Chapter XXXII: A History of Coffee in Literature (4)

In the first number of the _Tatler_, poetry is promised under the
article of Will's Coffee-house. The place, however, changed after
Dryden's time: "you used to see songs, epigrams, and satires in the
hands of every man you met, you have now only a pack of cards; and
instead of the cavils about the turn of the expression, the
elegance of the style, and the like, the learned now dispute only
about the truth of the game." "In old times, we used to sit upon a
play here, after it was acted, but now the entertainment's turned
another way."

The _Spectator_ is sometimes seen "thrusting his head into a round
of politicians at Will's, and listening with great attention to the
narratives that are made in these little circular audiences." Then,
we have as an instance of no one member of human society but that
would have some little pretension for some degree in it, "like him
who came to Will's Coffee-house upon the merit of having writ a
posie of a ring." And, "Robin, the porter who waits at Will's, is
the best man in town for carrying a billet: the fellow has a thin
body, swift step, demure looks, sufficient sense, and knows the
town."

After Dryden's death, in 1701, Will's continued for about ten years
to be still the Wits' Coffee-house, as we see by Ned Ward's
account, and by the "Journey through England" in 1722.

Pope entered with keen relish into society, and courted the
correspondence of the town wits and coffee-house critics. Among his
early friends was Mr. Henry Cromwell, one of the _cousinry_ of the
Protector's family: he was a bachelor, and spent most of his time
in London; he had some pretensions to scholarship and literature,
having translated several of Ovid's Elegies, for Tonson's
Miscellany. With Wycherly, Gay, Dennis, the popular actors and
actresses of the day, and with all the frequenters of Will's,
Cromwell was familiar. He had done more than take a pinch out of
Dryden's snuff-box, which was a point of high ambition and honor at
Will's; he had quarrelled with him about a frail poetess, Mrs.
Elizabeth Thomas, whom Dryden had christened Corinna, and who was
also known as Sappho. Gay characterized this literary and eccentric
beau as

Honest, hatless Cromwell, with red breeches:

it being his custom to carry his hat in his hand when walking with
ladies. What with ladies and literature, rehearsals and reviews,
and critical attention to the quality of his coffee and Brazil
snuff, Henry Cromwell's time was fully occupied in town. Cromwell
was a dangerous acquaintance for Pope at the age of sixteen or
seventeen, but he was a very agreeable one. Most of Pope's letters
to his friends are addressed to him at the Blue Hall, in Great
Wild-street, near Drury Lane, and others to "Widow Hambledon's
Coffee-house, at the end of Princes-street, near Drury-lane,
London." Cromwell made one visit to Binfield; on his return to
London, Pope wrote to him, "referring to the ladies in particular,"
and to his favorite coffee.

* * * * *

Will's was the great resort for the wits of Dryden's time, after
whose death it was transferred to Button's. Pope describes the
houses as "opposite each other, in Russell-street, Covent Garden,"
where Addison established Daniel Button, in a new house, about
1712; and his fame, after the production of _Cato_, drew many of
the Whigs thither. Button had been servant to the Countess of
Warwick. The house is more correctly described as "over against
Tom's, near the middle of the south side of the street."

Addison was the great patron of Button's; but it is said that when
he suffered any vexation from his Countess, he withdrew from
Button's house. His chief companions, before he married Lady
Warwick, were Steele, Budgell, Philips, Carey, Davenant, and
Colonell Brett. He used to breakfast with one or other of them in
St. James's-place, dine at taverns with them, then to Button's, and
then to some tavern again, for supper in the evening; and this was
the usual round of his life, as Pope tells us in Spencer's
Anecdotes, where Pope also says: "Addison usually studied all the
morning, then met his party at Button's, dined there, and stayed
five or six hours; and sometimes far into the night. I was of the
company for about a year, but found it too much for me; it hurt my
health, and so I quitted it." Again: "There had been a coldness
between me and Mr. Addison for some time, and we had not been in
company together for a good while anywhere but at Button's
Coffee-house, where I used to see him almost every day."

Here Pope is reported to have said of Patrick, the lexicographer,
that "a dictionary-maker might know the meaning of one word, but
not of two put together."

Button's was the receiving house for contributions to _The
Guardian_, for which purpose was put up a lion's head letter box,
in imitation of the celebrated lion at Venice, as humorously
announced. Thus:

"N.B.--Mr. Ironside has, within five weeks last past, muzzled three
lions, gorged five, and killed one. On Monday next the skin of the
dead one will be hung up, _in terrorem_, at Button's Coffee-house."

* * * * *

"I intend to publish once every week the roarings of the Lion, and
hope to make him roar so loud as to be heard over all the British
nation. I have, I know not how, been drawn into tattle of myself,
more majorum, almost the length of a whole _Guardian_. I shall
therefore fill up the remaining part of it with what still relates
to my own person, and my correspondents. Now I would have them all
know that on the 20th instant, it is my intention to erect a Lion's
Head, in imitation of those I have described in Venice, through
which all the private commonwealth is said to pass. This head is to
open a most wide and voracious mouth, which shall take in such
letters and papers as are conveyed to me by my correspondents, it
being my resolution to have a particular regard to all such matters
as come to my hands through the mouth of the Lion. There will be
under it a box, of which the key will be in my own custody, to
receive such papers as are dropped into it. Whatever the Lion
swallows I shall digest for the use of the publick. This head
requires some time to finish, the workmen being resolved to give it
several masterly touches, and to represent it as ravenous as
possible. It will be set up in Button's Coffee-house, in Covent
Garden, who is directed to show the way to the Lion's Head, and to
instruct any young author how to convey his works into the mouth of
it with safety and secrecy."

