning of the present century, and some years afterwards,
the hotel was famous for its large dinner- and coffee-room. This was
called the "Star," from the number of men of rank who frequented it.
One day a gentleman entered the dining-room, and ordered of the waiter
two lamb-chops; at the same time inquiring, "John, have you a
cucumber?" The waiter replied in the negative--it was so early in the
season; but he would step into the market, and inquire if there were
any. The waiter did so, and returned with--"There are a few, but they
are half-a-guinea apiece." "Half-a-guinea apiece! are they small or
large?" "Why, rather small." "Then buy two," was the reply. This
incident has been related of various epicures; it occurred to Charles
Duke of Norfolk, who died in 1815.

Evans, of Covent-Garden Theatre, removed here from the Cider Cellar in
Maiden-lane, and, using the large dining-room for a singing-room,
prospered until 1844, when he resigned the property to Mr. John
Green. Meanwhile, the character of the entertainment, by the selection
of music of a higher class than hitherto, brought so great an
accession of visitors, that Mr. Green built, in 1855, on the site of
the old garden (Digby's garden) an extremely handsome hall, to which
the former singing-room forms a sort of vestibule. The latter is hung
with the collection of portraits of celebrated actors and actresses,
mostly of our own time, which Mr. Green has been at great pains to

The _spécialité_ of this very agreeable place is the olden music,
which is sung here with great intelligence and spirit; the visitors
are of the better and more appreciative class, and often include
amateurs of rank. The reserved gallery is said to occupy part of the
site of the cottage in which the Kembles occasionally resided during
the zenith of their fame at Covent-Garden Theatre; and here the gifted
Fanny Kemble is said to have been born.


The Restoration did not mend the morals of the taverns in Covent
Garden, but increased their licentiousness, and made them the resort
of bullies and other vicious persons. The Fleece, on the west side of
Brydges-street, was notorious for its tavern broils; L'Estrange, in
his translation of Quevedo's _Visions_, 1667, makes one of the Fleece
hectors declare he was never well but either at the Fleece Tavern or
Bear at Bridge-foot, stuffing himself "with food and tipple, till the
hoops were ready to burst." According to Aubrey, the Fleece was "very
unfortunate for homicides;" there were several killed there in his
time; it was a private house till 1692. Aubrey places it in
York-street, so that there must have been a back or second way to the
tavern--a very convenient resource.


Was a luxurious refectory, in Southampton-street, whose epicurism is
commemorated by Pope:--

     "Let me extol a cat on oysters fed,
     I'll have a party at the Bedford Head."

     _2nd Sat. of Horace, 2nd Bk._

     "When sharp with hunger, scorn you to be fed
     Except on pea-chicks, at the Bedford Head?"

     _Pope, Sober Advice.___

Walpole refers to a great supper at the Bedford Head, ordered by Paul
Whitehead, for a party of gentlemen dressed like sailors and masked,
who, in 1741, on the night of Vernon's birthday, went round Covent
Garden with a drum, beating up for a volunteer mob; but it did not


This was a noted tavern in the last century, at the corner of
Tavistock-court, Covent Garden. Its original sign was taken down by
Mr. Yerrel, the landlord, who informed J. T. Smith, that it consisted
of two gentlemen saluting each other, dressed in flowing wigs, and
coats with square pockets, large enough to hold folio books, and
wearing swords, this being the dress of the time when the sign was put
up, supposed to have been about 1707, the date on a stone at the
Covent Garden end of the court.

Richard Leveridge, the celebrated singer, kept the Salutation after
his retirement from the stage; and here he brought out his _Collection
of Songs_, with the music, engraved and printed for the author, 1727.

Among the frequenters of the Salutation was William Cussans, or
Cuzzons, a native of Barbadoes, and a most eccentric fellow, who lived
upon an income allowed him by his family. He once hired himself as a
potman, and then as a coal-heaver. He was never seen to smile. He
personated a chimney-sweeper at the Pantheon and Opera-house
masquerades, and wrote the popular song of Robinson Crusoe:

         "He got all the wood
         That ever he could,
     And he stuck it together with glue so;
         And made him a hut,
         And in it he put
     The carcase of Robinson Crusoe."

He was a bacchanalian customer at the Salutation, and his nightly
quantum of wine was liberal: he would sometimes take eight pints at a
sitting, without being the least intoxicated.


In Bedford-street, near St. Paul's church-gate, was an old tavern, the
Constitution (now rebuilt), noted as the resort of working men of
letters, and for its late hours; indeed, the sittings here were
perennial. Among other eccentric persons we remember to have seen
here, was an accomplished scholar named Churchill, who had travelled
much in the East, smoked and ate opium to excess, and was full of
information. Of another grade were two friends who lived in the same
house, and had for many years "turned night into day;" rising at eight
o'clock in the evening, and going to bed at eight next morning. They
had in common some astrological, alchemical, and _spiritual_ notions,
and often passed the whole night at the Constitution. This was the
favourite haunt of Wilson, the landscape-painter, who then lived in
the Garden; he could, at the Constitution, freely indulge in a pot of
porter, and enjoy the fun of his brother-painter, Mortimer, who
preferred this house, as it was near his own in Church-passage.


This strange place, upon the south side of Maiden-lane, Covent Garden,
was opened about 1730, and is described as a "Midnight Concert Room,"
in _Adventures Underground_, 1750. Professor Porson was a great lover
of cider, the patronymic drink for which the cellar was once famed; it
became his nightly haunt, for wherever he spent the evening, he
finished the night at the Cider Cellar. One night, in 1795, as he sat
here smoking his pipe, with his friend George Gordon, he abruptly said,
"Friend George, do you think the widow Lunan an agreeable sort of
personage, as times go?" Gordon assented. "In that case," replied
Porson, "you must meet me to-morrow morning at St. Martin's-in-the-Fields,
at eight o'clock;" and without saying more, Porson paid his reckoning,
and went home. Next morning, Gordon repaired to the church, and there
found Porson with Mrs. Lunan and a female friend, and the parson
waiting to begin the ceremony. The service being ended, the bride and
her friend retired by one door of the church, and Porson and Gordon by
another. The bride and bridegroom dined together with friends, but
after dinner Porson contrived to slip away, and passed the rest of the
day with a learned friend, and did not leave till the family were
about to retire for the night, when Porson adjourned to the Cider
Cellar, and there stayed till eight o'clock next morning. One of his
companions here is said to have shouted before Porson, "Dick can beat
us all: he can drink all night and spout all day," which greatly
pleased the Professor.

We remember the place not many years after Porson's death, when it
was, as its name implied, _a cellar_, and the fittings were rude and
rough: over the mantelpiece was a large mezzotint portrait of Porson,
framed and glazed, which we take to be the missing portrait named by
the Rev. Mr. Watson, in his Life of the Professor. The Cider Cellar
was subsequently enlarged; but its exhibitions grew to be too
sensational for long existence.


This noted tavern, of our day, enjoyed great and deserved celebrity,
though short-lived. It was No. 23, on the south side of
Henrietta-street, Covent Garden, and its fame rested upon Burton ale,
and the largest supper-room in this theatrical neighbourhood; with no
pictures, placards, paper-hangings, or vulgar coffee-room finery, to
disturb one's relish of the good things there provided. Offley, the
proprietor, was originally at Bellamy's, and "as such, was privileged
to watch, and occasionally admitted to assist, the presiding priestess
of the gridiron at the exercise of her mysteries." Offley's chop was
thick and substantial; the House of Commons' chop was small and thin,
and honourable Members sometimes ate a dozen at a sitting. Offley's
chop was served with shalots shred, and warmed in gravy, and
accompanied by nips of Burton ale, and was a delicious after-theatre
supper. The large room at that hour was generally crowded with a
higher class of men than are to be seen in taverns of the present day.
There was excellent dining up-stairs, with wines really worth
drinking--all with a sort of Quakerly plainness, but solid comfort.
The fast men came to the great room, where the _spécialité_ was
singing by amateurs upon one evening of the week; and to prevent the
chorus waking the dead in their cerements in the adjoining churchyard,
the coffee-room window was double. The "professionals" stayed away.
Francis Crew sang Moore's melodies, then in their zenith; sometimes,
in a spirit of waggery, an amateur would sing "Chevy Chase" in full;
and now and then Offley himself trolled out one of Captain Morris's
lyrics. Such was this right joyously convivial place some
five-and-forty years since upon the singing night. Upon other
evenings, there came to a large round table (a sort of privileged
place) a few well-to-do, substantial tradesmen from the neighbourhood,
among whom was the renowned surgical-instrument maker from the Strand,
who had the sagacity to buy the iron from off the piles of old London
Bridge, and convert it (after it had lain for centuries under water)
into some of the finest surgical instruments of the day. Offley's,
however, declined: the singing was discontinued; Time had thinned the
ranks and groups of the bright and buoyant; the large room was mostly
frequented by quiet, orderly persons, who kept good hours; the
theatre-suppers grew few and far between; the merry old host
departed,--when it was proposed to have his portrait painted--but in
vain; success had ebbed away, and at length the house was closed.[39]

Offley's was sketched with a free hand, in _Horæ Offleanæ, Bentley's
Miscellany_, March, 1841.


[39] Walks and Talks about London, 1865, pp. 180-182.


The locality of this noted tavern is given by Cunningham, as "two
doors from Locket's, between Whitehall and Charing Cross, removed to
the water-side of Charing Cross, in 1710, and burnt down Nov. 7th,
1750. It was kept in the reign of Charles II., by Samuel Prior, uncle
of Matthew Prior, the poet, who thus wrote to Fleetwood Shephard:

     "My uncle, rest his soul! when living,
     Might have contriv'd me ways of thriving:
     Taught me with cider to replenish
     My vats, or ebbing tide of Rhenish.
     So when for hock I drew prickt white-wine,
     Swear't had the flavour, and was right wine."

The Rummer is introduced by Hogarth into his picture of "Night." Here
Jack Sheppard committed his first robbery by stealing two silver

The Rummer, in Queen-street, was kept by Brawn, a celebrated cook, of
whom Dr. King, in his _Art of Cookery_, speaks in the same way as
Kit-Kat and Locket.

King, also, in his _Analogy between Physicians, Cooks, and
Playwrights_, thus describes a visit:--

"Though I seldom go out of my own lodgings, I was prevailed on the
other day to dine with some friends at the Rummer in Queen-street....
Sam Trusty would needs have me go with him into the kitchen, and see
how matters went there.... He assured me that Mr. Brawn had an art,
etc. I was, indeed, very much pleased and surprised with the
extraordinary splendour and economy I observed there; but above all
with the great readiness and dexterity of the man himself. His motions
were quick, but not precipitate; he in an instant applied himself from
one stove to another, without the least appearance of hurry, and in
the midst of smoke and fire preserved an incredible serenity of

Beau Brummel, according to Mr. Jesse, spoke with a relish worthy a
descendant of "the Rummer," of the savoury pies of his aunt Brawn, who
then resided at Kilburn; she is said to have been the widow of a
grandson of the celebrity of Queen-street, who had himself kept the
public-house at the old Mews Gate, at Charing Cross.--See _Notes and
Queries_, 2nd S., no. xxxvi.

We remember an old tavern, "the Rummer," in 1825, which was taken down
with the lower portion of St. Martin's-lane, to form Trafalgar-square.


Spring Garden is named from its water-spring or fountain, set playing
by the spectator treading upon its hidden machinery--an eccentricity
of the Elizabethan garden. Spring Garden, by a patent which is extant,
in 1630 was made a bowling-green by command of Charles I. "There was
kept in it an ordinary of six shillings a meal (when the king's
proclamation allows but two elsewhere); continual bibbing and drinking
wine all day under the trees; two or three quarrels every week. It was
grown scandalous and insufferable; besides, my Lord Digby being
reprehended for striking in the king's garden, he said he took it for
a common bowling-place, where all paid money for their coming
in."--_Mr. Garrard to Lord Strafford._

In 1634 Spring Garden was put down by the King's command, and ordered
to be hereafter no common bowling-place. This led to the opening of "a
New Spring Garden" (Shaver's Hall), by a gentleman-barber, a servant
of the lord chamberlain's. The old garden was, however, re-opened; for
13th June, 1649, says Evelyn, "I treated divers ladies of my
relations in Spring Gardens;" but 10th May, 1654, he records that
Cromwell and his partisans had shut up and seized on Spring Gardens,
"w'ch till now had been ye usual rendezvous for the ladys and
gallants at this season."

Spring Garden was, however, once more re-opened; for, in _A Character
of England_, 1659, it is described as "The inclosure not disagreeable,
for the solemnness of the grove, the warbling of the birds, and as it
opens into the spacious walks at St. James's.... It is usual to find
some of the young company here till midnight; and the thickets of the
garden seem to be contrived to all advantages of gallantry, after they
have refreshed with the collation, which is here seldom omitted, at a
certain cabaret in the middle of this paradise, where the forbidden
fruits are certain trifling tarts, neats' tongues, salacious meats,
and bad Rhenish."

"The New Spring Garden" at Lambeth (afterwards Vauxhall) was
flourishing in 1661-3; when the ground at Charing Cross was built
upon, as "Inner Spring Garden" and "Outer Spring Garden."
Buckingham-court is named from the Duke of Buckingham, one of the
rakish frequenters of the Garden; and upon the site of Drummond's
banking-house was "Locket's Ordinary, a house of entertainment much
frequented by gentry," and a relic of the Spring Garden gaiety:

     "For Locket's stands where gardens once did spring."

     Dr. King's _Art of Cookery_, 1709.

Here the witty and beautiful dramatist, Mrs. Centlivre, died, December
1, 1723, at the house of her third husband, Joseph Centlivre, "Yeoman
of the Mouth" (head cook) "to Queen Anne."[40] In her Prologue to
_Love's Contrivances_, 1703, we have

     "At Locket's, Brown's, and at Pontack's enquire
     What modish kickshaws the nice beaux desire,
     What famed ragouts, what new invented sallad,
     Has best pretensions to regain the palate."

Locket's was named from its first landlord:[41] its fame declined in
the reign of Queen Anne, and expired early in the next reign.


[40] Curiosities of London, pp. 678, 679.

[41] Edward Locket, in 1693, took the Bowling-green House, on Putney
Heath, where all gentlemen might be entertained. In a house built on
the site of the above, died, Jan. 23, 1806, the Rt. Hon. William Pitt.


At the north end of Lindsay-lane, upon the site of the Committee-rooms
of the House of Commons, was a tavern called "Heaven;" and under the
old Exchequer Chamber were two subterraneous passages called "Hell"
and "Purgatory." Butler, in _Hudibras_, mentions the first as

     "False Heaven at the end of the Hell;"

Gifford, in his notes on Ben Jonson, says: "Heaven and Hell were two
common alehouses, abutting on Westminster Hall. Whalley says that they
were standing in his remembrance. They are mentioned together with a
third house, called Purgatory, in a grant which I have read, dated in
the first year of Henry VII."

Old Fuller quaintly says of Hell: "I could wish it had another name,
seeing it is ill jesting with edged tools. I am informed that formerly
this place was appointed a prison for the King's debtors, who never
were freed thence until they had paid their uttermost due demanded of
them. This proverb is since applied to moneys paid into the Exchequer,
which thence are irrecoverable, upon what plea or pretence whatever."

Peacham describes Hell as a place near Westminster Hall, "where very
good meat is dressed all the term time;" and the Company of Parish
Clerks add, it is "very much frequented by lawyers." According to Ben
Jonson, Hell appears to have been frequented by lawyers' clerks; for,
in his play of the _Alchemist_, Dapper is forbidden

     "To break his fast in Heaven or Hell."

Hugh Peters, on his Trial, tells us that he went to Westminster to
find out some company to dinner with him, and having walked about an
hour in Westminster Hall, and meeting none of his friends to dine with
him, he went "to that place called Heaven, and dined there."

When Pride "purged" the Parliament, on Dec. 6, 1648, the forty-one he
excepted were shut up for the night in the Hell tavern, kept by a Mr.
Duke (_Carlyle_); and which Dugdale calls "their great victualling-house
near Westminster Hall, where they kept them all night without any

Pepys, in his _Diary_, thus notes his visit: "28 Jan. 1659-60. And so
I returned and went to Heaven, where Ludlin and I dined." Six years
later, at the time of the Restoration, four days before the King
landed, in one of these taverns, Pepys spent the evening with Locke
and Purcell, hearing a variety of brave Italian and Spanish songs, and
a new canon of Locke's on the words, "Domine salvum fac Regem." "Here,
out of the windows," he says, "it was a most pleasant sight to see the
City, from one end to the other, with a glory about it, so high was
the light of the bonfires, and thick round the City, and the bells
rang everywhere."

After all, "Hell" may have been so named from its being a prison of
the King's debtors, most probably a very bad one: it was also called
the Constabulary. Its Wardenship was valued yearly at the sum of
11_s._, and Paradise at 4_l._

Purgatory appears also to have been an ancient prison, the keys of
which, attached to a leathern girdle, says Walcot's _Westminster_, are
still preserved. Herein were kept the ducking-stools for scolds, who
were placed in a chair fastened on an iron pivot to the end of a long
pole, which was balanced at the middle upon a high trestle, thus
allowing the culprit's body to be _ducked_ in the Thames.


In a pleasantly written book, entitled _A Career in the Commons_, we
find this sketch of the singular apartment, in the vicinity of the
(Old) House of Commons called "the Kitchen." "Mr. Bellamy's beer may
be unexceptionable, and his chops and steaks may be unrivalled, but
the legislators of England delight in eating a dinner in the place
where it is cooked, and in the presence of the very fire where the
beef hisses and the gravy runs! Bellamy's kitchen seems, in fact, a
portion of the British Constitution. A foreigner, be he a Frenchman,
American, or Dutchman, if introduced to the 'kitchen,' would stare
with astonishment if you told him that in this plain apartment, with
its immense fire, meatscreen, gridirons, and a small tub under the
window for washing the glasses, the statesmen of England very often
dine, and men, possessed of wealth untold, and with palaces of their
own, in which luxury and splendour are visible in every part, are
willing to leave their stately dining-halls and powdered attendants,
to be waited upon, while eating a chop in Bellamy's kitchen, by two
unpretending old women. Bellamy's kitchen, I repeat, is part and
parcel of the British Constitution. Baronets who date from the
Conquest, and squires of every degree, care nothing for the unassuming
character of the 'kitchen,' if the steak be hot and good, if it can be
quickly and conveniently dispatched, and the tinkle of the
division-bell can be heard while the dinner proceeds. Call England a
proud nation, forsooth! Say that the House of Commons is aristocratic!
Both the nation and its representatives must be, and are,
unquestionable patterns of republican humility, if all the pomp and
circumstance of dining can be forgotten in Bellamy's kitchen!"[42]


[42] At the noted Cat and Bagpipes tavern, at the south-west corner of
Downing-street, George Rose used to eat his mutton-chop; he
subsequently became Secretary to the Treasury.


Of "a great Coffee-house" in Pall Mall we find the following amusing
story, in the _Correspondence of Gray and Mason_, edited by Mitford:

"In the year 1688, my Lord Peterborough had a great mind to be well
with Lady Sandwich, Mrs. Bonfoy's old friend. There was a woman who
kept a great Coffee-house in Pall Mall, and she had a miraculous
canary-bird that piped twenty tunes. Lady Sandwich was fond of such
things, had heard of and seen the bird. Lord Peterborough came to the
woman, and offered her a large sum of money for it; but she was rich,
and proud of it, and would not part with it for love or money.
However, he watched the bird narrowly, observed all its marks and
features, went and bought just such another, sauntered into the
coffee-room, took his opportunity when no one was by, slipped the
wrong bird into the cage and the right into his pocket, and went off
undiscovered to make my Lady Sandwich happy. This was just about the
time of the Revolution; and, a good while after, going into the same
coffee-house again, he saw his bird there, and said, 'Well, I reckon
you would give your ears now that you had taken my money.' 'Money!'
says the woman, 'no, nor ten times that money now, dear little
creature! for, if your lordship will believe me (as I am a Christian,
it is true), it has moped and moped, and never once opened its pretty
lips since the day that the poor king went away!"


Pall Mall has long been noted for its taverns, as well as for its
chocolate- and coffee-houses, and "houses for clubbing." They were
resorted to by gay nobility and men of estate; and, in times when
gaming and drinking were indulged in to frightful excess, these
taverns often proved hot-beds of quarrel and fray. One of the most
sanguinary duels on record--that between the Duke of Hamilton and Lord
Mohun--was planned at the Queen's Arms, in Pall Mall, and the Rose in
Covent Garden; at the former, Lord Mohun supped with his second on the
two nights preceding the fatal conflict in Hyde Park.

Still more closely associated with Pall Mall was the fatal duel
between Lord Byron and Mr. Chaworth, which was _fought in a room_ of
the Star and Garter, when the grand-uncle of the poet Lord killed in a
duel, or rather scuffle, his relation and neighbour, "who was run
through the body, and died next day." The duellists were neighbours in
the country, and were members of the Nottinghamshire Club, which met
at the Star and Garter once a month.

The meeting at which arose the unfortunate dispute that produced the
duel, was on the 26th of January, 1765, when were present Mr. John
Hewet, who sat as chairman; the Hon. Thomas Willoughby; Frederick
Montagu, John Sherwin, Francis Molyneux, Esqrs., and Lord Byron;
William Chaworth, George Donston, and Charles Mellish, junior, Esq.;
and Sir Robert Burdett; who were all the company. The usual hour of
dining was soon after four, and the rule of the Club was to have the
bill and a bottle brought in at seven. Till this hour all was jollity
and good-humour; but Mr. Hewet, happening to start some conversation
about the best method of preserving game, setting the laws for that
purpose out of the question, Mr. Chaworth and Lord Byron were of
different opinions; Mr. Chaworth insisting on severity against
poachers and unqualified persons; and Lord Byron declaring that the
way to have most game was to take no care of it at all. Mr. Chaworth,
in confirmation of what he had said, insisted that Sir Charles Sedley
and himself had more game on five acres than Lord Byron had on all his
manors. Lord Byron, in reply, proposed a bet of 100 guineas, but this
was not laid. Mr. Chaworth then said, that were it not for Sir Charles
Sedley's care, and his own, Lord Byron would not have a hare on his
estate; and his Lordship asking with a smile, what Sir Charles
Sedley's manors were, was answered by Mr. Chaworth,--Nuttall and
Bulwell. Lord Byron did not dispute Nuttall, but added, Bulwell was
his; on which Mr. Chaworth, with some heat, replied: "If you want
information as to Sir Charles Sedley's manors, he lives at Mr.
Cooper's, in Dean Street, and, I doubt not, will be ready to give you
satisfaction; and, as to myself, your Lordship knows where to find me,
in Berkeley Row."

The subject was now dropped; and little was said, when Mr. Chaworth
called to settle the reckoning, in doing which the master of the
tavern observed him to be flurried. In a few minutes, Mr. Chaworth
having paid the bill, went out, and was followed by Mr. Donston, whom
Mr. C. asked if he thought he had been short in what he had said; to
which Mr. D. replied, "No; he had gone rather too far upon so trifling
an occasion, but did not believe that Lord Byron or the company would
think any more of it." Mr. Donston then returned to the club-room.
Lord Byron now came out, and found Mr. Chaworth still on the stairs:
it is doubtful whether his Lordship called upon Mr. Chaworth, or Mr.
Chaworth called upon Lord Byron; but both went down to the first
landing-place--having dined upon the second floor--and both called a
waiter to show an empty room, which the waiter did, having first
opened the door, and placed a small tallow-candle, which he had in his
hand, on the table; he then retired, when the gentlemen entered, and
shut the door after them.

