THE LONDON INNS
The town was full of inns; more especially they were established
without the gates and in the Borough. A great change had come over the
Inns: formerly the inn was a place of lodging; some of them, as the
Inns of Court, Barnard’s Inn, Gray’s Inn, Staple Inn, were colleges
of residence; the business of providing food and drink belonged to
the tavern and the cook’s shop. We have now come to the time when the
inn itself provided food. Fortunately, there remain two very useful
descriptions of the Inns of this time. One of them is by Harrison in
Holinshed, and the other by Fynes Moryson. First, let us take that of
Harrison:—
“Those townes that we call thorowfaires have great and sumptuous innes
builded in them for the receiving of such travellers and strangers
as passe to and fro. The manner of harbouring wherein, is not like
to that as some other countries, in which the host or goodman of
the house dooth chalenge a lordlie authoritie over his ghests, but
clene otherwise, sith everie man may use his inne as his owne house
in England, and have for his monie how great or little varietie of
vittels, and what other service himselfe shall thinke expedient to call
for. Our innes are also verie well furnished with naperie, bedding,
and tapisserie, especiallie with naperie: for beside the linen used at
the tables, which is commonlie washed dailie, is such and so much as
belongeth unto the estate and calling of the ghest. Ech commer is sure
to lie in cleane sheets, wherein no man hath beene lodged since they
came from the landresse, or out of the water wherein they were last
washed. If the traveller have an horsse, his bed doth cost him nothing,
but if he go on foot he is sure to pay a penie for the same: but
whether he be horseman or footman if his chamber be once appointed he
may carie the kaie with him, as of his own house so long as he lodgeth
there. If he loose oughts whilst he abideth in the inne, the host is
bound by a generall custome to restore the damage, so that there is no
greater security anie where for travellers than in the gretest ins of
England. Their horses in like sort are walked, dressed, and looked unto
by certeine hostelers or hired servants, appointed at the charges of
the good man of the house, who in hope of extraordinary reward will
deal verie diligently after outward appeerance in this their function
and calling. Herein neverthelesse are manie of them blameworthie, in
that they doo not onlie deceive the beast oftentimes of his allowance
of sundrie meanes, except their owners look well to them; but also make
such packs with slipper merchants which hunt after preie (for what
place is sure from evill and wicked persons) that manie an honest man
is spoiled of his goods as he travelleth to and fro, in which fear also
the counsell of the tapsters or drawers of drinke, and chamberleins
is not seldom behind or wanting. Certes I beleeve not that chapman or
traveller in England is robbed by the waie without the knowledge of
some of them, for when he commeth into the inne, and alighteth from his
horse, the hostler forthwith is verie busie to take downe his budget
or capcase in the yard from his sadle bow, which he peiseth slilie in
his hand to feel the weight thereof: or he miss of this pitch when the
ghest hath taken up his chamber, the chamberleine that looketh to the
making of the beds, will be sure to remove it from the place where the
owner hath set it as if it were to set it more conveniently somewhere
else, whereby he getteth an inkling whether it be monie or other short
wares and thereof giveth warning to such ghests as haunt the house and
are of his confederacy to the utter undoing of manie an honest yeoman
as he journieth by the waie. The tapster in like sort for his part
dooth marke his behaviour and what plentie of money he draweth when he
paieth the shot, to the like end; so that it shall be an hard matter
to escape all their subtil practises. Some thinke it a gay matter to
commit their budgets at their coming to the goodman of the house; but
thereby they oft bewraie themselves. For albeit their monie be safe for
the time that it is in his hands (for you shall not hear that a man
is robbed in his inn) yet after their departure the host can make no
warrantise of the same, sith his protection extendeth no further than
the gate of his owne house; and there cannot be a surer token unto such
as prie and watch for those booties, than to see any ghest deliver his
capcase in such maner. In all our innes we have plenty of ale, beere,
and sundrie kinds of wine, and such is the capacitie of some of them
that they are able to lodge two hundred or three hundred persons, and
their horses at ease, and thereto with a very short warning make such
provision for their diet as to him that is unacquainted withall may
seeme to be incredible. Howbeit of all in England there are no worse
ins than in London, and yet manie are there far better than the best
that I have heard of in anie forren countries, if all circumstances
be duly considered. But to leave this and go in hand with my purpose.
