"Drank pure nectar as the gods drink tooSublimed with richCanary; say, shall thenThese less than coffee's self, these coffee-men,These sons of nothing, that can hardly makeTheir broth for laughing how the jest does take,Yet grin, and give ye for the vine's pure bloodA loathsome potion—not yet understood,Syrup of soot, or essence of old shoes,Dasht with diurnals or the book of news?"
"Drank pure nectar as the gods drink tooSublimed with richCanary; say, shall thenThese less than coffee's self, these coffee-men,These sons of nothing, that can hardly makeTheir broth for laughing how the jest does take,Yet grin, and give ye for the vine's pure bloodA loathsome potion—not yet understood,Syrup of soot, or essence of old shoes,Dasht with diurnals or the book of news?"
"Drank pure nectar as the gods drink tooSublimed with richCanary; say, shall thenThese less than coffee's self, these coffee-men,These sons of nothing, that can hardly makeTheir broth for laughing how the jest does take,Yet grin, and give ye for the vine's pure bloodA loathsome potion—not yet understood,Syrup of soot, or essence of old shoes,Dasht with diurnals or the book of news?"
"Drank pure nectar as the gods drink too
Sublimed with richCanary; say, shall then
These less than coffee's self, these coffee-men,
These sons of nothing, that can hardly make
Their broth for laughing how the jest does take,
Yet grin, and give ye for the vine's pure blood
A loathsome potion—not yet understood,
Syrup of soot, or essence of old shoes,
Dasht with diurnals or the book of news?"
One of the weaknesses of "rare Ben" was hispenchantfor Canary. And it would seem that the Mermaid, in Bread-street, was the house in which he enjoyed it most:
"But that which most doth take my muse and me,Is a pure cup of richCanary wine,Which is the Mermaid's now, but shall be mine."
"But that which most doth take my muse and me,Is a pure cup of richCanary wine,Which is the Mermaid's now, but shall be mine."
"But that which most doth take my muse and me,Is a pure cup of richCanary wine,Which is the Mermaid's now, but shall be mine."
"But that which most doth take my muse and me,
Is a pure cup of richCanary wine,
Which is the Mermaid's now, but shall be mine."
Granger states that Charles I. raised Ben's pension from 100 marks to 100 pounds, and added a tierce ofcanary, which salary and its appendage, he says, have ever since been continued to poets laureate.
Reverting to the Rainbow (says Mr. Price), "it has been frequently remarked by 'tavern-goers,' that many of our snuggest and most comfortable taverns are hidden from vulgar gaze, and unapproachable except through courts, blind alleys, or but half-lighted passages." Of this description was the house in question. But few of its many nightly, or rather midnightly patrons and frequenters, knew aught of it beyond its famed "stewed cheeses," and its "stout," with the various "et ceteras" of good cheer. They little dreamed, and perhaps as little cared to know, that, more than two centuries back, the Rainbow flourished as a bookseller's shop; as appears by the title-page of Trussell'sHistory of England, which states it to be "printed by M. D., for Ephraim Dawson, and are to bee sold in Fleet Street, at the signe of the Rainbowe, neere the Inner-Temple Gate, 1636."
Was the house at the east corner of Inner Temple-lane, No. 17, Fleet-street, and next-door to the shop of Bernard Lintot, the bookseller; though it has been by some confused with Groom's house, No. 16. Nando's was the favourite haunt of Lord Thurlow, before he dashed into law practice. At this Coffee-house a large attendance of professional loungers was attracted by the fame of the punch and the charms of the landlady, which, with the small wits, were duly admired by andat the bar. One evening, the famous cause of Douglasv.. the Duke of Hamilton was the topic of discussion, when Thurlow being present, it was suggested, half in earnest, to appoint him junior counsel, which was done. This employment brought him acquainted with the Duchess of Queensberry, who saw at once the value of a man like Thurlow, and recommended Lord Bute to secure him by a silk gown.
The house, formerly Nando's, has been for many years a hair-dresser's. It is inscribed "Formerly the palace of Henry VIII. and Cardinal Wolsey." The structure is of the time of James I., and has an enriched ceiling inscribed P (triple plumed).
This was the office in which the Council for the Management of the Duchy of Cornwall Estates held their sittings; for in the Calendar of State Papers, edited by Mrs. Green, is the following entry, of the time of Charles, created Prince of Wales four years after the death of Henry:—"1619, Feb. 25; Prince'sCouncil Chamber, Fleet-street.—Council of the Prince of Wales to the Keepers of Brancepeth, Raby, and Barnard Castles: The trees blown down are only to be used for mending the pales, and no wood to be cut for firewood, nor browse for the deer."
This old Coffee-house, No. 8, Fleet-street (south side, near Temple Bar), was originally "Richard's," named from Richard Torner, or Turner, to whom the housewas let in 1680. The Coffee-room retains its olden paneling, and the staircase its original balusters.
The interior of Dick's Coffee-house is engraved as a frontispiece to a drama, calledThe Coffee-house, performed at Drury-lane Theatre in 1737. The piece met with great opposition on its representation, owing to its being stated that the characters were intended for a particular family (that of Mrs. Yarrow and her daughter), who kept Dick's, the coffee-house which the artist had inadvertently selected as the frontispiece.
It appears that the landlady and her daughter were the reigning toast of the Templars, who then frequented Dick's; and took the matter up so strongly that they united to condemn the farce on the night of its production; they succeeded, and even extended their resentment to every thing suspected to be this author's (the Rev. James Miller) for a considerable time after.
Richard's, as it was then called, was frequented by Cowper, when he lived in the Temple. In his own account of his insanity, Cowper tells us: "At breakfast I read the newspaper, and in it a letter, which, the further I perused it, the more closely engaged my attention. I cannot now recollect the purport of it; but before I had finished it, it appeared demonstratively true to me that it was a libel or satire upon me. The author appeared to be acquainted with my purpose of self-destruction, and to have written that letter on purpose to secure and hasten the execution of it. My mind, probably, at this time began to be disordered; however it was, I was certainly given to a strong delusion. I said within myself, 'Your cruelty shall be gratified; you shall have your revenge,' and flinging down the paper in a fit of strong passion, I rushed hastily out ofthe room; directing my way towards the fields, where I intended to find some house to die in; or, if not, determined to poison myself in a ditch, where I could meet with one sufficiently retired."