* * * * *

"I think myself obliged to acquaint the publick, that the Lion's
Head, of which I advertised them about a fortnight ago, is now
erected at Button's Coffee-house, in Russell-street, Covent Garden,
where it opens its mouth at all hours for the reception of such
intelligence as shall be thrown into it. It is reckoned an
excellent piece of workmanship, and was designed by a great hand in
imitation of the antique Egyptian lion, the face of it being
compounded out of that of a lion and a wizard. The features are
strong and well furrowed. The whiskers are admired by all that have
seen them. It is planted on the western side of the Coffee-house,
holding its paws under the chin, upon a box, which contains
everything that he swallows. He is, indeed, a proper emblem of
knowledge and action, being all head and paws."

* * * * *

"Being obliged, at present, to attend a particular affair of my
own, I do empower my printer to look into the arcana of the Lion,
and select out of them such as may be of publick utility; and Mr.
Button is hereby authorized and commanded to give my said printer
free ingress and egress to the lion, without any hindrance, let, or
molestation whatsoever, until such time as he shall receive orders
to the contrary. And, for so doing, this shall be his warrant."

* * * * *

"My Lion, whose jaws are at all times open to intelligence, informs
me that there are a few enormous weapons still in being; but that
they are to be met with only in gaming houses and some of the
obscure retreats of lovers, in and about Drury-lane and Covent
Garden."

* * * * *

This memorable Lion's Head was tolerably well carved: through the
mouth the letters were dropped into a till at Button's; and beneath
were inscribed these two lines from Martial:

_Cervantur magnis isti Cervicibus ungues; Non nisi delicta pascitur ille fera._

The head was designed by Hogarth, and is etched in Ireland's
"Illustrations." Lord Chesterfield is said to have once offered for
the Head fifty guineas. From Button's it was removed to the
Shakspeare's Head Tavern, under the Piazza, kept by a person named
Tomkyns; and in 1751, was, for a short time, placed in the Bedford
Coffee-house immediately adjoining the Shakspeare, and there
employed as a letter-box by Dr. John Hill, for his _Inspector_. In
1769, Tomkyns was succeeded by his waiter, Campbell, as proprietor
of the tavern and lion's head, and by him the latter was retained
until November 8, 1804, when it was purchased by Mr. Charles
Richardson, of Richardson's Hotel, for 17£ 10s., who also possessed
the original sign of the Shakspeare's Head. After Mr. Richardson's
death in 1827, the Lion's Head devolved to his son, of whom it was
bought by the Duke of Bedford, and deposited at Woburn Abbey, where
it still remains.

Pope was subjected to much annoyance and insult at Button's. Sir
Samuel Garth wrote to Gay, that everybody was pleased with Pope's
Translation, "but a few at Button's;" to which Gay adds, to Pope,
"I am confirmed that at Button's your character is made very free
with, as to morals, etc."

From a drawing by Hogarth. The man opposite the seated figure is thought to be Pope]

Cibber, in a letter to Pope, says: "When you used to pass your
hours at Button's, you were even there remarkable for your
satirical itch of provocation; scarce was there a gentleman of any
pretension to wit, whom your unguarded temper had not fallen upon
in some biting epigram, among which you once caught a pastoral
Tartar, whose resentment, that your punishment might be
proportionate to the smart of your poetry, had stuck up a birchen
rod in the room, to be ready whenever you might come within reach
of it; and at this rate you writ and rallied and writ on, till you
rhymed yourself quite out of the coffee-house." The "pastoral
Tartar" was Ambrose Philips, who, says Johnson, "hung up a rod at
Button's, with which he threatened to chastise Pope."

Pope, in a letter to Crags, thus explains the affair: "Mr. Philips
did express himself with much indignation against me one evening at
Button's Coffee-house (as I was told), saying that I was entered
into a cabal with Dean Swift and others, to write against the Whig
interest, and in particular to undermine his own reputation and
that of his friends, Steele and Addison; but Mr. Philips never
opened his lips to my face, on this or any like occasion, though I
was almost every night in the same room with him, nor ever offered
me any indecorum. Mr. Addison came to me a night or two after
Philips had talked in this idle manner, and assured me of his
disbelief of what had been said, of the friendship we should always
maintain, and desired I would say nothing further of it. My Lord
Halifax did me the honour to stir in this matter, by speaking to
several people to obviate a false aspersion, which might have done
me no small prejudice with one party. However, Philips did all he
could secretly to continue to report with the Hanover Club, and
kept in his hands the subscriptions paid for me to him, as
secretary to that Club. The heads of it have since given him to
understand, that they take it ill; but (upon the terms I ought to
be with such a man) I would not ask him for this money, but
commissioned one of the players, his equals, to receive it. This is
the whole matter; but as to the secret grounds of this malignity,
they will make a very pleasant history when we meet."

Another account says that the rod was hung up at the bar of
Button's, and that Pope avoided it by remaining at home--"his
usual custom." Philips was known for his courage and superior
dexterity with the sword; he afterwards became justice of the
peace, and used to mention Pope, whenever he could get a man in
authority to listen to him, as an enemy to the Government.

At Button's the leading company, particularly Addison and Steele,
met in large flowing flaxen wigs. Sir Godfrey Kneller, too, was a
frequenter.

The master died in 1731, when in the _Daily Advertiser_, October 5
appeared the following:

"On Sunday morning, died, after three days' illness, Mr. Button,
who formerly kept Button's Coffee-house, in Russell-street, Covent
Garden: a very noted house for wits, being the place where the Lyon
produced the famous _Tatlers_ and _Spectators_, written by the late
Mr. Secretary Addison and Sir Richard Steele, Knt., which works
will transmit their names with honour to posterity."

* * * * *

Among other wits who frequented Button's were Swift, Arbuthnot,
Savage, Budgell, Martin Folkes, and Drs. Garth and Armstrong. In
1720, Hogarth mentions "four drawings in Indian ink" of the
characters at Button's Coffee-house. In these were sketches of
Arbuthnot, Addison, Pope (as it is conjectured) and a certain Count
Viviani, identified years afterwards by Horace Walpole, when the
drawings came under his notice. They subsequently came into
Ireland's possession.

