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London Clubs: Their History & Treasures

Name: London Clubs: Their History & Treasures
Author: Ralph Nevill

by Ralph Nevill

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Language: en1,158 downloads on Project Gutenberg

Subjects

London (England) -- Social life and customs Clubs -- England -- London

In: History - British

Public-domain ebook sourced from Project Gutenberg #60472.

About this book

The work is a detailed social history of London’s clubs, tracing their evolution from early coffee‑houses to the opulent private establishments of the nineteenth century. It opens with a concise definition of the term “club,” linking its emergence to the rise of coffee‑houses and naming the Mermaid on Broad Street as the first notable example, complete with anecdotes of Shakespeare, Ben Jonson and other literary figures. The author then sketches the gradual transformation of venues such as Tom’s, White’s and the Cocoa‑tree from public taverns into exclusive societies, before moving on to a panoramic description of the myriad coffee‑houses that once dotted the city, each associated with particular professions, political factions or nationalities. The narrative proceeds to single out surviving relics like Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese, recounting their historic interiors, portraits and the clubs that still meet there, thereby offering a vivid picture of the social fabric that once animated London’s public rooms.

Written in a measured, nineteenth‑century prose style, the book combines factual enumeration with lively anecdotes, reflecting the author’s scholarly yet conversational voice. Its tone will appeal to readers who relish detailed cultural histories, especially those interested in the interplay of literature, politics and everyday life in Georgian and early Victorian London. Scholars of social customs, enthusiasts of historic pubs, and anyone fascinated by the origins of modern private clubs will find the text both informative and evocative, while its rich references to figures such as Dr Johnson and Shakespeare provide ample material for literary and historical curiosity.

Who appears in London Clubs

ShakespeareMiddle‑aged Elizabethan actor with dark curls, ruff collar, leather doublet, thoughtful gaze
Ben JonsonTall, gaunt playwright in early 17th‑century attire, high‑waisted breeches, plain white shirt, sharp beard
RaleighSir Walter Raleigh, distinguished Elizabethan nobleman, auburn hair, trimmed beard, ornate doublet, feathered hat

The opening · free to read

The appellation “club” seems to have come into use at the time when coffee-houses began to be popular in London. The first notable London club, of course, was the Mermaid, in Broad Street, which was supposed to have been founded by Raleigh, and which was the reputed scene of many witty combats between Shakespeare and Ben Jonson. The latter himself originated another club—the Apollo—which had its meetings at the Devil Tavern, near Temple Bar.

In course of time many landlords perceived the advantage which would accrue to their business from the setting apart of special rooms for privileged customers; and gradually a number of fairly exclusive clubs came into being.

Thus Tom’s, a coffee-house till 1764, in that year, by a guinea subscription, was easily converted into a fashionable club. 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, well acquainted with each other, it was quite worth while to purchase the power of excluding all but subscribers, and to turn the place into a club; for by such a proceeding undesirable characters, who could obtain constant admission to an open house, were at once kept outside the doors.

The evolution of the modern club has been so simple that it can be traced with great ease. First the tavern or coffee-house, where a certain number of people met on special evenings for purposes of social conversation, and incidentally consumed a good deal of liquid refreshment; then the beginnings of the club proper—some well-known house of refreshment being taken over from the proprietor by a limited number of clients for their own exclusive use, and the landlord retained as manager; and finally the palatial modern club, not necessarily sociable, but replete with every comfort, and owned by the members themselves. In such places, however, the old spirit of club-life is generally lost. Dr. Johnson, for example, can be imagined passing through the portals of one of these huge buildings, and saying: “Sir, this may be a palace, but it is no club.” There is no doubt that in a great measure he would be right.

It is believed that the first house in Pall Mall ever used as a club was No. 86, originally built for Edward, Duke of York, brother of George III. It was opened as a “subscription house,” and called the Albion Hotel towards the end of the last century.

In the early part of the eighteenth century there were said to be no fewer than 2,000 coffee-houses in London. Every profession, trade, class, party, had its favourite coffee-house. The lawyers discussed law or literature, criticized the last new play, or retailed the legal scandal at Nando’s or the Grecian, not very far away from the Temple. At such places the young bloods of the Inns of Court paraded their gowns in the morning, and swaggered in their lace coats and Mechlin ruffles at night, after the theatre. City men met to discuss the rise and fall of stocks, and to settle the rate of insurance, at Garraway’s or Jonathan’s; parsons exchanged University gossip or discussed points of theology at Truby’s or at Child’s, in St. Paul’s Churchyard; whilst military men mustered to grumble over their grievances at Old or Young Man’s, near Charing Cross. The St. James’s and the Smyrna were the headquarters of the Whig politicians, whereas the Tories frequented the Cocoa-tree or Ozinda’s, 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; and the leading wits gathered at Will’s, Button’s, or Tom’s, in Great Russell Street, where, after the theatre, there was 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.

Many of these old taverns must have been exceedingly comfortable places, and the few which survive have an especial charm. They carry one’s thoughts irresistibly to the days when Dr. Johnson blew his cloud by the side of an old-fashioned fireplace, and occasionally floored some unhappy wight with the sledge-hammer of his conversation.

One of the last, if not the last, hostelries, which still retains its ancient appearance, is the Cheshire Cheese. This well-known house is half-way up Fleet Street, on the northern side. It remains, I believe, substantially as it was when, seven years after the Restoration, it was rebuilt on the site of that older Cheshire Cheese where Shakespeare and many other Elizabethan wits were wont to meet.

