Part 83

Before reaching this place on my first visit to it, the country people had indiscriminately called it “Keston _Cross_” and “Keston _mark_;” and lacking all intelligible information from them respecting the reason for its being so named, I puzzled myself with conjectures, as to whether it was the site of a cross of memorial, a market cross, a preaching cross, or what other kind of cross. It was somewhat of disappointment to me, when, in an angle of a cross-road, instead of some ancient vestige, there appeared a commodious, respectable, and comfortable-looking house of accommodation for man and horse; and, swinging high in air, its sign, the red-cross, heraldically, a cross _gules_; its form being, on reference to old Randle Holme, “a cross _molyne_, invertant;” to describe which, on the same authority, it may be said, that “this cross much resembles the molyne, or pomette; saving in this, the cut, or sawed ends, so turn themselves inward that they appear to be escrowles rolled up. Some term it _molyne_, the ends rolled up.”[258] So much for the sign, which I take to be a forgotten memorial of some old boundary stone, or land-mark, in the form of a cross, long since removed from the spot, and perhaps after it had become a “stump-cross;” which crosses were of so ancient date, that the Christians, ignorantly supposing them to have been dedicated to idolatrous purposes, religiously destroyed them, and their ancient names were soon forgotten: “this may be the reason why so many broken crosses were called stump-crosses.”[259] The observation is scarcely a digression; for the house and sign, commonly called “Keston Cross,” or “Keston mark,” stand on a site, which, for reasons that will appear by and by, the antiquary deems sacred. The annexed representation shows the direction of the roads, and the star * in the corner the angular situation of the house, cut out of Holwood, the estate of the late Mr. Pitt, which is bounded by the Farnborough and Westerham roads, and commands from the grounds of the enclosure the finest view towards the weald of Kent in this part of the county.

| | | | Westerham | | * | | ---------------+ +--------------- Farnboro and 7 Wickham and Oakes Croydon ---------------+ +--------------- | | | | Bromley and | | Lewisham | |

“Keston Cross” I call “head-quarters,” because in this house you will find yourself “at home.” You may sparkle forth to many remarkable spots in the vicinage, and then return and take your “corporal refection,” and go in and out at will; or you may sit at your ease, and do nothing but contemplate in quiet; or, in short, you may do just as you like. Of course this is said to “gentle” readers; and I presume the _Table Book_ has no others: certain it is, that ungentle persons are unwelcome visitors, and not likely to visit again at “Keston Cross.” Its occupant, Mr. S. Young--his name is beneath his sign--will not be regarded by any one, who does himself the pleasure to call at his house, as a common landlord. If you see him seated beside the door, you estimate him at least of that order one of whom, on his travels, the chamberlain at the inn at Rochester describes to Gadshill as worthy his particular notice--“a franklin in the weald of Kent, that hath three hundred marks with him in gold--one that hath abundance of charge too.”[260] You take Mr. Young for a country gentleman; and, if you company with him, may perhaps hear him tell, as many a country gentleman would--bating obsolete phrase and versification--

I lerned never rhetorike certain; Thing that I speke it mote be bare and plain: I slept never on the mount of Pernaso, Ne lerned Marcus Tullius Cicero. Colours ne know I non, withouten drede, But swiche colours as growen in the mede, Or elles swiche as men die with, or peint; Colours of rhetorike ben to me queinte; My spirit feleth not of swiche matere: But if you lust my tale shul ye here.[261]

In brief, if you “put up” at the “Red Cross,” and invite Mr. Young’s society, you will find him

a franklin faire und free, That entertaines with comely courteous glee.[262]

The house itself is not one of your bold looking inns, that if you enter you assure yourself of paying toll at, in regard of its roystering appearance, in addition to every item in your bill; but one in which you have no objection to be “at charges,” in virtue of its cheerful, promising air. You will find these more reasonable perhaps than you expect, and you will _not_ find any article presented to you of an inferior quality. In respect therefore of its self-commendations and locality, the “Cross” at Keston is suggested as a _point d’appui_ to any who essay from town for a few hours of fresh air and comfort, and with a desire of leisurely observing scenery altogether new to most London residents.

* * * * *

The classical ancients had inns and public-houses. Nothing is a stronger proof of the size and populousness of the city of Herculaneum, which was destroyed by an eruption of Mount Vesuvius on the 24th of August, A. D. 79, than its nine hundred public-houses. A placard or inscription, discovered on the wall of a house in that ruined city, was a bill for letting one of its public-houses on lease; and hence, it appears that they had galleries at the top, and balconies, or green arbours, and baths. The dining-rooms were in the upper story. Although it was the custom of the Romans to recline at their meals, yet when they refreshed themselves at these places they sat. The landlord had a particular dress, and landladies wore a _succinct_, or tucked up dress, and brought the wine in vases for the visitors to taste. They had common drinking vessels as with us, and sometimes the flaggons were chained to posts. In the inns on the roads there were both hot and cold meats. Until the time of Nero, inns provided every kind of delicacy: that emperor restricted them to boiled vegetables. Tiberius prohibited their selling any baker’s goods.