It is worth while to revert to the earlier tenancy of the Coffee-house, which was, wholly or in part, the original printing office of Richard Tottel, law-printer to Edward VI., Queens Mary and Elizabeth; the premises were attached to No. 7, Fleet-street, which bore the sign of "The Hand and Starre," where Tottel lived, and published the law and other works he printed. No. 7 was subsequently occupied by Jaggard and Joel Stephens, eminent law-printers, temp. Geo. I.-III.; and at the present day the house is most appropriately occupied by Messrs. Butterworth, who follow the occupation Tottel did in the days of Edward VI., being law-publishers to Queen Victoria; and they possess the original leases, from the earliest grant, in the reign of Henry VIII., the period of their own purchase.
During the reign of Charles II., Coffee-houses grew into such favour, that they quickly spread over the metropolis, and were the usual meeting-places of the roving cavaliers, who seldom visited home but to sleep. The following song, from Jordan'sTriumphs of London, 1675, affords a very curious picture of the manners of the times, and the sort of conversation then usuallymet with in a well-frequented house of the sort,—the "Lloyd's" of the seventeenth century:—
"You that delight in wit and mirth,And love to hear such newsThat come from all parts of the earth,Turks, Dutch, and Danes, and Jews:I'll send ye to the rendezvous,Where it is smoaking new;Go hear it at a coffee-house,It cannot but be true."There battails and sea-fights are fought,And bloudy plots displaid;They know more things than e'er was thought,Or ever was bewray'd:No money in the minting-houseIs half so bright and new;And coming from theCoffee-House,It cannot but be true."Before the navies fell to work,They knew who should be winner;They there can tell ye what the TurkLast Sunday had to dinner.Who last did cut Du Ruiter's[3]corns,Amongst his jovial crew;Or who first gave the devil horns,Which cannot but be true."A fisherman did boldly tell,And strongly did avouch,He caught a shole of mackerell,They parley'd all in Dutch;And cry'd outYaw, yaw, yaw, mine hare,And as the draught they drew,They stunk for fear that Monk[4]was there:This sounds as if 'twere true."There's nothing done in all the world,From monarch to the mouse;But every day or night 'tis hurl'dInto the coffee-house:What Lilly[5]what Booker[6]cou'dBy art not bring about,At Coffee-house you'll find a brood,Can quickly find it out."They know who shall in times to come,Be either made or undone,From great St. Peter's-street in Rome,To Turnbal-street[7]in London."They know all that is good or hurt,To damn ye or to save ye;There is the college and the court,The country, camp, and navy.So great an university,I think there ne'er was any;In which you may a scholar be,For spending of a penny."Here men do talk of everything,With large and liberal lungs,Like women at a gossiping,With double tire of tongues,They'll give a broadside presently,'Soon as you are in view:With stories that you'll wonder at,Which they will swear are true."You shall know there what fashions are,How perriwigs are curl'd;And for a penny you shall hearAll novels in the world;Both old and young, and great and small,And rich and poor you'll see;Therefore let's to the Coffee all,Come all away with me."
"You that delight in wit and mirth,And love to hear such newsThat come from all parts of the earth,Turks, Dutch, and Danes, and Jews:I'll send ye to the rendezvous,Where it is smoaking new;Go hear it at a coffee-house,It cannot but be true."There battails and sea-fights are fought,And bloudy plots displaid;They know more things than e'er was thought,Or ever was bewray'd:No money in the minting-houseIs half so bright and new;And coming from theCoffee-House,It cannot but be true."Before the navies fell to work,They knew who should be winner;They there can tell ye what the TurkLast Sunday had to dinner.Who last did cut Du Ruiter's[3]corns,Amongst his jovial crew;Or who first gave the devil horns,Which cannot but be true."A fisherman did boldly tell,And strongly did avouch,He caught a shole of mackerell,They parley'd all in Dutch;And cry'd outYaw, yaw, yaw, mine hare,And as the draught they drew,They stunk for fear that Monk[4]was there:This sounds as if 'twere true."There's nothing done in all the world,From monarch to the mouse;But every day or night 'tis hurl'dInto the coffee-house:What Lilly[5]what Booker[6]cou'dBy art not bring about,At Coffee-house you'll find a brood,Can quickly find it out."They know who shall in times to come,Be either made or undone,From great St. Peter's-street in Rome,To Turnbal-street[7]in London."They know all that is good or hurt,To damn ye or to save ye;There is the college and the court,The country, camp, and navy.So great an university,I think there ne'er was any;In which you may a scholar be,For spending of a penny."Here men do talk of everything,With large and liberal lungs,Like women at a gossiping,With double tire of tongues,They'll give a broadside presently,'Soon as you are in view:With stories that you'll wonder at,Which they will swear are true."You shall know there what fashions are,How perriwigs are curl'd;And for a penny you shall hearAll novels in the world;Both old and young, and great and small,And rich and poor you'll see;Therefore let's to the Coffee all,Come all away with me."
"You that delight in wit and mirth,And love to hear such newsThat come from all parts of the earth,Turks, Dutch, and Danes, and Jews:I'll send ye to the rendezvous,Where it is smoaking new;Go hear it at a coffee-house,It cannot but be true.
"You that delight in wit and mirth,
And love to hear such news
That come from all parts of the earth,
Turks, Dutch, and Danes, and Jews:
I'll send ye to the rendezvous,
Where it is smoaking new;
Go hear it at a coffee-house,
It cannot but be true.
"There battails and sea-fights are fought,And bloudy plots displaid;They know more things than e'er was thought,Or ever was bewray'd:No money in the minting-houseIs half so bright and new;And coming from theCoffee-House,It cannot but be true.
"There battails and sea-fights are fought,
And bloudy plots displaid;
They know more things than e'er was thought,
Or ever was bewray'd:
No money in the minting-house
Is half so bright and new;
And coming from theCoffee-House,
It cannot but be true.
"Before the navies fell to work,They knew who should be winner;They there can tell ye what the TurkLast Sunday had to dinner.Who last did cut Du Ruiter's[3]corns,Amongst his jovial crew;Or who first gave the devil horns,Which cannot but be true.
