第14章
"Atavernistherendezvous，theexchange，thestapleofgood
fellows。Ihaveheardmygreat—grandfathertell，howhis
great—great—grandfathershouldsay，thatitwasanoldproverbwhen
hisgreat—grandfatherwasachild，that’itwasagoodwindthat
blewamantothewine。’"
MOTHERBOMBIE。
ITISapiouscustom，insomeCatholiccountries，tohonorthe
memoryofsaintsbyvotivelightsburntbeforetheirpictures。The
popularityofasaint，therefore，maybeknownbythenumberof
theseofferings。One，perhaps，islefttomoulderinthedarknessof
hislittlechapel；anothermayhaveasolitarylamptothrowits
blinkingraysathwarthiseffigy；whilethewholeblazeofadoration
islavishedattheshrineofsomebeatifiedfatherofrenown。The
wealthydevoteebringshishugeluminaryofwax；theeagerzealot
hisseven—branchedcandlestick，andeventhemendicantpilgrimisby
nomeanssatisfiedthatsufficientlightisthrownuponthe
deceased，unlesshehangsuphislittlelampofsmokingoil。The
consequenceis，thatintheeagernesstoenlighten，theyareoftenapt
toobscure；andIhaveoccasionallyseenanunluckysaintalmost
smokedoutofcountenancebytheofficiousnessofhisfollowers。
InlikemannerhasitfaredwiththeimmortalShakspeare。Every
writerconsidersithisboundendutytolightupsomeportionofhis
characterorworks，andtorescuesomemeritfromoblivion。The
commentator，opulentinwords，producesvasttomesofdissertations；
thecommonherdofeditorssendupmistsofobscurityfromtheirnotes
atthebottomofeachpage；andeverycasualscribblerbringshis
farthingrushlightofeulogyorresearch，toswellthecloudof
incenseandofsmoke。
AsIhonorallestablishedusagesofmybrethrenofthequill，I
thoughtitbutpropertocontributemymiteofhomagetothememoryof
theillustriousbard。Iwasforsometime，however，sorelypuzzled
inwhatwayIshoulddischargethisduty。Ifoundmyselfanticipated
ineveryattemptatanewreading；everydoubtfullinehadbeen
explainedadozendifferentways，andperplexedbeyondthereachof
elucidation；andastofinepassages，theyhadallbeenamply
praisedbypreviousadmirers；nay，socompletelyhadthebard，of
late，beenoverlardedwithpanegyricbyagreatGermancritic，thatit
wasdifficultnowtofindevenafaultthathadnotbeenarguedintoa
beauty。
Inthisperplexity，Iwasonemorningturningoverhispages，whenI
casuallyopeneduponthecomicscenesofHenryIV。，andwas，ina
moment，completelylostinthemadcaprevelryoftheBoar’sHead
Tavern。Sovividlyandnaturallyarethesescenesofhumordepicted，
andwithsuchforceandconsistencyarethecharacterssustained，that
theybecomemingledupinthemindwiththefactsandpersonagesof
reallife。Tofewreadersdoesitoccur，thattheseareallideal
creationsofapoet’sbrain，andthat，insobertruth，nosuchknotof
merryroystererseverenlivenedthedullneighborhoodofEastcheap。
FormypartIlovetogivemyselfuptotheillusionsofpoetry。A
herooffictionthatneverexistedisjustasvaluabletomeasahero
ofhistorythatexistedathousandyearssince：and，ifImaybe
excusedsuchaninsensibilitytothecommontiesofhumannature，I
wouldnotgiveupfatJackforhalfthegreatmenofancient
chronicle。Whathavetheheroesofyoredoneforme，ormenlikeme？
TheyhaveconqueredcountriesofwhichIdonotenjoyanacre；orthey
havegainedlaurelsofwhichIdonotinheritaleaf；ortheyhave
furnishedexamplesofhair—brainedprowess，whichIhaveneitherthe
opportunitynortheinclinationtofollow。But，oldJackFalstaff！—
kindJackFalstaff！sweetJackFalstaff！—hasenlargedthe