The company frequenting the ancient public-houses were usually artificers, sailors, drunken galli, thieves, &c. Chess was played, and the abacus, or chess-board, was made oblong. Hence came the common painted post still at the doors of our own public-houses, the sign of the chequer or chequers.[263] Sir William Hamilton presented to the Antiquarian Society a view of a street in Pompeii, another Italian city destroyed by Vesuvius, which contains the sign of the chequers, from whence there can be no doubt that it was a common one among the Romans.

* * * * *

Our Saxon ancestors had public-houses where they drank very hard out of vessels of earthenware, as the country people do still.

The Anglo-Saxons had the _eala-hus_, ale-house, _win-hus_, wine-house, and _cumen-hus_, or inn. Inns, however, were by no means common houses for travellers. In the time of Edward I. lord Berkeley’s farm-houses were used for that purpose. Travellers were accustomed to inquire for hospitable persons, and even go to the king’s palaces for refreshment. John Rous, an old traveller, who mentions a celebrated inn on the Warwick road, was yet obliged to go another way for want of accommodation.[264]

* * * * *

Mr. Brand supposes, that the chequers, at this time a common sign of a public-house, was originally intended for a kind of draught-board, called “tables,” and that it showed that there that game might be played. From their colour, which was red, and the similarity to a lattice, it was corruptly called _the red_ lettuce, a word frequently used by ancient writers to signify an alehouse. He observes, that this designation of an alehouse is not altogether lost, though the original meaning of the word is, the sign being converted into a _green_ lettuce; of which an instance occurs in Brownlow-street, Holborn.

* * * * *

In “A Fine Companion,” one of Shackerly Marmion’s plays, we read of “A waterman’s widow at the sign of the Red _Lattice_ in Southwark.” Again, in “Arden of Faversham,” 1592, we have

--“his sign pulled down, and his _lattice_ born away.”

Again, in “The Miseries of Inforc’d Marriage,” 1607:

--“’tis treason to the _Red Lattice_, enemy to the signpost.”

It were needless to multiply examples of this sign beyond one in Shakspeare. Falstaff’s page, speaking of Bardolph, says, “He called me even now, my lord, through a red _lattice_, and I could see no part of his face from the window.”

A writer in the Gentleman’s Magazine for June 1793, says, “It has been related to me by a very noble personage, that in the reign of Philip and Mary the then earl of Arundel had a grant to license public-houses, and part of the armorial bearings of that noble family is _a chequered board_: wherefore the publican, to show that he had a license, put out that mark as part of his sign.” On this, Mr. Brand inquires why the publicans take but a part of the Arundel arms, and why this part rather than any other? Another writer in the Gentleman’s Magazine for September 1794, says, “I think it was the great earl Warrenne, if not, some descendant or heir near him, not beyond the time of Rufus, had an exclusive power of granting licenses to sell beer: that his agent might collect the tax more readily, the door-posts were painted in chequers; the arms of Warren then, and to this day.” We may, however, reasonably refer all these “_modern_ instances” to ancient times; and derive the publican’s sign of the chequers from the great authors of many of our present usages, the old Romans.

* * * * *

Mons. Jorevin, a French traveller, who journeyed through England in the reign of Charles II., stopped at the Stag inn, at Worcester, in the High-street, and he describes the entertainment of himself and a friend with whom he supped, so as to acquaint us somewhat with the entertainments in inns at that time. “During supper he (his friend) sent for a band of music, consisting of all sorts of instruments: among these the harp is the most esteemed by the English. According to the custom of the country the landladies sup with the strangers and passengers, and if they have daughters they are also of the company, to entertain the guests at table with pleasant conceits, where they drink as much as the men. But what is to me the most disgusting in all this is, that when one drinks the health of any person in company, the custom of the country does not permit you to drink more than half the cup, which is filled up, and presented to him or her whose health you have drank. Moreover, the supper being finished, they set on the table half a dozen pipes and a packet of tobacco for smoking, which is a general custom, as well among women as men, who think that without tobacco one cannot live in England, because, say they, “it dissipates the evil humours of the brain.” It appears from a “Character of England,” printed in 1659, “that the ladies of greatest quality suffered themselves to be treated in these taverns, and that they drank their _crowned cups_ roundly, danced after the fiddle, and exceeded the bounds of propriety in their carousals.”

