Old and New London, A Narrative of its History, its People and its Places.Illustrated with Numerous Engravings from the Most Authentic Sources. vol 6

Walford, Edward


Southwark (continued).-Famous Inns of Olden Times.

Southwark (continued).-Famous Inns of Olden Times.


Chaucer, the Druid-priest of poetry, First taught our muse to speak the mystic lore, And woke the soul to heavenly minstrelsy, Which Echo on the wind delightful bore.


It was probably on account of its proximity to of our earliest theatres (the Globe), as well as on account of its being on the great southern thoroughfare, that the of came to abound to such an extent with inns and hostelries. In bygone days it is probable that these inns were still more numerous, as all traffic from the south and south-west of England must have entered London by that route at a time when old was the only entrance into the City for traffic and travellers from the south of the Thames.

We have historic proof that the borough of Southwark-and more especially the High Streethas been for ages celebrated for its inns. Stow, in his


published at the close of the century, says :--

From thence [the Marshalsea] towards

London Bridge

, on the same side, be many fair inns for receipt of travellers, by these signs: the Spurre, Christopher, Bull, Queen's Head, Tabard, George, Hart, King's Head,

&c. Of these inns mentioned by the old chronicler, some few remain to this day; whilst most of the buildings surrounding the old-fashioned yards have been converted into warehouses or booking-offices for the goods department of different railway companies, &c.

and foremost of these ancient hostelries, and which retained most of its ancient features down to a comparatively recent date, was the

Tabard Inn


renowned by Chaucer as the rendezvous of the Canterbury Pilgrims, years ago. Its name, however, had become changed for that of the


It stood on the east side of the street, about midway between and , and nearly opposite the site of the old . The foundation of this inn would appear to be due to the Abbots of Hyde, or Hide, near Winchester, who, at a time when the Bishops of Winchester had a palace near , fixed their residence in this immediate neighbourhood. The land on which the old


stood was purchased by the Abbot of Hyde in the year , and he built on it not only a hostel for himself and his brethren, but also an inn for the accommodation of the numerous pilgrims resorting to the shrine of

St. Thomas of Canterbury

from the south and west of England, just at the point where the roads from Sussex, Surrey, and Hampshire met that which was known as the

Pilgrims' Way.

There can be no doubt that by the end of the century the


was already of the inns most frequented by

Canterbury Pilgrims,

or else Chaucer would scarcely have introduced it to us in that character.

The Abbey of Hide was founded by Alfred the Great, and the monks were Saxon to the backbone. When the Conqueror landed at Pevensey, the abbot and stout monks buckled on their armour, and--with armed men hurried to join Harold. Not returned from the fatal field of Hastings. Abbot, monks, and men-at-arms all lay dead upon the field; and Norman William never forgave their patriotic valour, but avenged it by taking from the abbey knights' fees and a captain's portion--that is, times the amount of land necessary to support a man-at-arms and a baron's fief. Chaucer must have known this history, and his honest English heart must have glowed with the remembrance as he sat in the old hall of the town residence of the successors of the brave Abbot of Hide. Here it was that the genial poet and the -and- pilgrims met, and agreed to enliven their pilgrimage to the shrine of St. Thomas a Becket, at Canterbury, by reciting tales to shorten the way. Macaulay says,

It was a national as well as religious feeling that drew multitudes to the shrine of a Becket, the


Englishman who, since the Conquest, had been terrible to the foreign tyrants.

The date of the Canterbury Pilgrimage is generally supposed to have been the year ; and Chaucer, after describing the season of spring, writes :--

Befelle that in that season, on a day,

In Southwerk, at the Tabard as I lay,

Redy to wenden on my pilgrimage

To Canterbury, with devoute courage,

At night was come into that hostelrie

Well nine-and-twenty in a compagnie

Of sondry folk, by aventure yfalle

In felawship; and pilgrimes were they alle,

That toward Canterbury wolden ride,

The chambres and the stables weren wyde,

And wel we weren esed atte beste,

And shortly, when the sonne was gone to reste,

So hadde I spoken with hem everich on

That I was of hir felawship anon,

And I made forword erly for to rise,

And take oure way ther as I you devise.



is again mentioned in the following lines:--

In Southwerk at this gentil hostelrie,

That highte the Tabard, faste by the Belle.

John Timbs, in an account of this inn, in the , says:--

Henry Bailly, the host of the


was not improbably a descendant of Henry Tite or Martin, of the borough of


, to whom King Henry III., in the


year of his reign, at the instance of William de la Zouch, granted the customs of the town of


during the king's pleasure, he paying to the Exchequer the annual fee and farm rent of

£ 10

for the same. By that grant Henry Tite or Martin was constituted bailiff of


, and he would, therefore, acquire the name of Henry the bailiff, or Le Bailly. But be this as it may, it is a fact on record, that Henry Bailly, the hosteller of the




of the burgesses who represented the borough of


in the Parliament held at


, in the fiftieth Edward III., A.D.


; and he was again returned to the Parliament held at Gloucester in the


of Richard II., A.D.



We have already mentioned him in the previous chapter. After the dissolution of the monasteries, the


and the abbot's house were sold by Henry VIII. to John Master and Thomas Master; and the particulars of the grant in the Augmentation Office afford description of the hostelry called

the Tabard of the Monastery of Hyde, and the

Abbots' place

, with the stables, and garden thereunto belonging.

The original


was in existence as late as the year ; it was an ancient timber house, accounted to be as old as Chaucer's time. No part of it, however, as it appeared at the time of its demolition in , was of the age of Chaucer; but a good deal dated from the time of Queen Elizabeth, when Master J. Preston newly repaired it.