"Before the navies fell to work,
They knew who should be winner;
They there can tell ye what the Turk
Last Sunday had to dinner.
Who last did cut Du Ruiter's[3]corns,
Amongst his jovial crew;
Or who first gave the devil horns,
Which cannot but be true.
"A fisherman did boldly tell,And strongly did avouch,He caught a shole of mackerell,They parley'd all in Dutch;And cry'd outYaw, yaw, yaw, mine hare,And as the draught they drew,They stunk for fear that Monk[4]was there:This sounds as if 'twere true.
"A fisherman did boldly tell,
And strongly did avouch,
He caught a shole of mackerell,
They parley'd all in Dutch;
And cry'd outYaw, yaw, yaw, mine hare,
And as the draught they drew,
They stunk for fear that Monk[4]was there:
This sounds as if 'twere true.
"There's nothing done in all the world,From monarch to the mouse;But every day or night 'tis hurl'dInto the coffee-house:What Lilly[5]what Booker[6]cou'dBy art not bring about,At Coffee-house you'll find a brood,Can quickly find it out.
"There's nothing done in all the world,
From monarch to the mouse;
But every day or night 'tis hurl'd
Into the coffee-house:
What Lilly[5]what Booker[6]cou'd
By art not bring about,
At Coffee-house you'll find a brood,
Can quickly find it out.
"They know who shall in times to come,Be either made or undone,From great St. Peter's-street in Rome,To Turnbal-street[7]in London.
"They know who shall in times to come,
Be either made or undone,
From great St. Peter's-street in Rome,
To Turnbal-street[7]in London.
"They know all that is good or hurt,To damn ye or to save ye;There is the college and the court,The country, camp, and navy.So great an university,I think there ne'er was any;In which you may a scholar be,For spending of a penny.
"They know all that is good or hurt,
To damn ye or to save ye;
There is the college and the court,
The country, camp, and navy.
So great an university,
I think there ne'er was any;
In which you may a scholar be,
For spending of a penny.
"Here men do talk of everything,With large and liberal lungs,Like women at a gossiping,With double tire of tongues,They'll give a broadside presently,'Soon as you are in view:With stories that you'll wonder at,Which they will swear are true.
"Here men do talk of everything,
With large and liberal lungs,
Like women at a gossiping,
With double tire of tongues,
They'll give a broadside presently,
'Soon as you are in view:
With stories that you'll wonder at,
Which they will swear are true.
"You shall know there what fashions are,How perriwigs are curl'd;And for a penny you shall hearAll novels in the world;Both old and young, and great and small,And rich and poor you'll see;Therefore let's to the Coffee all,Come all away with me."
"You shall know there what fashions are,
How perriwigs are curl'd;
And for a penny you shall hear
All novels in the world;
Both old and young, and great and small,
And rich and poor you'll see;
Therefore let's to the Coffee all,
Come all away with me."
Lloyd's is one of the earliest establishments of the kind; it is referred to in a poem printed in the year 1700, called theWealthy Shopkeeper, or Charitable Christian:
"Now to Lloyd's coffee-house he never fails,To read the letters, and attend the sales."
"Now to Lloyd's coffee-house he never fails,To read the letters, and attend the sales."
"Now to Lloyd's coffee-house he never fails,To read the letters, and attend the sales."
"Now to Lloyd's coffee-house he never fails,
To read the letters, and attend the sales."
In 1710, Steele (Tatler, No. 246,) dates from Lloyd'shis Petition on Coffee-house Orators and Newsvendors. And Addison, inSpectator, April 23, 1711, relates this droll incident:—"About a week since there happened to me a very odd accident, by reason of which one of these my papers of minutes which I had accidentally dropped at Lloyd's Coffee-house, where the auctions are usually kept. Before I missed it, there were a cluster of people who had found it, and were diverting themselves with it at one end of the coffee-house. It had raised so much laughter among them before I observed what they were about, that I had not the courage to own it. The boy of the coffee-house, when they had done with it, carried it about in his hand, asking everybody if they had dropped a written paper; but nobody challenging it, he was ordered by those merry gentlemen who had before perused it, to get up into the auction-pulpit, and read it to the whole room, that if anybody would own it, they might. The boy accordingly mounted the pulpit, and with a very audible voice read what proved to be minutes, which made the whole coffee-house very merry; some of them concluded it was written by a madman, and others by somebody that had been taking notes out of theSpectator. After it was read, and the boy was coming out of the pulpit, the Spectator reached his arm out, and desired the boy to give it him; which was done according. This drew the whole eyes of the company upon the Spectator; but after casting a cursory glance over it, he shook his head twice or thrice at the reading of it, twisted it into a kind of match, and lighted his pipe with it. 'My profound silence,' says the Spectator, 'together with the steadiness of my countenance, and the gravity of my behaviour during the whole transaction, raised a very loud laugh on all sides of me; but as I had escaped all suspicion ofbeing the author, I was very well satisfied, and applying myself to my pipe and thePostman, took no further notice of anything that passed about me.'"
Nothing is positively known of the original Lloyd; but in 1750, there was issued an Irregular Ode, entitledA Summer's Farewell to the Gulph of Venice, in the Southwell Frigate, Captain Manly, jun., commanding, stated to be "printed for Lloyd, well-known for obliging the public with the Freshest and Most Authentic Ship News, and sold by A. More, near St. Paul's, and at the Pamphlet Shops in London and Westminster,MDCCL."
In theGentleman's Magazine, for 1740, we read:—"11 March, 1740, Mr. Baker, Master of Lloyd's Coffee-house, in Lombard-street, waited on Sir Robert Walpole with the news of Admiral Vernon's taking Portobello. This was the first account received thereof, and proving true, Sir Robert was pleased to order him a handsome present."
Lloyd's is, perhaps, the oldest collective establishment in the City. It was first under the management of a single individual, who started it as a room where the underwriters and insurers of ships' cargoes could meet for refreshment and conversation. The Coffee-house was originally in Lombard-street, at the corner of Abchurch-lane; subsequently in Pope's-head-alley, where it was called "New Lloyd's Coffee-house;" but on February 14th, 1774, it was removed to the north-west corner of the Royal Exchange, where it remained until the destruction of that building by fire.