Jemmy Maclaine, or M'Clean, the fashionable highwayman, was a
frequent visitor at Button's. Mr. John Taylor, of the _Sun_
newspaper, describes Maclaine as a tall, showy, good-looking man. A
Mr. Donaldson told Taylor that, observing Maclaine paid particular
attention to the barmaid of the Coffee-house, the daughter of the
landlord, he gave a hint to the father of Maclaine's dubious
character. The father cautioned the daughter against the
highwayman's addresses, and imprudently told her by whose advice he
put her on her guard; she as imprudently told Maclaine. The next
time Donaldson visited the coffee-room, and sitting in one of the
boxes, Maclaine entered, and in a loud tone said, "Mr. Donaldson, I
wish to _spake_ to you in a private room." Mr. D. being unarmed,
and naturally afraid of being alone with such a man, said, in
answer, that as nothing could pass between them that he did not
wish the whole world to know, he begged leave to decline the
invitation. "Very well," said Maclaine, as he left the room, "we
shall meet again." A day or two after, as Mr. Donaldson was walking
near Richmond, in the evening, he saw Maclaine on horseback; but
fortunately, at that moment, a gentleman's carriage appeared in
view, when Maclaine immediately turned his horse towards the
carriage, and Donaldson hurried into the protection of Richmond as
fast as he could. But for the appearance of the carriage, which
presented better prey, it is possible that Maclaine would have shot
Mr. Donaldson immediately.

Maclaine's father was an Irish Dean; his brother was a Calvinist
minister in great esteem at the Hague. Maclaine himself had been a
grocer in Welbeck-street, but losing a wife that he loved
extremely, and by whom he had one little girl, he quitted his
business with two hundred pounds in his pockets which he soon
spent, and then took to the road with only one companion, Plunket,
a journeyman apothecary.

Maclaine was taken in the autumn of 1750, by selling a laced
waistcoat to a pawnbroker in Monmouth-street, who happened to carry
it to the very man who had just sold the lace. Maclaine impeached
his companion, Plunket, but he was not taken. The former got into
verse: Gray, in his "Long Story," sings:

A sudden fit of ague shook him; He stood as mute as poor M'Lean.

Button's subsequently became a private house, and here Mrs.
Inchbald lodged, probably, after the death of her sister, for whose
support she practised such noble and generous self-denial. Mrs.
Inchbald's income was now 172£ a year, and we are told that she now
went to reside in a boarding-house, where she enjoyed more of the
comforts of life. Phillips, the publisher, offered her a thousand
pounds for her Memoirs, which she declined. She died in a
boarding-house at Kensington, on the 1st of August, 1821, leaving
about 6,000£ judiciously divided amongst her relatives. Her simple
and parsimonious habits were very strange. "Last Thursday," she
writes, "I finished scouring my bedroom, while a coach with a
coronet and two footmen waited at my door to take me an airing."

"One of the most agreeable memories connected with Button's," says
Leigh Hunt, "is that of Garth, a man whom, for the sprightliness
and generosity of his nature, it is a pleasure to name. He was one
of the most amiable and intelligent of a most amiable and
intelligent class of men--the physicians."

It was just after Queen Anne's accession that Swift made
acquaintance with the leaders of the wits at Button's. Ambrose
Philips refers to him as the strange clergyman whom the frequenters
of the Coffee-house had observed for some days. He knew no one, no
one knew him. He would lay his hat down on a table, and walk up and
down at a brisk pace for half an hour without speaking to any one,
or seeming to pay attention to anything that was going forward.
Then he would snatch up his hat, pay his money at the bar, and walk
off, without having opened his lips. The frequenters of the room
had christened him "the mad parson." One evening, as Mr. Addison
and the rest were observing him, they saw him cast his eyes several
times upon a gentleman in boots, who seemed to be just come out of
the country. At last, Swift advanced towards this bucolic
gentleman, as if intending to address him. They were all eager to
hear what the dumb parson had to say, and immediately quitted their
seats to get near him. Swift went up to the country gentleman, and
in a very abrupt manner, without any previous salute, asked him,
"Pray, Sir, do you know any good weather in the world?" After
staring a little at the singularity of Swift's manner and the
oddity of the question, the gentleman answered, "Yes, Sir, I thank
God I remember a great deal of good weather in my time."--"That is
more," replied Swift, "than I can say; I never remember any weather
that was not too hot or too cold, too wet or too dry; but, however
God Almighty contrives it, at the end of the year 'tis all very
well."

* * * * *

Sir Walter Scott gives, upon the authority of Dr. Wall, of
Worcester, who had it from Dr. Arbuthnot himself, the following
anecdote--less coarse than the version generally told. Swift was
seated by the fire at Button's; there was sand on the floor of the
coffee-room, and Arbuthnot, with a design to play upon this
original figure, offered him a letter, which he had been just
addressing, saying at the same time, "There--sand that"--"I have
got no sand," answered Swift, "but I can help you to a little
_gravel_." This he said so significantly, that Arbuthnot hastily
snatched back his letter, to save it from the fate of the capital
of Lilliput.

* * * * *

Tom's Coffee-house in Birchin-lane, Cornhill, though in the main a
mercantile resort, acquired some celebrity from its having been
frequented by Garrick, who, to keep up an interest in the City,
appeared here about twice in a winter at 'Change time, when it was
the rendezvous of young merchants.

* * * * *

Hawkins says: "After all that has been said of Mr. Garrick, envy
must own that he owed his celebrity to his merit; and yet, of that
himself so diffident, that he practiced sundry little but innocent
arts, to insure the favour of the public:" yet, he did more. When a
rising actor complained to Mrs. Garrick that the newspapers abused
him, the widow replied, "You should write your own criticisms;
David always did."