* * * * *

If a description of Scottish manners, printed about fifty years ago, may be relied on, it was then a fashion with females at Edinburgh to frequent a sort of public-house in that city. The writer says: “January 15, 1775.--A few evenings ago I had the pleasure of being asked to one of these entertainments by a lady. At that time I was not acquainted with this scene of ‘high life below stairs;’ and therefore, when she mentioned the word ‘oyster-cellar,’ I imagined I must have mistaken the place of invitation: she repeated it, however, and I found it was not my business to make objections; so agreed immediately. I waited with great impatience till the hour arrived, and when the clock struck away I went, and inquired if the lady was there.--‘O yes,’ cried the woman, she has been here an hour, or more.’ The door opened, and I had the pleasure of being ushered in, not to one lady, as I expected, but to a large and brilliant company of both sexes, most of whom I had the honour of being acquainted with. The large table, round which they were seated, was covered with dishes full of oysters and pots of porter. For a long time I could not suppose that this was the only entertainment we were to have, and I sat waiting in expectation of a repast that was never to make its appearance. The table was cleared, and glasses introduced. The ladies were now asked whether they would choose brandy or rum punch? I thought this question an odd one, but I was soon informed by the gentleman who sat next me, that no wine was sold here, but that punch was quite ‘the thing;’ and a large bowl was immediately introduced. The conversation hitherto had been insipid, and at intervals: it now became general and lively. The women, who, to do them justice, are much more entertaining than their neighbours in England, discovered a great deal of vivacity and fondness for repartee. A thousand things were hazarded, and met with applause; to which the oddity of the scene gave propriety, and which could have been produced in no other place. The general ease with which they conducted themselves, the innocent freedom of their manners, and their unaffected good-nature, all conspired to make us forget that we were regaling in a cellar, and was a convincing proof that, let local customs operate as they may, a truly polite woman is every where the same. When the company were tired of conversation they began to dance reels, their favourite dance, which they performed with great agility and perseverance. One of the gentlemen, however, fell down in the most active part of it, and lamed himself; so the dance was at an end for that evening. On looking at their watches, the ladies now found it time to retire; the coaches were therefore called, and away they went, and with them all our mirth. The company were now reduced to a party of gentlemen; pipes and politics were introduced: I took my hat and wished them good night. The bill for entertaining half a dozen very fashionable women, amounted only to two shillings apiece. If you will not allow the entertainment an elegant one, you must at least confess that it was cheap.”[265]

* * * * *

It may be amusing to wander for a moment to another place of public entertainment, for the sake of a character of it two centuries ago, by bishop Earle.

THE TAVERN, 1628,

Is a degree, or (if you will) a pair of stairs above an ale-house, where men are drunk with more credit and apology. If the vintner’s nose be at the door, it is a sign sufficient, but the absence of this is supplied by the ivy-bush: the rooms are ill breathed like the drinkers that have been washed well over night, and are smelt-to fasting next morning. It is a broacher of more news than hogsheads, and more jests than news, which are sucked up here by some spungy brain, and from thence squeezed into a comedy. Men come here to make merry, but indeed make a noise; and this musick above is answered with the clinking below. The drawers are the civilest people in it, men of good bringing up; and howsoever we esteem of them, none can boast more justly of their high calling. ’Tis the best theater of natures, where they are truly acted, not played; and the business, as in the rest of the world, up and down, to wit, from the bottom of the cellar to the great chamber. A melancholy man would find here matter to work upon, to see heads as brittle as glasses, and often broken; men come hither to quarrel, and come hither to be made friends: and if, Plutarch will lend me his simile, it is even Telephus’s sword that makes wounds and cures them. It is the common consumption of the afternoon, and the murderer or maker-away of a rainy day. It is the torrid zone that scorches the face, and tobacco the gunpowder that blows it up. Much harm would be done, if the charitable vintner had not water ready for these flames. A house of sin you may call it, but not a house of darkness, for the candles are never out; and it is like those countries far in the north, where it is as clear at mid-night as at mid-day. To give you the total reckoning of it; it is the busy man’s recreation, the idle man’s business, the melancholy man’s sanctuary, the stranger’s welcome, the inns-of-court man’s entertainment, the scholar’s kindness, and the citizen’s courtesy. It is the study of sparkling wits, and a cup of canary their book, whence we leave them.

* * * * *

Bishop Earle, in his character of a “Poor Fiddler,” describes him as “in league with the tapsters for the worshipful of the inn, whom he torments next morning with his art, and has their names more perfect than their men.” Sir John Hawkins, who cites this in his History of Music, also abstracts a curious view of the customs at inns, from Fyne Moryson’s “Itinerary,” rather later in the same age:--