In rebuilding the Exchange, a fine suite of apartments was provided for Lloyd's "Subscription Rooms," which are the rendezvous of the most eminent merchants, ship-owners, underwriters, insurance, stock, and exchangebrokers. Here is obtained the earliest news of the arrival and sailing of vessels, losses at sea, captures, recaptures, engagements, and other shipping intelligence; and proprietors of ships and freights are insured by the underwriters. The rooms are in the Venetian style, with Roman enrichments. They are—1. The Subscribers' or Underwriters', the Merchants', and the Captains' Room. At the entrance of the room are exhibited the Shipping Lists, received from Lloyd's agents at home and abroad, and affording particulars of departures or arrivals of vessels, wrecks, salvage, or sale of property saved, etc. To the right and left are "Lloyd's Books," two enormous ledgers: right hand, ships "spoken with," or arrived at their destined ports; left hand: records of wrecks, fires, or severe collisions, written in a fine Roman hand, in "double lines." To assist the underwriters in their calculations, at the end of the room is an Anemometer, which registers the state of the wind day and night; attached is a rain-gauge.
The life of the underwriter is one of great anxiety and speculation. "Among the old stagers of the room, there is often strong antipathy to the insurance of certain ships. In the case of one vessel it was strangely followed out. She was a steady trader, named after one of the most venerable members of the room; and it was a curious coincidence that he invariably refused to 'write her' for 'a single line.' Often he was joked upon the subject, and pressed to 'do a little' for his namesake; but he as often declined, shaking his head in a doubtful manner. One morning the subscribers were reading the 'double lines,' or the losses, and among them was this identical ship, which had gone to pieces, and become a total wreck."—The City,2nd edit., 1848.
The Merchants' Room is superintended by a master, who can speak several languages: here are duplicate copies of the books in the underwriters' room, and files of English and foreign newspapers.
The Captains' Room is a kind of coffee-room, where merchants and ship-owners meet captains, and sales of ships, etc. take place.
The members of Lloyd's have ever been distinguished by their loyalty and benevolent spirit. In 1802, they voted 2000l.to the Life-boat subscription. On July 20, 1803, at the invasion panic, they commenced the Patriotic Fund with 20,000l.3-per-cent. Consols; besides 70,312l.7s.individual subscriptions, and 15,000l.additional donations. After the battle of the Nile, in 1798, they collected for the widows and wounded seamen 32,423l.; and after Lord Howe's victory, June 1, 1794, for similar purposes, 21,281l.They have also contributed 5000l.to the London Hospital; 1000.lfor the suffering inhabitants of Russia in 1813; 1000l.for the relief of the militia in our North American colonies, 1813; and 10,000l.for the Waterloo subscription, in 1815. The Committee vote medals and rewards to those who distinguish themselves in saving life from shipwreck.
Some years since, a member of Lloyd's drew from the books the following lines of names contained therein:—
"A Black and a White, with a Brown and a Green,And also a Gray at Lloyd's room may be seen;With Parson and Clark, then a Bishop and Pryor,And Water, how Strange adding fuel to fire;While, at the same time, 'twill sure pass belief,There's a Winter, a Garland, Furze, Bud, and a Leaf;With Freshfield, and Greenhill, Lovegrove, and a Dale;Though there's never a Breeze, there's always a Gale.No music is there, though a Whistler and Harper;There's a Blunt and a Sharp, many flats, but no sharper.There's a Danniell, a Samuel, a Sampson, an Abell;The first and the last write at the same table.Then there's Virtue and Faith there, with Wylie and Rasch,Disagreeing elsewhere, yet at Lloyd's never clash,There's a Long and a Short, Small, Little, and Fatt,With one Robert Dewar, who ne'er wears his hat:No drinking goes on, though there's Porter and Sack,Lots of Scotchmen there are, beginning with Mac;Macdonald, to wit, Macintosh and McGhie,McFarquhar, McKenzie, McAndrew, Mackie.An evangelized Jew, and an infidel Quaker;There's a Bunn and a Pye, with a Cook and a Baker,Though no Tradesmen or Shopmen are found, yet herewithIs a Taylor, a Saddler, a Paynter, a Smyth;Also Butler and Chapman, with Butter and Glover,Come up to Lloyd's room their bad risks to cover.Fox, Shepherd, Hart, Buck, likewise come every day;And though many an ass, there is only one Bray.There is a Mill and Miller, A-dam and a Poole,A Constable, Sheriff, a Law, and a Rule.There's a Newman, a Niemann, a Redman, a Pitman,Now to rhyme with the last, there is no other fit man.These, with Young, Cheap, and Lent, Luckie, Hastie, and Slow,With dear Mr. Allnutt, Allfrey, and Auldjo,Are all the queer names that at Lloyd's I can show."
"A Black and a White, with a Brown and a Green,And also a Gray at Lloyd's room may be seen;With Parson and Clark, then a Bishop and Pryor,And Water, how Strange adding fuel to fire;While, at the same time, 'twill sure pass belief,There's a Winter, a Garland, Furze, Bud, and a Leaf;With Freshfield, and Greenhill, Lovegrove, and a Dale;Though there's never a Breeze, there's always a Gale.No music is there, though a Whistler and Harper;There's a Blunt and a Sharp, many flats, but no sharper.There's a Danniell, a Samuel, a Sampson, an Abell;The first and the last write at the same table.Then there's Virtue and Faith there, with Wylie and Rasch,Disagreeing elsewhere, yet at Lloyd's never clash,There's a Long and a Short, Small, Little, and Fatt,With one Robert Dewar, who ne'er wears his hat:No drinking goes on, though there's Porter and Sack,Lots of Scotchmen there are, beginning with Mac;Macdonald, to wit, Macintosh and McGhie,McFarquhar, McKenzie, McAndrew, Mackie.An evangelized Jew, and an infidel Quaker;There's a Bunn and a Pye, with a Cook and a Baker,Though no Tradesmen or Shopmen are found, yet herewithIs a Taylor, a Saddler, a Paynter, a Smyth;Also Butler and Chapman, with Butter and Glover,Come up to Lloyd's room their bad risks to cover.Fox, Shepherd, Hart, Buck, likewise come every day;And though many an ass, there is only one Bray.There is a Mill and Miller, A-dam and a Poole,A Constable, Sheriff, a Law, and a Rule.There's a Newman, a Niemann, a Redman, a Pitman,Now to rhyme with the last, there is no other fit man.These, with Young, Cheap, and Lent, Luckie, Hastie, and Slow,With dear Mr. Allnutt, Allfrey, and Auldjo,Are all the queer names that at Lloyd's I can show."