The most interesting portion was a stonecoloured wooden gallery, in front of which was a picture of the Canterbury Pilgrimage, said to have been painted by Blake. The figures of the pilgrims were copied from the celebrated print by Stothard. Immediately behind was the chamber known as the pilgrims' room, but only a portion of the ancient hall. The gallery formerly extended throughout the inn-buildings. The inn facing the street was burnt in the great fire of



Dryden says,

I see all the pilgrims in the Canterbury tales, their humour, with their features and their very dress, as distinctly as if I had supper with them at the





A company of gentlemen assembled at the inn, in , to commemorate the natal day of Chaucer, and it was proposed annually to meet in honour of the vener. able poet, whose works Spenser characterises as

The well of English undefiled,

On Fame's eternal beadroll worthy to be filed.

But the idea, if ever seriously entertained, was soon abandoned.

The house was repaired in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, and from that period probably dated the fireplace, carved oak panels, and other portions spared by the fire of , which were still to be seen in the beginning of the present century. In this fire, of which we have already had occasion to speak, some houses had to be destroyed in order to arrest the progress of the flames; and as the


stood nearly in the centre of this area, and was mostly built of wood, there can be little doubt that the old inn perished. It was, however, soon rebuilt, and as nearly as possible on the same spot; and although, through the ignorance of the landlord or tenant, or both, it was for a time called, not the


but the


there can be no doubt that the inn, as it remained down till recently, with its quaint old timber galleries, and not less quaint old chambers, was the immediate successor of the inn and hostelry commemorated by our great poet.

In Urry's edition of [extra_illustrations.6.78.1] , published in , there is a view of the


as it then stood, the yard apparently opening upon the street. Down to about the close of the year the entrance to the inn-yard was under an old and picturesque gateway; this, however, has been removed altogether, and in its place, on our left hand, a new public-house, approaching the ginpalace in its flaunting appearance, has been erected, and, as if in mockery, it has assumed the name of the

Old Tabard.

[extra_illustrations.6.78.3] , as they remained down to the period above mentioned, consisted of a large and spacious wooden structure, with a high tiled roof, the ground floor of which had been for many years occupied as a


luggage office, and a place of call for carmen and railway vans. This was all that remained of the structure erected in the reign of Charles II., out of the old materials after the fire. The upper part of it once was large apartment, but it had been so much cut up and subdivided from time to time to adapt it to the purpose of modern bed-rooms that it presented in the end but few features of interest.

There was an exterior gallery, also of wood, on the left, which, with the rooms behind it, have been levelled with the ground, in order to make room for a new pile of warehouses. The rooms, dull, heavy, dingy apartments as they were, are said by tradition, to have occupied the actual site, or rather to have been carved out of the ancieni

hall, the room of public entertainment of the hostelry, or, as it was popularly called,


Pilgrims' Room


and here it is conjectured Chaucer's pilgrims--if that particular Canterbury pilgrimage was a reality, and not a creation of the poet's brain-spent the evening before wending their way along the towards the shrine of St. Thomas a Becket-

The holy blissful martyr for to seeke.

From this old court-yard, then, actually [extra_illustrations.6.79.1]  the company that lives and moves for ever in Chaucer's poetry, or, at any rate, many a company of which the

Canterbury Tales

present a life-like copy. In that room lay the seemly prioress and her nuns; here the knight, with the



yong Squier

sharing his chamber, and waiting dutifully upon his needs; that staircase the burly monk made re-echo and quake with his heavy tread; and here, leaning upon the balustrade-work, the friar and the sompour (summoner or attorney) had many a sharp passage of arms.

Mr. Corner, who has left the best account of the old inn, was of opinion, from personal examination, that there was nothing at all in the remains of the


as they existed at the time of its demolition, earlier than the fire of , after which was built the

Pilgrims' Hall,

the fireplaces of which were of this date. The Rev. John Ward, in his


remarks that

the fire began at


Mr. Welsh's, an oilman, near

St. Margaret's

Hill, betwixt the




inns, as Bedloe (the Jesuit) in his narrative relates.

The sign was ignorantly changed from the


to the


--an old name for a dog--about the year , and Betterton describes it under its new name in his modernised version of Geoffrey Chaucer's prologue. On the beam of the gateway facing the street was formerly inscribed,

This is the inn where Sir Jeffry Chaucer and the




pilgrims lay in their journey to Canterbury, anno



This was painted out in ; it was originally inscribed upon a beam across the road, whence swung the sign; but the beam was removed in , as interfering with the traffic.

In Urry's view the several wooden buildings are shown. The writing of the inscription over the sign seemed ancient; yet Tyrwhitt is of opinion that it was not older than the century, since Speght, who describes the


in his edition of Chaucer, published in , does not mention it. Probably it was put up after the fire of , when the


had changed its name into the


The sign in reality was changed in , when the signs of London were taken down,

and when,

says Aubrey,

the ignorant landlord or tenant, instead of the ancient sign of the Tabard, put up the Talbot, or dog.

Aubrey tells us further that before the fire it was an old timber house,

probably coeval with Chaucer's time.

It was probably this old part, facing the street, that was burnt.

