whiskey and eat oat-cake" is not named, but it has been identified with a
house which is no longer an inn. At the time of the story it was called
the Queen's Head, and was quite a prominent hostelry in the town, the
innkeeper of which is described as having "a ruddy cheek, a bright eye, a
well-knit frame, an immense hand, a cheery, outspeaking voice, and a
straight, bright, broad look. He had a drawing-room, too, upstairs, which
was worth a visit to the Cumberland Fells."
"The ceiling of this drawing-room," we are further told, "was so crossed
and re-crossed by beams of unequal lengths, radiating from a centre, in a
corner, that it looked like a broken starfish. The room was comfortably
and solidly furnished with good mahogany and horsehair. It had a snug
fireside, a couple of well-curtained windows, looking out upon the wild
country behind the house. What it most developed was an unexpected taste
for little ornaments and knick-knacks, of which it contained a most
surprising number," which Dickens goes on to describe in his own whimsical
manner.
Hesket has not altered very much, we understand, since those days, and the
inn itself remains, not as an inn, but as a private house, and the room
where the oat-cake and whiskey were served still has its crossed and
re-crossed beams of unequal length.
From this inn, and under the guidance of the landlord, the two idle
apprentices mounted Carrock--with what disastrous effects to Mr. Idle on
the way down, readers of the story well know.
On again reaching the inn, under uncomfortable circumstances, they
remained only a few hours, and continued the tour to Wigton in a covered
carriage. Here, Mr. Idle was "melodramatically carried to the inn's first
floor and laid upon three chairs." The King's Arms is said to be the
Wigton inn referred to, but no details are given of it in the book.
Their next halting place was Allonby, where they put up at the Ship.
Thomas Idle, we are informed, "made a crab-like progress up a clean little
bulk-headed staircase, into a clean little bulk-headed room, where he
slowly deposited himself on a sofa, with a stick on either hand of him,
looking exceedingly grim," and both partook of dinner. The little inn is
described as delightful, "excellently kept by the most comfortable of
landladies and the most attentive of landlords." It still exists, and, "as
a family and commercial hotel and posting-house commanding extensive views
of the Solway Firth and the Scottish Hills," is apparently little altered
since Dickens and Collins visited it. Its Dickensian associations are
cherished by the owner to-day, who shows with pride the room occupied by
the two literary giants.
After their visit to Lancaster, already referred to, the two idle
apprentices went on to Doncaster, and arrived there in the St. Leger Race
week. They put up at the Angel Hotel, where they had secured rooms, which
Dickens described as "very good, clean and quiet apartments on the second
floor, looking down into the main street." His own room was "airy and
clean, little dressing-room attached, eight water-jugs ... capital sponge
bath, perfect arrangement, exquisite neatness."
Doncaster during the race week is described as a collection of mad people
under the charge of a body of designing keepers, horse-mad, betting-mad,
vice-mad. But the two novelists managed to find it enticing enough to
remain there a week.
The Angel Hotel was often called the Royal because Queen Victoria stayed
there in 1851. It was built in 1810, has always been a celebrated hotel,
and was a busy coaching-inn in those days. It remains much as it was when
Thomas Idle lay in the room for a week with his bad ankle and his friend
Francis Goodchild went roaming around the city with his usual observant
eyes.
CHAPTER XIV
SKETCHES BY BOZ AND THE UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER
THE GOAT AND BOOTS--THE BLUE LION AND STOMACH WARMER--THE RED
HOUSE--THE FREEMASONS' TAVERN--THE EAGLE--OFFLEY'S--THE RAINBOW--THE
ALBION--THE FLOWER-POT--THE BULL'S HEAD--THE DOLPHIN'S HEAD--THE LORD
WARDEN HOTEL--THE CRISPIN AND CRISPIANUS
In Dickens's minor writings there are mentioned many inns, taverns and
coffee-houses, some merely fictitious with fanciful names, others whose
fame has been recorded in the social history of their times. _Sketches by
Boz_ is fairly well supplied in this respect, but none of them is
described at any length; indeed, scarcely anything but the names are
mentioned, and those only in passing. In the second chapter of "Our
Parish," we are introduced to the new curate who became so popular with
the ladies that their enthusiasm for him knew no bounds. It culminated, we
are told, when "he spoke for one hour and twenty-five minutes at an
anti-slavery meeting at the Goat and Boots." A proposal was forthwith set
on foot to make him a presentation, and this, in the shape of a splendid
silver ink-stand engraved with an appropriate inscription, was publicly
handed to him at a special breakfast at the aforementioned Goat and Boots,
"in a neat little speech by Mr. Gubbins, the ex-churchwarden, and
acknowledged by the curate in terms which drew tears into the eyes of all
present--the very waiters melted."
The Goat and Boots was no doubt a highly respectable hostelry, but its
whereabouts is "wropped in mystery." So is the Blue Lion and Stomach
Warmer, except that we are told that it was at Great Winglebury, and we
know that Great Winglebury was a fictitious name for Rochester. But which
was the inn that received this whimsical name at the hands of the novelist
under whose roof Horace Hunter penned his challenge to that base
umbrella-maker Alexander Trott, we are unable to state. On the other hand,
the Winglebury Arms where Alexander Trott was staying at the time was the
Bull Hotel, Rochester.[3] The Red House, Battersea, casually mentioned in
the chapter on "The River" as the "Red-us," was a popular tavern and
tea-gardens in those days and notorious for its pigeon-shooting; indeed,
tradition has it that it took the lead in the quality and quantity of the
sport, and that the crack shots assembled there to determine important
matches. It was also famous as the winning-post of many a boat race from
Westminster Bridge, and was the place "where all the prime of life lads
assembled," the joy and fun of which is vividly described by Dickens in
the chapter referred to. It was a red-bricked building, and a prominent
landmark of what was then known as Battersea Fields, the one-time scene of
many a duel.
The Cross Keys mentioned in the chapter on "Omnibuses" we have already
referred to when dealing with _Great Expectations_; whilst for particulars
of the Golden Cross, the busy coaching-inn mentioned in "Hackney Coach
Stands," and in "Early Coaches," we must refer the reader to "The Inns and
Taverns of Pickwick."