"A Black and a White, with a Brown and a Green,And also a Gray at Lloyd's room may be seen;With Parson and Clark, then a Bishop and Pryor,And Water, how Strange adding fuel to fire;While, at the same time, 'twill sure pass belief,There's a Winter, a Garland, Furze, Bud, and a Leaf;With Freshfield, and Greenhill, Lovegrove, and a Dale;Though there's never a Breeze, there's always a Gale.No music is there, though a Whistler and Harper;There's a Blunt and a Sharp, many flats, but no sharper.There's a Danniell, a Samuel, a Sampson, an Abell;The first and the last write at the same table.Then there's Virtue and Faith there, with Wylie and Rasch,Disagreeing elsewhere, yet at Lloyd's never clash,There's a Long and a Short, Small, Little, and Fatt,With one Robert Dewar, who ne'er wears his hat:No drinking goes on, though there's Porter and Sack,Lots of Scotchmen there are, beginning with Mac;Macdonald, to wit, Macintosh and McGhie,McFarquhar, McKenzie, McAndrew, Mackie.An evangelized Jew, and an infidel Quaker;There's a Bunn and a Pye, with a Cook and a Baker,Though no Tradesmen or Shopmen are found, yet herewithIs a Taylor, a Saddler, a Paynter, a Smyth;Also Butler and Chapman, with Butter and Glover,Come up to Lloyd's room their bad risks to cover.Fox, Shepherd, Hart, Buck, likewise come every day;And though many an ass, there is only one Bray.There is a Mill and Miller, A-dam and a Poole,A Constable, Sheriff, a Law, and a Rule.There's a Newman, a Niemann, a Redman, a Pitman,Now to rhyme with the last, there is no other fit man.These, with Young, Cheap, and Lent, Luckie, Hastie, and Slow,With dear Mr. Allnutt, Allfrey, and Auldjo,Are all the queer names that at Lloyd's I can show."
"A Black and a White, with a Brown and a Green,
And also a Gray at Lloyd's room may be seen;
With Parson and Clark, then a Bishop and Pryor,
And Water, how Strange adding fuel to fire;
While, at the same time, 'twill sure pass belief,
There's a Winter, a Garland, Furze, Bud, and a Leaf;
With Freshfield, and Greenhill, Lovegrove, and a Dale;
Though there's never a Breeze, there's always a Gale.
No music is there, though a Whistler and Harper;
There's a Blunt and a Sharp, many flats, but no sharper.
There's a Danniell, a Samuel, a Sampson, an Abell;
The first and the last write at the same table.
Then there's Virtue and Faith there, with Wylie and Rasch,
Disagreeing elsewhere, yet at Lloyd's never clash,
There's a Long and a Short, Small, Little, and Fatt,
With one Robert Dewar, who ne'er wears his hat:
No drinking goes on, though there's Porter and Sack,
Lots of Scotchmen there are, beginning with Mac;
Macdonald, to wit, Macintosh and McGhie,
McFarquhar, McKenzie, McAndrew, Mackie.
An evangelized Jew, and an infidel Quaker;
There's a Bunn and a Pye, with a Cook and a Baker,
Though no Tradesmen or Shopmen are found, yet herewith
Is a Taylor, a Saddler, a Paynter, a Smyth;
Also Butler and Chapman, with Butter and Glover,
Come up to Lloyd's room their bad risks to cover.
Fox, Shepherd, Hart, Buck, likewise come every day;
And though many an ass, there is only one Bray.
There is a Mill and Miller, A-dam and a Poole,
A Constable, Sheriff, a Law, and a Rule.
There's a Newman, a Niemann, a Redman, a Pitman,
Now to rhyme with the last, there is no other fit man.
These, with Young, Cheap, and Lent, Luckie, Hastie, and Slow,
With dear Mr. Allnutt, Allfrey, and Auldjo,
Are all the queer names that at Lloyd's I can show."
Many of these individuals are now deceased; but a frequenter of Lloyd's in former years will recognize the persons mentioned.
Cornhill, is one of the oldest of the City news-rooms, and is frequented by merchants and captains connected with the commerce of China, India, and Australia.
"The subscription-room is well-furnished with files of the principal Canton, Hongkong, Macao, Penang, Singapore, Calcutta, Bombay, Madras, Sydney, Hobart Town, Launceston, Adelaide, and Port Phillip papers, and Prices Current: besides shipping lists and papers from the various intermediate stations or ports touched at, as St. Helena, the Cape of Good Hope, etc. The books of East India shipping include arrivals, departures, casualties, etc. The full business is between two and three o'clock, p.m. In 1845, John Tawell, the Slough murderer, was captured at [traced to] the Jerusalem, which he was in the habit of visiting, to ascertain information of the state of his property in Sydney."—The City, 2nd edit., 1848.
Change-alley, is remembered as a tavern some forty years since. The landlord, after whom it is named, may possibly have been a descendant from "Baker," the master of Lloyd's Rooms. It has been, for many years, a chop-house, with direct service from the gridiron,and upon pewter; though on the first-floor, joint dinners are served: its post-prandial punch was formerly much drunk. In the lower room is a portrait of James, thirty-five years waiter here.