Chaucer has often been named as

the well of English undefiled;

but from a general review of all his works,

writes Dr. Johnson, in his

Lives of the Poets,

it will appear that he entertained a very mean opinion of his native language, and of the poets who employed it, and that, during a great part of his life, he was incessantly occupied in translating the works of the French, Italian, and Latin poets. His

Romaunt of the Rose

is a professed translation from William de Lorris and Jean de Meun; the long and beautiful romance of

Troilus and Cressida

is principally translated from Boccaccio's Filostrato; the

Legend of Good Women

is a free translation from Ovid's Epistles, combined with the histories of his heroines, derived from various chronicles. The

House of Fame

is a similar compilation; and

Palamon and Arcite

is known to be an imitation of the


of Boccaccio. On the whole, it may be doubted whether he thought himself sufficiently qualified to undertake an original work till he was past


years of age, at which time . . . . he formed and began to execute the plan of his

Canterbury Tales.

This elaborate work--the scene of which is laid in the guest-chamber and in the court-yard of the


--was intended to contain a sketch of all the characters of society in his time. These were to be sketched out in an introductory prologue, to be contrasted by characteristic dialogues, and probably to be engaged in incidents which should further develop their characters and dispositions; and as stories were absolutely necessary in every popular work, an appropriate tale was to be put into the mouth of each of the pilgrims. It is not extraordinary that the remainder of Chaucer's life should not have been sufficient for the completion of so ambitious a plan. What he has actually executed can be regarded only as a fragment of a larger whole ; but, imperfect as it is, it contains more information respecting the manners and customs of the century than could be gleaned from the whole mass of contemporary writers, English and foreign.

Chaucer's vein of humour,

remarks Warton,

although conspicuous in the

Canterbury Tales,

is chiefly displayed in the characters, described in the Prologue, with which they are introduced. In these his knowledge of the world availed him in a peculiar degree, and enabled him to give such an accurate picture of ancient manners as no contemporary nation has transmitted to posterity. It is here that we view the pursuits and employments, the customs and diversions, of our ancestors, copied from the life, and represented with equal truth and spirit by a judge of mankind whose penetration qualified him to discern their foibles and discriminating peculiarities, and by an artist who understood that proper selection of circumstances and those pre.

dominant characteristics which form a finished portrait. We are surprised to find, in an age so gross and ignorant, such talent for satire and for observation on life-qualities which usually exert themselves in more civilised periods, when the improved state of society, by .... establishing uniform modes of behaviour, disposes mankind to study themselves, and renders deviations of conduct and singularities of character more immediately and more necessarily the objects of censure and ridicule. These curious and valuable remains are specimens of Chaucer's native genius, unassisted and unalloyed. The figures are all British, and bear no suspicious signatures of classical, Italian, or French imitation.

In fact, in his

Canterbury Tales

Chaucer is at his best, and those Canterbury tales belong especially to the street and house of which we are now treating.

It may not be out of place here to give a brief outline of the plan of the immortal work which, as long as the English language lasts, will stand connected with the hostelry of the


The framework of the

Canterbury Tales,

it need hardly be said, embraces a rich collection of legends and narratives of various characters. The plot may have been suggested by the


of Boccaccio, but that is all; for, instead of adopting the tame and frigid device of assembling a bevy of Florentine youths and maidens, who tell and listen to amorous tales, with no coherence or connection, Chaucer has sketched in bold and sharp outlines life-like pictures of the manners and social condition of his age, and has made his figures stand picturesquely forth, as types of the several classes which they represent.

Who has not heard,

asks Dr. Pauli, in his ,

of the far-famed sanctuary of Canterbury, where rested the bones of the archbishop, Thomas Becket, who bravely met his death to uphold the cause of the Roman Church, and who; venerated as the national saint of England, became renowned as a martyr and worker of miracles? To that sanctuary, year by year, and especially in the spring months, crowds of devout pilgrims flocked from every part of the Christian world; and although such pilgrimages were no doubt often undertaken from the most laudable motives, it is certain that even in the fourteenth century they had become, among the great masses of the people, too often a pretext for diversion . . . . It was such a pilgrimage as this that Chaucer took for the framework of his great poem; and, as a Kentish man, he was probably able to describe from experience and personal observation all that occurred on an occasion of this kind. The prologue, which is of extraordinary length, begins with a short description of spring, when nature begins to rejoice, and men from every part of the land seek the blissful martyr's tomb at Canterbury. At such a season-and some writers have calculated that Chaucer refers to the 27th of April, 1383-the poet was staying, with this purpose in view, at the Tabard, where pilgrims were wont to assemble, and where they found good accommodation for themselves and their horses before they set forth on their way, travelling together, no doubt, at once for companionship and for mutual protection. Towards evening, when the host's room was filled, Chaucer had already made acquaintance with most of the guests, who were of all conditions and ranks. The twenty-nine persons who composed the party are each introduced to us with the most individual and life-like colouring. A knight most appropriately heads the list. For years his life has been spent either in the field or in the Crusades; for he was present when Alexandria was taken, and helped the Teutonic knights in Prussia against the Russians, fought with the Moors in Granada, with the Arabs in Africa, and with the Turks in Asia. One may see by his dress that he seldom doffs his armour; but, however little attention he pays to externals, his careful mode of speech, and his meek and Christian-like deportment, betray the true and gentle knight. He is accompanied by his son, a slim, light-haired, curlyheaded youth of twenty, the perfect young squire of his day, who is elegantly and even foppishly dressed. He has already made a campaign against the French, and on that occasion, as well as in the tourney, he has borne him well, in the hopes of gaining his lady's grace. Love deprives him of his sleep; and, like the nightingale, he is overflowing with songs to his beloved; yet he does not fail, with lowly service, to carve before his father at table. In attendance on him is a yeoman, probably one of his father's many tenants, who, clad in green, with sword and buckler, his bow in his hand, and his arrows and dagger in his belt, represents, with his sunburnt face, that has grown brown among woods and fields, the stalwart race who won for the Plantagenets the victories of Crecy, of Poitiers, and Agincourt.