The Freemasons' Tavern in the chapter on "Public Dinners" does not receive
much attention from Dickens. He is describing the public dinner given in
aid of the "Indigent Orphans Friends' Benevolent Institution," and no
reference beyond the use of the name is made to the building itself. The
tavern still stands to-day, and no doubt more glorious in its splendour
than it was on the occasion of the public dinner Dickens refers to. It is
used to-day for similar purposes, the ceremony and atmosphere at which
being little changed from what it was then. It is interesting to note that
in the same building a farewell dinner was given Dickens on the eve of his
departure for America in 1867, with Lord Lytton in the chair.
The chapter devoted to the story of Miss Evans and the Eagle, recalls the
notorious tavern immortalised in the famous jingle:
Up and down the City Road,
In and out the Eagle,
That's the way the money goes--
Pop goes the weasel!
and the chronicle of Miss Jemima Evans's visit to the highly famed
pleasure-resort will contribute more towards retaining the Eagle on the
recording tablets of history than the contemporary rhymster's poetic
effort. It was in 1825 that the Eagle Tavern turned its saloon into what
was the forerunner of the music hall, and was the making of many a
well-known singer. It was to this gay spot in London that Mr. Samuel
Wilkins took Miss Jemima Evans, with whom he "kept company." They were
joined in the Pancras Road by Miss Ivins's lady friend and her young man.
We do not attempt to identify the Crown where they stayed on the way to
taste some stout, and are content with the knowledge that they reached the
rotunda where the concert was held, and to remind our readers of the
impression it had on Miss J'mima Ivins and Miss J'mima Ivins's friend, who
both exclaimed at once "How 'ev'nly!" when they were fairly inside the
gardens. Dickens's description of the place will convey some idea of its
splendour:
"There were the walks, beautifully gravelled and planted--and the
refreshment boxes, painted and ornamented like so many snuff-boxes--and
the variegated lamps shedding their rich light upon the company's
heads--and the place for dancing ready chalked for the company's feet--and
a Moorish band playing at one end of the gardens--and an opposition
military band playing away at the other. Then, the waiters were rushing to
and fro with glasses of negus, and glasses of brandy and water, and
bottles of ale, and bottles of stout; and ginger-beer was going off in
one place, and practical jokes were going off in another; and people were
crowding to the door of the Rotunda; and, in short, the whole scene was,
as Miss J'mima Ivins, inspired by the novelty, or the stout, or both,
observed, 'One of dazzling excitement.' As to the concert room, never was
anything half so splendid. There was an orchestra for the singers, all
paint, gilding, and plate-glass; and such an organ!... The audience was
seated on elevated benches round the room, and crowded into every part of
it; and everybody was eating and drinking as comfortably as possible."
[Illustration: THE EAGLE TAVERN PLEASURE GARDENS
_From an old Print_]
What happened to our friends there, and how the trouble over the waistcoat
and whiskers was adjusted, is not our business here. The printed account
must be read elsewhere. But we have quoted what is perhaps one of the best
pictures of this famous resort extant.
Ultimately, the Rotunda was turned into the Grecian Theatre, and was not
demolished until 1901. By then, of course, the real glory of the Eagle had
departed and succeeding generations of Jemima Evanses and their young men
friends had sought other glittering palaces for their pleasures.
There are two taverns mentioned in the following paragraph appearing in
the chapter on Mr. John Dounce:
"There was once a fine collection of old boys to be seen round the
circular table at Offley's every night, between the hours of half-past
eight and half-past eleven. We have lost sight of them for some time.
There were, and may be still for aught we know, two splendid specimens in
full blossom at the Rainbow Tavern in Fleet Street, who always used to sit
in the box nearest the fire-place, and smoked long cherry-stick pipes
which went under the table with the bowls resting on the floor."
Offley's, long ago demolished, was a noted tavern in its day, and,
according to Timbs, enjoyed great and deserved celebrity, though
short-lived. It was situated at No. 23 Henrietta Street, Covent Garden,
and its fame rested on Burton ale and the largest supper-room in the
neighbourhood. It had a certain dignity about it, and eschewed "pictures,
placards, paper-hangings, or vulgar coffee-room finery," in order that its
customers should not be disturbed in their relish of the good things
provided. Of these good things may be mentioned Offley's chop, which 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." There was a large
room upstairs with wines really worth drinking, and withal Offley's
presented a sort of quakerly plainness, but solid comfort. There was
singing by amateurs one day a week, and, to prevent the chorus waking the
dead in their cerements in St. Paul's churchyard opposite, the coffee-room
window was double.
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, and this was the little coterie to which Dickens refers.
The Rainbow, also mentioned in the quotation above, was the second house
in London to sell coffee and was at one time kept by a Mr. Farr, who was
prosecuted for the nuisance caused by the odious smell in the roasting of
the berry. In later years (about 1780) the tavern was kept by Alexander
Moncrieff, grandfather of the author of "Tom and Jerry," and was known as
the Rainbow Coffee-House. In those days the coffee-room had a lofty
bay-window at the south end, looking into the Temple; the room was
separated from the kitchen only by a glazed partition. In the bay was a
table for the elders, amongst whom doubtless were the "grand old boys"
Dickens speaks of as being always there, puffing and drinking away in
great state. Everybody knew them, and it was supposed by some people that
they were both "immortal."
In the chapter "Making a Night of It," we learn that Mr. Potter, in his
"rough blue coat with wooden buttons, made upon the fireman's principle,
in which, with the addition of a low-crowned, flower-pot, saucer-shaped
hat," created no inconsiderable sensation at the Albion in Little Russell
Street, and divers other places of public and fashionable resort.
"Making a Night of It" is no doubt mainly reminiscent of a merry evening
in the business life of Dickens, and possibly the Albion was one of the
favourite resorts of his, and of his co-clerk, Potter. In their day, the
Albion was favoured by the theatrical profession and all those associated
with things theatrical, and also by those young men who hung on the skirts
of actors.
Dickens used the Albion in the 'fifties. In a letter to W. H. Wills (1851)
there are instructions to order a plain cold supper at Simpson's, the
Albion, by Drury Lane Theatre, for the next play night. "I would merely
have cold joints, lobsters, salad, and plenty of clean ice," he says.
"Perhaps there might be one hot dish, as broiled bones. But I would have
only one, and I would have it cheap." The play referred to was "Not so Bad
as we Seem," which Dickens and his friends were rehearsing for the Guild
of Literature and Art. The supper was to be paid for at so much per head,
"not including wines, spirits or beers, which each gentleman will order
for himself."