Of Ward'sSecret Historyof the Clubs of his time we have already given several specimens. Little is known of him personally. He was, probably, born in 1660, and early in life he visited the West Indies. Sometime before 1669, he kept a tavern and punch-house, next door to Gray's Inn, of which we shall speak hereafter. His works are now rarely to be met with. His doggrel secured him a place in theDunciad, where not only his elevation to the pillory is mentioned, but the fact is also alluded to that his productions were extensively shipped to the Plantations or Colonies of those days,—
"Nor sail with Ward to ape-and-monkey climes,Where vile mundungus trucks for viler rhymes,"
"Nor sail with Ward to ape-and-monkey climes,Where vile mundungus trucks for viler rhymes,"
"Nor sail with Ward to ape-and-monkey climes,Where vile mundungus trucks for viler rhymes,"
"Nor sail with Ward to ape-and-monkey climes,
Where vile mundungus trucks for viler rhymes,"
the only places, probably, where they were extensively read. In return for the doubtful celebrity thus conferred upon his rhymes, he attacked the satirist in a wretched production, intituledApollo's Maggot in his Cups; his expiring effort, probably, for he died, as recorded in the pages of our first volume, on the 22nd of June, 1731. His remains were buried in the churchyard of Old St. Pancras, his body being followed to the grave solely by his wife and daughter, as directed by him in his poeticalwill, written some six years before. We learn from Noble that there are no less than four engraved portraits of Ned Ward. The structure of theLondon Spy, the only work of his that at present comes under our notice, is simple enough. The author is self-personified as a countryman, who, tired with his "tedious confinement to a country hutt," comes up to London; where he fortunately meets with a quondam school-fellow,—a "man about town," in modern phrase,—who undertakes to introduce him to the various scenes, sights, and mysteries of the, even then, "great metropolis:" much like the visit, in fact, from Jerry Hawthorn to Corinthian Tom, only anticipated by some hundred and twenty years. "We should not be at all surprised (says theGentleman's Magazine,) to find that the stirring scenes of Pierce Egan'sLife in Londonwere first suggested by more homely pages of theLondon Spy."
At the outset of the work we have a description—not a very flattering one, certainly—of a common coffee-house of the day, one of the many hundreds with which London then teemed. Although coffee had been only known in England some fifty years, coffee-houses were already among the most favourite institutions of the land; though they had not as yet attained the political importance which they acquired in the days of theTatlerandSpectator, some ten or twelve years later:—
"'Come,' says my friend, 'let us step into this coffee-house here; as you are a stranger in the town, it will afford you some diversion.' Accordingly in we went, where a parcel of muddling muckworms were as busy as so many rats in an old cheese-loft; some going, some coming, some scribbling, some talking,some drinking, some smoking, others jangling; and the whole room stinking of tobacco, like a Dutch scoot [schuyt], or a boatswain's cabin. The walls were hung round with gilt frames, as a farrier's shop with horse-shoes; which contained abundance of rarities, viz., Nectar and Ambrosia, May-dew, Golden Elixirs, Popular Pills, Liquid Snuff, Beautifying Waters, Dentifrices, Drops, and Lozenges; all as infallible as the Pope, 'Where every one (as the famous Saffoldehas it) above the rest, Deservedly has gain'd the name of best:' every medicine being so catholic, it pretends to nothing less than universality. So that, had not my friend told me 'twas a coffee-house, I should have taken it for Quacks' Hall, or the parlour of some eminent mountebank. We each of us stuck in our mouths a pipe of sotweed, and now began to look about us."
A description of Man's Coffee-house, situate in Scotland-yard, near the water-side, is an excellent picture of a fashionable coffee-house of the day. It took its name from the proprietor, Alexander Man, and was sometimes known as Old Man's, or the Royal Coffee-house, to distinguish it from Young Man's and Little Man's minor establishments in the neighbourhood:—
"We now ascended a pair of stairs, which brought us into an old-fashioned room, where a gaudy crowd of odoriferousTom-Essenceswere walking backwards and forwards with their hats in their hands, not daring to convert them to their intended use, lest it should put the foretops of their wigs into some disorder. We squeezed through till we got to the end of the room, where, at a small table, we sat down, and observed that it was as great a rarity to hear anybody call for a dish ofPolitician's porridge, or any other liquor, as it is tohear a beau call for a pipe of tobacco; their whole exercise being to charge and discharge their nostrils, and keep the curls of their periwigs in their proper order. The clashing of their snush-box lids, in opening and shutting, made more noise than their tongues. Bows and cringes of the newest mode were here exchanged, 'twixt friend and friend, with wonderful exactness. They made a humming like so many hornets in a country chimney, not with their talking, but with their whispering over their newMinuetsandBories, with their hands in their pockets, if only freed from their snush-box. We now began to be thoughtful of a pipe of tobacco; whereupon we ventured to call for some instruments of evaporation, which were accordingly brought us, but with such a kind of unwillingness, as if they would much rather have been rid of our company; for their tables were so very neat, and shined with rubbing, like the upper-leathers of an alderman's shoes, and as brown as the top of a country housewife's cupboard. The floor was as clean swept as a Sir Courtly's dining-room, which made us look round, to see if there were no orders hung up to impose the forfeiture of so much Mop-money upon any person that should spit out of the chimney-corner. Notwithstanding we wanted an example to encourage us in our porterly rudeness, we ordered them to light the wax-candle, by which we ignified our pipes and blew about our whiffs; at which several Sir Foplins drew their faces into as many peevish wrinkles, as the beaux at the Bow-street Coffee-house, near Covent-garden did, when the gentleman in masquerade came in amongst them, with his oyster-barrel muff and turnip-buttons, to ridicule their fopperies."
A cabinet picture of the Coffee-house life of a century and a half since is thus given in the well-knownJourney through Englandin 1714: "I am lodged," says the tourist, "in the street called Pall Mall, the ordinary residence of all strangers, because of its vicinity to the Queen's Palace, the Park, the Parliament House, the Theatres, and the Chocolate and Coffee-houses, where the best company frequent. If you would know our manner of living, 'tis thus: we rise by nine, and those that frequent great men's levees, find entertainment at them till eleven, or, as in Holland, go to tea-tables; about twelve thebeau mondeassemble in several Coffee or Chocolate houses: the best of which are the Cocoa-tree and White's Chocolate-houses, St. James's, the Smyrna, Mrs. Rochford's, and the British Coffee-houses; and all these so near one another, that in less than an hour you see the company of them all. We are carried to these places in chairs (or sedans), which are here very cheap, a guinea a week, or a shilling per hour, and your chairmen serve you for porters to run on errands, as your gondoliers do at Venice.
"If it be fine weather, we take a turn into the Park till two, when we go to dinner; and if it be dirty, you are entertained at piquet or basset at White's, or you may talk politics at the Smyrna or St. James's. I must not forget to tell you that the parties have their different places, where, however, a stranger is always well received;but a Whig will no more go to the Cocoa-tree or Ozinda's, than a Tory will be seen at the Coffee-house, St. James's.
