Steele describes the Don as 'a sage of a thin and meagre countenance; which aspect made me doubt whether reading or fretting had made it so philosophic; but I very soon perceived him to be of that sect which the ancients call Gingivistæ; in our language, tooth drawers.' Besides shaving and tooth drawing, he played on the violin: 'if he would wholly give himself up to the string, instead of playing twenty beginnings to tunes, he might, before he dies, play Roger de Caubly[311] quite out. I heard him go through his whole round, and indeed he does play the "Merry Christ Church Bells"[312] pretty justly;' and another authority says, 'There was no passing his house, if he was at home, without having one's ears grated with the sounds of his fiddle, on which he scraped most execrably.' Steele recommends some of his curiosities to be taken away, 'or else he may expect to have his letters patent for making punch superseded, be debarred wearing his Muff next winter, or ever coming to London without his wife.' Either of these would have punished Saltero severely, for he was known out of doors by his old grey muff, which he carried up to his nose; and Mrs. S. had a temper of her own, to escape which the Don sometimes slipped off to London by himself. His collection seems to have dwindled away, for when it was sold in 1799 there were only 121 lots, and the whole seem to have sold for a little over 50l.
Slaughter's Coffee House in St. Martin's Lane afterwards superseded Old Man's as a military meeting-place, and in the latter half of the century it was frequented by artists and sculptors. Searle's, or Serle's, was a legal coffee-house, and was situated at the corner of Lincoln's Inn Fields. Of Tom's—I have a list of six—perhaps the best known was that in St. Martin's Lane, where, as we have seen, was one of the first insurance offices. The Virginia, which was in St. Michael's Alley, and afterwards in Cornhill, has disappeared within the last few years.
'All accounts of Poetry, under Will's Coffee House,' says the Tatler; it was situated No. 1 Bow Street, at the corner of Russell Street, and took its name from its proprietor, William Urwin. If Ward can be trusted, gamblers as well as wits frequented it, for he says[313] there was 'great shaking of the Elbow at Will's about Ten.' Still it was, par excellence, the Wits coffee-house, a class who are very happily described by a contemporary writer:[314] 'All their words go for Jests, and all their Jests for nothing. They are quick in the Fancy of some ridiculous Thing, and reasonable good in the Expression. Nothing stops a Jest when it is coming; and they had rather lose their Friend than their Wit.' And they are also written of as being 'Conceited, if they had but once the Honour to dip a finger and thumb in Mr. D——'s[315] snush box, it was enough to inspire 'em with a true Genius of Poetry, and make 'em write Verse, as fast as a Taylor takes his stitches.' In fact, it was on Dryden's reputation that Will's coffee-house was then living; and his going there is noticed by Pepys, 'Feb. 3, 1664—In Covent Garden to-night, going to fetch my wife, I stopped at the great Coffee house there, where I never was before: where Dryden, the poet, I knew at Cambridge, and all the wits of the town, and Harris the player, and Mr. Hoole, of our College. And, had I time then, or could at other times, it will be good coming thither, for there, I perceive, is very witty and pleasant discourse. But I could not tarry, and, as it was late, they were all ready to go away.' Here also Pope saw the old man, whom he described as 'a plump man with a down look, and not very conversible.'
Such, then, were some of the principal coffee-houses. What were the taverns like? There were then no hotels proper, such as we know them: a man had to live in private apartments, and, when he wanted dinner, he had to betake himself to a tavern, or ordinary. As Misson remarks, 'At London they hardly so much as know what an Auberge is: There are indeed a thousand and a thousand Taverns, where you may have what you please got for you.' A tavern was a far more free-and-easy place than a coffee-house—in fact, it is a question whether the convenances of a coffee-house would admit of a man 'washing his teeth at a tavern window in Pall Mall';[316] indeed, the keeping of them was hardly considered reputable, for we find[317] that 'Her Majestie sign'd a warrant for continuing the salaries of the prince's servants during her life, provided they kept no publick houses.'
Ward describes[318] the freedom and jollity of these places: 'Accordingly we stept in, and in the Kitchen found half a dozen of my Friends Associates, in the height of their Jollitry, as Merry as so many Cantabridgians at Sturbridge Fair, or Coblers at a Crispins Feast. After a Friendly Salutation, free from all Foppish Ceremonies, down we sat; and when a Glass or two round had given fresh Motion to our drowsy Spirits, and abandon'd all those careful thoughts which makes Man's Life uneasie, Wit begot Wit, and Wine a Thirsty Appetite to each Succeeding Glass. Then open were our Hearts and unconfined our Fancies; my Friend and I contributed our Mites to add to the Treasure of our Felicity. Songs and Catches Crown'd the Night, and each Man in his Turn pleased his Ears with his own Harmony.'
A TAVERN SCENE.
The most singular thing was, that it was not at all derogatory for a nobleman or gentleman to go to a tavern for a carouse—and all clubs were held at taverns. Thoresby relates that, after his reception by the Queen, as one of a deputation from Leeds, on July 2, 1712, 'We left the Duke there, but returned in the High Sheriff's coach to Sir Arthur Kaye's, who, with Sir Bryan Stapleton, accompanied us; from Sir Arthur's we went to the Tavern to drink her Majesty's health, and stayed full late.' And Swift writes to Stella:[319] 'After dinner we went to a blind tavern, where Congreve, Sir Richard Temple, Eastcourt, and Charles Main were over a bowl of bad punch. The Knight sent for six flasks of his own wine for me, and we staid till twelve.' This sending for one's own wine was a peculiar arrangement, but doubtless the landlord was satisfied with a premium on 'corkage.' Swift frequently speaks of this custom: 'To-day I dined with Lewis and Prior at an eating house, but with Lewis's wine.' 'I dined in a Coffee house with Stratford upon Chops, and some of his Wine.' Again he was with Lords Harley and Dupplin, the son and son-in-law of the Earl of Oxford—and 'we were forced to go to a tavern, and send for wine from Lord Treasurer's.'
But the frequenters of taverns were not all so respectable as these examples; and Brown supplies particulars of another section of society. 'A Tavern is a little Sodom, where as many Vices are daily practised, as ever were known in the great one; Thither Libertines repair to drink away their Brains, Aldermen to talk Treason, and bewail the loss of Trade; Saints to elevate the Spirit, hatch Calumnies, coin false News, and reproach the Church; Gamesters to shake their Elbows; Thither Sober Knaves walk with Drunken Fools to make Cunning Bargains and overreach them in their Dealings; Thither Young Quality retire to spend their Tradesmens Money; Thither Bullies Coach it to Kick Drawers, and invent new Oaths and Curses; Thither run Sots purely to be drunk, Beaux to shew their Vanity, Cowards to make themselves valiant by the Strength of their Wine, Fools to make themselves witty in their own Conceits, and Spendthrifts to be made Miserable by a Ridiculous Consumption of their own Fortunes.'
There were lower depths yet: there were the purl houses, where 'Tradesmen flock in their Morning gowns, by Seven, to cool their Plucks,' and the mug houses,[320] which in George the First's time were made into political clubs. 'King George for Ever' was then the mug-house cry, which the coffee-houses countered with 'High Church and Ormonde; no Presbyterians; no Hanover; down with the Mug.'