In a few minutes the affair was decided: the bell was rung, but by
whom is uncertain: the waiter went up, and perceiving what had
happened, ran down very frightened, told his master of the
catastrophe, when he ran up to the room, and found the two antagonists
standing close together: Mr. Chaworth had his sword in his left hand,
and Lord Byron his sword in his right; Lord Byron's left hand was
round Mr. Chaworth, and Mr. Chaworth's right hand was round Lord
Byron's neck, and over his shoulder. Mr. C. desired Mr. Fynmore, the
landlord, to take his sword, and Lord B. delivered up his sword at the
same moment: a surgeon was sent for, and came immediately. In the
meantime, six of the company entered the room; when Mr. Chaworth said
that "he could not live many hours; that he forgave Lord Byron, and
hoped the world would; that the affair had passed in the dark, only a
small tallow-candle burning in the room; that Lord Byron asked him, if
he addressed the observation on the game to Sir Charles Sedley, or to
him?--to which he replied, 'If you have anything to say, we had better
shut the door;' that while he was doing this, Lord Byron bid him draw,
and in turning he saw his Lordship's sword half-drawn, on which he
whipped out his own sword and made the first pass; that the sword
being through my Lord's waistcoat, he thought that he had killed him;
and, asking whether he was not mortally wounded, Lord Byron, while he
was speaking, shortened his sword, and stabbed him in the belly."

When Mr. Mawkins, the surgeon, arrived, he found Mr. Chaworth sitting
by the fire, with the lower part of his waistcoat open, his shirt
bloody, and his hand upon his belly. He inquired if he was in
immediate danger, and being answered in the affirmative, he desired
his uncle, Mr. Levinz, might be sent for. In the meantime, he stated
to Mr. Hawkins, that Lord Byron and he (Mr. Chaworth) entered the room
together; that his Lordship said something of the dispute, on which
he, Mr. C., fastened the door, and turning round, perceived his
Lordship with his sword either drawn or nearly so; on which he
instantly drew his own and made a thrust at him, which he thought had
wounded or killed him; that then perceiving his Lordship shorten his
sword to return the thrust, he thought to have parried it with his
left hand, at which he looked twice, imagining that he had cut it in
the attempt; that he felt the sword enter his body, and go deep
through his back; that he struggled, and being the stronger man,
disarmed his Lordship, and expressed his apprehension that he had
mortally wounded him; that Lord Byron replied by saying something to
the like effect; adding that he hoped now he would allow him to be as
brave a man as any in the kingdom.

After a little while, Mr. Chaworth seemed to grow stronger, and was
removed to his own house: additional medical advice arrived, but no
relief could be given him: he continued sensible till his death. Mr.
Levinz, his uncle, now arrived with an attorney, to whom Mr. Chaworth
gave very sensible and distinct instructions for making his will. The
will was then executed, and the attorney, Mr. Partington, committed to
writing the last words Mr. Chaworth was heard to say. This writing was
handed to Mr. Levinz, and gave rise to a report that a paper was
written by the deceased, and sealed up, not to be opened till the time
that Lord Byron should be tried; but no paper was written by Mr.
Chaworth, and that written by Mr. Partington was as follows: "Sunday
morning, the 27th of January, about three of the clock, Mr. Chaworth
said, that my Lord's sword was half-drawn, and that he, knowing the
man, immediately, or as quick as he could, whipped out his sword, and
had the first thrust; that then my Lord wounded him, and he disarmed
my Lord, who then said, 'By G--, I have as much courage as any man in

Lord Byron was committed to the Tower, and was tried before the House
of Peers, in Westminster Hall, on the 16th and 17th of April, 1765.
Lord Byron's defence was reduced by him into writing, and read by the
clerk. The Peers present, including the High Steward, declared Lord
Byron, on their honour, to be not guilty of murder, but of
manslaughter; with the exception of four Peers, who found him not
guilty generally. On this verdict being given, Lord Byron was called
upon to say why judgment of manslaughter should not be pronounced upon
him. His Lordship immediately claimed the benefit of the 1st Edward
VI. cap. 12, a statute, by which, whenever a Peer was convicted of
any felony for which a commoner might have Benefit of Clergy, such
Peer, on praying the benefit of that Act, was always to be discharged
without burning in the hand, or any penal consequence whatever. The
claim of Lord Byron being accordingly allowed, he was forthwith
discharged on payment of his fees. This singular privilege was
supposed to be abrogated by the 7 & 8 Geo. IV. cap. 28, s. 6, which
abolished Benefit of Clergy; but some doubt arising on the subject, it
was positively put an end to by the 4 & 5 Vict. cap. 22. (See
_Celebrated Trials connected with the Aristocracy_, by Mr. Serjeant

Mr. Chaworth was the descendant of one of the oldest houses in
England, a branch of which obtained an Irish peerage. His grand-niece,
the eventual heiress of the family, was Mary Chaworth, the object of
the early unrequited love of Lord Byron, the poet. Singularly enough,
there was the same degree of relationship between that nobleman and
the Lord Byron who killed Mr. Chaworth, as existed between the latter
unfortunate gentleman and Mr. Chaworth.[43]

Several stories are told of the high charges of the Star and Garter
Tavern, even in the reign of Queen Anne. The Duke of Ormond, who gave
here a dinner to a few friends, was charged twenty-one pounds, six
shillings, and eight pence, for four, that is, first and second
course, without wine or dessert.

From the _Connoisseur_ of 1754, we learn that the fools of quality of
that day "drove to the Star and Garter to regale on macaroni, or
piddle with an ortolan at White's or Pontac's."

At the Star and Garter, in 1774, was formed the first Cricket Club.
Sir Horace Mann, who had promoted cricket in Kent, and the Duke of
Dorset and Lord Tankerville, leaders of the Surrey and Hants Eleven,
conjointly with other noblemen and gentlemen, formed a committee under
the presidency of Sir William Draper. They met at the Star and Garter,
and laid down the first rules of cricket, which very rules form the
basis of the laws of cricket of this day.


[43] Abridged from the Romance of London, vol. i. pp. 225-232.


     "Come and once more together let us greet
     The long-lost pleasures of St. James's-street."--_Tickell._

Little more than a century and a half ago the parish of St. James was
described as "all the houses and grounds comprehended in a place
heretofore called 'St. James's Fields' and the confines thereof."
Previously to this, the above tavern was most probably a _thatched
house_. St. James's-street dates from 1670: the poets Waller and Pope
lived here; Sir Christopher Wren died here, in 1723; as did Gibbon,
the historian, in 1794, at Elmsley's, the bookseller's, at No. 76, at
the corner of Little St. James's-street. Fox lived next to Brookes's
in 1781; and Lord Byron lodged at No. 8, in 1811. At the south-west
end was the St. James's Coffee-house, taken down in 1806; the foreign
and domestic news house of the _Tatler_, and the "fountain-head" of
the _Spectator_. Thus early, the street had a sort of literary
fashion favourable to the growth of taverns and clubs.

The Thatched House, which was taken down in 1844 and 1863, had been
for nearly two centuries celebrated for its club meetings, its large
public room, and its public dinners, especially those of our
universities and great schools. It was one of Swift's favourite
haunts: in some birthday verses he sings:--

     "The Deanery-house may well be matched,
     Under correction, with the Thatch'd."

The histories of some of the principal Clubs which met here, will be
found in Vol. I.; as the Brothers, Literary, Dilettanti, and others;
(besides a list, page 318.)

The Royal Naval Club held its meetings at the Thatched House, as did
some art societies and kindred associations. The large club-room faced
St. James's-street, and when lit in the evening with wax-candles in
large old glass chandeliers, the Dilettanti pictures could be seen
from the pavement of the street. Beneath the tavern front was a range
of low-built shops, including that of Rowland, or Rouland, the
fashionable coiffeur, who charged five shillings for cutting hair, and
made a large fortune by his "incomparable _Huile_ Macassar." Through
the tavern was a passage to Thatched House-court, in the rear; and
here, in Catherine-Wheel-alley, in the last century, lived the good
old widow Delany, after the Doctor's death, as noted in her
Autobiography, edited by Lady Llanover. Some of Mrs. Delany's
fashionable friends then resided in Dean-street, Soho.

Thatched House-court and the alley have been swept away. Elmsley's was
removed for the site of the Conservative Club, In an adjoining house
lived the famous Betty, "the queen of apple-women," whom Mason has
thus embalmed in his _Heroic Epistle_:--

     "And patriot Betty fix her fruitshop here."

It was a famous place for gossip. Walpole says of a story much about,
"I should scruple repeating it, if Betty and the waiters at Arthur's
did not talk of it publicly." Again, "Would you know what officer's on
guard in Betty's fruitshop?"

The Tavern, which has disappeared, was nearly the last relic of old
St. James's-street, although its memories survive in various modern
Club-houses, and the Thatched House will be kept in mind by the
graceful sculpture of the Civil Service Clubhouse, erected upon a
portion of the site.


This sign, in Charles-street, Berkeley Square, carries us back to the
days of bad roads, and journeying at snail's pace, when the travelling
equipage of the nobility required that one or more men should run in
front of the carriage, chiefly as a mark of the rank of the traveller;
they were likewise sent on messages, and occasionally for great

The running footman required to be a healthy and active man; he wore a
light black cap, a jockey-coat, and carried a pole with at the top a
hollow ball, in which he kept a hard-boiled egg and a little white
wine, to serve as refreshment on his journey; and this is supposed to
be the origin of the footman's silver-mounted cane. The Duke of
Queensberry, who died in 1810, kept a running footman longer than his
compeers in London; and Mr. Thoms, in _Notes and Queries_, relates an
amusing anecdote of a man who came to be hired for the duty by the
Duke. His Grace was in the habit of trying their paces, by seeing how
they could run up and down Piccadilly, he watching them and timing
them from his balcony. The man put on a livery before the trial; on
one occasion, a candidate, having run, stood before the balcony. "You
will do very well for me," said the Duke. "And your livery will do
very well for me," replied the man, and gave the Duke a last proof of
his ability by running away with it.

The sign in Charles-street represents a young man, dressed in a kind
of livery, and a cap with a feather in it; he carries the usual pole,
and is running; and beneath is "I am the only running Footman," which
may relate to the superior speed of the runner, and this may be a
portrait of a celebrity.

Kindred to the above is the old sign of "The Two Chairmen," in
Warwick-street, Charing Cross,[44] recalling the sedans or chairs of
Pall Mall; and there is a similar sign on Hay Hill.


[44] The old Golden Cross Inn, Charing Cross, stood a short distance
west of the present Golden Cross Hotel, No. 452, Strand. Of the former
we read: "April 23, 1643. It was at this period, by order of the
Committee or Commission appointed by the House, the sign of a tavern,
the Golden Cross, at Charing Cross, was taken down, as superstitious
and idolatrous."--In Suffolk-street, Haymarket, was the Tavern before
which took place "the Calves' Head Club" riot.--See Vol. I., p. 27.


Piccadilly was long noticed for the variety and extent of its Inns and
Taverns, although few remain. At the east end were formerly the Black
Bear and White Bear (originally the Fleece), nearly opposite each
other. The Black Bear was taken down 1820. The White Bear remains: it
occurs in St. Martin's parish-books, 1685: here Chatelain and
Sullivan, the engravers, died; and Benjamin West, the painter, lodged,
the first night after his arrival from America. Strype mentions the
White Horse Cellar in 1720; and the booking-office of the New White
Horse Cellar is to this day in "the cellar." The Three Kings stables
gateway, No. 75, had two Corinthian pilasters, stated by Disraeli to
have belonged to Clarendon House: "the stable-yard at the back
presents the features of an old galleried inn-yard, and it is noted as
the place from which General Palmer started the first Bath
mail-coach." (J. W. Archer: _Vestiges_, part vi.) The Hercules'
Pillars (a sign which meant that no habitation was to be found beyond
it) stood a few yards west of Hamilton-place, and has been mentioned.
The Hercules' Pillars, and another roadside tavern, the Triumphant
Car, were standing about 1797, and were mostly frequented by soldiers.
Two other Piccadilly inns, the White Horse and Half Moon, both of
considerable extent, have given names to streets.

The older and more celebrated house of entertainment was Piccadilly
Hall, which appears to have been built by one Robert Baker, in "the
fields behind the Mews," leased to him by St. Martin's parish, and
sold by his widow to Colonel Panton, who built Panton-square and
Panton-street. Lord Clarendon, in his _History of the Rebellion_,
speaks of "Mr. Hyde going to a house called Piccadilly for
entertainment and gaming:" this house, with its gravel-walks and
bowling-greens, extended from the corner of Windmill-street and the
site of Panton-square, as shown in Porter and Faithorne's Map, 1658.
Mr. Cunningham found (see _Handbook_, 2nd edit. p. 396), in the parish
accounts of St. Martin's, "Robt Backer, of Pickadilley Halle;" and the
receipts for Lammas money paid for the premises as late as 1670. Sir
John Suckling, the poet, was one of the frequenters; and Aubrey
remembered Suckling's "sisters coming to the Peccadillo bowling-green,
crying, for the feare he should lose all their portions." The house
was taken down about 1685: a tennis-court in the rear remained to our
time, upon the site of the Argyll Rooms, Great Windmill-street. The
Society of Antiquaries possess a printed proclamation (_temp._ Charles
II. 1671) against the increase of buildings in Windmill-fields and the
fields adjoining Soho; and in the Plan of 1658, Great Windmill-street
consists of straggling houses, and a windmill in a field west.

Colonel Panton, who is named above, was a celebrated gamester of the
time of the Restoration, and in one night, it is said, he won as many
thousands as purchased him an estate of above 1500_l._ a year. "After
this good fortune," says Lucas, "he had such an aversion against all
manner of games, that he would never handle cards or dice again; but
lived very handsomely on his winnings to his dying day, which was in
the year 1681." He was the last proprietor of Piccadilly Hall, and was
in possession of land on the site of the streets and buildings which
bear his name, as early as the year 1664. Yet we remember to have
seen it stated that Panton-street was named from a particular kind of
horse-shoe called a _panton_; and from its contiguity to the
Haymarket, this origin was long credited.

At the north-east end of the Haymarket stood the Gaming-house built by
the barber of the Earl of Pembroke, and hence called Shaver's Hall: it
is described by Garrard, in a letter to Lord Strafford in 1635, as "a
new Spring Gardens, erected in the fields beyond the Mews:" its
tennis-court remains in James-street.

From a Survey of the Premises, made in 1650, we gather that Shaver's
Hall was strongly built of brick, and covered with lead: its large
"seller" was divided into six rooms; above these four rooms, and the
same in the first storey, to which was a balcony, with a prospect
southward to the bowling-alleys. In the second storey were six rooms;
and over the same a walk, leaded, and enclosed with rails, "very
curiously carved and wrought," as was also the staircase, throughout
the house. On the west were large kitchens and coal-house, with lofts
over, "as also one faire Tennis Court," of brick, tiled, "well
accommodated with all things fitting for the same;" with upper rooms;
and at the entrance gate to the upper bowling-green, a parlour-lodge;
and a double flight of steps descending to the lower bowling alley;
there was still another bowling alley, and an orchard-wall, planted
with choice fruit-trees; "as also one pleasant banqueting house, and
one other faire and pleasant Roome, called the Greene Roome, and one
other Conduit-house, and 2 other Turrets adjoininge to the walls. The
ground whereon the said buildings stand, together with 2 fayre Bowling
Alleys, orchard gardens, gravily walks, and other green walks, and
Courts and Courtyards, containinge, by estimacion, 3 acres and 3
qrs., lying betweene a Roadway leading from Charinge Crosse to
Knightsbridge west, now in the possession of Captayne Geeres, and is
worth per ann. clli."[45]


[45] In Jermyn-street, Haymarket, was the One Tun Tavern, a haunt of
Sheridan's; and, upon the site of "the Little Theatre," is the Café de


If you look at a Map of London, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, the
openness of the northern suburbs is very remarkable. Cornhill was then
a clear space, and the ground thence to Bishopsgate-street was
occupied as gardens. The Spitalfields were entirely open, and
Shoreditch church was nearly the last building of London in that
direction. Moorfields were used for drying linen; while cattle grazed,
and archers shot, in Finsbury Fields, at the verge of which were three
windmills. On the western side of Smithfield was a row of trees.
Goswell-street was a lonely road, and Islington church stood in the
distance, with a few houses and gardens near it. St. Giles's was also
a small village, with open country north and west.

The ancient Islington continued to be a sort of dairy-farm for the
metropolis. Like her father, Henry VIII., Elizabeth paid frequent
visits to this neighbourhood, where some wealthy commoners dwelt; and
her partiality to the place left many evidences in old houses, and
spots traditionally said to have been visited by the Queen, whose
delight it was to go among her people.

Islington retained a few of its Elizabethan houses to our times; and
its rich dairies were of like antiquity: in the entertainment given to
Queen Elizabeth at Kenilworth Castle, in 1575, the Squier Minstrel of
Middlesex glorifies Islington with the motto, "_Lac caseus infans_;"
and it is still noted for its cow-keepers. It was once as famous for
its cheese-cakes as Chelsea for its buns; and among its other
notabilities were custards and stewed "pruans," its mineral spa and
its ducking-ponds; Ball's Pond dates from the time of Charles I. At
the lower end of Islington, in 1611, were eight inns, principally
supported by summer visitors:

     "Hogsdone, _Islington_, and Tothnam Court,
     For cakes and creame had then no small resort."

     Wither's _Britain's Remembrancer_, 1628.

Among the old inns and public-houses were the Crown apparently of the
reign of Henry VII., and the Old Queen's Head of about the same date:

     "The Queen's Head and Crown in Islington town,
     Bore, for its brewing, the brightest renown."

Near the Green, the Duke's Head, was kept by Topham, "the strong man
of Islington;" in Frog-lane, the Barley-mow, where George Morland
painted; at the Old Parr's Head, in Upper-street, Henderson the
tragedian first acted; the Three Hats, near the turnpike, was taken
down in 1839; and of the Angel, originally a galleried inn, a drawing
may be seen at the present inn. Timber gables and rudely-carved
brackets are occasionally to be seen in house-fronts; also here and
there an old "house of entertainment," which, with the little
remaining of "the Green," remind one of Islington village.

The Old Queen's Head was the finest specimen in the neighbourhood of
the domestic architecture of the reign of Henry VII. It consisted of
three storeys, projecting over each other in front, with bay-windows
supported by brackets, and figures carved in wood. The entrance was by
a central porch, supported by caryatides of oak, bearing Ionic
scrolls. To the left was the Oak Parlour, with carved mantelpiece, of
chest-like form; and caryatid jambs, supporting a slab sculptured with
the story of Diana and Actæon. The ceiling was a shield, bearing J. M.
in a glory, with cherubim, two heads of Roman emperors, with fish,
flowers, and other figures, within wreathed borders, with bosses of

White Conduit House was first built in the fields, in the reign of
Charles I., and was named from a stone conduit, 1641, which supplied
the Charterhouse with water by a leaden pipe. The tavern was
originally a small ale and cake house: Sir William Davenant describes
a City wife going to the fields to "sop her cake in milke;" and
Goldsmith speaks of tea-drinking parties here with hot-rolls and
butter. White Conduit rolls were nearly as famous as Chelsea buns. The
Wheel Pond close by was a noted place for duck-hunting.

In May, 1760, a poetical description of White Conduit House appeared
in the _Gentleman's Magazine_. A description of the old place, in
1774, presents a general picture of the tea-garden of that period: "It
is formed into walks, prettily disposed. At the end of the principal
one is a painting which seems to render it (the walk) in appearance
longer than it really is. In the centre of the garden is a fish-pond.
There are boxes for company, curiously cut into hedges, adorned with
Flemish and other paintings. There are two handsome tea-rooms, and
several inferior ones." To these were added a new dancing and
tea-saloon, called the Apollo Room. In 1826, the gardens were opened
as a minor Vauxhall; and here the charming vocalist, Mrs. Bland, last
sang in public. In 1832, the original tavern was taken down, and
rebuilt upon a much larger plan: in its principal room 2000 persons
could dine. In 1849, these premises were also taken down, the tavern
rebuilt upon a smaller scale, and the garden-ground let on building

Cricket was played here by the White Conduit Club, as early as 1799;
and one of its attendants, Thomas Lord, subsequently established the
Marylebone Club.

White Conduit House was for some years kept by Mr. Christopher
Bartholomew, at one time worth 50,000_l._ He had some fortunate hits
in the State Lottery, and celebrated his good fortune by a public
breakfast in his gardens. He was known to spend upwards of 2000
guineas a day for insurance: fortune forsook him, and he passed the
latter years of his life in great poverty, partly subsisting on
charity. But his gambling propensity led him, in 1807, to purchase
with a friend a sixteenth of a lottery-ticket, which was drawn a prize
of 20,000_l._, with his moiety of which he purchased a small annuity,
which he soon sold, and died in distress, in 1809.

Bagnigge Wells, on the banks of the Fleet brook, between Clerkenwell
and old St. Pancras church, was another tavern of this class. We
remember its concert-room and organ, its grottoes, fountain and
fishpond, its trim trees, its grotesque costumed figures, and its bust
of Nell Gwynne to support the tradition that she had a house here.

A comedy of the seventeenth century has its scene laid at the
Saracen's Head, an old hostelrie, which in Queen Mary's reign had been
hallowed by secret Protestant devotion, and stood between River Lane
and the City Road.

Highbury Barn, upon the site of the barn of the monks of Canonbury,
was another noted tavern.[46] Nearly opposite Canonbury Tower are the
remains of a last-century tea-garden; and in Barnsbury is a similar
relic. And on the entrance of a coppice of trees is Hornsey Wood
House, a tavern with a delightful prospect.

Islington abounds in chalybeate springs, resembling the Tunbridge
Wells water; one of which was rediscovered in 1683, in the garden of
Sadler's music-house, subsequently Sadler's Wells Theatre; and at the
Sir Hugh Myddelton's Head tavern was formerly a conversation-picture
with twenty-eight portraits of the Sadler's Wells Club. In Spa Fields,
was held "Gooseberry Fair," where the stalls of gooseberry-fool vied
with the "threepenny tea-booths," and the beer at "my Lord Cobham's
Head," which denotes the site of the mansion of Sir John Oldcastle,
the Wickliffite, burnt in 1417.


[46] Canonbury Tavern was in the middle of the last century a small
ale-house. It was taken by a Mr. Lane, who had been a private soldier:
he improved the house, but its celebrity was gained by the widow
Sutton, who kept the place from 1785 to 1808, and built new rooms, and
laid out the bowling-green and tea-gardens. An Assembly was first
established here in the year 1810. Nearly the entire premises, which
then occupied about four acres, were situated within the old park wall
of the Priory of St. Bartholomew; it formed, indeed, a part of the
eastern side of the house; the ancient fish-pond was also connected
with the grounds. The Tavern has been rebuilt.


This old suburban tavern, which stood in Copenhagen Fields, Islington,
was cleared away in forming the site of the New Cattle Market.