* * * * *

One evening, Murphy was at Tom's, when Colley Cibber was playing at
whist, with an old general for his partner. As the cards were dealt
to him, he took up every one in turn, and expressed his
disappointment at each indifferent one. In the progress of the game
he did not follow suit, and his partner said, "What! have you not a
spade, Mr. Cibber?" The latter, looking at his cards, answered, "Oh
yes, a thousand;" which drew a very peevish comment from the
general. On which, Cibber, who was shockingly addicted to swearing,
replied, "Don't be angry, for--I can play ten times worse if I
like."

* * * * *

The celebrated Bedford Coffee-house, in Covent Garden, once
attracted so much attention as to have published, "Memoirs of the
Bedford Coffee-house," two editions, 1751 and 1763. It stood "under
the Piazza, in Covent Garden," in the northwest corner, near the
entrance to the theatre, and has long ceased to exist.

* * * * *

In the _Connoisseur_, No. 1, 1754, we are assured that "this
Coffee-house is every night crowded with men of parts. Almost every
one you meet is a polite scholar and a wit. Jokes and bon-mots are
echoed from box to box: every branch of literature is critically
examined, and the merit of every production of the press, or
performance of the theatres, weighed and determined."

And in the above-named "Memoirs" we read that "this spot has been
signalized for many years as the emporium of wit, the seat of
criticism, and the standard of taste.--Names of those who
frequented the house: Foote, Mr. Fielding, Mr. Woodward, Mr. Leone,
Mr. Murphy, Mopsy, Dr. Arne. Dr. Arne was the only man in a suit of
velvet in the dog-days."

Stacie kept the Bedford when John and Henry Fielding, Hogarth,
Churchill, Woodward, Lloyd, Dr. Goldsmith and many others met there
and held a gossiping shilling rubber club. Henry Fielding was a
very smart fellow.

The _Inspector_ appears to have given rise to this reign of the
Bedford, when there was placed here the Lion from Button's, which
proved so serviceable to Steele, and once more fixed the dominion
of wit in Covent Garden.

The reign of wit and pleasantry did not, however, cease at the
Bedford at the demise of the _Inspector_. A race of punsters next
succeeded. A particular box was allotted to this occasion, out of
hearing of the lady of the bar, that the _double entendres_, which
were sometimes very indelicate, might not offend her.

The Bedford was beset with scandalous nuisances, of which the
following letter, from Arthur Murphy to Garrick, April 10, 1768,
presents a pretty picture:

"Tiger Roach (who used to bully at the Bedford Coffee-house because
his name was Roach) is set up by Wilke's friends to burlesque
Luttrel and his pretensions. I own I do not know a more ridiculous
circumstance than to be a joint candidate with the Tiger. O'Brien
used to take him off very pleasantly, and perhaps you may, from his
representation, have some idea of this important wight. He used to
sit with a half-starved look, a black patch upon his cheek, pale
with the idea of murder, or with rank cowardice, a quivering lip,
and a downcast eye. In that manner he used to sit at a table all
alone, and his soliloquy, interrupted now and then with faint
attempts to throw off a little saliva, was to the following
effect:--'Hut! hut! a mercer's 'prentice with a bag-wig;--d---- n
my s---- l, if I would not skiver a dozen of them like larks! Hut!
hut! I don't understand such airs!--I'd cudgel him back, breast and
belly, for three skips of a louse!--How do you do, Pat? Hut! hut!
God's blood--Larry, I'm glad to see you; 'Prentices! a fine thing
indeed!--Hut! hut! How do you do, Dominick!--D---- n my s---- l,
what's here to do!' These were the meditations of this agreeable
youth. From one of these reveries he started up one night, when I
was there, called a Mr. Bagnell out of the room, and most
heroically stabbed him in the dark, the other having no weapon to
defend himself with. In this career, the Tiger persisted, till at
length a Mr. Lennard brandished a whip over his head, and stood in
a menacing attitude, commanding him to ask pardon directly. The
Tiger shrank from the danger, and with a faint voice
pronounced--'Hut! what signifies it between you and me? Well! well!
I ask your pardon.' 'Speak louder, Sir; I don't hear a word you
say.' And indeed he was so very tall, that it seemed as if the
sound, sent feebly from below, could not ascend to such a height.
This is the hero who is to figure at Brentford."

* * * * *

Foote's favourite coffee-house was the Bedford. He was also a
constant frequenter of Tom's, and took a lead in the Club held
there, and already described.

Dr. Barrowby, the well-known newsmonger of the Bedford, and the
satirical critic of the day, has left this whole-length sketch of
Foote:

"One evening (he says) he saw a young man extravagantly dressed out
in a frock suit of green and silver lace, bag-wig, sword, bouquet,
and point ruffles, enter the room (at the Bedford), and immediately
join the critical circle at the upper end. Nobody recognized him;
but such was the ease of his bearing, and the point of humor and
remark with which he at once took up the conversation, that his
presence seemed to disconcert no one, and a sort of pleased buzz of
'who is he?' was still going round the room unanswered, when a
handsome carriage stopped at the door; he rose, and quitted the
room, and the servants announced that his name was Foote, and that
he was a young gentleman of family and fortune, a student of the
Inner Temple, and that the carriage had called for him on its way
to the assembly of a lady of fashion". Dr. Barrowby once turned the
laugh against Foote at the Bedford, when he was ostentatiously
showing his gold repeater, with the remark--'Why, my watch does not
go!' 'It soon _will go_,' quietly remarked the Doctor. Young
Collins, the poet, who came to town in 1744 to seek his fortune,
made his way to the Bedford, where Foote was supreme among the wits
and critics. Like Foote, Collins was fond of fine clothes, and
walked about with a feather in his hat, very unlike a young man who
had not a single guinea he could call his own. A letter of the time
tells us that "Collins was an acceptable companion everywhere; and
among the gentlemen who loved him for a genius, may be reckoned the
Doctors Armstrong, Barrowby, Hill, Messrs. Quin, Garrick, and
Foote, who frequently took his opinions upon their pieces before
they were seen by the public. He was particularly noticed by the
geniuses who frequented the Bedford and Slaughter's Coffee-houses."