Mr. Percy FitzGerald tells of another evening when Dickens took his
friends to the Albion. It was the occasion of Hollingshead's revival of
"The Miller and his Men," and Dickens was determined to be there. He gave
a little dinner party at "the good old Albion," and all were in great
spirits, seated in one of the "boxes" or eating pews as they might be
called, and then crossed over the Drury Lane Theatre afterwards.
In the chapter devoted to "Mr. Minns and his Cousin," in giving
instructions as to the best way for Mr. Augustus Minns to get to Mr.
Budden's in Poplar Walk, the latter says, "Now mind the direction; the
coach goes from the Flower Pot in Bishopsgate Street, every half-hour.
When the coach stops at the Swan, you'll see, immediately opposite you, a
White House."
The Flower Pot was a coaching inn of some distinction in those days, for
not only did the coaches ply between it and the north-east of London, but
the inn was also the starting point of the Norwich coach and others to the
eastern counties. The Swan was at Stamford Hill, and, beyond that it was
the scheduled stopping-place for coaches, to and from London, we can find
no record of its history.
The innumerable references to inns and taverns in _The Uncommercial
Traveller_ are for the most part purely imaginary. Even when it is clear
that Dickens is describing something he actually saw and experienced, he
has taken the precaution, in this book, to disguise the inn's name and
whereabouts. There are several such in the chapter entitled "Refreshments
for Travellers," a chapter made up of a series of complaints and adverse
criticisms verging on the brink of libel. For instance:
"Take the old-established Bull's Head with its old-established knife-boxes
on its old-established sideboards, its old-established flue under its
old-established four-post bedsteads in its old-established airless rooms,
its old-established frouziness upstairs and downstairs, its
old-established cookery, and its old-established principles of plunder.
Count up your injuries, in its side-dishes of ailing sweetbreads in white
poultices, of apothecaries' powders in rice for curry, of pale stewed bits
of calf ineffectually relying for an adventitious interest on forcemeat
balls. You have had experience of the old-established Bull's Head stringy
fowls, with lower extremities like wooden legs sticking up out of the
dish; of its cannibalistic boiled mutton, gushing horribly among its
capers, when carved; of its little dishes of pastry--roofs of spermaceti
ointment erected over half an apple or four gooseberries. Well for you if
you have yet forgotten the old-established Bull's Head fruity port; whose
reputation was gained solely by the old-established price the Bull's Head
put upon it, and by the old-established air with which the Bull's Head set
the glasses and d'oyleys on, and held that Liquid Gout to the
three-and-sixpenny wax candle, as if its old-established colour hadn't
come from the dyers."
Had that inn been properly named at the time, the proprietor's ire would
have been raised, with serious consequences.
Then there is the chapter on "An Old Stage-Coaching House," whose title
seemed to augur well for our purpose. Yet, although it is interesting as
picturing the decay of coaching and how it resulted on a coaching town,
there is nothing by which we can fix the name of the town, and so identify
the Dolphin's Head there. It had been a great stage-coaching town in the
great stage-coaching times, and the ruthless railways had killed and
buried it. That is all we are told about its whereabouts.
"The sign of the house was the Dolphin's Head. Why only head I don't know;
for the Dolphin's effigy at full length, and upside down--as a dolphin is
always bound to be when artistically treated, though I suppose he is
sometimes right side upward in his natural condition--graced the
sign-board. The sign-board chafed its rusty hooks outside the bow-window
of my room, and was a shabby work. No visitor could have denied that the
dolphin was dying by inches, but he showed no bright colours. He had once
served another master; there was a newer streak of paint below him,
displaying with inconsistent freshness the legend, By J. MELLOWS.
"Pursuing my researches in the Dolphin's Head, I found it sorely shrunken.
When J. Mellows came into possession, he had walled off half the bar,
which was now a tobacco shop with its own entrance in the yard--the once
glorious yard where the post-boys, whip in hand and always buttoning
their waistcoats at the last moment, used to come running forth to mount
and away. A 'Scientific Shoeing-Smith and Veterinary Surgeon' had further
encroached upon the yard; and a grimly satirical Jobber, who announced
himself as having to let 'A neat one-horse fly, and a one-horse cart,' had
established his business, himself, and his family, in a part of the
extensive stables. Another part was lopped clean off from the Dolphin's
Head, and now comprised a chapel, a wheelwright's, and a Young Men's
Mutual Improvement and Discussion Society (in a loft); the whole forming a
back lane. No audacious hand had plucked down the vane from the central
cupola of the stables, but it had grown rusty and stuck at Nil: while the
score or two of pigeons that remained true to their ancestral traditions
and the place had collected in a row on the roof-ridge of the only
outhouse retained by the Dolphin, where all the inside pigeons tried to
push the outside pigeon off. This I accepted as emblematical of the
struggle for post and place in railway times."
There are, however, at least three inns we have been able to trace: the
Blue Boar, London (dealt with in a previous chapter), the Crispin and
Crispianus at Strood, and The Lord Warden Hotel at Dover. The latter is
referred to in the chapter entitled "The Calais Night Mail" as follows:
"I particularly detest Dover for the self-complacency with which it goes
to bed. It always goes to bed (when I am going to Calais) with a more
brilliant display of lamp and candle than any other town. Mr. and Mrs.
Birmingham, host and hostess of the Lord Warden, are my much esteemed
friends, but they are too conceited about the comforts of that
establishment when the Night Mail is starting. I know it is a good house
to stay at, and I don't want the fact insisted upon in all its warm bright
windows at such an hour. I know The Warden is a stationary edifice that
never rolls or pitches, and I object to its big outline seeming to insist
upon that circumstance, and, as it were, to come over me with it, when I
am reeling on the deck of the boat. Beshrew the Warden likewise for
obstructing that corner, and making the wind so angry as it rushes round.
Shall I not know that it blows quite soon enough without the officious
Warden's interference?"
The Lord Warden was evidently built on the site of the Ship, as we have
already noted in the chapter devoted to _A Tale of Two Cities_.
The Crispin and Crispianus at Strood is mentioned in the chapter on
"Tramps." The tramp in question is a clockmaker, who, having repaired a
clock at Cobham Hall, and paid freely for it, says, "We should be at
liberty to go, and should be told by a pointing helper to keep round over
yonder by the blasted oak, and go straight through the woods till we
should see the town lights right before us.... So should we lie that night
at the ancient sign of the Crispin and Crispianus, and rise early next
morning to be betimes on tramp again."