The house had a curious history. In the time of Nelson, the historian
of Islington (1811), it was a house of considerable resort, the
situation affording a fine prospect over the western part of the
metropolis. Adjoining the house was a small garden, furnished with
seats and tables for the accommodation of company; and a fives ground.
The principal part of Copenhagen House, although much altered, was
probably as old as the time of James I., and is traditionally said to
have derived its name from having been the residence of a Danish
prince or ambassador during the Great Plague of 1665. Hone, in 1838,
says: "It is certain that Copenhagen House has been licensed for the
sale of beer, wine, and spirits, upwards of a century; and for
refreshments, and as a tea-house, with garden and ground for skittles
and Dutch pins, it has been greatly resorted to by Londoners." The
date of this hostelry must be older than stated by Hone. Cunningham
says: "A public-house or tavern in the parish of Islington, is called
Coopenhagen in the map before Bishop Gibson's edition of Camden,

About the year 1770 this house was kept by a person named Harrington.
At his decease the business was continued by his widow, wherein she
was assisted for several years by a young woman from Shropshire. This
female assistant afterwards married a person named Tomes, from whom
Hone got much information respecting Copenhagen-house. In 1780--the
time of the London Riots--a body of the rioters passed on their way to
attack the seat of Lord Mansfield at Caen-wood; happily, they passed
by without doing any damage, but Mrs. Harrington and her maid were so
much alarmed that they dispatched a man to Justice Hyde, who sent a
party of soldiers to garrison the place, where they remained until the
riots were ended. From this spot the view of the nightly
conflagrations in the metropolis must have been terrific. Mrs. Tomes
says she saw nine fires at one time. On the New Year's-day previous to
this, Mrs. Harrington was not so fortunate. After the family had
retired to rest, a party of burglars forced the kitchen window, and
mistaking the salt-box, in the chimney corner, for a man's head, fired
a ball through it. They then ran upstairs with a dark lantern, tied
the servants, burst the lower panel of Mrs. Harrington's room
door--while she secreted 50_l._ between her bed and the
mattresses--and three of them rushed to her bed-side, armed with a
cutlass, crowbar, and a pistol, while a fourth kept watch outside.
They demanded her money, and as she denied that she had any, they
wrenched her drawers open with the crowbar, refusing to use the keys
she offered to them. In these they found about 10_l._ belonging to her
daughter, a little child, whom they threatened to murder unless she
ceased crying; while they packed up all the plate, linen, and clothes,
which they carried off. They then went into the cellar, set all the
ale barrels running, broke the necks of the wine bottles, spilt the
other liquors, and slashed a round of beef with their cutlasses. From
this wanton destruction they returned to the kitchen, where they ate,
drank, and sung; and eventually frightened Mrs. Harrington into
delivering up the 50_l._ she had secreted, and it was with difficulty
she escaped with her life. Rewards were offered by Government and the
parish of Islington for the apprehension of the robbers; and in May
following one of them, named Clarkson, was discovered, and hopes of
mercy tendered to him if he would discover his accomplices. This man
was a watchmaker of Clerkenwell; the other three were tradesmen. They
were tried and executed, and Clarkson pardoned. He was, however,
afterwards executed for another robbery. In a sense, this robbery was
fortunate to Mrs. Harrington. A subscription was raised, which more
than covered the loss, and the curiosity of the Londoners induced them
to throng to the scene of the robbery. So great was the increase of
business that it became necessary to enlarge the premises. Soon
afterwards the house was celebrated for fives-playing. This game was
our old _hand tennis_, and is a very ancient game. This last addition
was almost accidental. "I made the first fives-ball," says Mrs. Tomes,
"that was ever thrown up against Copenhagen House. One Hickman, a
butcher at Highgate, a countryman of mine, called, and, seeing me
counting, we talked about our country sports, and, amongst the rest,
_fives_. I told him we'd have a game some day. I laid down the stone
myself, and against he came again made a ball. I struck the ball the
first blow, he gave it the second--and so we played--and as there was
company, they liked the sport, and it got talked of." This was the
beginning of fives-play which became so famous at Copenhagen House.


In Upper-street, Islington, was formerly a house with the sign of the
Duke's Head, at the south-east corner of Gadd's Row, (now St. Alban's
Place), which was remarkable, towards the middle of the last century,
on account of its landlord, Thomas Topham, "the strong man of
Islington." He was brought up to the trade of a carpenter, but
abandoned it soon after his apprenticeship had expired; and about the
age of twenty-four became the host of the Red Lion, near the old
Hospital of St. Luke, in which house he failed. When he had attained
his full growth, his stature was about five feet ten inches, and he
soon began to give proof of his superior strength and muscular power.
The first public exhibition of his extraordinary strength was that of
pulling against a horse, lying upon his back, and placing his feet
against the dwarf wall that divided Upper and Lower Moorfields.

By the strength of his fingers, he rolled up a very strong and large
pewter dish, which was placed among the curiosities of the British
Museum, marked near the edge, "April, 3, 1737, Thomas Topham, of
London, carpenter, rolled up this dish (made of the hardest pewter) by
the strength of his hands, in the presence of Dr. John Desaguliers,"
etc. He broke seven or eight pieces of a tobacco-pipe, by the force of
his middle finger, having laid them on his first and third fingers.
Having thrust the bowl of a strong tobacco-pipe under his garter, his
legs being bent, he broke it to pieces by the tendons of his hams,
without altering the position of his legs. Another bowl of this kind
he broke between his first and second finger, by pressing them
together sideways. He took an iron kitchen poker, about a yard long,
and three inches round, and bent it nearly to a right angle, by
striking upon his bare left arm between the elbow and the wrist.
Holding the ends of a poker of like size in his hands, and the middle
of it against the back of his neck, he brought both extremities of it
together before him; and, what was yet more difficult, pulled it
almost straight again. He broke a rope of two inches in circumference;
though, from his awkward manner, he was obliged to exert four times
more strength than was necessary. He lifted a rolling stone of eight
hundred pounds' weight with his hands only, standing in a frame above
it, and taking hold of a chain fastened thereto.

But his grand feat was performed in Coldbath Fields, May 28, 1741, in
commemoration of the taking of Porto Bello, by Admiral Vernon. At this
time Topham was landlord of the Apple-tree, nearly facing the entrance
to the House of Correction; here he exhibited the exploit of lifting
three hogsheads of water, weighing one thousand eight hundred and
thirty-one pounds: he also pulled against one horse, and would have
succeeded against two, or even four, had he taken a proper position;
but in pulling against two, he was jerked from his seat, and had one
of his knees much hurt. Admiral Vernon was present at the above
exhibition, in the presence of thousands of spectators; and there is a
large print of the strange scene.

Topham subsequently removed to Hog-lane, Shoreditch. His wife proved
unfaithful to him, which so distressed him that he stabbed her, and so
mutilated himself that he died, in the flower of his age.

Many years since, there were several signs in the metropolis,
illustrative of Topham's strength: the last was one in East
Smithfield, where he was represented as "the Strong Man pulling
against two Horses."


This noted tavern, described by Strype, a century and a half ago, as a
house of considerable trade, has been, in our time, the head-quarters
of the Prize Ring, kept by two of its heroes, Tom Belcher and Tom
Spring. Here was instituted the Daffy Club; and the long room was
adorned with portraits of pugilistic heroes, including Jem Belcher,
Burke, Jackson, Tom Belcher, old Joe Ward, Dutch Sam, Gregson,
Humphreys, Mendoza, Cribb, Molyneux, Gulley, Randall, Turner, Martin,
Harmer, Spring, Neat, Hickman, Painter, Scroggins, Tom Owen, etc.; and
among other sporting prints, the famous dog, Trusty, the present of
Lord Camelford to Jem Belcher, and the victor in fifty battles. In
_Cribb's Memorial to Congress_ is this picture of the great room:--

     "Lent Friday night a bang-up set
     Of milling blades at Belcher's met,
     All high-bred heroes of the Ring,
       Whose very gammon would delight one;
     Who, nurs'd beneath the Fancy's wing,
       Show all her feathers but the white one.
     Brave Tom, the Champion, with an air
     Almost Corinthian, took the chair,
     And kept the coves in quiet tune,
       By showing such a fist of mutton
     As on a point of order soon
       Would take the shine from Speaker Sutton.
     And all the lads look'd gay and bright,
       And gin and genius flashed about;
     And whosoe'er grew unpolite,
       The well-bred Champion serv'd him out."

In 1828, Belcher retired from the tavern and was succeeded by Tom
Spring (Thomas Winter), the immediate successor of Cribb, as Champion
of England. Spring prospered at the Castle many years. He died August
17, 1851, in his fifty-sixth year; he was highly respected, and had
received several testimonials of public and private esteem; among
which were these pieces of plate:--1. The Manchester Cup, presented in
1821. 2. The Hereford Cup, 1823. 3. A noble tankard and a purse, value
upwards of five hundred pounds. 4. A silver goblet, from Spring's
early patron, Mr. Sant.

Spring's figure was an extremely fine one, and his face and forehead
most remarkable. His brow had something of the Greek Jupiter in it,
expressing command, energy, determination, and cool courage. Its
severity was relieved by the lower part of his countenance, the
features of which denoted mildness and playfulness. His actual height
was five feet eleven inches and a half; but he could stretch his neck
so as to make his admeasurement more than six feet.


Smith, in his very amusing _Book for a Rainy Day_, tells us that in
1772, beyond Portland Chapel, (now St. Paul's,) the highway was
irregular, with here and there a bank of separation; and having
crossed the New Road, there was a turnstile, at the entrance of a
meadow leading to a little old public-house--the Queen's Head and
Artichoke--an odd association: the sign was much weather-beaten,
though perhaps once a tolerably good portrait of Queen Elizabeth: the
house was reported to have been kept by one of Her Majesty's

A little beyond was another turnstile opening also into the fields,
over which was a walk to the Jew's Harp Tavern and Tea Gardens. It
consisted of a large upper room, ascended by an outside staircase for
the accommodation of the company on ball-nights. There were a
semicircular enclosure of boxes for tea and ale drinkers; and tables
and seats for the smokers, guarded by deal-board soldiers between
every box, painted in proper colours. There were trap-ball and tennis
grounds, and skittle-grounds. South of the tea-gardens were
summer-houses and gardens, where the tenant might be seen on Sunday
evening, in a bright scarlet waistcoat, ruffled shirt, and silver
shoe-buckles, comfortably taking his tea with his family, honouring a
Seven Dials friend with a nod on his peregrination to the famed Wells
of Kilburn. Such was the suburban rural enjoyment of a century since
on the borders of Marylebone Park.

There is a capital story told of Mr. Speaker Onslow, who, when he
could escape from the heated atmosphere of the House of Commons, in
his long service of thirty-three years, used to retire to the Jew's
Harp. He dressed himself in plain attire, and preferred taking his
seat in the chimney-corner of the kitchen, where he took part in the
passing joke, and ordinary concerns of the landlord, his family and
customers! He continued this practice for a year or two, and thus
ingratiated himself with his host and his family, who, not knowing his
name, called him "the gentleman," but from his familiar manners,
treated him as one of themselves. It happened, however, one day, that
the landlord of the Jew's Harp was walking along Parliament-street,
when he met the Speaker, in his state-coach, going up with an address
to the throne; and looking narrowly at the chief personage, he was
astonished and confounded at recognising the features of the
gentleman, his constant customer. He hurried home and communicated the
extraordinary intelligence to his wife and family, all of whom were
disconcerted at the liberties which, at different times, they had
taken with so important a person. In the evening, Mr. Onslow came as
usual to the Jew's Harp, with his holiday face and manners, and
prepared to take his seat, but found everything in a state of peculiar
preparation, and the manners of the landlord and his wife changed from
indifference and familiarity to form and obsequiousness: the children
were not allowed to climb upon him, and pull his wig as heretofore,
and the servants were kept at a distance. He, however, took no notice
of the change, but, finding that his name and rank had by some means
been discovered, he paid his reckoning, civilly took his departure,
and never visited the house afterwards.

The celebrated Speaker is buried in the family vault of the Onslows,
at Merrow; and in Trinity Church, Guildford, is a memorial of
him--"the figure of the deceased in a _Roman habit_," and he is
resting upon volumes of the Votes and Journals of the House of
Commons. The monument is overloaded with inscriptions and armorial
displays: we suspect that "the gentleman" of the Jews' Harp
chimney-corner would rather that such indiscriminate ostentation had
been spared, especially "the Roman habit." If we remember rightly,
Speaker Onslow presented to the people of Merrow, for their church, a
cedar-wood pulpit, which the Churchwardens ordered to be _painted

To return to the taverns. Wilson, our great landscape-painter, was
fond of playing at skittles, and frequented the Green Man
public-house, in the New-road, at the end of Norton-street, originally
known under the appellation of the "Farthing Pye-house;" where bits of
mutton were put into a crust shaped like a pie, and actually sold for
a farthing. This house was kept by a facetious man named Price, of
whom there is a mezzotinto portrait: he was an excellent salt-box
player, and frequently accompanied the famous Abel, when playing on
the violoncello. Wilkes was a frequenter of this house to procure
votes for Middlesex, as it was visited by many opulent freeholders.

The Mother Redcap, at Kentish Town, was a house of no small terror to
travellers in former times. It has been stated that Mother Redcap was
the "Mother Damnable" of Kentish Town; and that it was at her house
that the notorious Moll Cutpurse, the highway-woman of the time of
Oliver Cromwell, dismounted, and frequently lodged.

Kentish Town has had some of its old taverns rebuilt. Here was the
Castle Tavern, which had a Perpendicular stone chimney-piece; the
house was taken down in 1849: close to its southern wall was a
sycamore planted by Lord Nelson, when a boy, at the entrance to his
uncle's cottage; the tree has been spared. Opposite were the old
Assembly-rooms, taken down in 1852: here was a table with an
inscription by an invalid, who recovered his health by walking to this
spot every morning to take his breakfast in front of the house.

Bowling-greens were also among the celebrities of Marylebone: where,
says the grave John Locke (_Diary_, 1679), a curious stranger "may see
several persons of quality bowling, two or three times a week, all the
summer." The bowling-green of the Rose of Normandy Tavern and
Gaming-house in High-street is supposed to be that referred to in Lady
Mary Wortley Montagu's memorable line; and it is one of the scenes of
Captain Macheath's debaucheries, in Gay's _Beggar's Opera_.

The Rose was built some 230 years ago, and was the oldest house in
Marylebone parish: it was originally a detached building, used as a
house of entertainment in connection with the bowling-green at the
back; and in 1659 the place was described as a square brick wall, set
with fruit-trees, gravel walks, and the bowling-green; "all, except
the first, double set with quickset hedges, full-grown, and kept in
excellent order, and indented like town walls." In a map of the Duke
of Portland's estate, of 1708, there are shown two bowling-greens, one
near the top of High-street, and abutting on the grounds of the Old
Manor House; the other at the back of this house: in connection with
the latter was the Rose Tavern, once much frequented by persons of the
first rank, but latterly in much disrepute, and supposed to be
referred to by Pennant, who, when speaking of the Duke of Buckingham's
minute description of the house afterwards the Queen's Palace, says:
"He has omitted his constant visits to the noted Gaming-house at
Marybone; the place of assemblage of all the infamous sharpers of the
time;" to whom his Grace always gave a dinner at the conclusion of the
season; and his parting toast was, "May as many of us as remain
unhanged next spring meet here again."

These Bowling-greens were afterwards incorporated with the well-known
Marylebone Gardens, upon the site of which are now built
Beaumont-street, part of Devonshire-street, and Devonshire-place. The
principal entrance was in High-street. Pepys was here in 1688: "Then
we abroad to Marrowbone, and there walked in the Gardens: the first
time I was ever there, and a pretty place it is." In the _London
Gazette_, 1691, we read of "Long's Bowling-green, at the Rose, at
Marylebone, half a mile distant from London." The Gardens were at
first opened gratis to all classes; after the addition of the
bowling-greens, the company became more select, by one shilling
entrance-money being charged, an equivalent being allowed in viands.

An engraving of 1761 shows the Gardens in their fullest splendour: the
centre walk had rows of trees, with irons for the lamps in the stems;
on either side, latticed alcoves; and on the right, the bow-fronted
orchestra with balustrades, supported by columns; with a projecting
roof, to keep the musicians and singers free from rain; on the left
is a room for balls and suppers. In 1763, the Gardens were taken by
Lowe, the singer; he kept them until 1769, when he conveyed the
property by assignment, to his creditors; the deed we remember to have
seen in Mr. Sampson Hodgkinson's Collection at Acton Green: from it we
learn that the premises of Rysbrack, the sculptor, were formerly part
of the Gardens. Nan Cattley and Signor Storace were among the singers.
James Hook, father of Theodore Hook, composed many songs for the
Gardens; and Dr. Arne, catches and glees; and under his direction was
played Handel's music, followed by fireworks; and in 1772, a
model-picture of Mount Etna, in eruption. Burlettas from Shakspeare
were recited here in 1774. In 1775, Baddeley, the comedian, gave here
his Modern Magic Lantern, including Punch's Election; next, George
Saville Carey his Lecture on Mimicry; and in 1776, fantoccini, sleight
of hand, and representations of the Boulevards at Paris and Pyramids
of Egypt.

Chatterton wrote for the Gardens _The Revenge_, a burletta, the
manuscript of which, together with Chatterton's receipt, given to
Henslow, the proprietor of the Gardens, for the amount paid for the
drama, was found by Mr. Upcott, at a cheesemonger's shop, in the City;
it was published, but its authenticity was at the time doubted by many
eminent critics. (_Crypt_, November, 1827.)

Paddington was long noted for its old Taverns. The White Lion,
Edgware-road, dates 1524, the year when hops were first imported. At
the Red Lion, near the Harrow-road, tradition says, Shakspeare acted;
and another Red Lion, formerly near the Harrow-road bridge over the
Bourn, is described in an inquisition of Edward VI. In this road is
also an ancient Pack-horse; and the Wheatsheaf, Edgware-road, was a
favourite resort of Ben Jonson.[47]

Kilburn Wells, a noted tea-drinking tavern and garden, sprang up from
the fame of the spring of mineral water there.

Bayswater had, within memory, its tea-garden taverns, the most
extensive of which were the "physic gardens" of Sir John Hill, who
here cultivated his medicinal plants, and prepared from them his
tinctures, essences, etc. The ground is now the site of noble
mansions. The Bayswater springs, reservoirs, and conduits, in olden
times, brought here thousands of pleasure-seekers; as did Shepherd's
Bush, with its rural name. Acton, with its wells of mineral water,
about the middle of the last century, were in high repute; the
assembly-room was then a place of great fashionable resort, but on its
decline was converted into tenements. The two noted taverns, the Hats,
at Ealing, were much resorted to in the last century, and early in the


[47] Robins's _Paddington, Past and Present_.


Kensington, on the Great Western road, formerly had its large inns.
The coffee-house west of the Palace Road was much resorted to as a
tea-drinking place, handy to the gardens.

Kensington, to this day, retains its memorial of the residence of
Addison at Holland House, from the period of his marriage. The
thoroughfare from the Kensington Road to Notting Hill is named Addison
Road. At Holland House are shown the table upon which the Essayist
wrote; his reputed portrait; and the chamber in which he died.

It has been commonly stated and believed that Addison's marriage with
the Countess of Warwick was a most unhappy match; and that, to drown
his sorrow, and escape from his termagant wife, he would often slip
away from Holland House to the White Horse Inn, which stood at the
corner of Lord Holland's Lane, and on the site of the present Holland
Arms Inn. Here Addison would enjoy his favourite dish of a fillet of
veal, his bottle, and perhaps a friend. He is also stated to have had
another way of showing his spite to the Countess, by withdrawing the
company from Button's Coffee-house, set up by her Ladyship's old
servant. Moreover, Addison is accused of having taught Dryden to
drink, so as to hasten his end: how doubly "glorious" old John must
have been in his cups. Pope also states that Addison kept such late
hours that he was compelled to quit his company. But both these
anecdotes are from Spence, and are doubted; and they have done much
injury to Addison's character. Miss Aikin, in her _Life of Addison_,
endeavours to invalidate these imputations, by reference to the
sobriety of Addison's early life. He had a remarkably sound
constitution, and could, probably, sit out his companions, and stop
short of actual intoxication; indeed, it was said that he was only
warmed into the utmost brilliancy of table conversation, by the time
that Steele had rendered himself nearly unfit for it. Miss Aikin
refers to the tone and temper, the correctness of taste and judgment
of Addison's writings, in proof of his sobriety; and doubts whether a
man, himself stained with the vice of intoxication, would have dared
to stigmatize it as in his 569th _Spectator_. The idea that domestic
unhappiness led him to contract this dreadful habit, is then
repudiated; and the opposite conclusion supported by the bequest of
his whole property to his lady. "Is it conceivable," asks Miss Aikin,
"that any man would thus 'give and hazard all he had,' even to his
precious only child, in compliment to a woman who should have rendered
his last years miserable by her pride and petulance, and have driven
him out from his home, to pass his comfortless evenings in the gross
indulgence of a tavern." Our amiable biographer, therefore, equally
discredits the stories of Addison's unhappy marriage, and of his
intemperate habits.

The White Horse was taken down many years since. The tradition of its
being the tavern frequented by Addison, was common in Kensington when
Faulkner printed his _History_, in 1820.

There was a celebrated visitor at Holland House who, many years later,
partook of "the gross indulgence." Sheridan was often at Holland House
in his latter days; and Lady Holland told Moore that he used to take a
bottle of wine and a book up to bed with him always; the _former_
alone intended for use. In the morning, he breakfasted in bed, and had
a little brandy or rum in his tea or coffee; made his appearance
between one or two, and pretending important business, used to set out
for town, but regularly stopped at the Adam and Eve public-house for a
dram, and there ran up a long bill, which Lord Holland had to pay.
This was the old roadside inn, long since taken down.

When the building for the Great Exhibition of 1851 was in course of
construction, Alexis Soyer, the celebrated cook from the Reform Club,
hired for a term, Gore House, and converted Lady Blessington's
well-appointed mansion and grounds into a sort of large _restaurant_,
which our poetical cook named "the Symposium." The house was ill
planned for the purpose, and underwent much grotesque decoration and
_bizarre_ embellishment, to meet Soyer's somewhat unorthodox taste;
for his chief aim was to show the public "something they had never
seen before." The designation of the place--Symposium--led to a
dangerous joke: "Ah! I understand," said a wag, "impose-on-'em." Soyer
was horrified, and implored the joker not to name his witticism upon
'Change in the City, but he disregarded the _restaurateur's_ request,
and the pun was often repeated between Cornhill and Kensington.

In the reconstruction and renovation of the place, Soyer was assisted
by his friend Mr. George Augustus Sala, who, some years after, when he
edited _Temple Bar_, described in his very clever manner, what he saw
and thought, whilst for "many moons he slept, and ate, and drank, and
walked, and talked, in Gore House, surrounded by the very strangest of

     "From February to mid-March a curious medley of carpenters,
     scene-painters, plumbers, glaziers, gardeners,
     town-travellers for ironmongers, wine-merchants, and
     drapers, held high carnival in the place. By-and-by came
     dukes and duchesses, warriors and statesmen, ambassadors,
     actors, artists, authors, quack-doctors, ballet-dancers,
     journalists, Indian princes, Irish members, nearly all that
     was odd and all that was distinguished, native or foreign,
     in London town. They wandered up and down the staircases,
     and in and out of the saloons, quizzing, and talking, and
     laughing, and flirting sometimes in sly corners. They
     signed their names in a big book, blazing with gold and
     morocco, which lay among shavings on a carpenter's bench in
     the library. Where is that wondrous collection of
     autographs, that _Libro d'Oro_, now? Mr. Keeley's signature
     followed suit to that of Lord Carlisle. Fanny Cerito
     inscribed her pretty name, with that of 'St. Leon' added,
     next to the signature of the magnificent Duchess of
     Sutherland. I was at work with the whitewashers on the
     stairs, and saw Semiramis sweep past. Baron Brunnow met
     Prof. Holloway on the neutral ground of a page of
     autographs. Jules Janin's name came close to the laborious
     _paraphe_ of an eminent pugilist. Members of the American
     Congress found themselves in juxtaposition with Frederick
     Douglas and the dark gentleman who came as ambassador from
     Hayti. I remember one Sunday, during that strange time,
     seeing Mr. Disraeli, Madame Doche, the Author of _Vanity
     Fair_, a privy councillor, a Sardinian attaché, the Marquis
     of Normanby, the late Mr. Flexmore the clown, the Editor of
     _Punch_, and the Wizard of the North, all pressing to enter
     the whilom boudoir of the Blessington.