In contrast with this group appears a daughter of the Church, Madame Eglantine,See Vol. V., p. 571. a prioress of noble birth, as her delicate physiognomy, and the nicety with which she eats and drinks, testify plainly. With a sweet but somewhat nasal tone, she chants the Liturgy, or parts of it; she speaks French, too, by preference, but it is the French, not of Paris, but of Stratford atte Bow. She would weep if they showed her a mouse in a trap, or if they smote her little dog with a rod. A gold brooch, ornamented with the letter A, encircled with a crown, bearing the inscription Amor vincit omnia, hangs from her string of coral beads. Next to her comes a portly monk of the Benedictine order, whose crown and cheeks are as smooth as glass, and whose eyes shine like burning coals. He, too, is elegantly dressed, for the sleeves of his robe are trimmed with the finest fur, while a golden love-knot pin holds his hood together. Clear is the sound of the bells on his bridle, for he knows well how to sit his horse; whilst hare-hunting and a feast on a fat swan are more to him than the rule of St. Benedict and the holy books in his cell. A worthy pendant to this stately figure is the Mendicant Friar, whose ready familiarity and good humour make him the friend of the country-folks, and the favourite Father Confessor. No one understands better than he how to collect alms for his cloister; for he knows how to please the women with timely gifts of needles and knives, whilst he treats the men in the taverns, in which he always knows where to find the best cheer. He lisps his English with affected sweetness; and when he sings to his harp his eyes twinkle like the stars on a frosty night.

The next in order is a merchant, with his forked beard, his Flemish beaver, and his wellclasped boots. He knows the money-exchange on both sides of the Channel, and best of all does he understand how to secure his own interest. Then follow a couple of learned men. First comes the Clerk of Oxenford (Oxford), hollowed-cheeked, and lean as the horse on which he rides, and with threadbare coat, for he has not yet secured a benefice; but his books are his whole joy, and chief among them is his Aristotle. He knows no greater joy than learning and teaching; yet he shrinks back modestly and timidly, and nowhere pushes himself forward. The other is a widelyknown Serjeant of the Law, who has at his fingers' ends the whole confused mass of all the laws and statutes from the days of William the Conqueror to his own times, and knows admirably also how to apply his learning practically. Although his heavy fees and rich perquisites make him a rich man, he goes forth on his pilgrimage dressed in a plain and homely fashion. Next follows a Franklyn, who is described as the owner of a freehold estate, and as a man of note in his country, as having already served as knight of the shire, and also as sheriff. There is no stint of good eating and drinking in his house; for the dishes on his board come as thick and close as flakes of snow, each in its turn, according to the season of the year.

The working classes are represented by a haberdasher, a carpenter, a weaver, a dyer, and a tap'ster, honest industrious folk, each clad in the dress that appertains to his order, and wearing the badge of his guild. They have all interest and money enough to make aldermen at some future time; and their wives would gladly hear themselves greeted as madame, and would fain go to church in long and flowing mantles. With these are associated a cook, who is master of all the delicacies of his art, but who is not the less able on that account to relish a cup of London ale. The shipman, of course, could not be absent from such a gathering; and here we see him as he comes from the west country, sunburnt, and clad in the dress of his class, equally prepared to quaff a draught of the fine Burgundy that he is bringing home while the master of the ship slumbers in his cabin, or to join in a sea-fight against the foes of his native land. He has visited every shore, from Gothland to Cape Finisterre, and he knows every harbour and bay in his course. The doctor of physic, too, is well versed in all the branches of his art; for, in addition to the skilful practice of his profession, he has systematically studied both astronomy and the science of the horoscope, and is familiar with all the learned writers of Greece and Arabia. He dresses carefully, and smartly; but he knows how to keep the treasures which he amassed during the prevalence of the black death.

Next follows a Wife of Bath, rich and comely, who especially attracts the poet's attention, and who is more communicative in regard to her own affairs than any one else in the company. She wears clothing of the finest stuffs, a broad hat with a new-fashioned head-attire, red and tight-fitting stockings, and a pair of sharp spurs on her heels. She is already well advanced in years, has been three times to Jerusalem, and has seen Rome and Bologna, Compostella, and Cologne. Her round, fair, reddish face looks a little bold, and shows that after her many experiences of life it would not be easy to put her out of countenance. She relates to her fellow-travellers, with the most edifying frankness, that she has been married five times, and that, therefore, independently of other considerations, she is entitled to say a word or two about love. She tells them how in her young and giddy days she beguiled and deluded her first three husbands, who were old but rich; and she does not even withhold from them the narration of some sharp curtain-lectures. Her fourth marriage terminated, she tells them, in both parties taking their own way; but her last husband, although he is only twenty years old, has studied at Oxford, and is not to be drawn away from the perusal of a ponderous tome, in which are collected the injunctions of the Fathers of the Church to men to lead a life of celibacy, enriched by examples culled from ancient and modern times, of the manner in which wives are wont to circumvent their husbands. Once, when in her spite she tore some leaves out of this book, she says that he beat her so hard that ever since she has been deaf in one ear, but that since they have got on admirably together. In opposition to this dame, who forms one of the most important links of connection between the different members of the miscellaneous circle, we have another admirably-drawn character, a poor Parson, the son of humble but honest parents, who, notwithstanding his scanty benefice, is ever contented, even when his tithes fall short, and who never fails, even in the worst of weather, to sally forth, staff in hand, in order to visit the sick members of his flock. He is always ready to comfort and aid the needy; and undismayed by the pride of the rich and great, faithfully and honestly proclaims the word of the Lord in his teaching. The Parson is accompanied by his brother, a hard-working, honest, and pious ploughman; and thus the two are brought forward as belonging to that class which was bound to the soil which it tilled.