The Crispin and Crispianus is a very old-fashioned inn still standing just
outside Strood. It is a long building with an overhanging upper floor
built with wood. How long the present house has existed we cannot tell,
but its hanging sign speaks of St. Crispin's Day, 1415, and it is said
that it may probably have had its origin from the Battle of Agincourt
fought on that day. Mr. Harper thinks the sign older than that, and
probably was one of the very many religious inn-signs designed to attract
the custom of thirsty wayfarers to Becket's shrine.
The brothers Crispin and Crispian were members of a noble family in
ancient Rome, who, professing Christianity, fled to Gaul and supported
themselves by shoemaking in the town of Troyes. They suffered martyrdom
in Soissons in A.D. 287. The sign represents the patron saints of the
shoemaking fraternity, as these holy brothers are designated, at work on
their cobblers' bench, and is understood to have been faithfully copied
from a well-known work preserved to this day at the church of St.
Pantaleon at Troyes.
[Illustration: THE CRISPIN AND CRISPIANUS
_Drawn by C. G. Harper_]
The inn's interior is typical of those to be found in country villages,
with its sanded floor of the parlour, and wooden settles with arms at each
corner. One of these corners is said to have been the favourite seat of
Dickens, for it is known that he sometimes called at the inn as he drew
near the end of one of his long walks, either alone or with friends, for
refreshments. It was an inn, as he said elsewhere, that no thirsty man was
known to pass on a hot summer's day.
CHAPTER XV
CHRISTMAS STORIES AND MINOR WRITINGS
THE MITRE INN--THE SALISBURY ARMS--THE PEAL OF BELLS--THE
NUTMEG-GRATER--THE DODO--THE PAVILIONSTONE HOTEL--HEN AND
CHICKENS--THE SWAN
In the First Branch of "The Holly Tree," in _Christmas Stories_, there are
many inns far and wide referred to, and reminiscences associated with each
recalled. These reminiscences may be personal to Dickens or merely of an
imaginary nature. The Holly Tree Inn itself is real enough, and has been
identified as the George, Greta Bridge, referred to in our chapter on
_Nicholas Nickleby_. There is no doubt, either, that the inn in the
cathedral town where Dickens went to school was the Mitre Inn at Chatham.
"It was the inn where friends used to put up," he says, "and where we used
to go to see parents, and to have salmon and fowls, and to be tipped. It
had an ecclesiastical sign--the Mitre--and a bar that seemed the next
best thing to a bishopric, it was so snug. I loved the landlord's daughter
to distraction--but let that pass. It was in that inn that I was cried
over by my rosy little sister, because I had acquired a black eye in a
fight. And though she had been, that Holly Tree night, for many a long
year where all tears are dried, the Mitre softened me yet."
[Illustration: THE MITRE INN, CHATHAM
_From an engraving_]
The Mitre Inn and Clarence Hotel still exists at Chatham, very much as it
was in Dickens's childhood days when his family lived in Ordnance
Terrace. It was kept in those days by a Mr. Tribe, who was a friend of
John Dickens, and the two families met there and enjoyed many friendly
evenings when Dickens and his sister, as he has told us, mounted on a
dining-table for a stage, would sing some old sea-songs together. He had a
clear treble voice then, but, recalling these incidents many years
afterward, said, "he must have been a horrible little nuisance to many
unoffending grown-up people who were called upon to admire him."
The Mitre Inn was described in 1838 as being the Manor House, and the
first posting-house of the town. It is also on record that, at the close
of the eighteenth century, Lord Nelson used to reside there when on duty
at Chatham, and that the room he occupied was known as "Nelson's Cabin"
till recent times. William the Fourth, when Duke of Clarence, used to stay
there, hence the added word of Clarence to the sign.
The Salisbury Arms at Hatfield where Mr. and Mrs. Lirriper went upon their
wedding-day, "and passed as happy a fortnight as ever happy was," adjoined
the little post-office there, and now exists as a private house. Mr.
Lirriper's youngest brother also had a sneaking regard for the Salisbury
Arms, where he enjoyed himself for the space of a fortnight and left
without paying his bill, an omission Mrs. Lirriper rectified in the
innocent belief that it was fraternal affection which induced her
unprincipled brother-in-law to favour Hatfield with his presence.
It is believed that Dickens and Phiz stayed the night of October the 27th,
1838, at the Salisbury Arms, when they made their excursion to the West
Country.
The scene of the first four chapters of "A Message from the Sea," is laid
in "Steepways, North Devon, England," the name Dickens gives to Clovelly,
and the story opens with a faithful and unmistakable description of one of
the most beautiful and quaintest villages in England. To it comes Captain
Jorgan to unravel a sea mystery, but no reference is made to his staying
at the inn there. The task he has set himself, however, eventually takes
him to another adjacent village, which Dickens calls Lanrean. There he
puts up at the King Arthur's Arms, to identify which we must first
identify Lanrean. That Dickens had a certain village near Clovelly in
mind, there is little doubt, for he and Wilkie Collins, who collaborated
in writing the story, went there for the purpose. Their description of
Clovelly being so accurate and meticulous, it is only natural that
Lanrean has a prototype, and, if found, the original of King Arthur's Arms
would be forthcoming.
The original of the Peal of Bells, the village ale-house, in "Tom
Tiddler's Ground," on the other hand, has been discovered, for Mr.
Traveller seeking Mr. Mopes the Hermit, naturally had to go where Mr.
Mopes the Hermit located himself. This we know to have been near
Stevenage, and F. G. Kitton identified the ale-house as the White Hart
there, where Dickens called on his way to see Lucas, the original of Mr.
Mopes, to enquire of the landlord, old Sam Cooper, the shortest route to
his "ruined hermitage" some five miles distant.
No particular coffee-houses were, we suspect, intended for the Slamjam
Coffee-House or the Admiral Nelson Civic and General Dining Rooms,
mentioned in "Somebody's Luggage"; nor can we hope to identify the George
and the Gridiron, where the waiters supported nature by what they found in
the plates, "which was, as it happened, and but too often thoughtlessly,
immersed in mustard," or what was found in the glasses, "which rarely went
beyond driblets and lemons."