"The Scots go generally to the British, and a mixture of all sorts to the Smyrna. There are other little Coffee-houses much frequented in this neighbourhood,—Young Man's for officers, Old Man's for stock-jobbers, pay-masters, and courtiers, and Little Man's for sharpers. I never was so confounded in my life as when I entered into this last: I saw two or three tables full at faro, heard the box and dice rattling in the room above stairs, and was surrounded by a set of sharp faces, that I was afraid would have devoured me with their eyes. I was glad to drop two or three half crowns at faro to get off with a clear skin, and was overjoyed I so got rid of them.
"At two, we generally go to dinner; ordinaries are not so common here as abroad, yet the French have set up two or three good ones for the convenience of foreigners in Suffolk-street, where one is tolerably well served; but the general way here is to make a party at the Coffee-house to go to dine at the tavern, where we sit till six, when we go to the play; except you are invited to the table of some great man, which strangers are always courted to, and nobly entertained."
We may here group the leading Coffee-houses,[8]the principal of which will be more fully described hereafter:
"Before 1715, the number of Coffee-houses in London was reckoned at two thousand. Every profession, trade, class, party, had its favourite Coffee-house. The lawyers discussed law or literature, criticized the last new play, or retailed the freshest Westminster Hall "bite"at Nando's or the Grecian, both close on the purlieus of the Temple. Here the young bloods of the Inns-of-Court paraded their Indian gowns and lace caps of a morning, and swaggered in their lace coats and Mechlin ruffles at night, after the theatre. The Cits met to discuss the rise and fall of stocks, and to settle the rate of insurance, at Garraway's or Jonathan's; the parsons exchanged university gossip, or commented on Dr. Sacheverel's last sermon at Truby's or at Child's in St. Paul's Churchyard; the soldiers mustered to grumble over their grievances at Old or Young Man's, near Charing Cross; the St. James's and the Smyrna were the head-quarters of the Whig politicians, while the Tories frequented the Cocoa-tree or Ozinda's, all in St. James's-street; Scotchmen had their house of call at Forrest's, Frenchmen at Giles's or Old Slaughter's, in St. Martin's-lane; the gamesters shook their elbows in White's and the Chocolate-houses round Covent Garden; thevirtuosihonoured the neighbourhood of Gresham College; and the leading wits gathered at Will's, Button's, or Tom's, in Great Russell-street, where after the theatre was playing at piquet and the best of conversation till midnight. At all these places, except a few of the most aristocratic Coffee or Chocolate-houses of the West-End, smoking was allowed. A penny was laid down at the bar on entering, and the price of a dish of tea or coffee seems to have been two-pence: this charge covered newspapers and lights. The established frequenters of the house had their regular seats, and special attention from the fair lady at the bar, and the tea or coffee boys.
"To these Coffee-houses men of all classes, who had either leisure or money, resorted to spend both; and inthem, politics, play, scandal, criticism, and business, went on hand-in-hand. The transition from Coffee-house to Club was easy. Thus Tom's, a Coffee-house till 1764, in that year, by a guinea subscription, among nearly seven hundred of the nobility, foreign ministers, gentry, and geniuses of the age, became the place of meeting for the subscribers exclusively.[9]In the same way, White's and the Cocoa-tree changed their character from Chocolate-house to Club. When once a house had customers enough of standing and good repute, and acquainted with each other, it was quite worth while—considering the characters who, on the strength of assurance, tolerable manners, and a laced coat, often got a footing in these houses while they continued open to the public, to purchase power of excluding all but subscribers."
Thus, the chief places of resort were at this period Coffee and Chocolate-houses, in which some men almost lived, as they do at the present day, at their Clubs. Whoever wished to find a gentleman commonly asked, not where he resided, but which coffee-house he frequented. No decently attired idler was excluded, provided he laid down his penny at the bar; but this he could seldom do without struggling through the crowd of beaux who fluttered round the lovely bar-maid. Here the proud nobleman or country squire was not to be distinguished from the genteel thief and daring highwayman. "Pray, sir," says Aimwell to Gibbet, in Farquhar'sBeaux Stratagem, "ha'n't I seen your face at Will's Coffee-house?" The robber's reply is: "Yes, Sir, and at White's too."
Three of Addison's papers in theSpectator, (Nos. 402, 481, and 568,) are humorously descriptive of the Coffee-houses of this period. No. 403 opens with the remark that "the courts of two countries do not so much differ from one another, as the Court and the City, in their peculiar ways of life and conversation. In short, the inhabitants of St. James's, notwithstanding they live under the same laws, and speak the same language, are a distinct people from those of Cheapside, who are likewise removed from those of the Temple on the one side, and those of Smithfield on the other, by several climates and degrees in their way of thinking and conversing together." For this reason, the author takes a ramble through London and Westminster, to gather the opinions of his ingenious countrymen upon a current report of the King of France's death. "I know the faces of all the principal politicians within the bills of mortality; and as every Coffee-house has some particular statesman belonging to it, who is the mouth of the street where he lives, I always take care to place myself near him, in order to know his judgment on the present posture of affairs. And, as I foresaw, the above report would produce a new face of things in Europe, and many curious speculations in our British Coffee-houses, I was very desirous to learn the thoughts of our most eminent politicians on that occasion.
"That I might begin as near the fountain-head as possible, I first of all called in at St. James's, where I found the whole outward room in a buzz of politics; the speculations were but very indifferent towards the door, but grew finer as you advanced to the upper end of the room, and were so much improved by a knot of theorists, who sat in the inner room, within the steams of thecoffee-pot, that I there heard the whole Spanish monarchy disposed of, and all the line of Bourbons provided for in less than a quarter of an hour.
"I afterwards called in at Giles's, where I saw a board of French gentlemen sitting upon the life and death of their grand monarque. Those among them who had espoused the Whig interest very positively affirmed that he had departed this life about a week since, and therefore, proceeded without any further delay to the release of their friends in the galleys, and to their own re-establishment; but, finding they could not agree among themselves, I proceeded on my intended progress.