     "Meanwhile, I and the whitewashers were hard at work. We
     summoned upholsterers, carvers and gilders to our aid.
     Troops of men in white caps and jackets began to flit about
     the lower regions. The gardeners were smothering themselves
     with roses in the adjacent parterres. Marvellous erections
     began to rear their heads in the grounds of Gore House. The
     wilderness had become, not exactly a paradise, but a kind of
     Garden of Epicurus, in which some of the features of that
     classical bower of bliss were blended with those of the
     kingdom of Cockaigne, where pigs are said to run about ready
     roasted with silver knives and forks stuck in them, and
     crying, 'Come, eat us; our crackling is delicious, and the
     sage-and-onions with which we are stuffed distils an odour
     as sweet as that of freshly gathered violets.' Vans laden
     with wines, with groceries, with plates and dishes, with
     glasses and candelabra, and with bales of calico, and still
     more calico, were perpetually arriving at Gore House. The
     carriages of the nobility and gentry were blocked up among
     railway goods-vans and Parcels Delivery carts. The
     authorities of the place were obliged to send for a
     detective policeman to mount permanent guard at the Gore,
     for the swell-mob had found us out, and flying squadrons of
     felonry hung on the skirts of our distinguished visitors,
     and harassed their fobs fearfully. Then we sent forth
     advertisements to the daily papers, and legions of mothers,
     grandmothers, and aunts brought myriads of newly-washed
     boys; some chubby and curly-haired, some lanky and
     straight-locked, from whom we selected the comelier youths,
     and put them into picturesque garbs, confected for us by Mr.
     Nicoll. Then we held a competitive examination of pretty
     girls; and from those who obtained the largest number of
     marks (of respect and admiration) we chose a bevy of Hebes,
     whose rosy lips, black eyes and blue eyes, fair hair and
     dark hair, very nearly drove me crazy in the spring days of

     "And by the end of April we had completely metamorphosed
     Gore House. I am sure that poor Lady Blessington would not
     have known her coquettish villa again had she visited it;
     and I am afraid she would not have been much gratified to
     see that which the upholsterers, the whitewashers, the
     hangers of calico, and your humble servant, had wrought. As
     for the venerable Mr. Wilberforce, who, I believe, occupied
     Gore House some years before Lady Blessington's tenancy, he
     would have held up his hands in pious horror to see the
     changes we had made. A madcap masquerade of bizarre taste
     and queer fancies had turned Gore House completely inside
     out. In honest truth, we had played the very dickens with
     it. The gardens were certainly magnificent; and there was a
     sloping terrace of flowers in the form of a gigantic shell,
     and literally crammed with the choicest roses, which has
     seldom, I believe, been rivalled in ornamental gardening.
     But the house itself! The library had been kindly dealt by,
     save that from the ceiling were suspended a crowd of
     quicksilvered glass globes, which bobbed about like the
     pendent ostrich-eggs in an Eastern mosque. There was a room
     called the 'Floriana,' with walls and ceiling fluted with
     blue and white calico, and stuck all over with spangles.
     There was the 'Doriana,' also in calico, pink and white, and
     approached by a portal called the 'door of the dungeon of
     mystery,' which was studded with huge nails, and garnished
     with fetters in the well-known Newgate fashion. Looking
     towards the garden were the Alhambra Terrace and the
     Venetian Bridge. The back drawing-room was the Night of
     Stars, or the _Rêverie de l'Etoile polaire_; the night
     being represented by a cerulean ceiling painted over with
     fleecy clouds, and the firmament by hangings of blue gauze
     spangled with stars cut out of silver-foil paper! Then there
     was the vestibule of Jupiter Tonans, the walls covered with
     a salmagundi of the architecture of all nations, from the
     Acropolis to the Pyramids of Egypt, from Temple Bar to the
     Tower of Babel. The dining-room became the Hall of Jewels,
     or the _Salon des Larmes de Danaë_, and the 'Shower of
     Gems,' with a grand arabesque perforated ceiling, gaudy in
     gilding and distemper colours. Upstairs there was a room
     fitted up as a Chinese pagoda, another as an Italian cottage
     overlooking a vineyard and the Lake of Como; another as a
     cavern of ice in the Arctic regions, with sham columns
     imitating icebergs, and a stuffed white fox--bought cheap at
     a sale--in the chimney. The grand staircase belonged to me,
     and I painted its walls with a grotesque nightmare of
     portraits of people I had never seen, and hundreds more upon
     whom I had never set eyes save in the print-shops, till I
     saw the originals grinning, or scowling, or planted in blank
     amazement before the pictorial libels on the walls.

     "In the gardens Sir Charles Fox built for us a huge barrack
     of wood, glass, and iron, which we called the 'Baronial
     Hall,' and which we filled with pictures and lithographs,
     and flags and calico, in our own peculiar fashion. We hired
     a large grazing-meadow at the back of the gardens, from a
     worthy Kensington cowkeeper, and having fitted up another
     barrack at one end of it, called it the 'Pré D'Orsay.' We
     memorialized the Middlesex magistrates, and, after a great
     deal of trouble, got a licence enabling us to sell wines and
     spirits, and to have music and dancing if we so chose. We
     sprinkled tents and alcoves all over our gardens, and built
     a gipsies' cavern, and a stalactite pagoda with double
     windows, in which gold and silver fish floated. And finally,
     having engaged an army of pages, cooks, scullions, waiters,
     barmaids, and clerks of the kitchen, we opened this
     monstrous place on the first of May, 1851, and bade all the
     world come and dine at SOYER'S SYMPOSIUM."

However, the ungrateful public disregarded the invitation, and poor
Alexis Soyer is believed to have lost 4000_l._ by this enterprise. He
died a few years after, at the early age of fifty. His friend Mr.
Sala has said of him with true pathos:--"He was a vain man; but he was
good and kind and charitable. There are paupers and beggars _even
among French cooks_, and Alexis always had his pensioners and his
alms-duns, to whom his hand was ever open. He was but a cook, but he
was my dear and good friend."

We remember to have heard Soyer say of the writer of these truthful
words, in reply to an inquiry as to the artist of the figures upon the
staircase-walls, "He is a very clever fellow, of whom you will hear
much,"--a prediction which has been fully verified.

Brompton, with its two centuries of Nursery fame, lasted to our time;
southward, among "the Groves," were the Florida, Hoop and Toy, and
other tea-garden taverns; there remains the Swan, with its


Knightsbridge was formerly a noted "Spring-Garden," with several
taverns, of gay and questionable character. Some of the older houses
have historical interest. The Rose and Crown, formerly the Oliver
Cromwell, has been licensed above three hundred years. It is said to
be the house which sheltered Wyat, while his unfortunate Kentish
followers rested on the adjacent green. A tradition of the locality
also is that Cromwell's body-guard was once quartered here, the
probability of which is carefully examined in Davis's _Memorials of
Knightsbridge_. The house has been much modernized of late years;
"but," says Mr. Davis, "enough still remains in its peculiar chimneys,
oval-shaped windows, the low rooms, large yard, and extensive
stabling, with the galleries above, and office-like places beneath, to
testify to its antiquity and former importance." The Rising Sun, hard
by, is a seventeenth century red-brick house, which formerly had much
carved work in the rooms, and a good staircase remains.

The Fox and Bull is the third house that has existed under the same
sign. The first was Elizabethan with carved and panelled rooms,
ornamented ceiling; and it was not until 1799, that the immense
fireplaces and dog-irons were removed for stove-grates. This house was
pulled down about 1836, and the second immediately built upon its
site; this stood till the Albert-gate improvements made the removal of
the tavern business to its present situation.[48]

The original Fox and Bull is traditionally said to have been used by
Queen Elizabeth on her visits to Lord Burghley, at Brompton. Its
curious sign is said to be the only one of the kind existing. Here for
a long time was maintained that Queen Anne style of society, where
persons of parts and reputation were to be met with in public rooms.
Captain Corbet was for a long time its head; Mr. Shaw, of the War
Office, supplied the _London Gazette_; and Mr. Harris, of Covent
Garden, his play-bills. Sir Joshua Reynolds is said to have been
occasionally a visitor; as also Sir W. Wynn, the patron of Ryland.
George Morland, too, was frequently here. The sign was once painted by
Sir Joshua, and hung till 1807, when it was blown down and destroyed
in a storm. The house is referred to in the _Tatler_, No. 259.

At about where William-street joins Lowndes-square was "an excellent
Spring Garden." Among the entries of the Virtuosi, or St. Luke's Club,
established by Vandyke, is the following: "Paid and spent at Spring
Gardens, by Knightsbridge, forfeiture, 3_l._ 15_s._" Pepys being at
Kensington, "on a frolic," June 16, 1664, "lay in his drawers, and
stockings, and waistcoat, till five of the clock, and so up, walked to
Knightsbridge, and there eat a mess of cream, and so to St. James's,"
etc. And, April 24, 1665, the King being in the Park, and sly Pepys
being doubtful of being seen in any pleasure, stepped out of the Park
to Knightsbridge, and there ate and drank in the coach.

Pepys also speaks of "the World's End," at Knightsbridge, which Mr.
Davis thinks could only have been the sign adopted for the Garden; and
Pepys, being too soon to go into Hyde Park, went on to Knightsbridge,
and there ate and drank at the World's End; and elsewhere the road
going "to the World's End, a drinking-house by the Park, and there
merry, and so home late." Congreve, in his _Love for Love_, alludes,
in a woman's quarrel, to the place, between Mrs. Frail and Mrs.
Foresight, in which the former says: "I don't doubt but you have
thought yourself happy in a hackney-coach before now. If I had gone to
Knightsbridge, or to Chelsea, or to Spring Garden, or Barn Elms, with
a man alone, something might have been said." The house belonging to
this Garden stood till about 1826.

Knightsbridge Grove, approached through a stately avenue of trees from
the road, was a sporting-house. Here the noted Mrs. Cornelys
endeavoured to retrieve her fortunes, after her failure at Carlisle
House. In 1785, she gave up her precarious trade. "Ten years after,"
says Davis's _Memorials of Knightsbridge_, "to the great surprise of
the public, she re-appeared at Knightsbridge as Mrs. Smith, a retailer
of asses' milk. A suite of breakfast-rooms was opened; but her former
influence could not be recovered. The speculation utterly failed; and
at length she was confined to the Fleet Prison. There she ended her
shallow career, dying August 19, 1797."

A once notorious house, the Swan, still exists on the
Knightsbridge-road, a little beyond the Green. It is celebrated by Tom
Brown. In Otway's _Soldier's Fortune_, 1681, Sir Davy Dunce says:--

     "I have surely lost, and ne'er shall find her more. She
     promised me strictly to stay at home till I came back again;
     for ought I know, she may be up three pair of stairs in the
     Temple now, or, it may be, taking the air as far as
     Knightsbridge, with some smooth-faced rogue or another;
     'tis a damned house that Swan,--that Swan at Knightsbridge
     is a confounded house."

To the Feathers, which stood to the south of Grosvenor-row, an odd
anecdote is attached. A Lodge of Odd Fellows, or some similar society,
was in the habit of holding its meetings in a room at the Feathers;
and on one occasion, when a new member was being initiated in the
mysteries thereof, in rushed two persons, whose abrupt and
unauthorized entrance threw the whole assemblage into an uproar.
Summary punishment was proposed by an expeditious kick into the
street; but, just as it was about to be bestowed, the secretary
recognized one of the intruders as George, Prince of Wales, afterwards
George IV. Circumstances instantly changed: it indeed was he, out on a
nocturnal excursion; and accordingly it was proposed and carried that
the Prince and his companion should be admitted members. The Prince
was chairman the remainder of the evening; and the chair in which he
sat, ornamented, in consequence, with the plume, is still preserved in
the parlour of the modern inn in Grosvenor-street West, and over it
hangs a coarsely-executed portrait of the Prince in the robes of the
order. The inn, the hospital, and various small tenements were removed
in 1851, when the present stately erections were immediately
commenced. On the ground being cleared away, various coins, old
horse-shoes, a few implements of warfare, and some human remains were

Jenny's Whim, another celebrated place of entertainment, has only just
entirely disappeared; it was on the site of St. George's-row. Mr.
Davis thinks it to have been named from the fantastic way in which
Jenny, the first landlady, laid out the garden. Angelo says, it was
established by a firework-maker, in the reign of George I. There was a
large breakfast-room, and the grounds comprised a bowling-green,
alcoves, arbours, and flower-beds; a fish-pond, a cock-pit, and a pond
for duck-hunting. In the _Connoisseur_, May 15, 1775, we read: "The
lower sort of people had their Ranelaghs and their Vauxhalls as well
as the quality. Perrot's inimitable grotto may be seen, for only
calling for a pint of beer; and the royal diversion of duck-hunting
may be had into the bargain, together with a decanter of Dorchester,
for your sixpence, at Jenny's Whim." The large garden here had some
amusing deceptions; as by treading on a spring--taking you by
surprise--up started different figures, some ugly enough to frighten
you--a harlequin, a Mother Shipton, or some terrific animal. In a
large piece of water facing the tea-alcoves, large fish or mermaids
were showing themselves above the surface. Horace Walpole, in his
Letters, occasionally alludes to Jenny's Whim; in one to Montagu he
spitefully says--"Here (at Vauxhall) we picked up Lord Granby, arrived
very drunk from Jenny's Whim."

Towards the close of the last century, Jenny's Whim began to decline;
its morning visitors were not so numerous, and opposition was also
powerful. It gradually became forgotten, and at last sank to the
condition of a beer-house, and about 1804 the business altogether

Jenny's Whim has more than once served the novelist for an
illustration; as in _Maids of Honour, a Tale of the Times of George
the First_:--"There were gardens," says the writer, mentioning the
place, "attached to it, and a bowling-green; and parties were
frequently made, composed of ladies and gentlemen, to enjoy a day's
amusement there in eating strawberries and cream, syllabubs, cake, and
taking other refreshments, of which a great variety could be procured,
with cider, perry, ale, wine, and other liquors in abundance. The
gentlemen played at bowls--some employed themselves at skittles;
whilst the ladies amused themselves at a swing, or walked about the
garden, admiring the sunflowers, hollyhocks, the Duke of Marlborough
cut out of a filbert-tree, and the roses and daisies, currants and
gooseberries, that spread their alluring charms in every path.

"This was a favourite rendezvous for lovers in courting time--a day's
pleasure at Jenny's Whim being considered by the fair one the most
enticing enjoyment that could be offered her; and often the hearts of
the most obdurate have given way beneath the influence of its
attractions. Jenny's Whim, therefore, had always, during the season,
plenty of pleasant parties of young people of both sexes. Sometimes
all its chambers were filled, and its gardens thronged by gay and
sentimental visitors."[51]


[48] Stolen Marriages were the source of the old Knightsbridge tavern
success; and ten books of marriages and baptisms solemnized here, 1658
to 1752, are preserved. Trinity Chapel, the old edifice, was one of
the places where these irregular marriages were solemnized. Thus, in
Shadwell's _Sullen Lovers_, Lovell is made to say, "Let's dally no
longer; there is a person at Knightsbridge that yokes all stray people
together; we'll to him, he'll dispatch us presently, and send us away
as lovingly as any two fools that ever yet were condemned to
marriage." Some of the entries in this marriage register are
suspicious enough--"secrecy for life," or "great secrecy," or "secret
for fourteen years" being appended to the names. Mr. Davis, in his
_Memorials of Knightsbridge_, was the first to exhume from this
document the name of the adventuress "Mrs. Mary Aylif," whom Sir
Samuel Morland married as his fourth wife, in 1697. Readers of Pepys
will remember how pathetically Morland wrote, eighteen days after the
wedding, that when he had expected to marry an heiress, "I was, about
a fortnight since, led as a fool to the stocks, and married a
coachman's daughter not worth a shilling."

[49] Davis's _Memorials of Knightsbridge_.

[50] The last relic of "Jenny's Whim" was removed in November, 1865.

[51] In 1755, a quarto satirical tract was published, entitled
"Jenny's Whim; or, a Sure Guide to the Nobility, Gentry, and other
Eminent Persons in this Metropolis."


This famous place of entertainment was opened in 1742, on the site of
the gardens of Ranelagh House, eastward of Chelsea Hospital. It was
originally projected by Lacy, the patentee of Drury Lane Theatre, as
a sort of Winter Vauxhall. There was a Rotunda, with a Doric portico,
and arcade and gallery; a Venetian pavilion in a lake, to which the
company were rowed in boats; and the grounds were planted with trees
and _allées vertes_. The several buildings were designed by Capon, the
eminent scene-painter. There were boxes for refreshments, and in each
was a painting: in the centre was a heating apparatus, concealed by
arches, porticoes and niches, paintings, etc.; and supporting the
ceiling, which was decorated with celestial figures, festoons of
flowers, and arabesques, and lighted by circles of chandeliers. The
Rotunda was opened with a public breakfast, April 5, 1742. Walpole
describes the high fashion of Ranelagh: "The prince, princess, duke,
much nobility, and much mob besides, were there." "My Lord
Chesterfield is so fond of it, that he says he has ordered all his
letters to be directed thither." The admission was one shilling; but
the ridottos, with supper and music, were one guinea. Concerts were
also given here: Dr. Arne composed the music, Tenducci and Mara sang;
and here were first publicly performed the compositions of the Catch
Club. Fireworks and a mimic Etna were next introduced; and lastly
masquerades, described in Fielding's _Amelia_, and satirized in the
_Connoisseur_, No. 66, May 1, 1755; wherein the Sunday-evening's
tea-drinkings at Ranelagh being laid aside, it is proposed to exhibit
"the story of the Fall of Man in a Masquerade."

But the promenade of the Rotunda, to the music of the orchestra and
organ, soon declined. "There's your famous Ranelagh, that you make
such a fuss about; why, what a dull place is that!" says Miss Burney's
_Evelina_. In 1802, the Installation Ball of the Knights of the Bath
was given here; and the Pic-nic Society gave here a breakfast to 2000
persons, when Garnerin ascended in his balloon. After the Peace Fête,
in 1803, for which allegorical scenes were painted by Capon, Ranelagh
was deserted, and in 1804, the buildings were removed.

There was subsequently opened in the neighbourhood a New Ranelagh.


This property was formerly known as Chelsea Farm, and in 1803,
devolved to the Viscount Cremorne, after whom it was named, and who
employed Wyatt to build the elegant and commodious mansion. In the
early part of the present century, Cremorne was often visited by
George III., and Queen Charlotte, and the Prince of Wales. In 1825,
the house and grounds devolved to Mr. Granville Penn, by whom they
were much improved. Next, the beauty of the spot, and its fitness for
a pleasure-garden, led to its being opened to the public as "the
Stadium." After this, the estate fell into other hands, and was
appropriated to a very different object. At length, under the
proprietorship of Mr. T. B. Simpson, the grounds were laid out with
taste, and the tavern enlarged; and the place has prospered for many
years as a sort of Vauxhall, with multitudinous amusements, in variety
far outnumbering the old proto-gardens.


Upon the site of which is built the northern portion of Buckingham
Palace, was planted by order of James I., in 1609, and in the next two
reigns became a public garden. Evelyn describes it in 1654 as "ye
only place of refreshment about ye towne for persons of ye best
quality to be exceedingly cheated at;" and Pepys refers to it as "a
silly place," but with "a wilderness somewhat pretty." It is a
favourite locality in the gay comedies of Charles II.'s reign.

Dryden frequented the Mulberry Garden; and according to a
contemporary, the poet ate tarts there with Mrs. Anne Reeve, his
mistress. The company sat in arbours, and were regaled with
cheesecakes, syllabubs, and sweetened wine; wine-and-water at dinner,
and a dish of tea afterwards. Sometimes the ladies wore masks. "The
country ladys, for the first month, take up their places in the
Mulberry Garden as early as a citizen's wife at a new play."--Sir
Charles Sedley's _Mulberry Garden_, 1668.

     "A princely palace on that space does rise,
     Where Sedley's noble muse found mulberries."--_Dr. King._

Upon the above part of the garden site was built _Goring House_, let
to the Earl of Arlington in 1666, and thence named _Arlington House_:
in this year the Earl brought from Holland, for 60_s._, the first
pound of tea received in England; so that, in all probability, _the
first cup of tea made in England was drunk upon the site of Buckingham


Pimlico is a name of gardens of public entertainment, often mentioned
by our early dramatists, and in this respect resembles "Spring
Garden." In a rare tract, _Newes from Hogsdon_, 1598, is: "Have at
thee, then, my merrie boys, and hey for old Ben Pimlico's nut-browne!"
and the place, in or near Hoxton, was afterwards named from him. Ben
Jonson has:

                 "A second Hogsden,
     In days of Pimlico and eye-bright."--_The Alchemist._

"Pimlico-path" is a gay resort of his _Bartholomew Fair_; and
Meercraft, in _The Devil is an Ass_, says:

     "I'll have thee, Captain Gilthead, and march up
     And take in Pimlico, and kill the bush
     At every tavern."

In 1609, was printed a tract entitled _Pimlyco_, or _Prince Red Cap,
'tis a Mad World at Hogsden_. Sir Lionel Hash, in Green's _Tu Quoque_,
sends his daughter "as far as Pimlico for a draught of Derby ale, that
it may bring colour into her cheeks." Massinger mentions,

           "Eating pudding-pies on a Sunday,
     At Pimlico or Islington."--_City Madam._

Aubrey, in his _Surrey_, speaks of "a Pimlico Garden on Bankside."

Pimlico, the district between Knightsbridge and the Thames, and St.
James's Park and Chelsea, was noted for its public gardens: as the
Mulberry Garden, now part of the site of Buckingham Palace; the Dwarf
Tavern and Gardens, afterwards Spring Gardens, between Ebury-street
and Belgrave-terrace; the Star and Garter, at the end of
Five-Fields-row, famous for its equestrianism, fireworks, and dancing;
and the Orange, upon the site of St. Barnabas' church. Here, too, were
Ranelagh and New Ranelagh. But the largest garden in Pimlico was
Jenny's Whim, already described. In later years it was frequented by
crowds from bull-baiting in the adjoining fields. Among the existing
old signs are, the Bag o' Nails, Arabella-row, from Ben Jonson's
"Bacchanals;" the Compasses, of Cromwell's time (near Grosvenor-row);
and the Gun Tavern and Tea-gardens, Queen's-row, with its harbours and
costumed figures taken down for the Buckingham Gate improvements.
Pimlico is still noted for its ale-breweries.


On the south bank of the Thames, at the time of the Restoration, were
first laid out the New Spring Gardens, at Lambeth (Vauxhall), so
called to distinguish them from Spring Garden, Charing Cross. Nearly
two centuries of gay existence had Vauxhall Gardens, notwithstanding
the proverbial fickleness of our climate, and its ill-adaptation for
out-door amusements. The incidents of its history are better known
than those of Marylebone or Ranelagh Gardens; so that we shall not
here repeat the Vauxhall programmes. The gardens were finally closed
in 1859, and the ground is now built upon: a church, of most beautiful
design, and a school of art, being the principal edifices.