No name either is given to the inn in "Mugby Junction" where the traveller
arrived at past three o'clock on a tempestuous morning and found himself
stranded. Having got his two large black portmanteaux on a truck, the
porter trundled them on "through a silent street" and came to a stop. When
the owner had shivered on the pavement half an hour, "what time the
porter's knocks at the inn door knocked up the whole town first, and the
inn last, he groped his way into the close air of a shut-up house, and so
groped between the sheets of a shut-up bed that seemed to have been
expressly refrigerated for him when last made."
It is known that Mugby stood for Rugby, but that is all. The particular
shut-up inn, if it ever had any original, has not, so far as we are aware,
been discovered.
In _A Christmas Carol_ we are told that Scrooge "took his melancholy
dinner in his usual melancholy tavern; and having read all the newspapers,
and beguiled the rest of the evening with his banker's book, went home to
bed."
There were many taverns in the city of London at which Scrooge might have
dined, and it may be that Baker's Chop-House in Change Alley, as has been
suggested, was the one he chose. It is no longer a chop-house, having a
year or so back been taken over by a city business company, and the
building added to their premises. But it had been for a century or more a
noted city chop-house, where, up to the last, meals were served on pewter
plates, and other old-time customs were retained. It was one of those city
houses, of which some still exist happily, where the waiters grow old in
the service of their customers. Baker's had at least one such waiter,
known familiarly as James, who pursued his calling there for thirty-five
years, and became famous by having his portrait painted in oils and hung
in the lower room, where it remained until the end of the career of the
house as a tavern. Perhaps old Scrooge was one of his special customers.
The Nutmeg-Grater, the inn kept by Benjamin Britain in "The Battle of
Life," has no real prototype, but such an inn as described would entice
any country rambler into its cosy interior. It was "snugly sheltered
behind a great elm tree, with a rare seat for idlers encircling its
capacious bole, addressed a cheerful front towards the traveller, as a
house of entertainment ought, and tempted him with many mute but
significant assurances of a comfortable welcome. The ruddy sign-board
perched up in the tree, with its golden letters winking in the sun, ogled
the passer-by, from among the leaves, like a jolly face, and promised
good cheer. The horse trough, full of clear, fresh water, and the ground
below it sprinkled with droppings of fragrant hay, made every horse that
passed prick up his ears. The crimson curtains of the lower rooms, and the
pure white hangings in the little bedrooms above, beckoned Come in! with
every breath of air. Upon the bright green shutters, there were golden
legends about beer and ale, and neat wines, and good beds, and an
affecting picture of a brown jug frothing over at the top. Upon the
window-sills were flowering plants in bright red pots, which made a lively
show against the white front of the house; and in the darkness of the
doorway there were streaks of light, which glanced off from the surface of
bottles and tankards"----
An ideal picture of an inn any traveller would love to encounter and
sample.
_Reprinted Pieces_ would form a happy hunting-ground for tracking down
inns and public-houses mentioned in its pages if one were so minded. Few
of them would prove to be of any importance if discovered, but the task
would have its excitement and interest.
Take for instance the chapter devoted to the Detective Police. No doubt
the taverns used by the criminals which the police had to visit were real
houses, as the detectives whom Dickens interviewed were real persons. In
this chapter alone there is the Warwick Arms, through which, and the New
Inn near R., Tally-Ho Thompson the horse stealer was tracked and captured;
the "little public-house" near Smithfield, used by journeymen butchers,
and those concerned in "the extensive robberies of lawns and silks"; and
the Setting Moon in the Commercial Road, where Simpson was arrested in a
room upstairs.
Then there is the extinct inn, the Dodo, in one of the chiefest towns of
Staffordshire--the pivot of the chapter on "A Plated Article." Which is
the town, and which is the inn referred to, we know not. But Dickens's
description of it is very minute:
"If the Dodo were only a gregarious bird," he says, "if he had only some
confused idea of making a comfortable nest, I could hope to get through
the hours between this and bedtime, without being consumed by devouring
melancholy. But the Dodo's habits are all wrong. It provides me with a
trackless desert of sitting-room, with a chair for every day in the year,
a table for every month, and a waste of sideboard where a lonely China
vase pines in a corner for its mate long departed, and will never make a
match with the candlestick in the opposite corner if it live till
Doomsday. The Dodo has nothing in the larder. Even now I behold the Boots
returning with my sole in a piece of paper; and, with that portion of my
dinner, the Boots, perceiving me at the blank bow-window, slaps his leg as
he comes across the road, pretending it is something else. The Dodo
excludes the outer air. When I mount up to my bedroom, a smell of
closeness and flue gets lazily up my nose like sleepy snuff. The loose
little bits of carpet writhe under my tread, and take wormy shapes. I
don't know the ridiculous man in the looking-glass, beyond having met him
once or twice in a dish-cover--and I can never shave _him_ to-morrow
morning! The Dodo is narrow-minded as to towels; expects me to wash on a
freemason's apron without the trimming: when I ask for soap, gives me a
stony-hearted something white, with no more lather in it than the Elgin
marbles. The Dodo has seen better days, and possesses interminable stables
at the back--silent, grass-grown, broken-windowed, horseless. This
mournful bird can fry a sole, however, which is much. Can cook a steak,
too, which is more. I wonder where it gets its sherry? If I were to send
my pint of wine to some famous chemist to be analysed, what would it turn
out to be made of? It tastes of pepper, sugar, bitter-almonds, vinegar,
warm knives, any flat drinks, and a little brandy. Would it unman a
Spanish exile by reminding him of his native land at all? I think not. If
there really be any townspeople out of the churchyards, and if a caravan
of them ever do dine, with a bottle of wine per man, in this desert of the
Dodo, it must make good for the doctor next day!"
If the Dodo is undiscoverable, the same need not be said of the
Pavilionstone Hotel, because we know that Dickens gave that name to the
town of Folkestone, in the chapter entitled "Out of Town." The lion of
Pavilionstone, he tells us, is its great hotel, and one sees at once how
he manufactured the name, for its hotel was, and is to-day, called the
Pavilion.