I will here set downe a table of the best thorowfaires and townes of
greatest travell in England, in some of which there are twelve or
sixteen such innes at the least, as I before did speak of. And it
is a world to see how ech owner of them contendeth with other for
goodnesse of interteinement of the ghests as about finesse and change
of linen, furniture of bedding, beautie of rooms, service at the table,
costlinesse of plate, strength of drinke, varietie of wines, or well
using of horses. Finallie there is not much omitted among them as the
gorgeousness of their verie signs at their doores wherein some doo
consume thirtie or fortie pounds, a mere vanitie in mine opinion, but
so vaine will they needs be and that not onelie to give some outward
token of the inne keeper’s welth, but also to procure good ghests
to the frequenting of their houses in hope there to be well used.”
(Holinshed’s _Chronicles_.)
Concerning the customs in English Inns, Fynes Moryson thus writes:—
“For as soon as a passenger comes to an Inne, the servants run to
him, and one takes his horse and walks him till he be cold, then
rubs him and gives him meate, yet I must say that they are not much
to be trusted in this last point, without the eye of the Master or
his servant to oversee them. Another servant gives the passenger his
private chamber, and kindles his fier, the third puls of his bootes and
makes them cleane. Then the Host or Hostesse visits him, and if he will
eate with the Hoste, or at a common table with others, his meale will
coste him six pence, or in some places but four pence (yet this course
is lesse honourable and not used by Gentlemen); but if he will eate in
his chamber, he commands what meats he will according to his appetite,
and as much as he thinkes fit for him and his company, yea, the kitchen
is open to him, to command the meat to be dressed as he likes best;
and when he sits at Table, the Host or Hostesse will accompany him, if
they have many Guests, will at least visit him, taking it for courtesie
to be bid sit downe; while he eates, if he have company especially, he
shall be offerd musicke, which he may freely take or refuse, and if he
be solitary the musicians will give him the good day with musicke in
the morning. It is the custom and no way disgraceful to set up part
of sypper for his breakfast. In the evening or in the morning after
breakfast (for the common sort use not to dine, but ride from breakfast
to supper time, yet comming early to the Inn for better resting of
their horses) he shall have a reckoning in writing, and if it seems
unreasonable the Host will satisfy him either for the due price, or by
abating part, especially if the servant deceive him in any way, which
one of experience will soon find. I will now only add that a Gentleman
and his Man shall spend as much as if he were accompanied with another
Gentleman and his Man, and if Gentlemen will in such sorte joyne
together to eate at one table the expenses will be much diminished.
Lastly, a Man cannot more freely command at home in his owne House than
he may doe in his Inne, and at parting if he give some few pence to the
Chamberlin and Ostler they wish him a happy journey.”
And further:—
“In all Innes, but especially in suspected places, let him take heed of
his chamber fellowes, and always have his sword by his side or by his
bedside; let him lay his purse under his pillow, but always folded with
his garters or something hee first useth in the morning, lest he forget
to put it on before he goe out of his chamber. And to the end he may
leave nothing behind him in his Innes, let the visiting of his chamber
and gathering his things together be the last thing he doth before hee
put his foote into the stirrup.”
The list of Elizabethan taverns might be compiled at great length, but
the following signs celebrated in verse will suffice:—
“Through the Royal Exchange as I walked
where gallants in sattin did shine:
At midst of the day they parted away
at several places to dine.
The gentry went to the King’s Head,
the nobles went unto the Crown:
The knights unto the Golden Fleece
and the plowman to the Clown.
The clergy will dine at the Miter,
the vintners at the Three Tuns:
The usurers to the Devil will go,
and the fryers unto the Nuns.
The ladies will dine at the Feathers,
the Globe no captain will scorn:
The huntsmen will go to the Greyhound below,
and some townsmen to the Horn.
The plummer will dine at the Fountain,
the cooks at the Holy Lamb:
The drunkards at noon to the Man in the Moon
and the cuckolds to the Ram.
The rovers will dine at the Lyon,
the watermen at the Old Swan:
The bawds will to the Negro go
and the whores to the Naked Man.
The keepers will to the White Hart,
the mariners unto the Ship:
The beggars they must take their way
to the Eg-shell and the Whip.
The farier will to the Horse,
the blacksmith unto the Lock,
The butchers to the Bull will go,
and the carmen to Bridewell-Dock.