* * * * *

Ten years later (1754) we find Foote again supreme in his critical
corner at the Bedford. The regular frequenters of the room strove
to get admitted to his party at supper; and others got as near as
they could to the table, as the only humor flowed from Foote's
tongue. The Bedford was now in its highest repute.

Foote and Garrick often met at the Bedford, and many and sharp were
their encounters. They were the two great rivals of the day. Foote
usually attacked, and Garrick, who had many weak points, was mostly
the sufferer. Garrick, in early life, had been in the wine trade,
and had supplied the Bedford with wine; he was thus described by
Foote as living in Durham-yard, with three quarts of vinegar in the
cellar, calling himself a wine-merchant. How Foote must have abused
the Bedford wine of this period!

One night, Foote came into the Bedford, where Garrick was seated,
and there gave him an account of a most wonderful actor he had just
seen. Garrick was on the tenters of suspense, and there Foote kept
him a full hour. Foote brought the attack to a close by asking
Garrick what he thought of Mr. Pitt's histrionic talents, when
Garrick, glad of the release, declared that if Pitt had chosen the
stage, he might have been the first actor upon it.

Another night, Garrick and Foote were about to leave the Bedford
together, when the latter, in paying the bill, dropped a guinea;
and not finding it at once, said, "Where on earth can it be gone
to?"--"Gone to the devil, I think," replied Garrick, who had
assisted in the search.--"Well said, David!" was Foote's reply,
"let you alone for making a guinea go further than anybody else."

Churchill's quarrel with Hogarth began at the shilling rubber club,
in the parlour of the Bedford; when Hogarth used some very
insulting language towards Churchill, who resented it in the
_Epistle_. This quarrel showed more venom than wit. "Never," says
Walpole, "did two angry men of their abilities throw mud with less
dexterity."

Woodward, the comedian, mostly lived at the Bedford, was intimate
with Stacie, the landlord, and gave him his (W.'s) portrait, with a
mask in his hand, one of the early pictures by Sir Joshua Reynolds.
Stacie played an excellent game at whist. One morning about two
o'clock, one of the waiters awoke him to tell him that a nobleman
had knocked him up, and had desired him to call his master to play
a rubber with him for one hundred guineas. Stacie got up, dressed
himself, won the money, and was in bed and asleep, all within an
hour.

* * * * *

After Macklin had retired from the stage, in 1754, he opened that
portion of the Piazza-houses, in Covent Garden, afterwards known as
the Tavistock Hotel. Here he fitted up a large coffee-room, a
theatre for oratory, and other apartments. To a three-shilling
ordinary he added a shilling lecture, or "School of Oratory and
Criticism;" he presided at the dinner table, and carved for the
company; after which he played a sort of "Oracle of Eloquence."
Fielding has happily sketched him in his "Voyage to Lisbon":
"Unfortunately for the fishmongers of London, the Dory only resides
in the Devonshire seas; for could any of this company only convey
one to the Temple of luxury under the piazza, where Macklin, the
high priest, daily serves up his rich offerings, great would be the
reward of that fishmonger."

In the Lecture, Macklin undertook to make each of his audience an
orator, by teaching him how to speak. He invited hints and
discussions; the novelty of the scheme attracted the curiosity of
numbers; and this curiosity he still further excited by a very
uncommon controversy which now subsisted, either in imagination or
reality, between him and Foote, who abused one another very
openly--"Squire Sammy," having for his purpose engaged the Little
Theatre in the Haymarket.

Besides this personal attack, various subjects were debated here
in the manner of the Robin Hood Society, which filled the Orator's
pocket, and proved his rhetoric of some value.

Here is one of his combats with Foote. The subject was Duelling In
Ireland, which Macklin had illustrated as far as the reign of
Elizabeth. Foote cried, "Order;" he had a question to put. "Well,
Sir," said Macklin, "what have you to say on this subject," "I
think, Sir" said Foote, "this matter might be settled in a few
words. What o'clock is it, Sir?" Macklin could not possibly see
what the clock had to do with a dissertation upon Duelling, but
gruffly reported the hour to be half-past nine. "Very well," said
Foote, "about this time of the night every gentleman in Ireland
that can possibly afford it is in his third bottle of claret, and
therefore in a fair way of getting drunk; and from drunkenness
proceeds quarrelling, and from quarrelling, duelling, and so
there's an end of the chapter." The company were much obliged to
Foote for his interference, the hour being considered; though
Macklin did not relish this abridgment.

The success of Foote's fun upon Macklin's Lectures, led him to
establish a summer entertainment of his own at the Haymarket. He
took up Macklin's notion of applying Greek tragedy to modern
subjects, and the squib was so successful that Foote cleared by it
500£ in five nights, while the great Piazza Coffee-room in Covent
Garden was shut up, and Macklin in the _Gazette_ as a bankrupt.

But when the great plan of Mr. Macklin proved abortive, when as he
said in a former prologue, upon a nearly similar occasion--

From scheming, fretting, famine and despair. We saw to grace restor'd an exiled player;

when the town was sated with the seemingly-concocted quarrel
between the two theatrical geniuses, Macklin locked his doors, all
animosity was laid aside, and they came and shook hands at the
Bedford; the group resumed their appearance, and, with a new
master, a new set of customers was seen.

* * * * *

Tom King's Coffee-house was one of the old night-houses of Covent
Garden Market; it was a rude shed immediately beneath the portico
of St. Paul's Church, and was one "well known to all gentlemen to
whom beds are unknown." Fielding in one of his Prologues says:

What rake is ignorant of King's Coffee-house?

It is in the background of Hogarth's print of _Morning_ where the
prim maiden lady, walking to church, is soured with seeing two
fuddled _beaux_ from King's Coffee-house caressing two frail women.
At the door there is a drunken row, in which swords and cudgels are
the weapons[358].

