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.
WHITE HART TAVERN, BISHOPSGATE WITHOUT.
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
Collection.
THE MITRE, IN FENCHURCH STREET,
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._
THE KING'S HEAD, FENCHURCH STREET.
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.
THE ELEPHANT, FENCHURCH STREET.
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.
THE AFRICAN, ST. MICHAEL'S ALLEY.
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.
THE GRAVE MAURICE TAVERN.
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_.
MATHEMATICAL SOCIETY, SPITALFIELDS.
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.
FOOTNOTE:
[32] Curiosities of London, p. 678.
GLOBE TAVERN, FLEET-STREET.
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.
THE DEVIL 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
interesting.
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
_Dunciad_:
"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
times:
"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,
1629.
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."