boundariesofhumanenjoyment；hehasaddedvastregionsofwitand
goodhumor，inwhichthepoorestmanmayrevel；andhasbequeatheda
never—failinginheritanceofjollylaughter，tomakemankindmerrier
andbettertothelatestposterity。
Athoughtsuddenlystruckme："Iwillmakeapilgrimageto
Eastcheap，"saidI，closingthebook，"andseeiftheoldBoar’s
HeadTavernstillexists。WhoknowsbutImaylightuponsome
legendarytracesofDameQuicklyandherguests；atanyrate，there
willbeakindredpleasure，intreadingthehallsoncevocalwith
theirmirth，tothatthetoperenjoysinsmellingtotheemptycask
oncefilledwithgenerouswine。"
Theresolutionwasnosoonerformedthanputinexecution。Iforbear
totreatofthevariousadventuresandwondersIencounteredinmy
travels；ofthehauntedregionsofCockLane；ofthefadedglories
ofLittleBritain，andthepartsadjacent；whatperilsIranin
Cateaton—streetandoldJewry；oftherenownedGuildhallanditstwo
stuntedgiants，theprideandwonderofthecity，andtheterrorof
allunluckyurchins；andhowIvisitedLondonStone，andstruckmy
staffuponit，inimitationofthatarchrebel，JackCade。
Letitsufficetosay，thatIatlengtharrivedinmerry
Eastcheap，thatancientregionofwitandwassail，wherethevery
namesofthestreetsrelishedofgoodcheer，asPuddingLanebears
testimonyevenatthepresentday。ForEastcheap，saysoldStowe，"was
alwaysfamousforitsconvivialdoings。Thecookescriedhotribbesof
beefroasted，pieswellbaked，andothervictuals：therewas
clatteringofpewterpots，harpe，pipe，andsawtrie。"Alas！how
sadlyisthescenechangedsincetheroaringdaysofFalstaffand
oldStowe！Themadcaproystererhasgivenplacetotheplodding
tradesman；theclatteringofpotsandthesoundof"harpeand
sawtrie，"tothedinofcartsandtheaccurseddingingofthe
dustman’sbell；andnosongisheard，save，haply，thestrainof
somesirenfromBillingsgate，chantingtheeulogyofdeceased
mackerel。
Isought，invain，fortheancientabodeofDameQuickly。Theonly
relicofitisaboar’shead，carvedinreliefinstone，which
formerlyservedasthesign，butatpresentisbuiltintothe
partinglineoftwohouses，whichstandonthesiteoftherenowned
oldtavern。
Forthehistoryofthislittleabodeofgoodfellowship，Iwas
referredtoatallow—chandler’swidow，opposite，whohadbeenbornand
broughtuponthespot，andwaslookeduptoastheindisputable
chronicleroftheneighborhood。Ifoundherseatedinalittleback
parlor，thewindowofwhichlookedoutuponayardabouteightfeet
square，laidoutasaflower—garden；whileaglassdooropposite
affordedadistantpeepofthestreet，throughavistaofsoapand
tallowcandles：thetwoviews，whichcomprised，inallprobability，
herprospectsinlife，andthelittleworldinwhichshehadlived，
andmoved，andhadherbeing，forthebetterpartofacentury。
TobeversedinthehistoryofEastcheap，greatandlittle，from
LondonStoneevenuntotheMonument，wasdoubtless，inheropinion，to
beacquaintedwiththehistoryoftheuniverse。Yet，withallthis，
shepossessedthesimplicityoftruewisdom，andthatliberal
communicativedisposition，whichIhavegenerallyremarkedin
intelligentoldladies，knowingintheconcernsoftheirneighborhood。
Herinformation，however，didnotextendfarbackintoantiquity。
ShecouldthrownolightuponthehistoryoftheBoar’sHead，fromthe
timethatDameQuicklyespousedthevaliantPistol，untilthegreat
fireofLondon，whenitwasunfortunatelyburntdown。Itwassoon
rebuilt，andcontinuedtoflourishundertheoldnameandsign，
untiladyinglandlord，struckwithremorsefordoublescores，bad