Before the poet leaves this rank of the social scale, he brings before us also several other prominent characters belonging to the people of his day. There is the miller, a stout churl, bony and strong, with a hard head, a fox-red beard, and a wide mouth. He was not over-scrupulous in appropriating to himself some of the corn which his customers brought to his mill. Over his white coat and blue hood he carried a bag-pipe, and we fear it must be added, that his talk was of a wanton kind. Next comes the MYanciple of a religious house, who is connected with at least thirty lawyers, and knows how to make his own profits whilst he is buying for his masters. The Reeve of a Norfolk lord, a man as lean as a rake, shaven and choleric, appears dressed in a blue coat, riding a grey horse. In his youth he had been a carpenter; but no one knows better than he how to judge of the yielding of the seed, or of the promise of the cattle. Nobody could well call him to account, for his books are always in the best order, and he and his master are in good accord. The Summoner of an archdeacon, with a fiery-red face, which no apothecary's art can cool down, is appropriately described as one of the lowest and least reputable of the company. Lustful and gluttonous, he cares most of all for his wine; and when he is half seas over, he speaks nothing but bad Latin, having picked up some scraps of that tongue in attendance in the Courts. His rival in viciousness is a Pardoner, who has come straight from the Court of Rome. His hair is as yellow as flax, and he carries in his wallet a handful of relics, by the sale of which he gets more money in a day than the Parson can make in two months.

Such are the troop of worthy, and some perhaps rather unworthy, guests who assembled in the ancient hostelry a little less than years ago, and whom the host, Harry Baily, right gladly welcomes in his guesten-room, with the best cheer that the


can supply. Whilst the wine is passing round among the company, he proposes, with a boldness often to be seen in men of his craft, to join them on the morrow in their pilgrimage; but takes the liberty of suggesting that it would be a good means of shortening the way between London and Canterbury, if each pilgrim were to tell tale going and returning also, and that the who should tell the best tale should have a supper at the inn at the expense of the rest upon their safe return. Next, without more ado, he offers himself to act as judge of the performances; and his proposition meets with general approval. The company then retire to rest, and the next morning, when the sun is up and the day is fine, they mount their horses at the door of the


and, turning their backs on London, take the road into Kent. The plan of our work will not allow us to follow them beyond , where they branch to the left along the , towards Blackheath and Rochester, and so on to Becket's shrine. It only remains to add that the poet did not live to complete even half of his projected poem, which breaks off somewhat abruptly before the pilgrims actually enter Canterbury, and hence, to our lasting regret, we lose the expected pleasure of a graphic description of their sayings and doings in that city, and of their promised feast upon returning to . With the tale, or rather discourse, of the Parson, Chaucer brings his pilgrims to Canterbury;


observes Mr. T. Wright,

his original plan evidently included the journey back to London. Some writer, within a few years after Chaucer's death, undertook to continue the work, and produced a ludicrous account of the proceedings of the pilgrims at Canterbury, and the story of Beryn, which was to be the


of the stories told on their return. These are printed by Urry, from a

manuscript, to which, however, he is anything but faithful.

As. regards the name of the inn now under notice, Stow says of the



it was so called of a jacket, or sleeveless coat, whole before, open on both sides, with a square collar, winged at the shoulders. A stately garment of old time, commonly worn of noblemen and others, both at home and abroad in the wars; but then (to wit, in the wars) with their arms embroidered depicted upon them, that every man by his coat of arms might be known from others. But now these tabards are only worn by the heralds, and be called their coats of arms in service.

The name of the dress is, or was till very lately, kept in remembrance by the
Tabarders, as certain scholars or exhibitioners are termed at Queen's College, Oxford. It may be added that the name of the author of the

Canterbury Tales

will still be kept in remembrance in by the


lodge of Freemasons which has been instituted at the

Bridge House Tavern.

In the middle of the last century, the


(or Talbot) appears to have become a great inn for carriers and for posting, and a well-known place of accommodation for visitors to London from distant parts of the country. Mr. Thomas Wright, F.S.A., remarks,

When my grandfather visited London towards the close of the reign of George II., or early in that of George III., he tells me in his


that he and his companions took up their quarters as guests at the






Not far from the


was another old inn called the


for Chaucer mentions

the gentil hostelrie that heighte the


as being

faste by the



Among the historic inns of to which we are introduced by Mr. John Timbs in his , is called the



which also stood near the


This inn,

says Mr. Timbs,

is mentioned by Stow, and even earlier, in 1554, the thirty-fifth year of King Henry VIII. Its name was then the St. George. There is no further trace of it till the seventeenth century, when there are two tokens issued from this inn. Mr. Burn quotes the following lines from the Musarum Delicia, upon a surfeit by drinking bad sack at the George Tavern, in Southwark:-- Oh, would I might turn poet for an hour, To satirise with a vindictive power Against the drawer; or could I desire Old Johnson's head had scalded in the fire; How would he rage, and bring Apollo down To scold with Bacchus, and depose the clown For his ill government, and so confute Our poets, apes, that do so much impute Unto the grape inspirement.

In the year the


was in great part burnt down and demolished by a fire which broke out in this neighbourhood, and it was totally consumed by the great fire of some years later; the owner was at that time John


Sayer, and the tenant Mark Weyland.