"Though Vauxhall Gardens retained their plan to the last, the lamps
had long fallen off in their golden fires; the punch got weaker, the
admission-money less; and the company fell in a like ratio of
respectability, and grew dingy, not to say raffish,--a sorry
falling-off from the Vauxhall crowd of a century since, when it
numbered princes and ambassadors; 'on its tide and torrent of fashion
floated all the beauty of the time; and through its lighted avenues of
trees glided cabinet ministers and their daughters, royal dukes and
their wives, and all the red-heeled macaronies.' Even fifty years ago,
the evening costume of the company was elegant: head-dresses of
flowers and feathers were seen in the promenade, and the entire place
sparkled as did no other place of public amusement. But low prices
brought low company. The conventional wax-lights got fewer; the punch
gave way to fiery brandy or doctored stout. The semblance of Vauxhall
was still preserved in the orchestra printed upon the plates and mugs;
and the old fire-work bell tinkled as gaily as ever. But matters grew
more seedy; the place seemed literally worn out; the very trees were
scrubby and singed; and it was high time to say, as well as see, in
letters of lamps, 'Farewell for ever!'"[52]

Several other taverns and gardens have existed at different times in
this neighbourhood. Cumberland Gardens' site is now Vauxhall
Bridge-road, and Cuper's Garden was laid out with walks and arbours by
Boydell Cuper, gardener to Thomas, Earl of Arundel, who gave him some
of the mutilated Arundelian marbles (statues), which Cuper set up in
his ground: it was suppressed in 1753: the site is now crossed by
Waterloo Bridge Road. Belvidere House and Gardens adjoined Cuper's
Garden, in Queen Anne's reign.

The Hercules Inn and Gardens occupied the site of the Asylum for
Female Orphans, opened in 1758; and opposite were the Apollo Gardens
and the Temple of Flora, Mount-row, opened 1788. A century earlier
there existed, in King William's reign, Lambeth Wells, in Three Coney
Walk, now Lambeth Walk; it was reputed for its mineral waters, sold at
a penny a quart, "the same price paid by St. Thomas's Hospital." About
1750 a Musical Society was held here, and lectures and experiments
were given on natural philosophy by Erasmus King, who had been
coachman to Dr. Desaguliers. In Stangate-lane, Carlisle-street, is the
Bower Saloon, with its theatre and music-room, a pleasure-haunt of our
own time. Next is Canterbury Hall, the first established of the great
Music Halls of the metropolis.

The Dog and Duck was a place of entertainment in St. George's Fields,
where duck-hunting was one of its brutal amusements. The house was
taken down upon the rebuilding of Bethlehem Hospital; and the
sign-stone, representing a dog squatting upon his haunches, with a
duck in his mouth, with the date 1617, is imbedded in the brick wall
of the Hospital garden, upon the site of the entrance to the old
tavern; and at the Hospital is a drawing of the Dog and Duck: it was a
resort of Hannah More's "Cheapside Apprentice."

Bermondsey Spa, a chalybeate spring, discovered about 1770, was
opened, in 1780, as a minor Vauxhall, with fireworks, pictures of
still life, and a picture-model of the Siege of Gibraltar, painted by
Keyse, the entire apparatus occupying about four acres. He died in
1800, and the garden was shut up about 1805. There are Tokens of the
place extant, and the Spa-road is named from it.

A few of the old Southwark taverns have been described. From its being
the seat of our early Theatres, the houses of entertainment were here
very numerous, in addition to the old historic Inns, which are fast
disappearing. In the Beaufoy collection are several Southwark Tavern
Tokens; as--The Bore's Head, 1649 (between Nos. 25 and 26
High-street). Next also is a Dogg and Dvcke token, 1651 (St. George's
Fields); the Greene Man, 1651 (which remains in Blackman-street); ye
Bull Head Taverne, 1667, mentioned by Edward Alleyn, founder of
Dulwich College, as one of his resorts; Duke of Suffolk's Head, 1669;
and the Swan with Two Necks.


[52] See the Descriptions of Vauxhall Gardens in _Curiosities of
London_, pp. 745-748. _Walks and Talks about London_, pp. 16-30.
_Romance of London_, vol. iii. pp. 34-44.


Mr. Elmes, in his admirable work, _Sir Christopher Wren and his
Times_, 1852, thus glances at the position of Freemasonry in the
Metropolis two centuries since, or from the time of the Great Fire:

"In 1666 Wren was nominated deputy Grand Master under Earl Rivers, and
distinguished himself above all his predecessors in legislating for
the body at large, and in promoting the interests of the lodges under
his immediate care. He was Master of the St. Paul's Lodge, which,
during the building of the Cathedral, assembled at the Goose and
Gridiron in St. Paul's Churchyard, and is now the Lodge of Antiquity,
acting by immemorial prescription, and regularly presided at its
meetings for upwards of eighteen years. During his presidency he
presented that Lodge with three mahogany candlesticks, beautifully
carved, and the trowel and mallet which he used in laying the first
stone of the Cathedral, June 21, 1675, which the brethren of that
ancient and distinguished Lodge still possess and duly appreciate.

"During the building of the City, Lodges were held by the fraternity
in different places, and several new ones constituted, which were
attended by the leading architects and the best builders of the day,
and amateur brethren of the mystic craft. In 1674 Earl Rivers resigned
his grand-mastership, and George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, was
elected to the dignified office. He left the care of the Grand Lodge
and the brotherhood to the deputy Grand Master Wren and his Wardens.
During the short reign of James II., who tolerated no secret societies
but the Jesuits, the Lodges were but thinly attended; but in 1685, Sir
Christopher Wren was elected Grand Master of the Order, and nominated
Gabriel Cibber, the sculptor, and Edward Strong, the master mason at
St. Paul's and other of the City churches, as Grand Wardens. The
Society has continued with various degrees of success to the present
day, particularly under the grand-masterships of the Prince of Wales,
afterwards King George IV.,[53] and his brother, the late Duke of
Sussex, and since the death of the latter, under that of the Earl of
Zetland; and Lodges under the constitution of the Grand Lodge of
England are held in every part of the habitable globe, as its
numerically and annually-increasing lists abundantly show."

Sir Francis Palgrave, in an elaborate paper in the _Edinburgh Review_,
April, 1839, however, takes another view of the subject, telling us
that "the connexion between the operative masons,[54] and those whom,
without disrespect, we must term a convivial society of good fellows,
met at the 'Goose and Gridiron, in St. Paul his Churchyard,' appears
to have been finally dissolved about the beginning of the eighteenth
century. The theoretical and mystic, for we dare not say ancient,
Freemasons, separated from the Worshipful Company of Masons and
Citizens of London about the period above mentioned. It appears from
an inventory of the contents of the chest of the London Company, that
not very long since, it contained 'a book wrote on parchment, and
bound or stitched in parchment, containing 113 annals of the
antiquity, rise, and progress of the art and mystery of Masonry.' But
this document is not now to be found."

There is in existence, and known to persons who take an interest in
the History of Freemasonry, a copperplate List of Freemasons' Lodges
in London in the reign of Queen Anne, with a representation of the
Signs, and some Masonic ceremony, in which are eleven figures of
well-dressed men, in the costume of the above period. There were then
129 Lodges, of which 86 were in London, 36 in English cities, and
seven abroad.

Freemasonry evidently sprang up in London at the building of St.
Paul's; and many of the oldest Lodges are in the neighbourhood. But
the head-quarters of Freemasonry, are the Grand Hall, in the rear of
Freemasons' Tavern, 62, Great Queen-street, Lincoln's Inn Fields: it
was commenced May 1, 1775, from the designs of Thomas Sandby, R.A.,
Professor of Architecture in the Royal Academy: 5000_l._ was raised by
a Tontine towards the cost; and the Hall was opened and dedicated in
solemn form, May 23, 1776; Lord Petre, Grand-Master. "It is the first
house built in this country with the appropriate symbols of masonry,
and with the suitable apartments for the holding of lodges, the
initiating, passing, raising, and exalting of brethren." Here are held
the Grand and other lodges, which hitherto assembled in the Halls of
the City Companies.

Freemasons' Hall, as originally decorated, is shown in a print of the
annual procession of Freemasons' Orphans, by T. Stothard, R.A. It is a
finely-proportioned room, 92 feet by 43 feet, and 60 feet high; and
will hold 1500 persons: it was re-decorated in 1846: the ceiling and
coving are richly decorated; above the principal entrance is a large
gallery, with an organ; and at the opposite end is a coved recess,
flanked by a pair of fluted Ionic columns, and Egyptian doorways; the
sides are decorated with fluted Ionic pilasters; and throughout the
room in the frieze are masonic emblems, gilt upon a transparent blue
ground. In the intercolumniations are full-length royal and other
masonic portraits, including that of the Duke of Sussex, as
Grand-Master, by Sir W. Beechey, R.A. In the end recess is a marble
statue of the Duke of Sussex, executed for the Grand Lodge, by E. H.
Baily, R.A. The statue is seven feet six inches high, and the pedestal
six feet; the Duke wears the robes of a Knight of the Garter, and the
Guelphic insignia: at his side is a small altar, sculptured with
masonic emblems.


[53] The Prince was initiated in a Lodge at the Key and Garter, No.
26, Pall Mall.

[54] Hampton Court Palace was built by Freemasons, as appears from the
very curious accounts of the expenses of the fabric, extant among the
public records of London.


At what period the lovers of good living first went to eat Whitebait
at "the taverns contiguous to the places where the fish is taken," is
not very clear. At all events, the houses did not resemble the
Brunswick, the West India Dock, the Ship, or the Trafalgar, of the
present day, these having much of the architectural pretension of a
modern club-house.

Whitebait have long been numbered among the delicacies of our tables;
for we find "six dishes of Whitebait" in the funeral feast of the
munificent founder of the Charterhouse, given in the Hall of the
Stationers' Company, on May 28, 1612--the year before the Globe
Theatre was burnt down, and the New River completed. For aught we know
these delicious fish may have been served up to Henry VIII. and Queen
Elizabeth in their palace at Greenwich, off which place, and Blackwall
opposite, Whitebait have been for ages taken in the Thames at
flood-tide. To the river-side taverns we must go to enjoy a "Whitebait
dinner," for, one of the conditions of success is that the fish should
be directly netted out of the river into the cook's cauldron.

About the end of March, or early in April, Whitebait make their
appearance in the Thames, and are then small, apparently but just
changed from the albuminous state of the young fry. During June, July,
and August, immense quantities are consumed by visitors to the
different taverns at Greenwich and Blackwall.

Pennant says: Whitebait "are esteemed very delicious when fried with
fine flour, and occasion during the season a vast resort of the _lower
order of epicures_ to the taverns contiguous to the places where they
are taken." If this account be correct, there must have been a strange
change in the grade of the epicures frequenting Greenwich and
Blackwall since Pennant's days; for at present, the fashion of eating
Whitebait is sanctioned by the highest authorities, from the Court of
St. James's Palace in the West, to the Lord Mayor and _his_ court in
the East; besides the philosophers of the Royal Society, and her
Majesty's Cabinet Ministers. Who, for example, does not recollect such
a paragraph as the following, which appeared in the _Morning Post_ of
the day on which Mr. Yarrell wrote his account of Whitebait, September
10th, 1835?--

"Yesterday, the Cabinet Ministers went down the river in the Ordnance
barges to Lovegrove's West India Dock Tavern, Blackwall, to partake of
their annual fish dinner. Covers were laid for thirty-five gentlemen."

For our own part, we consider the Ministers did not evince their usual
good policy in choosing so late a period as September; the Whitebait
being finer eating in July or August; so that their "annual fish
dinner" must rather be regarded as a sort of prandial wind-up of the
parliamentary session than as a specimen of refined epicurism.

We remember many changes in matters concerning Whitebait at Greenwich
and Blackwall. Formerly, the taverns were mostly built with
weather-board fronts, with bow-windows, so as to command a view of
the river. The old Ship, and the Crown and Sceptre, taverns at
Greenwich were built in this manner; and some of the Blackwall houses
were of humble pretensions: these have disappeared, and handsome
architectural piles have been erected in their places. Meanwhile,
Whitebait have been sent to the metropolis, by railway, or steamer,
where they figure in fishmongers' shops, and tavern _cartes_ of almost
every degree.

Perhaps the famed delicacy of Whitebait rests as much upon its skilful
cookery as upon the freshness of the fish. Dr. Pereira has published
the mode of cooking in one of Lovegrave's "bait-kitchens" at
Blackwall. The fish should be dressed within an hour after being
caught, or they are apt to cling together. They are kept in water,
from which they are taken by a skimmer as required; they are then
thrown upon a layer of flour, contained in a large napkin, in which
they are shaken until completely enveloped in flour; they are then put
into a colander, and all the superfluous flour is removed by sifting;
the fish are next thrown into hot lard contained in a copper cauldron
or stew-pan placed over a charcoal fire; in about two minutes they are
removed by a tin skimmer, thrown into a colander to drain, and served
up instantly, by placing them on a fish-drainer in a dish. The
rapidity of the cooking process is of the utmost importance; and if it
be not attended to, the fish will lose their crispness, and be
worthless. At table, lemon juice is squeezed over them, and they are
seasoned with Cayenne pepper; brown bread and butter is substituted
for plain bread; and they are eaten with iced champagne, or punch.

The origin of the Ministers' Fish Dinner, already mentioned, has been
thus pleasantly narrated:

Every year, the approach of the close of the Parliamentary Session is
indicated by what is termed "the Ministerial Fish Dinner," in which
Whitebait forms a prominent dish; and Cabinet Ministers are the
company. The Dinner takes place at a principal tavern, usually at
Greenwich, but sometimes at Blackwall: the dining-room is decorated
for the occasion, which partakes of a state entertainment. Formerly,
however, the Ministers went down the river from Whitehall in an
Ordnance gilt barge: now, a government steamer is employed. The origin
of this annual festivity is told as follows. On the banks of Dagenham
Lake or Reach, in Essex, many years since, there stood a cottage,
occupied by a princely merchant named Preston, a baronet of Scotland
and Nova Scotia, and sometime M.P. for Dover. He called it his
"fishing cottage," and often in the spring he went thither, with a
friend or two, as a relief to the toils of parliamentary and
mercantile duties. His most frequent guest was the Right Hon. George
Rose, Secretary of the Treasury, and an Elder Brother of the Trinity
House. Many a day did these two worthies enjoy at Dagenham Reach; and
Mr. Rose once intimated to Sir Robert, that Mr. Pitt, of whose
friendship they were both justly proud, would, no doubt, delight in
the comfort of such a retreat. A day was named, and the Premier was
invited; and he was so well pleased with his reception at the "fishing
cottage"--they were all two if not three bottle men--that, on taking
leave, Mr. Pitt readily accepted an invitation for the following year.

For a few years, the Premier continued a visitor to Dagenham, and was
always accompanied by Mr. George Rose. But the distance was
considerable; the going and coming were somewhat inconvenient for the
First Minister of the Crown. Sir Robert Preston, however, had his
remedy, and he proposed that they should in future dine nearer London.
Greenwich was suggested: we do not hear of Whitebait in the Dagenham
dinners, and its introduction, probably, dates from the removal to
Greenwich. The party of three was now increased to four; Mr. Pitt
being permitted to bring Lord Camden. Soon after, a fifth guest was
invited--Mr. Charles Long, afterwards Lord Farnborough. All were still
the guests of Sir Robert Preston; but, one by one, other notables were
invited,--all Tories--and, at last, Lord Camden considerately
remarked, that, as they were all dining at a tavern, it was but fair
that Sir Robert Preston should be relieved from the expense. It was
then arranged that the dinner should be given, as usual, by Sir Robert
Preston, that is to say, at his invitation; and he insisted on still
contributing a buck and champagne: the rest of the charges were
thenceforth defrayed by the several guests; and, on this plan, the
meeting continued to take place annually till the death of Mr. Pitt.

Sir Robert was requested, next year, to summon the several guests, the
list of whom, by this time, included most of the Cabinet Ministers.
The time for meeting was usually after Trinity Monday, a short period
before the end of the Session. By degrees, the meeting, which was
originally purely gastronomic, appears to have assumed, in consequence
of the long reign of the Tories, a political, or semi-political
character. Sir Robert Preston died; but Mr. Long, now Lord
Farnborough, undertook to summon the several guests, the list of whom
was furnished by Sir Robert Preston's private secretary. Hitherto, the
invitations had been sent privately: now they were dispatched in
Cabinet boxes, and the party was, certainly, for some time, limited to
the Members of the Cabinet. A dinner lubricates ministerial as well as
other business; so that the "Ministerial Fish Dinner" may "contribute
to the grandeur and prosperity of our beloved country."

The following Carte is from the last edition of the _Art of Dining_,
in Murray's _Railway Reading_:--

     _Fish Dinner at Blackwall or Greenwich._

           La tortue à l'Anglaise.
           La bisque d'écrevisses.
           Le consommé aux quenelles de merlan.
           De tortue claire.
     Les casseroles de green fat feront le tour de la table.
           Les tranches de saumon (crimped).
           Le poisson de St. Pierre à la crême.
           Le zoutchet de perches.
               "   de truites.
               "   de flottons.
               "   de soles (crimped).
               "   de saumon.
               "   d'anguilles.
           Les lamproies à la Worcester.
           Les croques en bouches de laitances de maquereau.
           Les boudins de merlans à la reine.
     Garnis { Les soles menues frites.
       de   { Les petits carrelets frites.
     persil { Croquettes de homard.
     frit.  { Les filets d'anguilles.
           La truite saumonée à la Tartare.
           Le whitebait: _id._ à la diable.

     _Second Service._

     Les petits poulets au cresson--le jambonneau aux épinards.

     La Mayonnaise de filets de soles--les filets de merlans à

     Les petits pois à l'Anglaise--les artichauts à la Barigoule.

     La gelée de Marasquin aux fraises--les pets de nonnes.

     Les tartelettes aux cerises--les célestines à la fleur

     Le baba à la compôte d'abricots--le fromage Plombière.

Mr. Walker, in his _Original_, gives an account of a dinner he
ordered, at Lovegrove's, at Blackwall, where if you never dined, so
much the worse for you:--

     "The party will consist of seven men besides myself, and
     every guest is asked for some reason--upon which good
     fellowship mainly depends; for people brought together
     unconnectedly had, in my opinion, better be kept separately.
     Eight I hold the golden number, never to be exceeded without
     weakening the efficacy of concentration. The dinner is to
     consist of turtle, followed by no other fish but Whitebait,
     which is to be followed by no other meat but grouse, which
     are to be succeeded simply by apple-fritters and jelly,
     pastry on such occasions being quite out of place. With the
     turtle, of course, there will be punch; with the Whitebait,
     champagne; and with the grouse, claret; the two former I
     have ordered to be particularly well iced, and they will all
     be placed in succession upon the table, so that we can help
     ourselves as we please. I shall permit no other wines,
     unless, perchance, a bottle or two of port, if particularly
     wanted, as I hold variety of wines a great mistake. With
     respect to the adjuncts, I shall take care that there is
     cayenne, with lemons cut in halves, not in quarters, within
     reach of every one, for the turtle, and that brown bread and
     butter in abundance is set upon the table for the Whitebait.
     It is no trouble to think of these little matters
     beforehand, but they make a vast difference in convivial
     contentment. The dinner will be followed by ices, and a good
     dessert, after which coffee and one glass of liqueur each,
     and no more; so that the present may be enjoyed without
     inducing retrospective regrets. If the master of a feast
     wish his party to succeed, he must know how to command; and
     not let his guests run riot, each according to his own wild


Situated about the middle of the western side of Bishopsgate-street.
Within, presents in its frontage a mezzanine-storey, and lofty
Venetian windows, reminding one of the old-fashioned assembly-room
façade. The site of the present tavern was previously occupied by the
White Lion Tavern, which was destroyed in an extensive fire on the 7th
of November, 1765; it broke out at a peruke-maker's opposite; the
flames were carried by a high wind across the street, to the house
immediately adjoining the tavern, the fire speedily reaching the
corner; the other angles of Cornhill, Gracechurch-street, and
Leadenhall-street, were all on fire at the same time, and fifty houses
and buildings were destroyed and damaged, including the White Lion and
Black Lion Taverns.

Upon the site of the former was founded "The London Tavern," on the
Tontine principle; it was commenced in 1767, and completed and opened
in September, 1768; Richard B. Jupp, architect. The front is more than
80 feet wide by nearly 70 feet in height.

The Great Dining-room, or "Pillar-room," as it is called, is 40 feet
by 33 feet, decorated with medallions and garlands, Corinthian columns
and pilasters. At the top of the edifice is the ball-room, extending
the whole length of the structure, by 33 feet in width and 30 feet in
height, which may be laid out as a banqueting-room for 300 feasters;
exclusively of accommodating 150 ladies as spectators in the galleries
at each end. The walls are throughout hung with paintings; and the
large room has an organ.

The Turtle is kept in large tanks, which occupy a whole vault, where
two tons of turtle may sometimes be seen swimming in one vat. We have
to thank Mr. Cunningham for this information, which is noteworthy,
independently of its epicurean association,--that "turtles will live
in cellars for three months in excellent condition if kept in the same
water in which they were brought to this country. To change the water
is to lessen the weight and flavour of the turtle." Turtle does not
appear in bills of fare of entertainments given by Lord Mayors and
Sheriffs between the years 1761 and 1766; and it is not till 1768 that
turtle appears by name, and then in the bill of the banquet at the
Mansion House to the King of Denmark. The cellars, which consist of
the whole basement storey, are filled with barrels of porter, pipes of
port, butts of sherry, etc. Then there are a labyrinth of walls of
bottle ends, and a region of bins, six bottles deep; the catacombs of
Johannisberg, Tokay, and Burgundy. "Still we glide on through rivers
of sawdust, through embankments of genial wine. There are twelve
hundred of champagne down here; there are between six and seven
hundred dozen of claret; corked up in these bins is a capital of from
eleven to twelve thousand pounds; these bottles absorb, in simple
interest at five per cent., an income amounting to some five or six
hundred pounds per annum."[55] "It was not, however, solely for
uncovering these floods of mighty wines, nor for luxurious feasting
that the London Tavern was at first erected, nor for which it is still
exclusively famous, since it was always designed to provide a
spacious and convenient place for public meetings. One of the earliest
printed notices concerning the establishment is of this character, it
being the account of a meeting for promoting a public subscription for
John Wilkes, on the 12th of February, 1769, at which 3000_l._ were
raised, and local committees appointed for the provinces. In the
Spring season such meetings and committees of all sorts are equally
numerous and conflicting with each other, for they not unfrequently
comprise an interesting charitable election or two; and in addition
the day's entertainments are often concluded with more than one large
dinner, and an evening party for the lady spectators.

"Here, too, may be seen the hasty arrivals of persons for the meetings
of the Mexican Bondholders on the second-floor; of a Railway assurance
'up-stairs, and first to the left;' of an asylum election at the end
of the passage; and of the party on the 'first-floor to the right,'
who had to consider of 'the union of the Gibbleton line to the

"For these business meetings the rooms are arranged with benches, and
sumptuously Turkey-carpeted; the end being provided with a long table
for the directors, with an imposing array of papers and pens,

"'The morn, the noon, the day is pass'd' in the reports, the speeches,
the recriminations and defences of these parties, until it is nearly
five o'clock. In the very same room the Hooping Cough Asylum Dinner is
to take place at six; and the Mexican Bondholders are stamping and
hooting above, on the same floor which in an hour is to support the
feast of some Worshipful Company which makes it their hall. The feat
appears to be altogether impossible; nevertheless, it must and will be
most accurately performed."