The fishmongers unto the Dolphin,
the bakers to the Cheat-loaf:
The Turners unto the Tabel will go
where they may merrily quaff.
The taylors will dine at the Sheers,
the shoo-makers will to the Boot:
The Welshmen they will take their way
and dine at the sign of the Goat.
The hosiers will dine at the Leg,
and drapers at the sign of the Brush:
The fletchers to Robin Hood will go,
and the spendthrift to Beggar’s Bush.
The pewterers to Quart Pot,
the coopers will dine at the Hoop:
The coblers to the Last will go,
and the bargemen to the Scoop.
The carpenters will dine at the Axe,
the colliers will dine at the Sack:
Your fruiterer he to the Cherry-tree
good fellows no liquor will lack.
The goldsmiths to the Three Cups,
their money they count as dross:
Your puritan to the Pewter Can,
and your papist to the Cross.
The weavers will dine at the Shuttle,
the glovers will into the Glove:
The maidens all to the Maidenhead,
and true lovers unto the Dove.
The sadlers will dine at the Saddle,
the painters to the Green Dragon:
The Dutchman will go to the sign of the Vrow,
where each man may drink his flagon.
The chandlers will dine at the Scales,
the salters at the sign of the Bag:
The porters take pain at the Labour-in-vain,
and the horse-courser to the White Nag.
Thus every man to his humour,
from the north unto the south:
But he that hath no money in his purse,
may dine at the sign of the Mouth.
The swaggerers will dine at the Fencers:
but those that have lost their wits,
With Bedlam Tom let there be their home,
and the Drum the drummer best hits.
The cheater will dine at the Chequer,
the pick-pocket at the Blind Ale-house:
Till taken and tride, up Holborn they ride,
and make their end at the gallows.”
In a black-letter poem called “News from Bartholomew Fayre” occurs the
following short list of taverns:—
“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 at 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. Martin’s 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.”
Heywood (1608) writes:—
“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 gardner 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.”
It was the custom at Taverns to send presents of wine from one room to
another with compliments.
The taverns were to the sixteenth century what the coffee-houses were
to the eighteenth. Every man frequented his tavern: clubs were held
in the taverns; men of the same trade met in the taverns for evening
discourse; bargains and business affairs were conducted in taverns;
there were good and bad taverns; those like the Boar’s Head, East
Cheap, bore a bad character; that is to say, they were laden down by
the character of Doll Tearsheet; others, again, where Doll and her
friends were not admitted, were frequented by the most respectable
merchants and divines. Music was going on in most of them all day long;
and all day long the waiters, clad in blue and wearing white aprons,
ran about with flasks of wine and cups, and tobacco and pipes, calling
“Anon, Anon!” and stopping to chalk a score upon the wall.
It is strange that Stow mentions neither the Boar’s Head, East Cheap,
which must have been a well-known tavern, or Shakespeare would not have
chosen it for the haunt of the Prince and Falstaff; nor the Mermaid,
the haunt of Ben Jonson and the poets. Presumably the worthy antiquary
would not have felt at home in the company of the wits.
The Boar’s Head stood in that part of East Cheap now swept away. The
statue of King William IV. marks the site. It was not an ancient
tavern. There were no taverns formerly in East Cheap according to Stow;
the first mention of it is in the year 1537. The courtyard was large
enough for the performance of plays; at the back it looked out upon
St. Michael’s churchyard. The churchyard and church of St. Michael
were swept away to make the approach to new London Bridge. Between
St. Michael’s Lane, now Miles’s Lane, and a small alley, stood four
taverns in a row: the Chicken, the Boar’s Head, the Plough, and the
Three Kings. These taverns were thus in the midst of markets: the Grass
Market in front; the Fish Market on the east; the Meat Market on the
west. The tavern was rebuilt after the fire, in 1668: the new sign
then made for it may be seen in the Guildhall Museum; on each side of
the doorway was carved in wood a vine branch, rising three feet from
the ground, loaded with leaves and clusters, and on the top of each a
figure of Falstaff eight inches high. Before its demolition the house
had ceased to be a tavern. Here was held a club of which Boswell was a
member, in which every one assumed a Shakespearian character. It was
the custom to hold convivial meetings in this house. There Falstaff
and Dame Quickly and Doll Tearsheet and the whole merry company became
real. Goldsmith wrote his essay, “A Reverie,” in this tavern, and here
Washington Irving gave full play to his fancy, and restored the things
that never were to the place that never knew Prince Hal.