The present

George Inn,

continues Mr. Timbs,

although built only in the seventeenth century, seems to have been rebuilt on the old plan, having open wooden galleries leading to the chambers on each side of the inn-yard. After the fire, the host, Mark Weyland, was succeeded by his widow, Mary Weyland; and she by William Golding, who was followed by Thomas Green, whose niece, Mrs. Frances Scholefield, and her then husband, became landlord and landlady in 1809. Mrs. Scholefield died at a great age in 1859. The property has since been purchased by the governors of Guy's Hospital.

The George is mentioned in the records relating to the Tabard, to which it adjoins, in the reign of King Henry VIII., as the St. George Inn. Two tokens of the seventeenth century, in the Beaufoy Collection at Guildhall Library, admirably catalogued and annotated by Mr. Burn, give the names of two landlords of the George at that period-viz., Anthony Blake, tapster, and James Gunter.


White Hart,

on the same side of the , was, according to Hatton, the inn which had the largest sign in London, save and except the


in . This also is of the inns mentioned by Stow in his


but, as John Timbs tells us, it possesses a still earlier celebrity, having been the head-quarters of Jack Cade and his rebel rout during their brief possession of London in . Shakespeare, in the Part of , makes a messenger enter in haste, and announce to the king-

The rebels are in Southwark. Fly, my lord!

Jack Cade proclaims himself Lord Mortimer,

Descended from the Duke of Clarence' house,

And calls your grace usurper openly,

And vows to crown himself in Westminster.

And again, another messenger enters, and says-

Jack Cade hath gotten London Bridge;

The citizens fly and forsake their houses.

Afterwards, Cade thus addresses his followers:--

Will you needs be hanged with your pardons about your necks? Hath my sword therefore broke through London gates, that you should leave me at the

White Hart,




Fabyan, in his


has this entry:--


July 1, 1450

, Jack Cade arrived in


, where he lodged at the


for he might not be suffered to enter the City.

The following deed of violence committed by Cade's followers at this place is recorded in the

Chronicle of the Grey Friars:


At the Whyt Harte, in Southwarke,


Hawaydyne, of Sent Martyns, was beheddyd.

It is quite possible, however, that Shakespeare, and the historians who have been content to follow in his wake, have done injustice to the character of Cade, exaggerating his faults, and suppressing all notice of his virtues. As Mr. J. T. Smith remarks, in his work on

The Streets of London :


In an unhappy time, when the fields of England were strewed with dead, in the quarrels of contending factions, when the people had scarcely the shadow of a right, and were never thought of by the rulers of the land, except when they wanted folks to fight their battles, or when they needed money that could by any possibility be wrung or squeezed out of the population, this man, the despised Jack Cade, stood forward to plead the cause of the million. He made himself the voice of the people: he understood their grievances, and made a bold effort to redress them; and if that effort was a violent


, it was the fault of the age, rather than of the man. A list of the grievances complained of by Cade, preserved in Stow's


, gives a high opinion of his shrewdness and moderation, and makes him appear anything but the ignorant man it has been the fashion to represent him. The City of London was long in his favour, and its merchants supplied him, without murmur, with sufficient rations for his large army encamped on Blackheath.

This fact would seem by itself sufficient to prove that he was not a vile republican and communist of the Parisian type.

Neither the house now bearing the sign of the

White Hart,

nor its immediate predecessor, which was pulled down a few years ago, can lay claim to being the same building that afforded shelter to Jack Cade; for in the back part of the old inn was accidentally burnt down, and the tavern was wholly destroyed by the great fire of , in .

It appears, however,

says Mr. John Timbs,

to have been rebuilt upon the model of the older edifice, and realised the descriptions which we read of the ancient inns, consisting of


or more open courts or yards, surrounded with open galleries, and which were frequently used as temporary theatres for acting plays and dramatic performances in the olden time.

There are in London,

writes Charles Dickens, in his inimitable

Pickwick Papers,

several old inns, once the head-quarters of celebrated coaches in the days when coaches performed their journeys in a graver and more solemn manner than they do in these times; but which have now degenerated into little more than the abiding and booking places of country wagons. The reader would look in vain for any of these ancient hostelries among the

Golden Crosses


Bull and Mouths,

which rear their stately fronts in the improved streets of London. If he would light upon any of these old places, he must direct his steps to the obscurer quarters of the town; and there in some secluded nooks he will find several, still standing with a kind of gloomy sturdiness amidst the modern innovations which surround them. In the Borough especially there still remain some half-dozen old inns, which have preserved their external features unchanged, and which have escaped alike the rage for public improvement and the encroachments of private speculation. Great, rambling, queer old places they are, with galleries, and passages, and staircases wide enough and antiquated enough to furnish materials for a


ghost stories, supposing we should ever be reduced to the lamentable necessity of inventing any, and that the world should exist long enough to exhaust the innumerable veracious legends connected with old

London Bridge

and its adjacent neighbourhood on the Surrey side.

It is in the yard of of these inns--of no less celebrated than the

White Hart

--that our author introduces to the reader's notice Sam Weller, in the character of


The yard,

proceeds the novelist,

presented none of that bustle and activity which are the usual characteristics of a large coach inn.




lumbering wagons, each with a pile of goods beneath its ample canopy, about the height of the


-floor window of an ordinary house, were stowed away beneath a lofty roof which extended over


end of the yard; and another, which was probably to commence its journey that morning, was drawn out into the open space. A double tier of bedroom galleries, with old clumsy balustrades, ran round


sides of the straggling area, and a double row of bells to correspond, sheltered from the weather by a little sloping roof, hung over the door leading to the bar and coffeeroom.




gigs and chaise-carts were wheeled up under different little sheds and penthouses; and the occasional heavy tread of a carthorse, or rattling of a chain at the further end of the yard, announced to anybody who cared about the matter that the stable lay in that direction. When we add that a few boys in smock-frocks were lying asleep on heavy packages, woolpacks, and other articles that were scattered about on heaps of straw, we have described as fully as need be the general appearance of the yard of the

White Hart Inn,

High Street

, Borough, on the particular morning in question.