The Secretary has scarcely bound the last piece of red tape round his
papers, when four men rush to the four corners of the Turkey carpet,
and half of it is rolled up, dust and all. Four other men with the
half of a clean carpet bowl it along in the wake of the one displaced.
While you are watching the same performance with the remaining half of
the floor, a battalion of waiters has fitted up, upon the new half
carpet, a row of dining-tables and covered them with table-cloths.
While in turn you watch them, the entire apartment is tabled and
table-clothed. Thirty men are at this work upon a system, strictly
departmental. Rinse and three of his followers lay the knives; Burrows
and three more cause the glasses to sparkle on the board. You express
your wonder at this magical celerity. Rinse moderately replies that
the same game is going on in the other four rooms; and this happens
six days out of the seven in the dining-room.

When the Banquet was given to Mr. Macready in February, 1851, the
London Tavern could not accommodate all the company, because there
were seven hundred and odd; and the Hall of Commerce was taken for the
dinner. The merchants and brokers were transacting business there at
four o'clock; and in two hours, seats, tables, platforms, dinner,
wine, gas, and company, were all in. By a quarter before six
everything was ready, and a chair placed before each plate. Exactly at
six, everything was placed upon the table, and most of the guests were

For effecting these wonderful evolutions, it will be no matter of
surprise that we are told that an army of servants, sixty or seventy
strong, is retained on the establishment; taking on auxiliary legions
during the dining season.

The business of this gigantic establishment is of such extent as to be
only carried on by this systematic means. Among the more prominent
displays of its resources which take place here are the annual
Banquets of the officers of some twenty-eight different regiments, in
the month of May. There are likewise given here a very large number of
the annual entertainments of the different Charities of London.
Twenty-four of the City Companies hold their Banquets here, and
transact official business. Several Balls take place here annually.
Masonic Lodges are held here; and almost innumerable Meetings, Sales,
and Elections for Charities alternate with the more directly festive
business of the London Tavern. Each of the departments of so vast an
establishment has its special interest. We have glanced at its
dining-halls, and its turtle and wine cellars.[56] To detail its
kitchens and the management of its stores and supplies, and
consumption, would extend beyond our limit, so that we shall end by
remarking that upon no portion of our metropolis is more largely
enjoyed the luxury of doing good, and the observance of the rights and
duties of goodfellowship, than at the London Tavern.


[55] _Household Words_, 1852.

[56] The usual allowance at what is called a Turtle-Dinner, is 6 lb.
live weight per head. At the Spanish-Dinner, at the City of London
Tavern, in 1808, four hundred guests attended, and 2500lb. of turtle
were consumed.

For the Banquet at Guildhall, on Lord Mayor's Day, 250 tureens of
turtle are provided.

Turtle may be enjoyed in steaks, cutlets, or fins, and as soup, clear
and _purée_, at the Albion, London, and Freemasons', and other large
taverns. "The Ship and Turtle Tavern," Nos. 129 and 130,
Leadenhall-street, is especially famous for its turtle; and from this
establishment several of the West-end Club-houses are supplied.


This sumptuous hotel, the reader need scarcely be informed, takes its
name from its being built upon a portion of the gardens of Clarendon
House gardens, between Albemarle and Bond streets, in each of which
the hotel has a frontage. The house was, for a short term, let to the
Earl of Chatham, for his town residence.

The Clarendon contains series of apartments, fitted for the reception
of princes and their suites, and for nobility. Here are likewise given
official banquets on the most costly scale.

Among the records of the house is the _menu_ of the dinner given to
Lord Chesterfield, on his quitting the office of Master of the
Buckhounds, at the Clarendon. The party consisted of thirty; the price
was six guineas a head; and the dinner was ordered by Count D'Orsay,
who stood almost without a rival amongst connoisseurs in this
department of art:--

       "_Premier Service._

     "_Potages._--Printanier: à la reine: _turtle_.

     "_Poissons._--Turbot (_lobster and Dutch sauces_): saumon à
     la Tartare: rougets à la cardinal: friture de morue:

     "_Relevés._--Filet de boeuf à la Napolitaine: dindon à la
     chipolata: timballe de macaroni: _haunch of venison_.

     "_Entrées._--Croquettes de volaille: petits pâtés aux
     huîtres: côtelettes d'agneau: purée de champignons:
     côtelettes d'agneau aux points d'asperge: fricandeau de veau
     à l'oseille: ris de veau piqué aux tomates: côtelettes de
     pigeons à la Dusselle: chartreuse de légumes aux faisans:
     filets de cannetons à la Bigarrade: boudins à la Richelieu:
     sauté de volaille aux truffes: pâté de mouton monté.

     "_Côté._--Boeuf rôti: jambon: salade.

     "_Second Service._

     "_Rôts._--Chapons, quails, turkey poults, _green goose_.

     "_Entremets._--Asperges: haricot à la Française: mayonnaise
     de homard: gelée Macédoine: aspics d'oeufs de pluvier:
     Charlotte Russe: gelée au Marasquin: crême marbre: corbeille
     de pâtisserie: vol-au-vent de rhubarb: tourte d'abricots:
     corbeille des meringues: dressed crab: salade au
     gélantine.--Champignons aux fines herbes.

     "_Relevés._--Soufflé à la vanille: Nesselrode pudding:
     Adelaide sandwiches: fondus. Pièces montées," etc.

The reader will not fail to observe how well the English
dishes,--turtle, whitebait, and venison,--relieve the French in this
dinner: and what a breadth, depth, solidity, and dignity they add to
it. Green goose, also, may rank as English, the goose being held in
little honour, with the exception of its liver, by the French; but we
think Comte D'Orsay did quite right in inserting it. The execution is
said to have been pretty nearly on a par with the conception, and the
whole entertainment was crowned with the most inspiriting success. The
price was not unusually large.[57]


[57] _The Art of Dining._ Murray, 1852.


This well-appointed tavern, built by William Tyler, in 1786, and since
considerably enlarged, in addition to the usual appointments,
possesses the great advantage of Freemasons' Hall, wherein take place
some of our leading public festivals and anniversary dinners, the
latter mostly in May and June. Here was given the farewell dinner to
John Philip Kemble, upon his retirement from the stage, in 1817; the
public dinner, on his birthday, to James Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd,
in 1832; Mollard, who has published an excellent _Art of Cookery_, was
many years _Maître d'Hôtel_, and proprietor of the Freemasons' Tavern.

In the Hall meet the Madrigal Society, the Melodists' and other
musical clubs: and the annual dinners of the Theatrical Fund, Artists'
Societies, and other public institutions, are given here.

Freemasons' Hall has obtained some notoriety as the arena in which
were delivered and acted the Addresses at the Anniversary Dinners of
the Literary Fund, upon whose eccentricities we find the following
amusing note in the latest edition of the _Rejected Addresses_:--

"The annotator's first personal knowledge of William Thomas
Fitzgerald, was at Harry Greville's Pic-Nic Theatre, in
Tottenham-street, where he personated Zanga in a wig too small for his
head. The second time of seeing him was at the table of old Lord
Dudley, who familiarly called him Fitz, but forgot to name him in his
will. The Viscount's son, however, liberally supplied the omission by
a donation of five thousand pounds. The third and last time of
encountering him was at an anniversary dinner of the Literary Fund, at
the Freemasons' Tavern. Both parties, as two of the stewards, met
their brethren in a small room about half-an-hour before dinner. The
lampooner, out of delicacy, kept aloof from the poet. The latter,
however, made up to him, when the following dialogue took place:

"Fitzgerald (with good humour). 'Mr. ----, I mean to recite after

"Mr. ----. 'Do you?'

"Fitzgerald. 'Yes: you'll have more of God bless the Regent and the
Duke of York!'

"The whole of this imitation, (one of the Rejected Addresses,) after a
lapse of twenty years, appears to the authors too personal and
sarcastic; but they may shelter themselves under a very broad

               "Let hoarse Fitzgerald bawl
     His creaking couplets in a tavern-hall."--_Byron._

"Fitzgerald actually sent in an address to the Committee on the 31st
of August, 1812. It was published among the other _Genuine Rejected
Addresses_, in one volume, in that year. The following is an

     "The troubled shade of Garrick, hovering near,
     Dropt on the burning pile a pitying tear."

"What a pity that, like Sterne's recording angel, it did not succeed
in blotting the fire out for ever! That falling, why not adopt
Gulliver's remedy?"

Upon the "Rejected," the _Edinburgh Review_ notes:--"The first piece,
under the name of the loyal Mr. Fitzgerald, though as good we suppose
as the original, is not very interesting. Whether it be very like Mr.
Fitzgerald or not, however, it must be allowed that the vulgarity,
servility, and gross absurdity of the newspaper scribblers is well


This extensive establishment has long been famed for its good dinners,
and its excellent wines. Here take place the majority of the banquets
of the Corporation of London, the Sheriffs' Inauguration Dinners, as
well as those of Civic Companies and Committees, and such festivals,
public and private, as are usually held at taverns of the highest

The farewell Dinners given by the East India Company to the
Governors-General of India, usually take place at the Albion. "Here
likewise (after dinner) the annual trade sales of the principal London
publishers take place," revivifying the olden printing and book
glories of Aldersgate and Little Britain.

The _cuisine_ of the Albion has long been celebrated for its
_recherché_ character. Among the traditions of the tavern it is told
that a dinner was once given here, under the auspices of the
_gourmand_ Alderman Sir William Curtis, which cost the party between
thirty and forty pounds apiece. It might well have cost twice as much,
for amongst other acts of extravagance, they dispatched a special
messenger to Westphalia to choose a ham. There is likewise told a bet
as to the comparative merits of the Albion and York House (Bath)
dinners, which was to have been formally decided by a dinner of
unparalleled munificence, and nearly equal cost at each; but it became
a drawn bet, the Albion beating in the first course, and the York
House in the second. Still, these are reminiscences on which, we
frankly own, no great reliance is to be placed.

Lord Southampton once gave a dinner at the Albion, at ten guineas a
head; and the ordinary price for the best dinner at this house
(including wine) is three guineas.[58]


[58] _The Art of Dining._--Murray, 1852.


This new building which is externally concealed by houses, except the
fronts, in Piccadilly and Regent-street, consists of a greater Hall
and two minor Halls, which are let for Concerts, Lectures, etc., and
also form part of the Tavern establishment, two of the Halls being
used as public dining-rooms. The principal Hall, larger than St.
Martin's, but smaller than Exeter Hall, is 140 feet long, 60 feet
wide, and 60 feet high. At one end is a semicircular recess, in which
stands the large organ. The noble room has been decorated by Mr. Owen
Jones with singularly light, rich, and festive effect: the grand
feature being the roof, which is blue and white, red and gold, in
Alhambresque patterns. The lighting is quite novel, and consists of
gas-stars, depending from the roof, which thus appears spangled.

The superb decoration and effective lighting, render this a truly
festive Hall, with abundant space to set off the banquet displays. The
first Public Dinner was given here on June 2, 1858, when Mr. Robert
Stephenson, the eminent engineer, presided, and a silver salver and
claret-jug, with a sum of money--altogether in value 2678_l._--were
presented to Mr. F. Petit Smith, in recognition of his bringing into
general use the System of Screw Propulsion; the testimonial being
purchased by 138 subscribers, chiefly eminent naval officers,
ship-builders, ship-owners, and men of science.

In the following month, (20th of July,) a banquet was given here to
Mr. Charles Kean, F.S.A., in testimony of his having exalted the
English theatre--of his public merits and private virtues. The Duke of
Newcastle presided: there was a brilliant presence of guests, and
nearly four hundred ladies were in the galleries. Subsequently, in the
Hall was presented to Mr. Kean the magnificent service of plate,
purchased by public subscription.

The success of these intellectual banquets proved a most auspicious
inauguration of St. James's Hall for--

     "The feast of reason and the flow of soul."


Among these establishments, the Eagle, in the City-road, deserves
mention. It occupies the site of the Shepherd and Shepherdess, a
tavern and tea-garden of some seventy-five years since. To the Eagle
is annexed a large theatre.

Sadler's Wells was, at one period, a tavern theatre, where the
audience took their wine while they sat and witnessed the



(Vol. I. page 149.)

We find in Smith's _Book for a Rainy Day_ the following record
respecting the Beefsteak Society, or, as he calls it, in an unorthodox
way, Club:--

"Mr. John Nixon, of Basinghall-street, gave me the following
information. Mr. Nixon, as Secretary, had possession of the original
book. Lambert's Club was first held in Covent Garden theatre [other
accounts state, in the Lincoln's-Inn-Fields theatre,] in the upper
room called the 'Thunder and Lightning;' then in one even with the
two-shilling gallery; next in an apartment even with the boxes; and
afterwards in a lower room, where they remained until the fire. After
that time, Mr. Harris insisted upon it, as the playhouse was a new
building, that the Club should not be held there. They then went to
the Bedford Coffee-house, next-door. Upon the ceiling of the
dining-room they placed Lambert's original gridiron, which had been
saved from the fire. They had a kitchen, a cook, a wine-cellar, etc.,
entirely independent of the Bedford Hotel.

"There was also a Society held at Robins's room, called 'The Ad
Libitum,' of which Mr. Nixon had the books; but it was a totally
different Society, quite unconnected with the Beefsteak Club."


(Vol. I. page 121.)

The following humorous Address was supposed to have been written by
Colonel Lyttelton, brother to Sir George Lyttelton, in 1752, on His
Majesty's return from Hanover, when numberless Addresses were
presented. White's was then a Chocolate-house, near St. James's
Palace, and was the famous gaming-house, where most of the nobility
had meetings and a Society:--

       "_The Gamesters' Address to the King._

     "Most Righteous Sovereign,

     "May it please your Majesty, we, the Lords, Knights, etc.,
     of the Society of White's, beg leave to throw ourselves at
     your Majesty's feet (our honours and consciences lying under
     the _table_, and our fortunes being ever at stake), and
     congratulate your Majesty's happy return to these kingdoms
     which assemble us together, to the great advantage of some,
     the ruin of others, and the unspeakable satisfaction of all,
     both us, our wives, and children. We beg leave to
     acknowledge your Majesty's great goodness and lenity, in
     allowing us to break those laws, which we ourselves have
     made, and you have sanctified and confirmed: while your
     Majesty alone religiously observes and regards them. And we
     beg leave to assure your Majesty of our most unfeigned
     loyalty and attachment to your sacred person; and that next
     to the Kings of Diamonds, Clubs, Spades, and Hearts, we
     love, honour, and adore you."

To which His Majesty was pleased to return this most gracious

     "My Lords and Gentlemen,

     "I return you my thanks for your loyal address; but while I
     have such rivals in your affection, as you tell me of, I can
     neither think it worth preserving or regarding. I look upon
     you yourselves as a _pack_ of _cards_, and shall _deal_ with
     you accordingly."--_Cole's MSS._ vol. xxxi. p. 171,--in the
     British Museum.

In _Richardsoniana_ we read: "Very often the taste of running
perpetually after diversions is not a mark of any pleasure taken in
them, but of none taken in ourselves. This sallying abroad is only
from uneasiness at home, which is in every one's self. Like a
gentleman who overlooking them at White's at piquet, till three or
four in the morning: on a dispute they referred to him; when he
protested he knew nothing of the game; 'Zounds,' say they, 'and sit
here till this time?'--'Gentlemen, I'm married!'--'Oh! Sir, we beg


This Club consisted exclusively of Members of the Royal Academy.
Nollekens, the sculptor, for many years, made one at the table; and so
strongly was he bent upon saving all he could privately conceal, that
he did not mind paying two guineas a year for his admission-ticket, in
order to indulge himself with a few nutmegs, which he contrived to
pocket privately; for as red-wine negus was the principal beverage,
nutmegs were used. Now, it generally happened, if another bowl was
wanted, that the nutmegs were missing. Nollekens, who had frequently
been seen to pocket them, was one day requested by Rossi the sculptor,
to see if they had not fallen under the table; upon which Nollekens
actually went crawling beneath, upon his hands and knees, pretending
to look for them, though at that very time they were in his
waistcoat-pocket. He was so old a stager at this monopoly of nutmegs,
that he would sometimes engage the maker of the negus in conversation,
looking him full in the face, whilst he, slyly and unobserved, as he
thought, conveyed away the spice; like the fellow who is stealing the
bank-note from the blind man, in Hogarth's admirable print of the
Royal Cockpit.--_Smith's Nollekens and his Times_, vol. i. p. 225.


On the morning of the 25th of March, 1748, a most calamitous and
destructive fire commenced at a peruke-maker's, named Eldridge, in
Exchange Alley, Cornhill; and within twelve hours totally destroyed
between 90 and 100 houses, besides damaging many others. The flames
spread in three directions at once, and extending into Cornhill,
consumed about twenty houses there, including the London Assurance
Office; the Fleece and the Three Tuns Taverns; and Tom's and the
Rainbow Coffee-houses. In Exchange Alley, the Swan Tavern, with
Garraway's, Jonathan's and the Jerusalem Coffee-houses, were burnt
down; and in the contiguous avenues and Birchin-lane, the George and
Vulture Tavern, with several other coffee-houses, underwent a like
fate. Mr. Eldridge, with his wife, children, and servants, all
perished in the flames. The value of the effects and merchandise
destroyed was computed at 200,000_l._, exclusive of that of the
numerous buildings.

In the above fire was consumed the house in which was born the poet
Gray; and the injury which his property sustained on the occasion,
induced him to sink a great part of the remainder in purchasing an
annuity: his father had been an Exchange broker. The house was within
a few doors of Birchin-lane.


Close to Tower-hill, and not far from the site of the Rose tavern, is
a small tavern, or public-house, which received its sign in
commemoration of the convivial eccentricities of an Emperor, one of
the most extraordinary characters that ever appeared on the great
theatre of the world--"who gave a polish to his nation and was himself
a savage."

Such was Peter the Great, who, with his suite, consisting of
Menzikoff, and some others, came to London on the twenty-first of
January, 1698, principally with the view of acquiring information on
matters connected with naval architecture. We have little evidence
that during his residence here Peter ever worked as a shipwright in
Deptford Dockyard, as is generally believed. He was, however, very
fond of sailing and managing boats and a yacht on the Thames; and his
great delight was to get a small decked-boat, belonging to the
Dockyard, and taking only Menzikoff, and three or four others of his
suite, to work the vessel with them, he being the helmsman. Now, the
great failing of Peter was his love of strong liquors. He and his
companions having finished their day's work, used to resort to a
public-house in Great Tower-street, close to Tower-hill, to smoke
their pipes, and drink beer and brandy. The landlord, in gratitude for
the imperial custom, had the Tzar of Muscovy's head painted, and put
up for his sign, which continued till the year 1808, when a person of
the name of Waxel took a fancy to the old sign, and offered the then
occupier of the house to paint him a new one for it. A copy was
accordingly made from the original, as the sign of "The Tzar of the
Muscovy," looking like a Tartar. The house has, however, been rebuilt,
and the sign removed, but the name remains.


In Tower-street, before the Great Fire, was the Rose tavern, which,
upon the 4th of January, 1649, was the scene of a memorable explosion
of gunpowder, and miraculous preservation. It appears that
over-against the wall of Allhallows Barking churchyard, was the house
of a ship-chandler, who, about seven o'clock at night, being busy in
his shop, barreling up gunpowder, it took fire, and in the twinkling
of an eye, blew up not only that, but all the houses thereabout, to
the number (towards the street and in back alleys) of fifty or sixty.
The number of persons destroyed by this blow could never be known, for
the next house but one was the Rose tavern, a house never (at that
time of night) but full of company; and that day the parish-dinner was
at the house. And in three or four days, after digging, they
continually found heads, arms, legs, and half bodies, miserably torn
and scorched; besides many whole bodies, not so much as their clothes

In the course of this accident, says the narrator (Mr. Leybourne, in
Strype), "I will instance two; the one a dead, the other a living
monument. In the digging (strange to relate) they found the mistress
of the house of the Rose tavern, sitting in her bar, and one of the
drawers standing by the bar's side, with a pot in his hand, only
stifled with dust and smoke; their bodies being preserved whole by
means of great timbers falling across one another. This is one.
Another is this:--The next morning there was found upon the upper
leads of Barking church, a young child lying in a cradle, as newly
laid in bed, neither the child nor the cradle having the least sign of
any fire or other hurt. It was never known whose child it was, so that
one of the parish kept it as a memorial; for in the year 1666 I saw
the child, grown to be then a proper maiden, and came to the man that
kept her at that time, where he was drinking at a tavern with some
other company then present. And he told us she was the child so found
in the cradle upon the church leads as aforesaid."

According to a tablet which hangs beneath the organ gallery of the
church, the quantity of gunpowder exploded in this catastrophe was
twenty-seven barrels. Tower-street was wholly destroyed in the Great
Fire of 1666.


As you pass through Cheapside, you may observe upon the front of the
old house, No. 39, the sign-stone of a "Nag's Head:" this is presumed
to have been the sign of the Nag's Head Tavern, which is described as
at the Cheapside corner of Friday-street. This house obtained some
notoriety from its having been the pretended scene of the consecration
of Matthew Parker, Archbishop of Canterbury, in the reign of Queen
Elizabeth, at that critical period when the English Protestant or
Reformed Church was in its infancy. Pennant thus relates the
scandalous story. "It was pretended by the adversaries of our
religion, that a certain number of ecclesiastics, in their hurry to
take possession of the vacant see, assembled here, where they were to
undergo the ceremony from Anthony Kitchen, alias Dunstan, bishop of
Landaff, a sort of occasional conformist who had taken the oaths of
supremacy to Elizabeth. Bonner, Bishop of London, (then confined in
the Tower,) hearing of it, sent his chaplain to Kitchen, threatening
him with excommunication, in case he proceeded. The prelate therefore
refused to perform the ceremony: on which, say the Roman Catholics,
Parker and the other candidates, rather than defer possession of their
dioceses, determined to consecrate one another; which, says the story,
they did without any sort of scruple, and Scorey began with Parker,
who instantly rose Archbishop of Canterbury. The refutation of this
tale may be read in Strype's _Life of Archbishop Parker_, at p. 57. A
view of the Nag's Head Tavern and its sign, is preserved in La Serre's
prints, Entrée de la Reyne Mère du Roy, 1638, and is copied in
Wilkinson's _Londina Illustrata_.

The Roman Catholics laid the scene in the tavern: the real
consecration took place in the adjoining church of St. Mary-le-Bow. As
the form then adopted has been the subject of much controversy, the
following note, from a letter of Dr. Pusey, dated Dec. 4, 1865, may be
quoted here:

     "The form adopted at the _confirmation_ of Archbishop
     Parker was carefully framed on the old form used in the
     _confirmations_ by Archbishop Chichele" (which was the point
     for which I examined the registers in the Lambeth library).
     The words used in the _consecrations_ of the bishops
     confirmed by Chichele do not occur in the registers. The
     words used by the consecrators of Parker, "_Accipe Spiritum
     Sanctum_," were used in the later Pontificals, as in that of
     Exeter, Lacy's (_Maskell, Monumenta Ritualia_, iii. 258).
     Roman Catholic writers admit that _that_ only is essential
     to consecration which the English service-book
     retained--prayer during the service, which should have
     reference to the office of bishops, and the imposition of
     hands. And in fact Cardinal Pole engaged to retain in their
     orders those who had been so ordained under Edward VI., and
     his act was confirmed by Paul IV. (_Sanders de Schism.
     Angl._, L. iii. 350).


"Hammam" is the Arabic word for a bagnio, or bath, such as was
originally "The Hummums," in Covent Garden, before it became an hotel.