Harwood's _Alumni Etonenses_, p. 239, in the account of the Boys
elected from Eton to King's College, contains this entry: "A.D.
1713, Thomas King, born at West Ashton, in Wiltshire, went away
scholar in apprehension that his fellowship would be denied him;
and afterwards kept that Coffee-house in Covent Garden, which was
called by his own name."

Moll King was landlady after Tom's death: she was witty, and her
house was much frequented, though it was little better than a shed.
"Noblemen and the first _beaux_," said Stacie, "after leaving Court
would go to her house in full dress, with swords and bags, and in
rich brocaded silk coats, and walked and conversed with persons of
every description. She would serve chimney-sweepers, gardeners, and
the market-people in common with her lords of the highest rank. Mr.
Apreece, a tall thin man in rich dress, was her constant customer.
He was called Cadwallader by the frequenters of Moll's." It is not
surprising that Moll was often fined for keeping a disorderly
house. At length, she retired from business--and the pillory--to
Hempstead, where she lived on her ill-earned gains, but paid for a
pew in church, and was charitable at appointed seasons, and died in
peace in 1747.

* * * * *

The Piazza Coffee-house at the northeastern angle of Covent Garden
Piazza, appears to have originated with Macklin's; for we read in
an advertisement in the _Publick Adviser_, March 5, 1756; "The
Great Piazza Coffee-room, in Covent Garden."

The Piazza was much frequented by Sheridan; and here is located the
well-known anecdote told of his coolness during the burning of
Drury-lane Theatre, in 1809. It is said that as he sat at the
Piazza, during the fire, taking some refreshment, a friend of his
having remarked on the philosophical calmness with which he bore
his misfortune, Sheridan replied:

"A man may surely be allowed to take a glass of wine by his _own
fireside_."

* * * * *

Sheridan and John Kemble often dined together at the Piazza, to be
handy to the theatre. During Kemble's management, Sheridan had
occasion to make a complaint, which brought a "nervous" letter from
Kemble, to which Sheridan's reply is amusing enough. Thus, he
writes: "that the management of a theatre is a situation capable of
becoming _troublesome_, is information which I do not want, and a
discovery which I thought you made long ago." Sheridan then treats
Kemble's letter as "a nervous flight," not to be noticed seriously,
adding his anxiety for the interest of the theatre, and alluding to
Kemble's touchiness and reserve; and thus concludes:

"If there is anything amiss in your mind not arising from the
_troublesomeness_ of your situation, it is childish and unmanly not
to disclose it. The frankness with which I have dealt towards you
entitles me to expect that you should have done so.

"But I have no reason to believe this to be the case; and
attributing your letter to a disorder which I know ought not to be
indulged, I prescribe that thou shalt keep thine appointment at the
Piazza Coffee-house, tomorrow at five, and, taking four bottles of
claret instead of three, to which in sound health you might stint
yourself, forget that you ever wrote the letter, as I shall that I
ever received it."

"R.B. Sheridan."

The Piazza facade, and interior, were of Gothic design. When the
house was demolished, in its place was built the Floral Hall, after
the Crystal Palace model.

* * * * *

The Chapter Coffee-house was a literary place of resort in
Paternoster Row, more especially in connection with the
Wittinagemot of the last century. A very interesting account of the
Chapter, at a later period (1848) is given by Mrs. Gaskell.

Goldsmith frequented the Chapter, and always occupied one place,
which for many years after was the seat of literary honor there.
There are leather tokens of the Chapter Coffee-house in existence.

* * * * *

Child's Coffee-house, in St. Paul's Churchyard, was one of the
_Spectator's_ houses. "Sometimes," he says, "I smoke a pipe at
Child's and whilst I seem attentive to nothing but the _Postman_,
overhear the conversation of every table in the room." It was much
frequented by the clergy; for the _Spectator_, No. 609, notices the
mistake of a country gentleman in taking all persons in scarfs for
Doctors of Divinity, since only a scarf of the first magnitude
entitles him to "the appellation of Doctor from his landlady and
the _Boy at Child's_."

Child's was the resort of Dr. Mead, and other professional men of
eminence. The Fellows of the Royal Society came here. Whiston
relates that Sir Hans Sloane, Dr. Halley and he were once at
Child's when Dr. H. asked him, W., why he was not a member of the
Royal Society? Whiston answered, because they durst not choose a
heretic. Upon which Dr. H. said, if Sir Hans Sloane would propose
him, W., he, Dr. H., would second it, which was done accordingly.

The propinquity of Child's to the Cathedral and Doctors' Commons,
made it the resort of the clergy, and ecclesiastical loungers. In
that respect, Child's was superseded by the Chapter, in Paternoster
Row.

* * * * *

The London Coffee-house was established previous to the year 1731,
for we find of it the following advertisement:

"May, 1731.

"Whereas, it is customery for Coffee-houses and other
Public-houses, to take 8s. for a quart of Arrack, and 6s. for a
quart of Brandy or Rum, made into Punch:

"This is to give notice,

"That James Ashley has opened on Ludgate Hill, the London
Coffee-house, Punch-house, Dorchester Beer and Welsh Ale Warehouse,
where the finest and best old Arrack, Rum and French Brandy is made
into Punch, with the other of the finest Ingredients--viz., A quart
of Arrack made into Punch for six shillings; and so in proportion
to the smallest quantity, which is half-a-quartern for fourpence
half-penny. A quart of Rum or Brandy made into Punch for four
shillings; and so in proportion to the smallest quantity, which is
half-a-quartern for fourpence half-penny; and gentlemen may have it
as soon made as a gill of Wine can be drawn."