Another celebrated inn in the was the

Boar's Head,

which formed a part of Sir John Falstolf's benefactions to Maegdalen College at Oxford. Sir John Falstolfv was of the bravest of English generals in the French wars, under Henry IV. and his successors. The premises are said to have comprised a narrow court of or houses, but they were removed in to make the approach to New . We learn from Mr. C. J. Palmer's

Perlustration of Great Yarmouth,

that the Falstolf family had their town residence in , nearly opposite to the , and that the

Boar's Head Inn

was the property of Sir John Falstolf. Henry Windesone, in a letter to John Paston, dated , says,

An it please you to remember my master (Sir John Falstolf) at your best leisure, whether his old promise shall stand as touching my preferring to the

Boar's Head,



. Sir, I would have been at another place, and of my master's own motion he said that I should set up in the

Boar's Head.

In the churchwardens' account for , , in and , the house is thus mentioned :--

Received of John Barlowe, that dwelleth at ye

Boar's Head



, for suffering the encroachment at the corner of the wall in ye Flemish Church-yard for


yeare, iiijs.

There is in existence a rare small brass token of the

Boar's Head;

on side is a boar's head, with a lemon in its mouth, surrounded by the words,

At the Boar's Head;

and on the other side,

in Southwark




Mr. John Timbs, in his



Of a modern-built house, nearly opposite the east end of

St. Saviour's Church

, my father and brother had a long tenancy, though the place has better claim to mention as being


of the ancient inns, the

Boar's Head,


, and the property of Sir John Fastolf, of Caistor, Norfolk, and of


, and who had a large house in

Stoney Lane


St. Olave's

. Sir John was a man of military renown, having been in the French wars of Henry VI., and was Governor of Normandy; he was also a man of letters and learning, and at the instance of his friend, William Waynfleet, Bishop of Winchester, the founder of Magdalen College, Oxford, Sir John Fastolf gave the

Boar's Head

and other possessions towards the foundation. In the

Reliquiae Hearnianae

, edited by Dr. Bliss, is the following entry relative to this bequest:

1721, June 2.-The reason why they cannot give so good an account of the benefaction of Sir John Fastolf to Magd. Coll. is, because he gave it to the founder, and left it to his management, so that 'tis suppos'd 'twas swallow'd up in his own estate that he settled upon the college. However, the college knows this, that the Boar's Head, in Southwark, which was then an inn, and still retains the name, tho' divided into several tenements (which brings the college £ 150 per annum), was part of Sir John's gift.

The property above mentioned was for many years leased to the father of the writer, and was by him principally sub-let to weekly tenants. The premises were named

Boar's Head Court,

and consisted of


rows of tenements,


, and


houses at the east end, with a gallery outside the


floor of the latter. The tenements were fronted with strong weatherboard, and the balusters of the staircases were of great age. The court entrance was between the houses Nos.




east side of

High Street

, and that number of houses from old

London Bridge

; and beneath the whole extent of the court was a finely-vaulted cellar, doubtless the wine-cellar of the

Boar's Head.

The property was cleared away in making the approaches to new

London Bridge

; and on this site was subsequently built part of the new front of

St. Thomas's Hospital



White Lion,

which formerly stood at the south end of Hill, nearly opposite the

Tabard Inn,

was in its latter days, as we have already seen, a prison

for felons and other notorious malefactors.

Stow, writing in , says,


White Lion

is a gaol, so called for that the same was a common hostelrie for the receipt of travellers by that sign. This house was


used as a gaol within these


years last past.

In , as Laud tells us in his

History of his Troubles,

the rabble apprentices released the whole of the prisoners in the

White Lion.

The place is mentioned in records of the reign of Henry VIII. as having belonged to the Priory of St. Mary Overy.

Henry VIII., as we all know, in spite of his cruelty, lust, and tyranny, was a favourite sign among hostelries both in London and up and down the country.





years ago,

writes Mr. J. Larwood, in ,

there still remained a well-painted half-length portrait of Bluff Harry as the sign of the

King's Head

before a public-house in


. His personal appearance doubtless, more than his character as a king, was at the bottom of this popular favour. He looked the personification of jollity and good cheer; and when the evil passions expressed by his face were lost under the clumsy brush of the sign-painter, there remained nothing but a merry


Bacchus, well adapted for a public-house sign.

Another ancient inn bore the sign of the



all that is known of it, however, is that it formed of the favourite resorts of the Philanthropic Harmonists.

of these old inns in the Borough, we may add that Mr. Larwood tells us that in the

Sun and Hare,

a carved stone sign, stil existed, walled up in the fagade of a house here.

Many of these inns had a religious, or religious character. Such was the hostelry which bore the sign of the




Holywater Sprinklers,

in allusion to the brushes used at the


in the commencement of high mass in the Catholic Church. This house stood near the White Lion Prison. It had in it a room with a richly-panelled wainscot, and a ceiling ornamented with the arms of Queen Elizabeth. Probably it had been a court-room for the


at the time when the

White Lion

was used as a prison. Its existence is proved by tokens of

Robert Thornton, haberdasher, next the

Three Brushes,






Between and , opposite , and on the site where now stands the booking-office of the Midland Railway Goods Dept, stood, till about the year , an old and well-known inn, called

The Catherine Wheel.

It was a famous inn for carriers during the and eighteenth centuries.