"A dozen years ago, going over to Paris by South-Eastern Tidal Steamer,"
the narrative goes on, "you used to be dropped upon the platform of the
main line Pavilionstone Station (not a junction then) at eleven o'clock on
a dark winter's night, in a roaring wind; and in the howling wilderness
outside the station was a short omnibus which brought you up by the
forehead the instant you got in at the door; and nobody cared about
you, and you were alone in the world. You bumped over infinite chalk,
until you were turned out at a strange building which had just left off
being a barn without having quite begun to be a house, where nobody
expected your coming, or knew what to do with you when you were come, and
where you were usually blown about, until you happened to be blown against
the cold beef, and finally into bed. At five in the morning you were blown
out of bed, and after a dreary breakfast, with crumpled company, in the
midst of confusion, were hustled on board a steamboat, and lay wretched on
deck until you saw France lingering and surging at you with great
vehemence over the bowsprit."
[Illustration: THE LORD WARDEN HOTEL, DOVER
_See page 253_]
[Illustration: THE PAVILION HOTEL, FOLKESTONE
_From old Engravings_]
This was written in 1855, and even by then Dickens had to admit that
things had changed considerably for the better.
"If you are going out to Great Pavilionstone Hotel, the sprightliest
porters under the sun, whose cheerful looks are a pleasant welcome,
shoulder your luggage, drive it off in vans, bowl it away in trucks, and
enjoy themselves in playing athletic games with it. If you are for public
life at our great Pavilionstone Hotel, you walk into that establishment as
if it were your club; and find ready for you your news-room, dining-room,
smoking-room, billiard-room, music-room, public breakfast, public dinner
twice a day (one plain, one gorgeous), hot baths and cold baths. If you
want to be bored, there are plenty of bores always ready for you, and from
Saturday to Monday in particular you can be bored (if you like it) through
and through. Should you want to be private at our Great Pavilionstone
Hotel, say but the word, look at the list of charges, choose your floor,
name your figure--there you are, established in your castle, by the day,
week, month, or year, innocent of all comers or goers, unless you have my
fancy for walking early in the morning down the groves of boots and shoes,
which so regularly flourish at all the chamber doors before breakfast that
it seems to me as if nobody ever got up or took them in....
"A thoroughly good inn, in the days of coaching and posting, was a noble
place. But no such inn would have been equal to the reception of four or
five hundred people, all of them wet through, and half of them dead sick,
every day in the year. This is where we shine, in our Pavilionstone
Hotel...."
The hotel has, alas, made way for something still more imposing. Its
extensive red-brick building, containing hundreds of rooms, with its
spacious gardens in front, would both astonish and disappoint the novelist
if he saw it to-day, for there is no doubt that he was very fond of its
predecessor, very frequently used it, and found hearty welcome there.
The hotel is again referred to in the sketch entitled "A Flight" in the
same volume, where, however, he calls it the Royal George Hotel.
In the volume of _Miscellaneous Papers_ there is one describing a visit to
Birmingham and Wolverhampton, under the heading of "Fire and Snow." At the
latter town Dickens stayed at the Swan, which he says "is a bird of a good
substantial brood, worthy to be a country cousin of the hospitable Hen and
Chickens, whose company we have deserted for only a few hours, and with
whom we shall roost again at Birmingham to-night."
The Hen and Chickens here referred to was an hotel Dickens knew very well
indeed. Apart from his books, Birmingham is very closely connected with
Dickens himself and the various schemes he embarked upon for the welfare
of others. He visited it on several occasions, either for the purpose of
public reading from his works, to give theatrical performances for
charity, or to appear at some national function associated with the city.
These visits were spread over the whole of his life, the last occasion
being on the 7th of January, 1870, when he presented the prizes to the
students of the Birmingham and Midland Institute.
During his stay in the city, Dickens usually put up at the Old Royal Hotel
in Temple Row, or at the Hen and Chickens in New Street, and it may be
assumed that he knew both hotels well. Only the former, however, is made
the scene of an incident in his novels, and that is, when it is introduced
into _The Pickwick Papers_.[4] He visited Birmingham some dozen times from
1840 to 1870, and on most of the early occasions it is believed that he
stayed at the Old Royal Hotel. But during his later visits he made the Hen
and Chickens Hotel his headquarters. He was there in Christmas week, 1853,
for the series of readings from his books, and before he left the city he
and his friends were entertained at breakfast at the hotel, and a
presentation was made to Mrs. Dickens.
He was a guest there again in 1861, and on the occasion wrote his
autograph in the album of the proprietress, dated "Last day of the year
1861."
For some reason he does not describe the hotel in the same manner as he
does the Swan at Wolverhampton. The latter, he tells us, "has bountiful
coal-country notions of firing, snug homely rooms; cheerful windows
looking down upon the clusters of snowy umbrellas in the market-place....
Neat, bright-eyed waitresses do the honours of the Swan. The Swan is
confident about its soup, is troubled with no distrust concerning codfish,
speaks the word of promise in relation to an enormous chine of roast
beef.... The Swan is rich in slippers--in those good old flip-flap
inn-slippers which nobody can keep on, which knock double knocks on each
stair as their wearer comes downstairs, and fly away over the banisters
before they have brought him to level ground."
There are many other hotels and taverns mentioned in this collection of
_Miscellaneous Papers_, but usually only by name, the mere list of which
would serve no purpose.
Those already touched upon or dealt with at length in the course of the
present volume practically exhaust the subject, from which it will be seen
how overwhelmingly attracted Dickens was to every kind of house of
refreshment and in every thing relating thereto. The works of no other
author of genius provide so much material for such a purpose, and no other
writer has treated the subject with so much healthy realism, so much
refreshing good nature and humour, or with such expressions of genuine
joy.