"Upon my arrival at Jenny Man's I saw an alert young fellow that cocked his hat upon a friend of his, who entered just at the same time with myself, and accosted him after the following manner: 'Well, Jack, the old prig is dead at last. Sharp's the word. Now or never, boy. Up to the walls of Paris, directly;' with several other deep reflections of the same nature.
"I met with very little variation in the politics between Charing Cross and Covent Garden. And, upon my going into Will's, I found their discourse was gone off, from the death of the French King, to that of Monsieur Boileau, Racine, Corneille, and several other poets, whom they regretted on this occasion as persons who would have obliged the world with very noble elegies on the death of so great a prince, and so eminent a patron of learning.
"At a Coffee-house near the Temple, I found a couple of young gentlemen engaged very smartly in a dispute on the succession to the Spanish monarchy. One of them seemed to have been retained as advocate for the Duke of Anjou, the other for his Imperial Majesty.They were both for regarding the title to that kingdom by the statute laws of England: but finding them going out of my depth, I pressed forward to Paul's Churchyard, where I listened with great attention to a learned man, who gave the company an account of the deplorable state of France during the minority of the deceased King.
"I then turned on my right hand into Fish-street, where the chief politician of that quarter, upon hearing the news, (after having taken a pipe of tobacco, and ruminated for some time,) 'If,' says he, 'the King of France is certainly dead, we shall have plenty of mackerel this season: our fishery will not be disturbed by privateers, as it has been for these ten years past.' He afterwards considered how the death of this great man would affect our pilchards, and by several other remarks infused a general joy into his whole audience.
"I afterwards entered a by-coffee-house that stood at the upper end of a narrow lane, where I met with a conjuror, engaged very warmly with a laceman who was the great support of a neighbouring conventicle. The matter in debate was whether the late French King was most like Augustus Cæsar, or Nero. The controversy was carried on with great heat on both sides, and as each of them looked upon me very frequently during the course of their debate, I was under some apprehension that they would appeal to me, and therefore laid down my penny at the bar, and made the best of my way to Cheapside.
"I here gazed upon the signs for some time before I found one to my purpose. The first object I met in the coffee-room was a person who expressed a great grief for the death of the French King; but upon his explaining himself, I found his sorrow did not arise from theloss of the monarch, but for his having sold out of the Bank about three days before he heard the news of it. Upon which a haberdasher, who was the oracle of the Coffee-house, and had his circle of admirers about him, called several to witness that he had declared his opinion, above a week before, that the French King was certainly dead; to which he added, that, considering the late advices we had received from France, it was impossible that it could be otherwise. As he was laying these together, and debating to his hearers with great authority, there came a gentleman from Garraway's, who told us that there were several letters from France just come in, with advice that the King was in good health, and was gone out a hunting the very morning the post came away; upon which the haberdasher stole off his hat that hung upon a wooden peg by him, and retired to his shop with great confusion. This intelligence put a stop to my travels, which I had prosecuted with so much satisfaction; not being a little pleased to hear so many different opinions upon so great an event, and to observe how naturally, upon such a piece of news, every one is apt to consider it to his particular interest and advantage."
The following remarks by Sir John Fielding[10]upon the dangerous classes to be found in our metropolitan Coffee-houses three-quarters of a century since, are describedas "necessary Cautions to all Strangers resorting thereto."
"A stranger or foreigner should particularly frequent the Coffee-houses in London. These are very numerous in every part of the town; will give him the best insight into the different characters of the people, and the justest notion of the inhabitants in general, of all the houses of public resort these are the least dangerous. Yet, some of these are not entirely free from sharpers. The deceivers of this denomination are generally descended from families of some repute, have had the groundwork of a genteel education, and are capable of making a tolerable appearance. Having been equally profuse of their own substance and character, and learned, by having been undone, the ways of undoing, they lie in wait for those who have more wealth and less knowledge of the town. By joining you in discourse, by admiring what you say, by an officiousness to wait upon you, and to assist you in anything you want to have or know, they insinuate themselves into the company and acquaintance of strangers, whom they watch every opportunity of fleecing. And if one finds in you the least inclination to cards, dice, the billiard-table, bowling-green, or any other sort of gaming, you are morally sure of being taken in. For this set of gentry are adepts in all the arts of knavery and tricking. If, therefore, you should observe a person, without any previous acquaintance, paying you extraordinary marks of civility; if he puts in for a share of your conversation with a pretended air of deference; if he tenders his assistance, courts your acquaintance, and would be suddenly thought your friend, avoid him as a pest; for these are the usual baits by which the unwary are caught."
Among the curiosities of Old Chelsea, almost as well known as its china, was the Coffee-house and Museum, No. 18, Cheyne Walk, opened by a barber, named Salter, in 1695. Sir Hans Sloane contributed some of the refuse gimcracks of his own collection; and Vice-Admiral Munden, who had been long on the coast of Spain, where he had acquired a fondness for Spanish titles, named the keeper of the houseDon Saltero, and his coffee-house and museum,Don Saltero's.
The place, however, would, in all probability, have enjoyed little beyond its local fame, had not Sir Richard Steele immortalized the Don and Don Saltero's inThe Tatler, No. 34, June 28, 1700; wherein he tells us of the necessity of travelling to know the world by his journey for fresh air, no further than the village of Chelsea, of which he fancied that he could give an immediate description, from the five fields, where the robbers lie in wait, to the Coffee-house, where the literati sit in council. But he found, even in a place so near town as this, there were enormities and persons of eminence, whom he before knew nothing of.
The Coffee-house was almost absorbed by the Museum. "When I came into the Coffee-house," says Steele, "I had not time to salute the company, before my eyes were diverted by ten thousand gimcracks round the room, and on the ceiling. When my first astonishment was over, comes to me a sage of thin and meagre countenance, which aspect made me doubtwhether reading or fretting had made it so philosophic; but I very soon perceived him to be of that sort which the ancients call 'gingivistee,' in our language 'tooth-drawers,' I immediately had a respect for the man; for these practical philosophers go upon a very practical hypothesis, not to cure, but to take away the part affected. My love of mankind made me very benevolent to Mr. Salter, for such is the name of this eminent barber and antiquary."
The Don was famous for his punch and his skill on the fiddle; he also drew teeth, and wrote verses; he described his museum in several stanzas, one of which is—