Volume Ii Part 18 (1/2)

Walpole refers to a great supper at the Bedford Head, ordered by Paul Whitehead, for a party of gentlemen dressed like sailors and masked, who, in 1741, on the night of Vernon's birthday, went round Covent Garden with a drum, beating up for a volunteer mob; but it did not take.

THE SALUTATION, TAVISTOCK STREET.

This was a noted tavern in the last century, at the corner of Tavistock-court, Covent Garden. Its original sign was taken down by Mr. Yerrel, the landlord, who informed J. T. Smith, that it consisted of two gentlemen saluting each other, dressed in flowing wigs, and coats with square pockets, large enough to hold folio books, and wearing swords, this being the dress of the time when the sign was put up, supposed to have been about 1707, the date on a stone at the Covent Garden end of the court.

Richard Leveridge, the celebrated singer, kept the Salutation after his retirement from the stage; and here he brought out his _Collection of Songs_, with the music, engraved and printed for the author, 1727.

Among the frequenters of the Salutation was William Cussans, or Cuzzons, a native of Barbadoes, and a most eccentric fellow, who lived upon an income allowed him by his family. He once hired himself as a potman, and then as a coal-heaver. He was never seen to smile. He personated a chimney-sweeper at the Pantheon and Opera-house masquerades, and wrote the popular song of Robinson Crusoe:

”He got all the wood That ever he could, And he stuck it together with glue so; And made him a hut, And in it he put The carcase of Robinson Crusoe.”

He was a baccha.n.a.lian customer at the Salutation, and his nightly quantum of wine was liberal: he would sometimes take eight pints at a sitting, without being the least intoxicated.

THE CONSt.i.tUTION TAVERN, COVENT GARDEN.

In Bedford-street, near St. Paul's church-gate, was an old tavern, the Const.i.tution (now rebuilt), noted as the resort of working men of letters, and for its late hours; indeed, the sittings here were perennial. Among other eccentric persons we remember to have seen here, was an accomplished scholar named Churchill, who had travelled much in the East, smoked and ate opium to excess, and was full of information. Of another grade were two friends who lived in the same house, and had for many years ”turned night into day;” rising at eight o'clock in the evening, and going to bed at eight next morning. They had in common some astrological, alchemical, and _spiritual_ notions, and often pa.s.sed the whole night at the Const.i.tution. This was the favourite haunt of Wilson, the landscape-painter, who then lived in the Garden; he could, at the Const.i.tution, freely indulge in a pot of porter, and enjoy the fun of his brother-painter, Mortimer, who preferred this house, as it was near his own in Church-pa.s.sage.

THE CIDER CELLAR.

This strange place, upon the south side of Maiden-lane, Covent Garden, was opened about 1730, and is described as a ”Midnight Concert Room,”

in _Adventures Underground_, 1750. Professor Porson was a great lover of cider, the patronymic drink for which the cellar was once famed; it became his nightly haunt, for wherever he spent the evening, he finished the night at the Cider Cellar. One night, in 1795, as he sat here smoking his pipe, with his friend George Gordon, he abruptly said, ”Friend George, do you think the widow Lunan an agreeable sort of personage, as times go?” Gordon a.s.sented. ”In that case,” replied Porson, ”you must meet me to-morrow morning at St. Martin's-in-the-Fields, at eight o'clock;” and without saying more, Porson paid his reckoning, and went home. Next morning, Gordon repaired to the church, and there found Porson with Mrs. Lunan and a female friend, and the parson waiting to begin the ceremony. The service being ended, the bride and her friend retired by one door of the church, and Porson and Gordon by another. The bride and bridegroom dined together with friends, but after dinner Porson contrived to slip away, and pa.s.sed the rest of the day with a learned friend, and did not leave till the family were about to retire for the night, when Porson adjourned to the Cider Cellar, and there stayed till eight o'clock next morning. One of his companions here is said to have shouted before Porson, ”d.i.c.k can beat us all: he can drink all night and spout all day,” which greatly pleased the Professor.

We remember the place not many years after Porson's death, when it was, as its name implied, _a cellar_, and the fittings were rude and rough: over the mantelpiece was a large mezzotint portrait of Porson, framed and glazed, which we take to be the missing portrait named by the Rev. Mr. Watson, in his Life of the Professor. The Cider Cellar was subsequently enlarged; but its exhibitions grew to be too sensational for long existence.

OFFLEY'S, HENRIETTA-STREET.

This noted tavern, of our day, enjoyed great and deserved celebrity, though short-lived. It was No. 23, on the south side of Henrietta-street, Covent Garden, and its fame rested upon Burton ale, and the largest supper-room in this theatrical neighbourhood; with no pictures, placards, paper-hangings, or vulgar coffee-room finery, to disturb one's relish of the good things there provided. Offley, the proprietor, was originally at Bellamy's, and ”as such, was privileged to watch, and occasionally admitted to a.s.sist, the presiding priestess of the gridiron at the exercise of her mysteries.” Offley's chop was thick and substantial; the House of Commons' chop was small and thin, and honourable Members sometimes ate a dozen at a sitting. Offley's chop was served with shalots shred, and warmed in gravy, and accompanied by nips of Burton ale, and was a delicious after-theatre supper. The large room at that hour was generally crowded with a higher cla.s.s of men than are to be seen in taverns of the present day.

There was excellent dining up-stairs, with wines really worth drinking--all with a sort of Quakerly plainness, but solid comfort.

The fast men came to the great room, where the _specialite_ was singing by amateurs upon one evening of the week; and to prevent the chorus waking the dead in their cerements in the adjoining churchyard, the coffee-room window was double. The ”professionals” stayed away.

Francis Crew sang Moore's melodies, then in their zenith; sometimes, in a spirit of waggery, an amateur would sing ”Chevy Chase” in full; and now and then Offley himself trolled out one of Captain Morris's lyrics. Such was this right joyously convivial place some five-and-forty years since upon the singing night. Upon other evenings, there came to a large round table (a sort of privileged place) a few well-to-do, substantial tradesmen from the neighbourhood, among whom was the renowned surgical-instrument maker from the Strand, who had the sagacity to buy the iron from off the piles of old London Bridge, and convert it (after it had lain for centuries under water) into some of the finest surgical instruments of the day. Offley's, however, declined: the singing was discontinued; Time had thinned the ranks and groups of the bright and buoyant; the large room was mostly frequented by quiet, orderly persons, who kept good hours; the theatre-suppers grew few and far between; the merry old host departed,--when it was proposed to have his portrait painted--but in vain; success had ebbed away, and at length the house was closed.[39]

Offley's was sketched with a free hand, in _Horae Offleanae, Bentley's Miscellany_, March, 1841.

FOOTNOTE:

[39] Walks and Talks about London, 1865, pp. 180-182.

THE RUMMER TAVERN.

The locality of this noted tavern is given by Cunningham, as ”two doors from Locket's, between Whitehall and Charing Cross, removed to the water-side of Charing Cross, in 1710, and burnt down Nov. 7th, 1750. It was kept in the reign of Charles II., by Samuel Prior, uncle of Matthew Prior, the poet, who thus wrote to Fleetwood Shephard:

”My uncle, rest his soul! when living, Might have contriv'd me ways of thriving: Taught me with cider to replenish My vats, or ebbing tide of Rhenish.

So when for hock I drew p.r.i.c.kt white-wine, Swear't had the flavour, and was right wine.”

The Rummer is introduced by Hogarth into his picture of ”Night.” Here Jack Sheppard committed his first robbery by stealing two silver spoons.