There is a marvellous ghost story connected with this house, where
died Parson Ford, who makes so conspicuous a figure in Hogarth's
_Midnight Modern Conversation_. The narrative is thus given in
Boswell's _Johnson_ by Croker:--

"_Boswell._ Was there not a story of Parson Ford's ghost having

"_Johnson._ Sir, it was believed. A waiter at the Hummums, in which
house Ford died, had been absent for some time, and returned, not
knowing that Ford was dead. Going down to the cellar, according to the
story, he met him; going down again, he met him a second time. When
he came up, he asked some people of the house what Ford could be doing
there. They told him Ford was dead. The waiter took a fever, in which
he lay for some time. When he recovered, he said he had a message to
deliver to some woman from Ford; but he was not to tell what or to
whom. He walked out; he was followed; but somewhere about St. Paul's
they lost him. He came back and said he had delivered it, and the
women exclaimed, 'Then we are all undone.' Dr. Pallet, who was not a
credulous man, inquired into the truth of this story, and he said the
evidence was irresistible. My wife went to the Hummums; (it is a place
where people get themselves cupped.) I believe she went with intention
to hear about this story of Ford. At first they were unwilling to tell
her; but after they had talked to her, she came away satisfied that it
was true. To be sure, the man had a fever; and this vision may have
been the beginning of it. But if the message to the women, and their
behaviour upon it, were true, as related, there was something
supernatural. That rests upon his word, and there it remains."


The cognisances of many illustrious persons connected with the Middle
Ages are still preserved in the signs attached to our taverns and
inns. Thus the White Hart with the golden chain was the badge of King
Richard II.; the Antelope was that of King Henry IV.; the Feathers was
the cognisance of Henry VI.; and the White Swan was the device of
Edward of Lancaster, his ill-fated heir slain at the battle of

Before the Great Fire of London, in 1666, almost all the liveries of
the great feudal lords were preserved at these houses of public
resort. Many of their heraldic signs were then unfortunately lost: but
the Bear and Ragged Staff, the ensign of the famed Warwick, still
exists as a sign: while the Star of the Lords of Oxford, the
brilliancy of which decided the fate of the battle of Barnet; the Lion
of Norfolk, which shone so conspicuously on Bosworth field; the Sun of
the ill-omened house of York, together with the Red and White Rose,
either simply or conjointly, carry the historian and the antiquary
back to a distant period, although now disguised in the gaudy
colouring of a freshly-painted sign-board.

The White Horse was the standard of the Saxons before and after their
coming into England. It was a proper emblem of victory and triumph, as
we read in Ovid and elsewhere. The White Horse is to this day the
ensign of the county of Kent, as we see upon hop-pockets and bags; and
throughout the county it is a favourite inn-sign.

The Saracen's Head inn-sign originated in the age of the Crusades. By
some it is thought to have been adopted in memory of the father of St.
Thomas à Becket, who was a Saracen. Selden thus explains it: "Do not
undervalue an enemy by whom you have been worsted. When our countrymen
came home from fighting with the Saracens, and were beaten by them,
they pictured them with huge, big, terrible faces (as you still see
the sign of the Saracen's Head is), when in truth they were like other
men. But this they did to save their own credit." Still more direct is
the explanation in Richard the Crusader causing a Saracen's head to be
served up to the ambassadors of Saladin. May it not also have some
reference to the Saracen's Head of the Quintain, a military exercise
antecedent to jousts and tournaments?

The custom of placing a Bush at Tavern doors has already been noticed;
we add a few notes:--In the preface to the _Law of Drinking_, keeping
a public-house is called the trade of the ivy-bush: the bush was a
sign so very general, that probably from thence arose the proverb
"good wine needs no bush," or indication as to where it was sold. In
_Good Newes and Bad Newes_, 1622, a host says:--

     "I rather will take down my bush and sign
     Than live by means of riotous expense."

The ancient method of putting a bough of a tree upon anything, to
signify that it was for disposal, is still exemplified by an old besom
(or birch broom) being placed at the mast-head of a vessel that is
intended for sale. In Dekker's _Wonderful Yeare_, 1603, is the passage
"Spied a bush at the end of a pole, the ancient badge of a countrey
ale-house." And in Harris's _Drunkard's Cup_, p. 299, "Nay, if the
house be not with an ivie bush, let him have his tooles about him,
nutmegs, rosemary, tobacco, with other the appurtenances, and he knows
how of puddle ale to make a cup of English wine." From a passage in
_Whimzies, or a new Cast of Characters_, 1631, it would seem that
signs in alehouses succeeded birch poles.

It is usual in some counties, particularly Staffordshire, to hang a
bush at the door of an ale-house, or mug-house. Sir Thomas Browne
considers that the human faces depicted on sign-boards, for the sun
and moon, are relics of paganism, and that they originally meant
Apollo and Diana. This has been noticed in Hudibras--

     "Tell me but what's the nat'ral cause
     Why on a sign no painter draws
     The full moon ever, but the half."

A Bell sign-stone may be seen on the house-front, No. 26, Great
Knight-Rider-street: it bears the date 1668, and is boldly carved;
whether it is of tavern or other trade it is hard to say: the house
appears to be of the above date.

The Bell, in Great Carter-lane, in this neighbourhood, has been taken
down: it was an interesting place, for, hence, October 25, 1598,
Richard Quiney addressed to his "loveing good ffrend and countryman,
Mr. Wm. Schackespere," (then living in Southwark, near the
Bear-garden), a letter for a loan of thirty pounds; which letter we
have seen in the possession of Mr. R. Bell Wheler, at Stratford-upon-Avon:
it is believed to be the only existing letter addressed to Shakspere.

The Bull, Bishopsgate, is noteworthy; for the yard of this inn
supplied a stage to our early actors, before James Burbadge and his
fellows obtained a patent from Queen Elizabeth for erecting a
permanent building for theatrical entertainments. Tarleton often
played here. Anthony Bacon, the brother of Francis, lived in a house
in Bishopsgate-street, not far from the Bull Inn, to the great concern
of his mother, who not only dreaded that the plays and interludes
acted at the Bull might corrupt his servants, but on her own son's
account objected to the parish as being without a godly clergyman.

Gerard's Hall, Basing-lane, had the fine Norman crypt of the ancient
hall of the Sisars for its wine-cellar; besides the tutelar effigies
of "Gerard the gyant," a fair specimen of a London sign, _temp._
Charles II. Here also was shown the staff used by Gerard in the wars,
and a ladder to ascend to the top of the staff; and in the
neighbouring church of St. Mildred, Bread-street, hangs a huge
tilting-helmet, said to have been worn by the said giant. The staff,
Stow thinks, may rather have been used as a May-pole, and to stand in
the hall decked with evergreens at Christmas; the ladder serving for
decking the pole and hall-roof.

Fosbroke says, that the Bell Savage is a strange corruption of the
Queen of Sheba; the Bell Savage, of which the device was a savage man
standing by a bell, is supposed to be derived from the French, Belle
Sauvage, on account of a beautiful savage having been once shown
there; by others it is considered, with more probability, to have been
so named in compliment to some ancient landlady of the celebrated inn
upon Ludgate-hill, whose surname was Savage, as in the Close-rolls of
the thirty-first year of the reign of Henry VI. is an entry of a grant
of that inn to "John Frensch, gentilman," and called "Savage's Ynne,"
_alias_ the "Bell on the Hoof."

The token of the house is--"HENRY YOVNG AT YE. An Indian woman
holding an arrow and a bow.--Rx ON LVDGATE HILL. In the field, H. M.

"There is a tradition [Mr. Akerman writes] that the origin of this
sign, and not only of the inn, but also of the name of the court in
which it is situate, was derived from that of Isabella Savage, whose
property they once were, and who conveyed them by deed to the Cutlers'
Company. This, we may observe, is a mistake. The name of the person
who left the Bell Savage to the Cutlers' Company was Craythorne, not

In Flecknoe's _Ænigmatical Characters_, 1665, in alluding to "your
fanatick reformers," he says, "as for the signs, they have pretty well
begun the reformation already, changing the sign of the Salutation of
the Angel and our Lady into the Shouldier and Citizen, and the
Catherine Wheel into the Cat and Wheel, so that there only wants their
making the Dragon to kill St. George, and the Devil to tweak St.
Dunstan by the nose, to make the reformation compleat. Such ridiculous
work they make of their reformation, and so zealous are they against
all mirth and jollity, as they would pluck down the sign of the Cat
and Fiddle, too, if it durst but play so loud as they might hear it."

The sign In God is our Hope is still to be seen at a public-house on
the western road between Cranford and Slough. Coryatt mentions the Ave
Maria, with verses, as the sign of an alehouse abroad, and a street
where all the signs on one side were of birds. The Swan with Two
Nicks, or Necks, as it is commonly called, was so termed from the two
nicks or marks, to make known that it was a swan of the Vintners'
Company; the swans of that company having two semicircular pieces cut
from the upper mandible of the swan, one on each side, which are
called nicks. The origin of the Bolt-in-Tun is thus explained. The
bolt was the arrow shot from a cross-bow, and the tun or barrel was
used as the target, and in this device the bolt is painted sticking in
the bunghole. It appears not unreasonable to conclude, that hitting
the bung was as great an object in crossbow-shooting as it is to a
member of a Toxophilite Club to strike the target in the bull's eye.
The sign of the Three Loggerheads is two grotesque wooden heads, with
the inscription "Here we three Loggerheads be," the reader being the
third. The Honest Lawyer is depicted at a beershop at Stepney; the
device is a lawyer with his head under his arm, to prevent his telling

The Lamb and Lark has reference to a well-known proverb that we should
go to bed with the lamb and rise with the lark. The Eagle and Child,
_vulgo_ Bird and Baby, is by some persons imagined to allude to
Jupiter taking Ganymede; others suppose that it merely commemorates
the fact of a child having been carried off by an eagle; but this sign
is from the arms of the Derby family (eagle and child) who had a house
at Lambeth, where is the Bird and Baby.

The Green Man and Still should be a green man (or man who deals in
_green herbs_) with a bundle of peppermint or pennyroyal under his
arm, which he brings to be distilled.

Upon the modern building of the Bull and Mouth has been conferred the
more elegant name of the Queen's Hotel. Now the former is a corruption
of Boulogne Mouth, and the sign was put up to commemorate the
destruction of the French flotilla at the mouth of Boulogne harbour in
the reign of Henry VIII. This absurd corruption has been perpetuated
by a carving in stone of a bull and a human face with an enormous
mouth. The Bull and Gate, palpably, has the like origin; as at the
_Gate_ of Boulogne the treaty of capitulation to the English was

The Spread Eagle, which constitutes the arms of Austria and Russia,
originated with Charlemagne, and was in England introduced out of
compliment to some German potentate.

The oddest sign we know is now called The Mischief, in Oxford-street,
and our remembrance of this dates over half a century, when the street
was called Oxford-road, then unpaved, is truly Hogarthian. It was at
that time called the Man loaded with Mischief, _i.e._ a wife, two
squalling brats, a monkey, a cat, a jackdaw, etc. The perpetrator of
this libel on the other sex, we suppose, was some poor henpecked

On the subject of sign combinations, a writer in _Notes and Queries_
says:--"This subject has been taken up by a literary contemporary, and
some ingenious but farfetched attempts at explanation have been made,
deduced from languages the publican is not likely to have heard of.
The following seem at least to be undoubtedly English: The Sun and
Whalebone, Cock and Bell, Ram and Teazle, Cow and Snuffers, Crow and
Horseshoe, Hoop and Pie,--_cum multis aliis_. I have some remembrance
of a very simple solution of the cause of the incongruity, which was
this: The lease being out of (say) the sign of The Ram, or the tenant
had left for some cause, and gone to the sign of The Teazle; wishing
to be known, and followed by as many of his old connexion as possible,
and also to secure the new, he took his old sign with him, and set it
up beside the other, and the house soon became known as The Ram and
Teazle. After some time the signs required repainting or renewing, and
as one board was more convenient than two, the 'emblems,' as poor Dick
Tinto calls them, were depicted together, and hence rose the puzzle."

There have been some strange guesses. Some have thought the Goat and
Compasses to be a corruption of "God encompasseth us," but it has
been much more directly traced as follows, by Sir Edmund Head, who has
communicated the same to Mr. P. Cunningham: "At Cologne, in the church
of Santa Maria in Capitolio, is a flat stone on the floor, professing
to be the Grabstein der Brüder und Schwester eines ehrbaren Wein- und
Fass-Ampts, Anno 1693; that is, I suppose, a vault belonging to the
Wine Coopers' Company. The arms exhibit a shield with a pair of
compasses, an axe, and a dray, or truck, with goats for supporters. In
a country, like England, dealing so much at one time in Rhenish wine,
a more likely origin for such a sign could hardly be imagined."

The Pig in the Pound might formerly be seen towards the east end of
Oxford-street, not far from "The Mischief."

The Magpie and Horseshoe may be seen in Fetter-lane: the ominous
import attached to the bird and the shoe may account for this
association in the sign: we can imagine ready bibbers going to houses
with this sign "for luck."

The George, Snow-hill, is a good specimen of a carved sign-stone of--

     "St. George that swing'd the dragon,
     And sits on horseback at mine hoste's door."


[59] Communicated to the _Builder_ by Mr. Rhodes.



     Alfred Club, the, 237.

     Allen, King, his play, 287.

     Almack's Assembly Rooms, 86-89.

     Almack's, by Capt. Gronow, 316.

     Almack's Club, 83-86.

     Almack's Rooms, 88.

     Anacreontic _Ad Poculum_, by Morris, 150.

     Angling Club Anecdotes, 301.

     Antiquarian Club, 306.

     Army and Navy Club, 278.

     Apollo Club, 10.

     Arms for White's, 115.

     Arnold and the Steaks, 145, 146.

     Arthur's Club, 107.

     Athenæum established, 212.

     Athenæum Club, the, 241-247.

     Athenæum Club-house described, 242, 243.

     Barry's Reform Club-house, 267.

     Barry's Travellers' Club-house, 233, 234.

     Beef-steak Club, the, 123.

     Beef-steak Club, Ivy-lane, 159.

     Beef-steak Clubs, various, 158.

     Beef-steak Society, History of the, 123-149.

     Beef-steaks, Ward's Address to, 129.

     Bell Tavern Beef-steak Club, 159.

     Betting, extraordinary, at White's, 111, 116, 117.

     Bibliomania, what is it?, 192.

     Bickerstaffe and his Club, 64, 65.

     Bishops and Judges at the Alfred, 239.

     Blasphemous Clubs, 44.

     Blue-stocking Club, at Mrs. Montague's, 199.

     Blue-stocking Clubs, ancient, 198.

     Bolland at the Steaks, 146.

     Boodle's Club, 121.

     Boodle's Club-house and Pictures, 122.

     Bowl, silver, presented by the Steaks to Morris, 154.

     Box of the Past Overseers' Society, Westminster, 193-196.

     Brookes's Club, 19, 20, 22, 23, 89-102.

     Brookes, the Club-house proprietor, 89, 90.

     Brougham, Lord, at the Steaks, 146.

     Brummel and Alderman Combe at Brookes's, 101, 102.

     Brummel and Bligh at Watier's, 168.

     Buchan, Dr., at the Chapter, 181.

     Burke and Johnson at the Literary Club, 208.

     Burke at the Robin Hood, 197.

     Busby, Dr., at the Chapter, 184.

     Byron and Dudley, Lords, at the Alfred, 208.

     Calves' Head Club, 25-34.

     Calves' Head Club Laureat, 30,

     Calves' Head Club, Origin of, 27, 28, 32.

     Canning, Mr., at the Clifford-street Club, 169-171.

     Carlton Club, the, 273.

     Carlton Club-house, new, 273.

     Cavendish and the Royal Society Club, 79.

     Celebrities of the Alfred, 238.

     Celebrities of Brookes's, 90.

     Celebrities of the Literary Club, 214, 215.

     Celebrities of the Royal Naval Club, 231.

     Celebrities of the Royal Society Club, 75, 76.

     Celebrities at the Steaks, 132, 133.

     Celebrities of Tom's Coffee-house Club, 162, 163.

     Celebrities of White's, early, 110.

     Chapter Coffee-house Club, 179.

     Chatterton at the Chapter, 180.

     Chess Clubs, 313.

     Child's Coffee-house and the Royal Society Club, 66.

     Churchill at the Steaks, 133.

     Cibber, Colley, at White's, 112.

     Civil Club in the City, 5.

     Clark, Alderman, at the Essex Head, 204.

     Clifford-street Club, the, 169.

     Club defined by Johnson, 6.

     Club, the term, 2, 4.

     Clubs of the Ancients, 2.

     Clubs, influences of, 270-272, 274.

     Club Life experiences, 252, 253.

     Clubs, Origin of, 1.

     Clubs of 1814, by Capt. Gronow, 321.

     Club System, advantages of, 241.

     Clubs at the Thatched House, 318.

     Coachmanship, anecdotes of, 293, 294.

     Cobb and Old Walsh at the Steaks, 139.

     Cocoa-tree Club, the, 81-83.

     Conservative Club, 275.

     Colman at the Literary Club, 213.

     Colman at the Steaks, 135.

     Commons of the Royal Society Club, 74.

     Covent Garden Celebrities, 256, 257.

     Covent Garden old Taverns, 159.

     Covent Garden, by Thackeray, 255.

     Covent Garden Theatre and the Steaks, 296.

     Coventry Club, the, 305.

     Coverley, Sir Roger, and Mohocks, 42.

     Crockford's start in life, 281.

     Crockford's Club, 281-286.

     Crockford's fishmonger's-shop, at Temple Bar, 286.

     Crown and Anchor Club, and Royal Society Club, 69.

     Curran and Capt. Morris, 157.

     Curran at the King of Clubs, 166, 167.

     Curran and Lord Norbury, 167.

     Daniel, G., of Canonbury, his list of Clubs, 177.

     Darty's Ham-pies at the Kit-kat, 319.

     Davies, Scrope, play of, 288.

     Devil Tavern and Royal Society Club, 68.

     Dibdin, Dr., and the Roxburghe Club, 192.

     Dilettanti between 1770 and 1790, 226.

     Dilettanti, their object and name, 224, 225.

     Dilettanti Portraits, 228, 229.

     Dilettanti Society, the, 222-230.

     Dilettanti Society's Journeys, 223.

     Dilettanti Society's Publications, 227.

     Dinner, memorable, at the Royal Society Club, 78.

     Dinners of the Roxburghe Club, 186-191.

     Dinners of the Royal Society Club, 70, 71, 73, 81.

     Dunning, Lord Ashburton at Brookes's, 98.

     Eccentric Club, 173-178.

     Eccentrics, the, 307.

     Economy of the Athenæum Club, 244, 245.

     Economy of Clubs, 248.

     Epicurism at White's, 120, 121.

     Erectheum Club, 305.

     Essex Head Club, the, 202.

     Estcourt, and the Beef-Steak Club, 123, 124, 125.

     Everlasting Club, the, 173-175.

     Faro at White's, 113.

     Fielding, Sir John, on Street Clubs, 38.

     "Fighting Fitzgerald" at Brookes's, 102-107.

     Fines of the Dilettanti, 226.

     Fire at White's Chocolate House, 109.

     Foote, at Tom's Coffee-house Club, 162.

     Fordyce and Gower, Dr., at the Chapter, 182.

     Forster, Mr., his account of the Literary Club, 206.

     Four-in-hand Club, the, 289-294.

     Fox at Brookes's, 93.

     Fox's love of Play, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97.

     Fox's play at White's, 114, 115.

     Francis, Sir Philip, at Brookes's, 92.

     Friday-Street Club, 3.

     Gaming at Almack's, 84, 85.

     Gaming at White's, 113.

     Gaming-Houses kept by Ladies, 323.

     Garrick and the Literary Club, 210.

     Garrick Club-house, New, 258.

     Garth and Steele, at the Kit-kat Club, 61.

     Gibbon at Boodle's, 122.

     Gibbon at the Cocoa-tree, 81, 82.

     Giffard on the Mermaid Club, 9.

     Gin Punch at the Garrick, 263.

     Globe Tavern Clubs, 219, 220.

     Glover the Poet, at White's, 111.

     "Golden Ball," the, 287.

     Golden Fleece Club, Cornhill, 172.

     Goldsmith and Annet, at the Robin Hood, 197, 198.

     Goldsmith, Beauclerk, and Langton, at the Literary Club, 209, 210.

     Goldsmith's Clubs, 219.

     Goldsmith at the Crown, Islington, 221.

     Goosetree's, in Pall Mall, 85.

     Gore, Mrs., on Clubs, 248.

     Gourmands at Crockford's, 285.

     Green Ribbon Club, 35, 36.

     Gridiron of the Steaks Society, 140.

     Gridiron, Silver, and the Steaks, 143.

     Grub-street account of the Calves' Head Club, 29.

     Guards' Club, the, 278.

     Harrington's _Oceana_, 15.

     Haslewood's account of the Roxburghe Club Dinners, 190.

     Hawkins and Burke at the Literary Club, 207, 208.

     Hazard at the Cocoa-tree, 82.

     Hell-fire Club, 44.

     Hill, Sir John, and the Royal Society, 76.

     Hill, Thomas, at the Garrick, 263, 264, 265.

     Hippisley, Sir John, at the Steaks, 143, 144.

     Hoadly, Bishop, at the Kit-kat Club, 61, 62.

     Hoax, Calves' Head Club, 34.

     Hood, Thomas, on Clubs, 249.

     Hook, Theodore, at the Athenæum, 245, 246, 247.

     Hook, Theodore, at Crockford's, 286.

     Hook, Theodore, at the Garrick, 263.

     Hoyle's Treatise on Whist, 295.

     Ionian Antiquities, Walpole on, 224.

     Ivy-lane Club, the, 200.

     Jacob and Waithman, Aldermen, at the Chapter, 185.

     Jacobite Club, 178.

     Jacobite and Loyal Mobs, 49.

     Jerrold, Douglas, at his Clubs, 308-313.

     Johnson Club, the, 216.

     Johnson, Dr., and the Ivy-lane Club, 200.

     Johnson, Dr., and Boswell at the Essex Head, 203, 204.

     Johnson, Dr., founds the Literary Club, 205.

     Johnson, Dr., last at the Literary Club, 213.

     Jonson, Ben, his Club, 11, 13, 14.

     Kemble, John, at the Steaks, 152.

     King Club and Club of Kings, 35.

     King of Clubs, the, 165-168.

     King's Head Club, 35.

     Kit-kat Club, 55-63.

     Kit-kat, epigram on, 58.

     Kit-kat, origin of, 56.

     Kit-kat Pictures, 60.

     Ladies' Club at Almack's, 87.

     Ladies' Club, the farce, 251.

     Lambert and the Beef-steak Society, 131.

     Lawyers' Club, the, 175.

     Lennox celebration at the Devil Tavern, 201.

     Lewis, the bookseller, Covent Garden, 160.

     Library of the Athenæum, 243.

     "Life's a Fable," by Morris, 155.

     Linley, William, at the Steaks, 137.

     Literary Club, the, 204-218.

     Literary Club dates, 205, 206.

     Little Club, the, 176.

     London Club Architecture, 234, 235.

     Long Acre Mug-house Club, 45.

     Loyal Society Club, 48, 49, 50.

     Lyceum Theatre, the Steaks, at, 145.

     Lying Club, Westminster, 173.

     Lynedoch, Lord, at the United Service, 236.

     Macaulay, Lord, his pictures of the Literary Club, 217.

     Mackreth, and Arthur's Club, 107, 108.

     M'Clean, the highwayman, at White's, 118.

     March Club, 18.

     Mathews, Charles, his collection of Pictures, 258, 261, 262.

     Mermaid Club, 4, 8, 9.

     Middlesex, Lord, and Calves' Head Club, 32.

     Mitre Tavern and Royal Society Club, 67, 68.

     Mohocks, history of the, 38-44.

     Mohun, Lord, at the Kit-kat Club, 59, 60.