Catherine Wheel,

writes Mr. Larwood,

was formerly a very common sign, most likely adopted from its being the badge of the order of the knights of St. Catherine of Mount Sinai, formed in the year


, for the protection of pilgrims on their way to and from the Holy Sepulchre. Hence it was a suggestive, if not an eloquent, sign for an inn, as it intimated that the host was of the brotherhood, although in a humble way, and would protect the traveller from robbery in his inn--in the shape of high charges and exactions-just as the knights of St. Catherine protected them on the high road from robbery by brigands. These knights wore a white habit embroidered with a Catherine-wheel


., a wheel armed with spikes), and traversed with a sword, stained with blood. There were also mysteries in which St. Catherine played a favourite part,


of which was acted by young ladies on the entry of Queen Catherine of Aragon (queen to our Henry VIII.) in London in


. In honour of this queen the sign may occasionally have been put up. The Catherine-wheel was also a charge in the Turners' arms. Flecknoe tells us in his

Enigmatical Characters



), that the Puritans changed it into the Cat and Wheel, under which it is still to be seen on a public-house at Castle Green, Bristol.



Another inn, called the



was probably a perversion of the



--the ignorant people after the Reformation confounding the white head-dresses of the religious sisterhood with those of disconsolate relicts. Here,

at the

Three Widows,




a foreigner, Peter Treviris, in the early part of the century, set up a printing-press, which he kept constantly at work for several years, as we learn from the titlepages of his books.

Among the quaint old signs which prevailed along this road, Mr. Larwood mentions not generally known,

The Old Pick my Toe,

which he suggests was

a vulgar representation of the Roman slave who, being sent on a message of importance, would not stop to pick even a thorn out of his foot by the way.

This curious sign, Mr. Larwood further tells us, is represented on a trade-token issued by Samuel Bovery in .[extra_illustrations.6.89.1] 

From the fact of being the chief seat of our early theatres, its houses of entertainment were very numerous, in addition to the old historic inns which abounded in the .

In the Beaufoy collection,

writes Mr. John Timbs,

are several tokens of


taverns: among them those of the

Bore's (Boar's) Head,


; the

Dogg and Ducke,

St. George's



; the

Green Man,

still remaining in

Blackman Street

; the

Bull Head



(mentioned by Edmund Alleyne, the founder of Dulwich College, as


of his resorts); the

Duke of Suffolk's Head,


; and the

Swan with Two Necks




[extra_illustrations.6.78.1] Chaucer

[extra_illustrations.6.78.3] The buildings in the inn-yard

[extra_illustrations.6.79.1] rode forth

[] See Collections of the Surrey Archaeological Society, vol. ii., part 2.

[extra_illustrations.6.85.1] Queen's Head

[] This Sir John Falstolf is not to be confounded-though often confounded--ith Shakespeare's Falstaff.

[extra_illustrations.6.89.1] White Bear Tavern, Southwark

This object is in collection Geog name Temporal Permanent URL
Component ID:
To Cite:
DCA Citation Guide    EndNote
Detailed Rights
View all images in this book
 Title Page
 Chapter I: Introductory -- Southwark
 Chapter II: Southwark (continued) -- Old London Bridge
 Chapter III: Southwark (continued) -- St. Saviour's Church, &c.
 Chapter IV: Southwark (continued) -- Winchester house, Barclay's Brewery, &c.
 Chapter V: Southwark (continued) -- Bankside in the Olden Time
 Chapter VI: Southwark (continued) -- High Street, &c.
 Chapter VII: Southwark (continued) -- Famous Inns of Olden Times
 Chapter VIII: Southwark (continued) -- Old St. Thomas's Hospital, Guy's Hospital, &c.
 Chapter IX: Bermondsey -- Tooley Street, &c.
 Chapter X: Bermondsey (continued) -- The Abbey, &c.
 Chapter XI: Rotherhithe
 Chapter XII: Deptford
 Chapter XIII: Greenwich
 Chapter XIV: Greenwich (continued) -- The Hospital for Seamen, &c.
 Chapter XV: Greenwich (continued) -- The Parish Church, &c.
 Chapter XVI: Greenwich (continued) -- The Park, The Royal Observatory, &c.
 Chapter XVII: Blackheath, Charlton, and its Neighbourhood
 Chapter XVIII: Eltham, Lee, and Lewisham
 Chapter XIX: The Old Kent Road, &c.
 Chapter XX: Newington and Walworth
 Chapter XXI: Camberwell
 Chapter XXII: Peckham and Dulwich
 Chapter XXIII: Sydenham, Norwood, and Streatham
 Chapter XXIV: Brixton and Clapham
 Chapter XXV: Stockwell and Kennington
 Chapter XXVI: St. George's Fields
 Chapter XXVII: St. George's Fields (continued) -- Bethlehem Hospital, &c.
 Chapter XXVIII: Blackfriars Road -- The Surrey Theatre, Surrey Chapel, &c.
 Chapter XXIX: Lambeth
 Chapter XXX: Lambeth (continued) -- The Transpontine Theatres
 Chapter XXXI: Lambeth (continued) -- Waterloo Road, &c.
 Chapter XXXII: Lambeth Palace
 Chapter XXXIII: Vauxhall
 Chapter XXXIV: Vauxhall (continued) and Battersea
 Chapter XXXV: Wandsworth
 Chapter XXXVI: Putney
 Chapter XXXVII: Fulham
 Chapter XXXVIII: Fulham (continued) -- Walham Green and North End
 Chapter XXXIX: Hammersmith
 Chapter XL: Chiswick
 Chapter XLI: General Remarks and Conclusion