INDEX
A'Becket, Thomas, 154
Admiral Nelson, 262
Albion, Drury Lane, 247
Alderbury, 110
Allbut, 170, 179
Allonby, 228
Amesbury, 109
Angel, Doncaster, 237
-- Grantham, 53
-- Islington, 25, 49
Anglers' Inn, 214
Ashley, James, 174
Baker's Chop-House, 263
Baldfaced Stag, 116
_Barnaby Rudge_, 72
Barnard Castle, 59
Barnet, 22, 131
Battersea Fields, 241
_Battle of Life_, 264
Bawtry, 55
Beak Street, 67
Bedford Hotel, Brighton, 132
Besant, Sir Walter, 165
Bevis Marks, 101
Birmingham, 37, 271
Bishopsgate Street, 67
Black Badger, 141
Black Bull, Holborn, 121
Blackheath, 149, 205
Black Lion, Whitechapel, 86, 95
_Bleak House_, 169-172
Blue Boar, Whitechapel, 150
-- Rochester, 188
Blue Dragon, 105-112
Blue-eyed Maid Coach, 172, 184
Blue Lion and Stomach Warmer, 240
Blunderstone, 144
Bond Street, 66, 142
Borough Bridge, 55
Boot, 90-94
Bottom Inn, near Petersfield, 65
Bowes, 62
Brentford, 29, 212
Brighton, 132
-- Tipper, 125
Buck Inn, Yarmouth, 147
Bull, Rochester, 241
Bull and Gate, Holborn, 130
Bull's Head, 249
Bunch of Grapes, 192
Bunyan, John, 36
Byron, 142, 180
Camberwell, 189
Cannon Row, 151
Canterbury, 152
-- Farmers' Club, 155
Carlisle, 62, 228
Carrock Fell, 228
Cattermole, George, 78, 94
Chalk, 182
Charles V of Germany, 34
Chertsey, 30, 213
Cheshire Cheese, 180
Chesney Wold, 169, 171
Chichester Rents, 169
Chigwell, 72
-- Row, 73
_Christmas Carol_, 263
Christmas Stories, 255-264
Claridge's Brook Street, 66
_Clarissa Harlowe_, 164
Cleave, Thomas, 93
Clifford Street, 142
Clovelly, 261
Coach and Horses, Isleworth, 28
-- Petersfield, 65
-- Strood, 227
Coaching, Romance of, 16
Coketown, 175
Collins, Wilkie, 19, 227, 261
Compter, The, 40
_Compter's Commonwealth, The_, 35
Cooling, 182
Coventry, 37
Crispin and Crispianus, 252
Cromer, 81, 93
Cromwell, Oliver, 115
Crooked Billet, Tower St., 96
Cross Keys, Wood St., 184, 241
Crown, Golden Square, 67
Crozier, 227
_David Copperfield_, 102, 144-168
Dedlock Arms, 169
Defoe, 97
Denmark Hill, 189
Denton, 188
Devil's Punch Bowl, 63
Dickens, Charles, Lodge, 88
-- and Inns, 15
_Dickensian_, 28
_Doctor Marigold's Prescriptions_, 233
Dodo, 266
Dolby, George, 154
Dolphin's Head, 251
_Dombey and Son_, 132-142
Doncaster, 55, 237
Dotheboys Hall, 32-38
Dover, 178, 252
Duke's Head, Yarmouth, 148
Du Maurier, 164
Eagle, 242
Eaton Socon, 52
Edward I, 154
_Edwin Drood_, 217-227
Eight Bells, Hatfield, 29, 31
Eton Slocombe, 52
Euston Road, 93
Exchequer Coffee-House, 216
Exeter, 116
Feathers, Gorleston, 149
Fellowship-Porters, 202
Fennor, Wm., 34
Fielding, Henry, 130
Field Lane, 25
FitzGerald, Percy, 30, 248
Fleet Prison, 174
Flower Pot, 248
Folkestone, 208
-- Royal George, 271
Fountain Hotel, Canterbury, 152
Ford, Harry, 94
Forster, John, 23, 73, 162, 182, 210
Foundling Hospital, 90
Fox under the Hill, Adelphi, 152
-- Denmark Hill, 189
Freemasons' Tavern, 241
Furnival's Inn, 217, 225
Garraway's, 175
Garrick 97
General Theatrical Fund, 70
George, Amesbury, 109
-- Grantham, 53
George and Gridiron, 262
George Hotel, Salisbury, 114
George Inn, Borough, 175
-- Market Town, 30
George and New Inn, Greta Bridge, 55
George Inn, Greta Bridge, 57, 258
Goat and Boots, 240
Godalming, 62
Godwin, Earl, 154
Golden Cross, 241
Grantham, 53
Grapes Inn, 191-201
Gravel Inn, Petersfield, 66
Gray's Inn Coffee-house, 102, 167
Gray's Inn Road, 93
_Great Expectations_, 182-190, 241
Great Fire of London, 36, 203
Great North Road, 23, 26
Great Winglebury, 240
Grecian Theatre, 244
Green Dragon, Alderbury, 110
Green Man, Leytonstone, 95
Greenwich, 203
Gresham Street, 116
Greta Bridge, 38, 55-60
Hales, Prof., 165
Half Moon and Seven Stars, 108
Hampstead, 161
Hampton, 28, 213
_Hard Times_, 175-177
Harper, C. G., 14, 65, 216, 254
Hatfield, 29, 30
_Haunted Man_, 134
Hen and Chickens, Birmingham, 271
Henley, 214
Henley-in-Arden, 216
Henry VIII, 76
Herne Bay, 156
Hesket Newmarket, 228
Highbury, 164
Hindhead, 63
Holborn, 122
_The Holly Tree_, 20, 50, 258
Holly Tree Inn, 58, 258
Hoo, 182
Holyhead Road, 26
Horn Tavern, 175
Horseshoe and Castle, Cooling, 182
Hounslow, 28
_Household Words_, 69, 230
Hummum's, Covent Garden, 185
Hungerford Stairs, 150, 167
Inns and Railways, 15
-- -- Motor Cars, 15, 19
-- -- Coaching, 15
-- Dr. Johnson on, 16
Inn on the Portsmouth Road, 63
Irving, Washington, 164
Isleworth, 28
Islington, 25, 49
Jack Straw's Castle, 161
James Street, 67
Jerusalem Coffee-House, 175
Johnson, Dr., 16, 97, 180
Jolly Sandboys Inn, 104
Jupp, R. B., 68
Kemble, 161
Kenilworth, 135, 140
Kent, Duchess of, 120
King Arthur's Arms, 261
King James, 119
King's Arms, Amesbury, 108
-- Ball's Pond, 142
-- Lancaster, 229-235
-- Wigton, 236
King's Head, Barnard Castle, 59-61
-- Hotel, Dover, 179
-- Chigwell, 73
Kingsgate Street, 122