     Morris, Capt., Bard of the Beef-steak Society, 142, 149, 157.

     Morris's Farewell to the Steaks, 153.

     Morris making Punch at the Steaks, 156, 157.

     Morris, recollections of, 156.

     Morris's _Songs_, Political and Convivial, 150.

     Mountford, Lord, tragic end of, 113.

     Mug-house Club, history of, 45-55.

     Mug-house Riots, 52.

     Mug-houses in London, 47.

     Mug-house Politics, 48.

     Mug-house Songs, 50, 55.

     Mug-houses suppressed, 54.

     Mulberry Club, the, 309.

     Murphy and Kemble at the Steaks, 142.

     Norfolk, Duke of, and Capt. Morris, 152.

     Norfolk, Duke of, at the Steaks, 142.

     Noviomagians, the, 306.

     October Club, 17.

     One of a Trade Club, 5.

     Onslow, Lord, the celebrated whip, 291.

     Onslow, Tommy, epigram on, 290.

     Oriental Club, the, 239, 240.

     Oxford and Cambridge Club, 277.

     P. P., Clerk of the Parish, 24.

     Pall Mall Tavern Clubs, 7.

     Palmerston, Lord, at the Reform, 269.

     Parthenon Club, 305.

     Parliamentary Clubs, 17.

     Past Overseers Society, Westminster, 193-196.

     Peterborough, Lord, and the Beef-steak Society, 130.

     Phillidor at St. James's Chess Club, 314.

     Phillips and Chalmers, at the Chapter, 183.

     Pictures at the United Service, 237.

     Pictures at the Garrick Club, 258.

     Pitt and Wilberforce at Goosetree's, 87.

     Political Clubs, Early, 15.

     Pontack's, Royal Society Club at, 68.

     Pope-burning Processions, 37.

     Presents to the Royal Society Club, 73.

     Pretender, the, and Cocoa-tree Chocolate-house, 81.

     Prince's Club Racquet Courts, 298-301.

     Prince of Wales at Brookes's, 91.

     Prince of Wales at the Steaks, 141.

     Queen's Arms Club, St. Paul's Churchyard, 202.

     Racquet Courts, Prince's Club, 298-301.

     Read's Mug-house, Salisbury-square, 52, 53, 54.

     Red Lions, the, 303.

     Reform Club, the, 266-272.

     Rich and the Beef-steak Society, 129.

     Richards, Jack, at the Steaks, 136.

     Rigby at White's, 119.

     Robinson, "Long Sir Thomas," 161.

     Robin Hood, the, in Essex-street, 196.

     Rota Club, 4, 5, 15, 16.

     Roxburghe Club Dinners, the, 186-193.

     _Roxburghe Revels_, the, 187.

     Royal Society Club, 65-81.

     Royal Naval Club, 230.

     Rumbold at White's, 119.

     Rump-steak, or Liberty Club, 159.

     St. James's Palace Clock, anecdote of, 276.

     St. Leger at White's, 118.

     Salisbury-square Mug-house, 47, 52, 53, 54.

     Saturday Club, 19.

     Scowrers, the, 39, 41.

     Scriblerus Club, 23.

     Sealed Knot, 16.

     Secret History of the Calves' Head Club, 25, 26, 27.

     Selwyn's account of Sheridan at Brookes's, 100.

     Selwyn at White's, 117.

     Sharp, Richard, at the King of Clubs, 165.

     Sheridan and Whitbread at Brookes's, 99, 91, 92, 101.

     Shilling Whist Club at the Devil Tavern, 219.

     Shire-lane and the Kit-kat Club, 57.

     Shire-lane and the Trumpet Tavern, 63, 65.

     Short Whist, its origin, 298.

     Smith, Albert, at the Garrick, 266.

     Smith, Bobus, at the King of Clubs, 165.

     Smith, James, at the Union, 254.

     Smyth, Admiral, his History of the Royal Society Club, 79, 80.

     Soyer at the Reform Club, 269.

     Spectator Clubs, 7, 173.

     _Spectator_ on the Mohocks, 43.

     Steaks, early Members of, 147, 148.

     Steaks' table-linen, and plate, 149.

     Steele's tribute to Estcourt, 125.

     Stephens, Alexander, at the Chapter, 180.

     Stevenson, Rowland, at the Steaks, 140.

     Stewart, Admiral, and Fighting Fitzgerald, 102.

     Stillingfleet and the Blue-stocking Club, 199, 200.

     Street Clubs, 38.

     Sublime Society of Steaks, 129.

     Sweaters and Tumblers, 40.

     Swift at the Brothers Club, 20.

     Swift and the Mohocks, 41.

     Swift at the October, 8.

     Swift's account of White's, 110, 111.

     Talleyrand at the Travellers', 233.

     Tatler's Club, in Shire-lane, 63-65.

     Temperance Corner at the Athenæum, 247.

     Tennis Courts in London, 299.

     Thatched House, Dilettanti at, 228-230.

     Thursday's Club of Royal Philosophers, 67.

     Toasting-glasses, Verses written on, 58, 59.

     Tom's Coffee-house, Club at, 159-164.

     Tonson, Jacob, defended, 62.

     Tonson, Jacob, at Kit-kat Club, 57.

     Toasts at the Roxburghe Club Dinners, 191.

     Travellers' Club, the, 233-236.

     Treason Clubs, 6.

     Turtle and Venison at the Royal Society Club, 70, 71.

     Twaddlers, the, in Shire-lane, 63-64.

     Ude at Crockford's, 284.

     United Service Club, the, 236.

     United Service Club, Junior, 280.

     University Club, the, 247, 253.

     Walker, Mr., his account of the Athenæum, 243.

     Ward's account of the Beef-steaks, 126, 127, 128.

     Ward, and Calves' Head Club, 25, 31.

     Ward's account of the Kit-kat Club, 56, 128.

     Ward's account of the Royal Society Club, 76.

     Ward's _Secret History of Clubs_, 172.

     Watier's Club, 168.

     Watier's Club, by Capt. Gronow, 320.

     Welcome, Ben Jonson's, 11, 12.

     Wednesday Club, at the Globe, 6, 220.

     Wet Paper Club, the, 180.

     Whigs and Kit-kat Club, 55.

     Whist Clubs, 295.

     Whist, Laws of, 296.

     White's Chocolate-house, 108, 109.

     White's Club, 108-121.

     White's and the _Tatler_, 110.

     White's early Rules of, 112, 113.

     White's present Club-house, 120.

     Whittington Club, 315.

     Wilberforce at Brookes's, 91.

     Wilkes at the Steaks, 134.

     Willis's Rooms, 81.

     Wilson, Dick, at the Steaks, 138.

     Wittinagemot of the Chapter Coffee-house, 179-186.

     Woffington, Peg, and Beef-steak Club, 158.

     World, the, 7.

     Wyndham, Mr., Character of, 232.

     Wyndham Club, the, 232.




     Addison at Button's, 64, 73.

     Artists' Meeting, at the Turks' Head, 94.

     Artists at Slaughter's Coffee-house, 99.

     Baker's Coffee-house, 30.

     Barrowby, Dr., at the Bedford, 78, 79.

     Bedford Coffee-house, 76-82.

     British Coffee-house and the Scots, 56.

     Broadside against Coffee, 4.

     Button's Coffee-house, 64-73.

     Celebrities at Button's, 71.

     Chapter Coffee-house described by Mrs. Gaskell, 89.

     Charles the Second's Wig, worn by Suett, 103.

     Child's Coffee-house, 90.

     Chocolate-houses and Coffee-houses, 1714, 35.

     Churchill's quarrel with Hogarth, 80.

     Cibber, Colley, at Will's, 63.

     Club of Six Members, 87.

     Coffee and Canary compared, 16.

     Coffee, earliest mention of, 1.

     Coffee first sold in London, 2.

     Coffee-houses, early, 1.

     Coffee-houses, 18th century, 31.

     Coffee-house Politics, 41.

     Coffee-house sharpers, 1776, 42.

     Coffee-houses in 1714, 35.

     Conversation Picture of Old Slaughter's, 104.

     Covent Garden Piazza in 1634, 81, 82.

     Curiosities, Saltero's, at Chelsea, 46, 47.

     Dick's Coffee-house, 19.

     Dryden at Will's, 57, 60.

     Farr and the Rainbow Coffee-house, 15.

     Foote at the Bedford, 78.

     Foote at the Grecian, 105.

     Fulwood's Rents, Holborn, 96.

     Garraway's Coffee-house, 7-11.

     Garrick at the Bedford, 80.

     Garrick at Tom's, 75.

     George's Coffee-house, 107.

     Giles's and Jenny Man's Coffee-houses, 40.

     Goldsmith at the Chapter, 90.

     Goldsmith at the Grecian, 106.

     Goldsmith's _Retaliation_ and the St. James's, 52-54.

     Gray's Inn Walks described by Ward, 97.

     Grecian Coffee-house, 105.

     _Guardian_ Lion's Head, 65-68.

     Haydon and Wilkie, anecdotes of, 100.

     Hazard Club, painted by Hogarth, 86.

     Hogarth designs Button's Lion's Head, 68.

     Hogarth's drawings from Button's, 71.

     Inchbald, Mrs., in Russell-street, Covent Garden, 72, 73.

     _Inspector_ at the Bedford, 76.

     Jerusalem Coffee-house, 30.

     Jonathan's Coffee-house, 11-13.

     Julian at Will's, 59.

     King, Moll, some account of, 85, 86.

     King, Tom, his Coffee-house, 84.

     Laroon, Capt., and King's Coffee-house, 86, 87.

     Lion's Head at Button's, 65-68.

     Lloyd's Coffee-house, Royal Exchange, 24.

     Lloyd's Members in verse, 28.

     Lloyd's Subscription Rooms, 26.

     Lloyd's, _temp._ Charles II., a Song, 23.

     Lockier, Dean, at Will's, 57.

     London Coffee-house and Punch-house, 91.

     Macklin's Coffee-house Oratory, 82-84.

     Macklin and Foote quarrel, 83.

     Maclaine, the highwayman, at Button's, 71.

     Man's Coffee-house, 33.

     Murphy at George's, 108.

     Murphy and Cibber at Tom's, 75.

     Nando's Coffee-house, 18.

     Parry the Welsh Harper, 102.

     Pasqua Rosee's Coffee-house, 2.

     Peele's Coffee-house, 109.

     Pepys's first Cup of Tea, 94.

     Pepys at Will's, 59.

     Percy Coffee-house, and _Percy Anecdotes_, 108.

     Philips, Ambrose, at Button's, 69.

     Piazza Coffee-house, 87.

     Pope on Coffee, 63.

     Pope cudgelled in Rose-alley, 60, 62.

     Pope at Will's, 60.

     Prince's Council Chamber in Fleet-street, 19.

     Prior and Swift at the Smyrna, 49

     Rainbow Coffee-house, Fleet-street, 14-18.

     Richard's Coffee-house, 20.

     Rod hung up at Button's, 69, 70.

     St. James's Coffee-house, 39, 50-55.

     St. Martin's-lane, Artists in, 100.

     Sail-cloth Permits, 11.

     Sale by the Candle at Garraway's, 7.

     Saloop Houses, 48.

     Saltero's Coffee-house and Museum, at Chelsea, 44-48.

     Scene at Jonathan's, 12.

     Serle's Coffee-house, 104.

     Shenstone at George's, 107.

     Sheridan and Kemble at the Piazza, 87.

     Slaughter's Coffee-house, 99-104.

     Smyrna Coffee-house, 49.

     South Sea Scheme, 8.

     _Spectator_, Coffee-houses described in, 39.

     _Spectator_ at Lloyd's, 25.

     _Spectator_ at Squire's, 97.

     _Spectator_ at Will's, 61.

     Squire's Coffee-house, Fulwood's Rents, 96.

     Swift at Button's, 73.

     Swift at the St. James's, 51.

     Swift and the wits at Will's, 61.

     Tea, early sale of, 94, 95.

     Tea first sold at Garway's, 6.

     Thurlow at Nando's, 18.

     Tiger Roach at the Bedford, 77.

     Token of the Rainbow, 15.

     Tom's Coffee-house, Cornhill, 75.

     Tom's Coffee-house, Devereux-court, 107.

     Tottel's Printing Office, 21.

     Turk's Head Coffee-house, Change-alley, 93.

     Turk's Head Coffee-house, Gerard-street, 94.

     Turk's Head Coffee-house, Strand, 94.

     Turk's Head Coffee-house, Westminster, 96.

     Ward's account of early Coffee-houses, 32.

     Ward's Punch-house, Fulwood's Rents, 98.

     Ware, the architect, at Slaughter's, 101.

     Will's Coffee-house, 56-64.

     Will's Coffee-house, Lincoln's Inn, 104.

     Woodward at the Bedford, 81.


     Adam and Eve, Kensington-road, 244.

     African Tavern, St. Michael's Alley, 157.

     Aikin, Miss, her defence of Addison, 243.

     Albion Tavern, Aldersgate-street, 283.

     Aldersgate Taverns, 147-149.

     Apollo Chamber at the Devil Tavern, 164.

     Apollo Sociable Rules, 165.

     Apple-tree, Topham at the, 234.

     Bagnigge Wells Tavern, 227.

     Bayswater Taverns, 243.

     Bear at the Bridge-foot Tavern, 122.

     Bedford Head, Covent Garden, 197.

     Beefsteak Society, 286.

     Bellamy's Kitchen, 208.

     Bermondsey Spa, 262.

     Betty's Fruit-shop, St. James's-street, 219.

     Black Jack, or Jump, Clare Market, 185.

     Blackwall and Greenwich Whitebait Taverns, 267-269.

     Boar's Head Tavern, Eastcheap, 124-128.

     Boar's Head waiters, 114.

     Boar's Head, Southwark, 126.

     Brasbridge the Silversmith, at the Globe, 162.

     Brompton Taverns, 249.

     Brummel and the Rummer Tavern, 203.

     Bush, the, Aldersgate-street, 147-149.

     Byron, Lord, and Mr. Chaworth, Duel between, 211.

     Canary House in the Strand, 180.

     Canonbury Tavern, 228.

     Castle Tavern, Holborn, 234.

     Centlivre, Mrs., anecdote of, 205.

     Chairmen, the Two, 220.

     Chatterton and Marylebone Gardens, 241.

     Cider Cellar, the, 199.

     Clare Market Taverns, 183.

     Clarendon Hotel, the, 278.

     Clubs at the Queen's Arms, 145.

     Coal-hole Tavern, Fountain-court, 182.

     Cock Tavern, Bow-street, 187.

     Cock Tavern, Fleet-street, 170.

     Cock Tavern, Threadneedle-street, 133.

     Coffee-house Canary-bird, 229.

     Coleridge and Lamb, at the Salutation and Cat, 143.

     Colledge, Stephen, and the Hercules Pillars, 172.

     Constitution Tavern, Covent Garden, 199.

     Copenhagen House Tavern, 210.

     Cornelys, Mrs., last of, 252.

     Coventry Act, origin of the, 188.

     Craven Head Tavern, Drury-lane, 185.

     Craven House, Drury-lane, 186.

     Cremorne Tavern and Gardens, 257.

     Cricket at White Conduit House, 225.

     Crown, the, Aldersgate-street, 147.

     Crown Tavern, Threadneedle-street, 134.

     Crown and Anchor Tavern, Strand, 179.

     Cumberland and Cuper's Gardens, 261.

     Dagger in Cheapside, 112.

     Devil Tavern, Fleet-street, 162-169.

     Devil Tavern, Views of, 168.

     Devil Tavern Token, rare, 169.

     Dog and Duck, St. George's Fields, 262.

     Dolly's, Paternoster-row, 146.

     Drawers and tapsters, waiters, and barmaids, 121.

     Dryden and Pepys at the Mulberry Garden, 258.

     Duke's Head, Islington, 225.

     D'Urfey's Songs of the Rose, 193.

     Elephant Tavern, Fenchurch-street, 156.

     Evans's, Covent Garden, 194.

     Feathers Tavern, Grosvenor-road, 253.

     Fish Dinner carte at Blackwall or Greenwich, 272.

     Fitzgerald at Freemasons' Hall, 281.

     Fives at Copenhagen House, 231.

     Fleece, Covent Garden, 196.

     Fountain Tavern, Strand, 181.

     Fox and Bull, Knightsbridge, 250.

     Freemasons' Hall, 266.

     Freemasons' Lodges, 263.

     Freemasons' Lodges in Queen Anne's reign, 265.

     Freemasons' Tavern, 280.

     French Wine-trade in 1154, 111.

     Globe Tavern, Fleet-street, 161.

     Golden Cross Sign, 220.

     Goldsmith at the Boar's Head, 127.

     Goldsmith at the Globe, 161.

     Goose and Gridiron, 263, 265.

     Grave Maurice Taverns, 159, 160.

     Green Man Tavern, 238.

     Hales, the giant, landlord of the Craven Head, 186.

     "Heaven" and "Hell" Taverns, 206.

     Hercules and Apollo Gardens, 262.

     Hercules' Pillars Taverns, 171.

     Hercules' Pillars, Hyde Park corner, 173.

     Heycock's Ordinary, Temple Bar, 178.

     Highbury Barn Tavern, 228.

     Hole-in-the-Wall, Chandos-street, 174.

     Hole-in-the-Wall, St. Martin's, 174.

     Hole-in-the-Wall Taverns, 173.

     Hummums, Covent Garden, 295.

     Hyde Park Corner Taverns, 173.

     Islington Taverns, 224.

     Jackers, the Society of, 185.

     Jerusalem Taverns, Clerkenwell, 150-152.

     Jenny's Whim Tavern, 253, 254.

     Jerusalem Tavern, Clerkenwell Green, 151.

     Jew's Harp Tavern, 236.

     Joe Miller, his Grave, 184, 185.

     Kent's St. Cecilia picture, 180.

     Kensington Taverns, 242.

     Kentish Town Taverns, 239.

     Kilburn Wells, 242.

     King's Head Tavern, Fenchurch-street, 155.

     King's Head Tavern, Poultry, 135-141.

     Knightsbridge Taverns, 249.

     Knightsbridge Grove Tavern, 252.

     Leveridge's Songs, 198.

     Locket's Tavern, 206.

     London Stone Tavern, 148.

     London Tavern, the, 276.

     Lovegrove's, dinner at, 275.

     Lowe's Hotel, 195.

     Lydgate's Ballad on Taverns, 113.

     Mathematical Society, Spitalfields, 160.

     Marylebone Gardens, account of, 240, 241.

     Marylebone Taverns, 236.

     Mermaid Taverns, three, 124.

     Ministerial Fish Dinner, origin of, 270.

     Mitre, Dr. Johnson and his friends at, 176.

     Mitre Painted Room, 154.

     Mitre Tavern, Fenchurch-street, 154.

     Mitre Tavern, Fleet-street, 175.

     Mitre Tavern, Wood-street, 141.

     Molly Mogg of the Rose, 193.

     Mother Redcap Tavern, 239.

     Mourning Bush Tavern, Aldersgate, 147-149.

     Mourning Crown Tavern and Taylor, the Water-poet, 150.

     Mulberry Garden, the, 257.

     Mull Sack at the Devil Tavern, 163.

     Myddelton's Head Tavern, 228.

     Nag's Head Tavern, Cheapside, 293.

     Offley's, Henrietta-street, 201.

     Old Swan Tavern, Thames-street, 132.

     One Tun Tavern, Jermyn-street, 224.

     Onslow, Speaker, at the Jew's Harp, 237.

     Oxford Kate, of the Cock Tavern, 187.

     Paddington Taverns, 241.

     Paintings at the Elephant, Fenchurch-street, 156.

     Palsgrave Head Tavern, Temple Bar, 178.

     Panton, Col., the gamester, 222.

     Paul Pindar's Head Tavern, Bishopsgate, 153.

     Pepys at the Cock Tavern, 170.

     Pepys at the Hercules' Pillars, 172.

     Piccadilly Hall, 221.

     Piccadilly Inns and Taverns, 221.

     Pimlico Taverns, 259.

     Politics at the Crown and Anchor, 180.

     Pontack's, Abchurch-lane, 130.

     Pope's Head, Cornhill, 113, 131.

     Porson at the Cider Cellar, 200.

     Porson taken ill at the African, 157.

     Portraits, Theatrical, 196.

     Prince of Wales an Odd Fellow, 253.

     Purgatory Tavern, 207.

     Queen's Arms Tavern, St. Paul's Churchyard, 145.

     Queen's Head, Islington, 226.

     Queen's Head Tavern, Bow-street, 188.

     Ranelagh Gardens described, 256.

     Relics of the Boar's Head, 125.

     Robin Hood Tavern, Chiswell-street, 129.

     Rose Tavern and Drury-lane Theatre, 193.

     Rose Tavern, Covent Garden, 192.

     Rose Tavern, Marylebone, 239.

     Rose Tavern, Poultry, 120, 135-141.

     Rose Tavern, Tower-street, 292.

     Royal Academy Club, 289.

     Royal Naval Club, 218.

     Rummer Tavern, Charing Cross, 202.

     "Running Footman," May Fair, 219.

     Sadler's Wells, 228.

     St. John's Gate Tavern, 152.

     St. John's Gate, Johnson at, 151.

     Sala, Mr., his account of Soyer's Symposium, 245.

     Salutation Taverns, 144.

     Salutation and Cat, Newgate-street, 142.

     Salutation, Tavistock-street, 197.

     Shakspeare Tavern, Covent Garden, 189.

     Shaver's Hall, Haymarket, 223.

     Shepherd and his Flock Club, Clare Market, 184.

     Ship Tavern, (Drake,) Temple Bar, 177.

     Shuter, and his tavern places, 191.

     Sign-boards, disfiguring, an old frolic, 177.

     Southwark Tavern Tokens, 263.

     Soyer's Symposium, Gore House, 245.

     Spring Garden Taverns, 205.

     Spring's Tavern, Holborn, 235.

     Spring Garden, Knightsbridge, 251.

     Star Dining-room, 195.

     Star and Garter Tavern, Pall Mall, 211.

     Stolen Marriages at Knightsbridge, 250.

     St. James's Hall, 284.

     Sugar and Sack, 117.

     Swift at the Devil Tavern, 168.

     Tavern, characterized by Bishop Earle, 118.

     Tavern Life of Sir Richard Steele, 182.

     Tavern Signs, Origin of, 296-304.

     Taverns of Old London, 110-122.

     Taverns in 1608 and 1710, 116.

     Taverns, _temp._ Edward VI., 114.

     Taverns, _temp._ Elizabeth, 115.

     Taverns destroyed by fire, 290.

     Thatched House Tavern, St. James's-street, 217.

     Theatrical Taverns, 285.

     Three Cranes Tavern, Poultry, 141.

     Three Cranes in the Vintry, 112, 128.

     Tom Brown on Taverns, 121, 122.

     Topham, the Strong Man, his Taverns, 225, 232, 233.

     Turtle at the London Tavern, 273.

     Tzar of Muscovy's Head, 291.

     Vauxhall Gardens, last of, 261.

     Vintner, the, by Massinger, 119.

     Wadlows, hosts of the Devil Tavern, 167, 168.

     White Conduit House, 226, 227.

     White Hart Tavern, Bishopsgate Without, 152.

     Whitebait Taverns, 267-269.

     White Horse, Kensington, 243.

     White's Club, 287.

     Win-hous, Saxon, 112.

     Wines by old measure, 151.

     Young Devil Tavern, 169.



*** End of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "Club Life of London, Volume II (of 2) - With Anecdotes of the Clubs, Coffee-Houses and Taverns of - the Metropolis During the 17th, 18th, and 19th Centuries" ***

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