Ben Jonson was a frequent visitor, and here occurred his dispute with Sylvester as to which of them could make the best couplet in the shortest time. The latter began:

“I, Sylvester, Kiss’d your sister.”

Dr. Johnson is supposed to have passed many an evening here, and from his time down to the present day unbroken links of tradition connect the Cheshire Cheese of the twentieth century with the Cheshire Cheese of the eighteenth.

The seat on which legend reports that the redoubtable lexicographer sat is one of the most treasured relics of the dining-room. Above it hangs a copy of the famous portrait by Sir Joshua Reynolds, now preserved in the National Gallery. Underneath may be read the following inscription: “The Favourite Seat of Dr. Johnson. Born 18th Septr., 1709. Died 13th Decr., 1784. In him a noble understanding and a masterly intellect were united with grand independence of character and unfailing goodness of heart, which won the admiration of his own age and remain as recommendations to the reverence of posterity. ‘No, Sir! there is nothing which has yet been contrived by man by which so much happiness has been produced as by a good tavern.’—JOHNSON.”

A number of quaint pictures and prints are to be found scattered over the house.

Upstairs is another copy of Sir Joshua’s oil-painting of the Doctor. This, it is said, dates back to Johnson’s time, and was painted in order that it might adorn the room at the Mitre, in Chancery Lane, where the club founded by Dr. Johnson first held its meetings. Dr. Johnson’s Mitre has long since been pulled down, but the club he founded still exists, and it meets several times a year in what was formerly the coffee-room. This is now known as “William’s room,” on account of the portrait of William Simpson which hangs over the fireplace. William began to be a waiter at Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese Chop-house in 1829, and his portrait, as the inscription below says, “was subscribed for by the gentlemen frequenting the coffee-room, and presented to Mr. Dolamore (the landlord) to be handed down as an heirloom to all future landlords of ‘Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese,’ Wine Office Court, Fleet Street.” The name of the artist is unknown.

In the opposite room is a picture of another waiter—a portrait of Henry Todd, as the inscription informs us, who commenced as waiter at Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese February 27, 1812. It was painted by Wageman, July 1827, and “subscribed for by the gentlemen frequenting the coffee-room, and presented to Mr. Dolamore (the landlord) in trust to be handed down as an heirloom to all future landlords of the Old Cheshire Cheese, Wine Office Court, Fleet Street.”

Besides being the meeting-place of the Mitre Club, the Cheshire Cheese is used by a number of clubs resembling somewhat those which were so popular with a long-vanished generation. These are: The Johnson Club, founded about twenty-five years ago; the Sawdust Club, founded 1906; “Ourselves,” founded 1897; St. Dunstan’s, founded 1890; the Rump Steak Club; the Dickens Club. The Johnson Club is literary and social in character, and consists of thirty-one members, who sup together annually on or about December 13th, the anniversary of the Doctor’s death. Various other meetings are held throughout the year.

The Doctor was certainly the most typical club-man of a past age, and his name is connected with quite a number of social clubs which held their meetings at coffee-houses and taverns. Indeed, no more clubbable man than the writer of the famous Dictionary ever lived; but, then, sociability was the main object of the clubs of his day, whereas the modern tendency is more towards comfort and efficient management than anything else. In most large modern clubs quite a number of members are totally unknown to their fellows, and there is no reason why a member should speak to anyone at all unless he wishes to do so. The majority of the larger modern clubs are in reality merely comfortable caravanserais—hotels receiving a certain number of selected visitors who recognize no social obligations within the club walls except such as regulate ordinary civilized behaviour.

Dr. Johnson founded several social clubs at the taverns and coffee-houses which he loved to frequent. One of these was the King’s Head, Ivy Lane, Paternoster Row, a famous beefsteak house, and here he spent every Tuesday evening in conversation with the members of a social club of his own foundation.

At the Queen’s Arms, in St. Paul’s Churchyard, the Doctor in later years founded a club of a similar sort, and Boswell records that he was also desirous of having a City club, the members of which he suggested that Boswell should collect. “Only,” added the great lexicographer, “don’t let there be any patriots.”

Yet another club instituted by Dr. Johnson was one which met thrice a week at the Essex Head, in Essex Street, Strand, at the time when that tavern was kept by Samuel Greaves—an old servant of Mr. Thrale’s. Failure to attend was penalized by a fine of twopence.

The Mitre Tavern in Fleet Street, so often referred to by Boswell, was Dr. Johnson’s favourite supper-place, and here was planned the celebrated tour to the Hebrides. It is interesting to remember, in this connection, that Chamberlain Clarke, who died in 1831, aged ninety-two, was the last survivor of those friends with whom Dr. Johnson forgathered at the Mitre.

Peele’s Coffee-house, at Nos. 177, 178, Fleet Street, which afterwards became a tavern, was also supposed to have been a haunt of Dr. Johnson, whose portrait, painted on the keystone of a chimney-piece, for years after his death formed one of the attractions of the house. The artist was supposed to have been Sir Joshua Reynolds. Peele’s was once noted for its collection of old newspapers. Here were preserved files from the following dates: The Gazette, 1759; Times, 1780; Morning Chronicle, 1773; Morning Post, 1773; Morning Herald, 1784; Morning Advertiser, 1794.

Nearly every literary man of that time had his favourite coffee-house.

George’s, at No. 213 Strand, near Temple Bar, was the resort of Shenstone, who found it an economical place. Probably it was for this reason that the eccentric Sir James Lowther, a very rich man, but penurious, also went there. On his first visit he got the proprietors to change a piece of silver in order to pay twopence for his coffee. A few days later he returned expressly to tell the woman that she had given him a bad halfpenny, and demanded another in exchange for it.

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