Kingston, 213
Kitton, 262
Knightsbridge, 28
Lad Lane, 116
Lamb Conduit Fields, 93
-- -- Street, 93
Lancaster, 228
Lanfranc, Archbishop, 154
Laurens, Henry, 120
_Lazy Tour of Two Idle Apprentices_, 227-238
Leech, John, 144, 174
Leamington, 134
Leighton, Lord, 164
Lemon, Mark, 144
Limehouse, 192
_Little Dorrit_, 66, 172-175, 185
Little Helephant, 141
Little Inn, Canterbury, 155
-- Saffron Hill, 26
-- Tower Hill, 96
London Coffee House, 172
_London Lyckpenny, The_, 33
London Tavern, Bishopsgate, 67-70
Long's Hotel, Bond Street, 141
Lord Warden, Dover, 179, 252
Lound, 147
Lowestoft, 144
Ludgate Hill, 172
Lydgate, John, 32
_Lying Awake_, 70
Maclise, Daniel, 162, 210
Malt Shovel, 177
Manchester, 175
Margaret of France, 154
_Martin Chuzzlewit_, 105-131
Maryport, 228
_Master Humphrey's Clock_, 61
Maypole, Chigwell, 72-88
_Message from the Sea_, 261
Mitre Inn, Chatham, 258
Mivart's, Brook Street, 66, 175
_Morning Chronicle_, 217
Mountain, Mrs. S. A., 37
_Mrs. Lirriper's Lodgings_, 31
_Mugby Junction_, 262
Nelson, Lord, 36, 260
Newark, 54
Newgate, 33, 40
New Inn, near R, 266
_Nicholas Nickleby_, 32-71, 185, 258
North Road Cycling Club, 53
Nutmeg Grater, 264
Offleys, 245
Old Bailey, 174, 180
_Old Curiosity Shop_, 97, 162, 168
Old Royal, Birmingham, 272
_Oliver Twist_, 22-31
Orleans, Duke of, 120
_Our Mutual Friend_, 46, 191-216
Park Lane, 66
Parliament Street, 151
Parr, J. S., 28
Pavilion, Folkestone, 19, 268
Pavilion Hotel, 268
Peacock, Islington, 49-52
Peal of Bells, 262
Peasants' Revolt, 164
Pegasus' Arms, 176
Pepys, Samuel, 35, 115
Petersfield, 63
Peto, Sir Morton, 144
Phiz, 54, 56, 59, 62, 135, 219, 261
Piazza Hotel, Covent Garden, 160
_Pickwick Papers_, 71
_Plated Article_, 266
Plough, Blunderstone, 146
Plymouth, 119
Portsmouth, 62, 63
Preston, 175
Princess's Arms, 134
Public House, near Grantham, 54
_Punch_, 174
Queen Elizabeth, 76
Queen's Head, Hesket New-Market, 235
-- Islington, 25
Quilp's favourite tavern, 98
Rainbow, 245
Raleigh, Sir Walter, 119
Reading, 169
Red House, Battersea, 241
Red Lion, Barnet, 22, 169
-- Bevis Marks, 99
-- Hampton, 213
-- Henley, 214
-- Parliament Street, 151
Regent Hotel, Leamington, 135
_Reprinted Pieces_, 265
Retford, 55
Reynolds, Sir Joshua, 97
Richard Coeur-de-Lion, 33
Richard II, 164
_River Rhymer_, 201
Rockingham, 171
Roman Bath, Strand Lane, 161
Royal George Hotel, Dover, 179
Royal Hotel, Leamington, 134
-- Lowestoft, 145
Rugby, 51, 263
Russell Street, 97
St. Albans, 24, 31, 37, 164
St. Pancras' Church, 94
St. Sepulchre's Church, 32, 40, 41
Salem House, Blackheath, 149
Salisbury, 109, 112-120
Salisbury Arms, Hatfield, 260
Saracen's Head, Snow Hill, 32-48
Scott, 142
Setting Moon, 266
Shakespeare, 115, 212
Shaw, Wm., 62
Sheridan, 161
_She Stoops to Conquer_, 212
Ship, Allonby, 236
-- Chichester Rents, 169
-- Dover, 179, 253
-- Gravesend, 187
-- Greenwich, 203
Shorter Street, 81, 96
Silver Street, 67
Six Jolly Fellowship-Porters, 191-201
_Sketches by Boz_, 186, 239-249
Slamjam Coffee House, 262
Smithfield, 40, 43
Smithson, Charles, 59
Snow Hill, 32, 38, 39
Sol's Arms, 169
_Somebody's Luggage_, 262
Somerleyton, 144
Speedy, Peter, 93
Spitalfields, 28
Staines, 213
Stamford, 53
Stanfield, Clarkson, 162, 210
Staple Inn, 220
Star Hotel, Yarmouth, 148
Sterry, J. Ashby, 201, 206, 216
Stevenage, 262
Stilton, 53
Stow, 129
Stratford-on-Avon, 135
Strood, 254
Stukeley, Sir Lewis, 119
Sun Inn, Canterbury, 156
Swan, Hungerford Stairs, 167
-- Stamford Hill, 248
-- Wolverhampton, 271
Swan with Two Necks, 116
Swift, Dean, 36
_Tale of Two Cities_, 178-182
Tally Ho! Coach, 37, 51
Thackeray, W. M., 164, 180, 210
Thames, 81, 95
Three Cripples, 19, 26
Three Jolly Bachelors, 141
Three Jolly Bargemen, 182
Three Magpies, Brentford, 212
Three Pigeons, Brentford, 212
Tilted Wagon, Strood, 226
_Tom Brown's Schooldays_, 51
Tom's Coffee House, Covent Garden, 97
_Tom Jones_, 130
_Tom Tiddler's Ground_, 262
Tower Street, 96
Trafalgar, Greenwich, 209
Traveller's Twopenny, 227
Tyrrell, T. W., 65
_Uncommercial Traveller_, 40, 184, 249-257
Unicorn, Bowes, 62
Upper James Street, 67
Valiant Soldier, 104
Victoria, Princess, 120
Village Maid, Lound, 147
Walton, 213
Walworth, 189
Ward, H. Snowden, 110, 114
Warwick, 135, 140
Warwick Arms, 266
Watson, Hon. R. and Mrs., 171
White Duck, 227
White Hart, Salisbury, 118
-- Stevenage, 262
White Horse, Eaton Socon, 52
White Horse Cellar, 169
White Lion, Hampton, 214
White Swan, Hungerford Stairs, 150
Wigton, 228
Willing Mind, 147
Winglebury Arms, 240
Wolverhampton, 271
Wood's Hotel, 217-225
Yarmouth, 144
York, 62
FOOTNOTES:
[1] See _The Inns and Taverns of Pickwick_.
[2] Camberwell Green.
[3] See _The Inns and Taverns of Pickwick_.
[4] See _The Inns and Taverns of Pickwick_.