[Illustration: SIGN OF THE BOAR’S HEAD IN EAST CHEAP]
The Mermaid Tavern stood between Friday Street and Bread Street, with
an entrance from Cheapside as well. The tavern has been immortalised by
a poet of the seventeenth and one of the nineteenth century.
Francis Beaumont, the former, writes to Ben Jonson:—
“What things have we seen
Done at the Mermaid, heard words that have been
So nimble, and so full of subtle flame,
As if that every one from whence they came
Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest,
And had resolved to live a fool the rest
Of his dull life; then when there hath been thrown
Wit able enough to justify the town
For three days past; wit that might warrant be
For the whole city to talk foolishly
Till that were cancelled; and when that was gone,
We left an air behind us, which alone
Was able to make the two next companies
(Right witty, though but downright fools) more wise.”
And Keats, the latter, writes:—
“Souls of poets dead and gone,
What Elysium have ye known,
Happy field or mossy cavern
Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern?
Have ye tippled drink more fine
Than mine host’s Canary wine?”
Or, as Fuller says of Shakespeare:—
“Many were the wit-combates betwixt him and Ben Johnson, which two I
behold like a Spanish great gallion, and an English man of War; Master
Johnson (like the former) was built far higher in Learning; Solid, but
Slow in his performances. Shake-spear, with the English man-of-War,
lesser in bulk, but lighter in sailing, could turn with all tides, tack
about and take advantage of all winds, by the quickness of his Wit and
Invention.”
Lists of old taverns are, as a rule, without interest; there are,
however, a few of the London taverns of historic importance. Two have
been mentioned. Thus, the Nag’s Head, at the corner of Friday Street,
was the pretended scene of the consecration of Parker, Archbishop of
Canterbury in 1559.
At the north-west of St. Paul’s Churchyard was an ancient tavern known
as the Mitre. Here were given the concerts of the Society of Musicians;
and their arms, representing the lyre of Apollo, with the crest of the
Swan, being put up in the front of the house, caused the original sign
to be jocularly transformed into that of the Goose and Gridiron. The
Swan with Three Necks, meant originally the Swan with three “nicks” or
marks to denote ownership. The Belle Savage was originally the Bell,
but its landlord being a man named Savage, the house was emblazoned
with a bell and a savage man beside it. The Elephant and Castle
became the Pig and Tinder Box; the “Caton Fidele”—the Governor of
Calais—became the Cat and Fiddle.
Fleet Street had many well-known taverns: like those in the City they
were mostly approached by narrow alleys leading out of the street, as
the Rainbow, Dick’s, and the Mitre. Dick’s stands on the site of the
printing office of Richard Tottle, law stationer in the reign of Henry
VIII. The Cock, later moved across the road, was one of the most famous
of the Fleet Street taverns.
The “Devil” Tavern, however, was more famous even than the Mermaid.
Ben Jonson drew the company from the latter tavern to the Devil; he
lived at Temple Bar in order to be near the tavern. Here he founded the
Apollo Club and wrote his famous rules in Latin, which were translated
into English by one of his “sons,” Brome. Near the door was placed a
gilt bust of Apollo with a “Welcome” in flowing lines:—
“Welcome all who lead or follow
To the oracle of Apollo:
Here he speaks out of his pottle,
Or the tripos, his tower bottle;
All his answers are divine,
Truth itself doth flow in wine.
Hang up all the poor hop-drinkers,
Cries old Sim, the king of skinkers;
He the life of life abuses
That sits watering with the Muses.
Those dull girls no good can mean us;
Wine—it is the milk of Venus,
And the poet’s horse accounted:
Ply it, and you all are mounted.
’Tis the true Phœbian liquor,
Cheers the brains, makes wit the quicker;
Pays all debts, cures all diseases,
And at once three senses pleases.
Welcome all who lead or follow
To the oracle of Apollo!”
The merchants conducted their business in the Royal Exchange, but the
tavern was the place where the lesser traders, and the shopkeepers, and
the people who came up from the country met, to arrange bargains and
business of all kinds over a flask of Canary.