CHAPTER VI

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.

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.