“As soone as a passenger comes to an inne, the seruants run to him, and one takes his horse and walkes him till he be cold, then rubs him, and giues 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 seruant to ouersee them. Another seruant giues the passenger his priuate 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 host, or at a common table with others, his meale will cost him sixepence, or in some places but foure pence, (yet this course is lesse honourable, and not vsed by gentlemen): but if he will eate in his chamber, he commands what meate 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 best likes; and when he sits at table, the host or hostesse will accompany him, or if they haue many guests, will at least visit him, taking it for curtesie to be bid sit downe: while he eates, if he haue company especially, he shall be offred musicke, which he may freely take or refuse, and if he be solitary, the musitians will giue him the good day with musicke in the morning. It is the custome, and no way disgracefull, to set vp part of supper for his breakefast: in the euening or in the morning after breakefast, (for the common sort vse not to dine, but ride from breakefast to supper time, yet comming early to the inne for better resting of their horses) he shall haue a reckoning in writing, and if it seeme vnreasonable, the host will satisfie him, either for the due price, or by abating part, especially if the seruant deceive him any way, which one of experience will soone find. I will now onely adde, 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 sort ioyne together, to eate at one table, the expences will be much deminished. Lastly, a man cannot more freely command at home in his owne house, than hee may doe in his inne; and at parting, if he giue some few pence to the chamberlin and ostler, they wish him a happy iourney.”

* * * * *

Through a most diligent collector of archæological authorities, we find in the time of Elizabeth only eight-pence paid at an inn for a physician all night; and in the time of Charles II. only two-pence for a man and horse at Bristol.[266]

* * * * *

Bristol has now attained to so great wealth and prosperity, as to provide inns of importance equal perhaps to any in the kingdom. A friend, who sojourned there at the undermentioned date, hands me a printed document, which he received from his landlord, Mr. John Weeks; it is so great a curiosity, as bespeaking the opulence of that ancient city, and the spirit of its great innkeeper, that I cannot refrain from recording it.

BUSH TAVERN.

BILL OF FARE FOR CHRISTMAS, 1800

1 Bustard Red game Black game 1 Turtle, 120lb. 1 Land tortoise 72 Pots turtle, different prices Vermicelli soup British turtle Giblet soup Pease soup Gravy soup Soup Santé Soup and bouillé Mutton broth Barley broth 3 Turbots 4 Cods 2 Brills 2 Pipers 12 Dories 2 Haddocks 14 Rock fish 18 Carp 12 Perch 4 Salmon 12 Plaice 17 Herrings Sprats 122 Eels Salt fish 78 Roach 98 Gudgeons 1 Dried salmon _Venison_,--1 Haunch hevior 5 Haunches doe 5 Necks 10 Breasts 10 Shoulders 42 Hares 17 Pheasants 41 Partridges 87 Wild ducks 17 Wild geese 37 Teal 31 Widgeon 16 Bald coots 2 Sea pheasants 3 Mews 11 Veal burrs 1 Roasting pig Oysters, stew’d & collop’d Eggs Hogs’ puddings Ragoo’d feet and ears Scotch’d collops Veal cutlets Harricoed mutton Maintenon chops Pork chops Mutton chops Rump steaks Joint steaks Pinbone steaks Sausages Hambro’ sausages Tripe, cow heels, and knotlings 5 House lambs _Veal_--3 Legs & loins 2 Breasts & shoulders 2 Heads _Beef_--5 Rumps 3 Sirloins 5 Rounds 2 Pieces of 5 ribs each 7 Pinbones Dutch & Hambro’d beef _Mutton_--8 Haunches 8 Legs 8 Necks 11 Loins 6 Saddles 6 Chines 5 Shoulders _Pork_--4 Legs 4 Loins 4 Chines Sparibs Half a porker

[COLD]

1 Boar’s head 1 Baron beef 2 Hams 4 Tongues 6 Chicken 4 Moor hens 2 Water drabs 7 Curlews 2 Bitterns 81 Woodcocks 149 Snipes 17 Wild Turkies 18 Golden plovers 1 Swan 5 Quists 2 Land rails 13 Galenas 4 Peahens 1 Peacock 1 Cuckoo 116 Pigeons 121 Larks 1 Sea magpye 127 Stares 208 Small birds 44 Turkies 8 Capons 19 Ducks 10 Geese 2 Owls 61 Chickens 4 Ducklings 11 Rabbits 3 Pork griskins Hogs’ feet and ears 7 Collars brawn 2 Rounds beef Collared veal Collared beef Collared mutton Collared eels Collared pig’s head Dutch tongues Bologna sausages Paraguay pies French pies Mutton pies Pigeon pies Venison pasty Sulks 430 Mince pies 13 Tarts Jellies Craw fish Pickled salmon Sturgeon Pickled oysters Potted partridges Lobsters 52 Barrels Pyfleet & Colchester oysters Milford & Tenby oysters 4 Pine apples

Could our ancestors take a peep from their graves at this bill of fare, we may conceive what would be their astonishment at so great a variety and abundance of provision for travellers at a single inn of our times; in earlier days, wayfarers were, in many places, compelled to seek accommodation from hospitable housekeepers, and knights were lodged in barns.

* * * * *