The premises occupied a Roman site; for, in 1800, in the rear of
the house, in a bastion of the City Wall, was found a sepulchral
monument dedicated to Claudina Martina by her husband, a provincial
Roman soldier; here also were found a fragment of a statue of
Hercules and a female head. In front of the Coffee-house
immediately west of St. Martin's Church, stood Ludgate.

* * * * *

The London Coffee-house was noted for its publishers' sales of
stock and copyrights. It was within the rules of the Fleet prison;
and in the Coffee-house were "locked up" for the night such juries
from the Old Bailey Sessions, as could not agree upon verdicts. The
house was long kept by the grandfather and father of Mr. John
Leech, the celebrated artist.

A singular incident occurred at the London Coffee-house, many years
since: Mr. Brayley, the topographer, was present at a party here,
when Mr. Broadhurst, the famous tenor, by singing a high note,
caused a wine-glass on the table to break, the bowl being separated
from the stem.

* * * * *

From _The Kingdom's Intelligencer_, a weekly paper, published by
authority, in 1662, we learn that there had just been opened a "new
coffee-house," with the sign of the Turk's Head, where was sold by
retail "the right coffee-powder," from 4s. to 6s. 8d. per pound;
that pounded in a mortar, 2s; East Indian berry, 1s. 6d.; and the
right Turkie berry, well garbled, at 3s. "The ungarbled for lesse,
with directions how to use the same." Also Chocolate at 2s. 6d. per
pound; the perfumed from 4s. to 10s.; "also, Sherbets made in
Turkie, of lemons, roses and violets perfumed; and Tea, or Chaa,
according to its goodness. The house seal is Morat the Great.
Gentlemen customers and acquaintances are (the next New Year's Day)
invited to the sign of the Great Turk at this new Coffee-house,
where Coffee will be on free cost." Morat figures as a tyrant in
Dryden's "Aurung Zebe." There is a token of this house, with the
sultan's head, in the Beaufoy collection[359].

Another token in the same collection, is of unusual excellence,
probably by John Roettier. It has on the obverse, Morat ye Great
Men did mee call,--Sultan's head; reverse, Where eare I came I
conquered all.--In the field, Coffee, Tobacco, Sherbet, Tea,
Chocolate, retail in Exchange Alee. "The word Tea," says Mr. Burn,
"occurs on no other tokens than those issued from 'the Great Turk'
Coffee-house, in Exchange alley;" in one of its advertisements,
1662, tea is from 6s. to 60s. a pound.

Competition arose. One Constantine Jennings in Threadneedle-street,
over against St. Christopher's Church, advertised that coffee,
chocolate, sherbet, and tea, the right Turkey berry, may be had as
cheap and as good of him as is anywhere to be had for money; and
that people may there be taught to prepare the said liquors gratis.

Pepys, in his "Diary," tells, September 25, 1669, of his sending
for "a cup of Tea, a China Drink, he had not before tasted." Henry
Bennet, Earl of Arlington, about 1666, introduced tea at Court.
And, in his "Sir Charles Sedley's Mulberry Garden," we are told
that "he who wished to be considered a man of fashion always drank
wine-and-water at dinner, and a dish of tea afterwards." These
details are condensed from Mr. Burn's excellent "Beaufoy
Catalogue," 2nd edition, 1855.

* * * * *

In Gerard-street, Soho, also, was another Turk's Head Coffee-house,
where was held a Turk's Head Society; in 1777, we find Gibbon
writing to Garrick: "At this time of year (August 14) the Society
of the Turk's Head can no longer be addressed as a corporate body,
and most of the individual members are probably dispersed: Adam
Smith, in Scotland; Burke in the shades of Beaconsfield; Fox, the
Lord or the devil knows where."

The place was a kind of headquarters for the Loyal Association
during the Rebellion of 1745. Here was founded "The Literary Club"
and a select body for the Protection and Encouragement of Art.
Another Society of Artists met in Peter's-court, St. Martin's-lane,
from the year 1739 to 1769. After continued squabbles, which lasted
for many years, the principal artists met together at the Turk's
Head, where many others having joined them, they petitioned the
King (George III) to become patron of a Royal Academy of Art. His
Majesty consented; and the new Society took a room in Pall Mall,
opposite to Market-lane, where they remained until the King, in the
year 1771, granted them apartments in Old Somerset House.

* * * * *

The Turk's Head Coffee-house, No. 142, in the Strand, was a
favourite supping-house with Dr. Johnson and Boswell, in whose Life
of Johnson are several entries, commencing with 1763--"At night,
Mr. Johnson and I supped in a private room at the Turk's Head
Coffee-house, in the Strand; 'I encourage this house,' said he,
'for the mistress of it is a good civil woman, and has not much
business'." Another entry is--"We concluded the day at the Turk's
Head Coffee-house very socially." And, August 3, 1673--"We had our
last social meeting at the Turk's Head Coffee-house, before my
setting out for foreign parts."

The name was afterwards changed to "The Turk's Head, Canada and
Bath Coffee-house," and was a well frequented tavern and hotel.

* * * * *

At the Turk's Head, or Miles's Coffee-house, New Palace-yard,
Westminster, the noted Rota Club met, founded by Harrington, in
1659; where was a large oval table, with a passage in the middle,
for Miles to deliver his coffee.[360]

* * * * *

For many years previous to the streets of London being completely
paved, "Slaughter's Coffee-house" was called "The Coffee-house on
the Pavement." Besides being the resort of artists, Old Slaughter's
was the house of call for Frenchmen.

St. Martin's-lane was long one of the headquarters of the artists
of the last century. "In the time of Benjamin West," says J.T.
Smith, "and before the formation of the Royal Academy,
Greek-street, St. Martin's-lane, and Gerard-street, was their only
colony. Old Slaughter's Coffee-house, in St. Martin's-lane, was
their grand resort in the evenings, and Hogarth was a constant
visitor." He lived at the Golden Head, on the eastern side of
Leicester Fields, in the northern half of the Sabloniere Hotel. The
head he cut out himself from pieces of cork, glued and bound
together; it was placed over the street-door. At this time, young
Benjamin West was living in chambers, in Bedford-street, Covent
Garden, and had there set up his easel; he was married in 1765, at
St. Martin's Church. Roubiliac was often to be found at Slaughter's
in early life; probably before he gained the patronage of Sir
Edward Walpole, through finding and returning to the baronet the
pocket-book of bank-notes which the young maker of monuments had
picked up in Vauxhall Gardens. Sir Edward, to remunerate his
integrity, and his skill, of which he showed specimens, promised to
patronize Roubiliac through life, and he faithfully performed this
promise. Young Gainsborough, who spent three years amid the works
of the painters in St. Martin's-lane, Hayman, and Cipriani, who
were all eminently convival, were, in all probability, frequenters
of Slaughter's. Smith tells us that Quin and Hayman were
inseparable friends, and so convival, that they seldom parted till
daylight.

Mr. Cunningham relates that here, "in early life, Wilkie would
enjoy a small dinner at a small cost. I have been told by an old
frequenter of the house, that Wilkie was always the last dropper-in
for dinner, and that he was never seen to dine in the house by
daylight. The truth is, he slaved at his art at home till the last
glimpse of daylight had disappeared."

Haydon was accustomed, in the early days of his fitful career, to
dine here with Wilkie. In his "Autobiography," in the year 1808,
Haydon writes: "This period of our lives was one of great
happiness; painting all day, then dining at the Old Slaughter
Chop-house, then going to the Academy until eight to fill up the
evening, then going home to tea--that blessing of a studious
man--talking over respective exploits, what he, Wilkie, had been
doing and what I had been doing, and, then frequently to relieve
our minds fatigued by their eight and twelve hours' work, giving
vent to the most extraordinary absurdities. Often have we made
rhymes on odd names, and shouted with laughter at each new line
that was added. Sometimes lazily inclined after a good dinner, we
have lounged about, near Drury Lane or Covent Garden, hesitating
whether to go in, and often have I (knowing first that there was
nothing I wished to see) assumed a virtue I did not possess, and
pretending moral superiority, preached to Wilkie on the weakness of
not resisting such temptations for the sake of our art and our
duty, and marched him off to his studies, when he was longing to
see Mother Goose."

J.T. Smith refers to Old Slaughter's as "formerly the rendezvous of
Pope, Dryden and other wits, and much frequented by several
eminently clever men of his day."

Thither came Ware, the architect, who, when a little sickly boy,
was apprenticed to a chimney-sweeper, and was seen chalking the
street-front of Whitehall, by a gentleman who purchased the
remainder of the boy's time; gave him an excellent education; then
sent him to Italy, and, upon his return, employed him, and
introduced him to his friends as an architect. Ware was heard to
tell this story while he was sitting to Roubiliac for his bust.
Ware built Chesterfield House and several other noble mansions, and
compiled a Palladio, in folio: he retained the soot in his skin to
the day of his death. He was very intimate with Roubiliac, who was
an opposite eastern neighbour of Old Slaughter's. Another
architect, Gwynn, who competed with Mylne for designing and
building Blackfriars Bridge, was also a frequent visitor at Old
Slaughter's, as was Gravelot, who kept a drawing-school in the
Strand, nearly opposite to Southampton-street.

Hudson, who painted the Dilettanti portraits; M'Ardell, the
mezzotinto-scraper; and Luke Sullivan, the engraver of Hogarth's
March to Finchley, also frequented Old Slaughter's; likewise
Theodore Gardell, the portrait painter, who was executed for the
murder of his landlady: and Old Moser, keeper of the Drawing
Academy in Peter's-court.

Parry, the Welsh harper, though totally blind, was one of the first
draught-players in England, and occasionally played with the
frequenters of Old Slaughter's; and here in consequence of a bet.
Roubiliac introduced Nathaniel Smith (father of John Thomas), to
play at draughts with Parry; the game lasted about half an hour;
Parry was much agitated, and Smith proposed to give in; but as
there were bets depending, it was played out, and Smith won. This
victory brought Smith numerous challenges; and the dons of the
Barn, a public-house, in St. Martin's-lane, nearly opposite the
church, invited him to become a member; but Smith declined. The
Barn, for many years, was frequented by all the noted players of
chess and draughts; and it was there that they often decided games
of the first importance, played between persons of the highest
rank.

* * * * *

The Grecian Coffee-house, Devereux-court, Strand, (closed in 1843)
was named from Constantine, of Threadneedle street, the _Grecian_
who kept it. In the _Tatler_ announcement, all accounts of learning
are to be "under the title of the Grecian;" and, in the _Tatler_,
No. 6: "While other parts of the town are amused with the present
actions (Marlborough's) we generally spend the evening at this
table (at the Grecian) in inquiries into antiquity, and think
anything new, which gives us new knowledge. Thus, we are making a
very pleasant entertainment to ourselves in putting the actions of
Homer's Iliad into an exact journal."

The _Spectator's_ face was very well known at the Grecian, a
coffee-house "adjacent to the law." Occasionally it was the scene
of learned discussion. Thus Dr. King relates that one evening, two
gentlemen, who were constant companions, were disputing here,
concerning the accent of a Greek word. This dispute was carried to
such a length, that the two friends thought proper to determine it
with their swords; for this purpose they stepped into
Devereux-court, where one of them (Dr. King thinks his name was
Fitzgerald) was run through the body, and died on the spot.

The Grecian was Foote's morning lounge. It was handy, too, for the
young Templar, Goldsmith, and often did it echo with Oliver's
boisterous mirth; for "it had become the favourite resort of the
Irish and Lancashire Templars, whom he delighted in collecting
around him, in entertaining with a cordial and unostentatious
hospitality, and in occasionally amusing with his flute, or with
whist, neither of which he played very well!" Here Goldsmith
occasionally wound up his "Shoemaker's Holiday" with supper.