measures，andotheriniquities，whichareincidenttothesinful
raceofpublicans，endeavoredtomakehispeacewithheaven，by
bequeathingthetaverntoSt。Michael’sChurch，CrookedLane，
towardsthesupportingofachaplain。Forsometimethevestry
meetingswereregularlyheldthere；butitwasobservedthattheold
Boarneverhelduphisheadunderchurchgovernment。Hegradually
declined，andfinallygavehislastgaspaboutthirtyyearssince。The
tavernwasthenturnedintoshops；butsheinformedmethata
pictureofitwasstillpreservedinSt。Michael’sChurch，whichstood
justintherear。Togetasightofthispicturewasnowmy
determination；so，havinginformedmyselfoftheabodeofthe
sexton，ItookmyleaveofthevenerablechroniclerofEastcheap，my
visithavingdoubtlessraisedgreatlyheropinionofherlegendary
lore，andfurnishedanimportantincidentinthehistoryofherlife。
Itcostmesomedifficulty，andmuchcuriousinquiry，toferret
outthehumblehanger—ontothechurch。IhadtoexploreCrookedLane，
anddiverslittlealleys，andelbows，anddarkpassages，withwhich
thisoldcityisperforated，likeanancientcheese，oraworm—eaten
chestofdrawers。AtlengthItracedhimtoacornerofasmall
courtsurroundedbyloftyhouses，wheretheinhabitantsenjoyaboutas
muchofthefaceofheaven，asacommunityoffrogsatthebottomofa
well。
Thesextonwasameek，acquiescinglittleman，ofabowing，lowly
habit：yethehadapleasanttwinklinginhiseye，and，ifencouraged，
wouldnowandthenhazardasmallpleasantry；suchasamanofhislow
estatemightventuretomakeinthecompanyofhighchurchwardens，and
othermightymenoftheearth。Ifoundhimincompanywiththe
deputyorganist，seatedapart，likeMilton’sangels，discoursing，no
doubt，onhighdoctrinalpoints，andsettlingtheaffairsofthe
churchoverafriendlypotofale—forthelowerclassesofEnglish
seldomdeliberateonanyweightymatterwithouttheassistanceofa
cooltankardtocleartheirunderstandings。Iarrivedatthemoment
whentheyhadfinishedtheiraleandtheirargument，andwereaboutto
repairtothechurchtoputitinorder；sohavingmadeknownmy
wishes，Ireceivedtheirgraciouspermissiontoaccompanythem。
ThechurchofSt。Michael’s，CrookedLane，standingashortdistance
fromBillingsgate，isenrichedwiththetombsofmanyfishmongersof
renown；andaseveryprofessionhasitsgalaxyofglory，andits
constellationofgreatmen，Ipresumethemonumentofamighty
fishmongeroftheoldentimeisregardedwithasmuchreverenceby
succeedinggenerationsofthecraft，aspoetsfeeloncontemplating
thetombofVirgil，orsoldiersthemonumentofaMarlboroughor
Turenne。
Icannotbutturnaside，whilethusspeakingofillustriousmen，
toobservethatSt。Michael’s，CrookedLane，containsalsotheashes
ofthatdoughtychampion，WilliamWalworth，knight，whosomanfully
clovedownthesturdywight，WatTyler，inSmithfield；aheroworthy
ofhonorableblazon，asalmosttheonlyLordMayoronrecordfamous
fordeedsofarms：—thesovereignsofCockneybeinggenerallyrenowned
asthemostpacificofallpotentates。*
*Thefollowingwastheancientinscriptiononthemonumentof
thisworthy；which，unhappily，wasdestroyedinthegreat
conflagration。
HereunderlythamanofFame，
WilliamWalworthcallydbyname；
Fishmongerhewasinlyfftimehere，
AndtwiseLordMaior，asinbooksappere；
Who，withcouragestoutandmanlymyght，
SlewJackStrawinKyngRichard’ssight。
Forwhichactdone，andtrewentent，
TheKyngmadehimknyghtincontinent；
Andgavehimarmes，ashereyousee，
Todeclarehisfactandchivaldrie。
HeleftthislyfftheyereofourGod
Thirteenhundredfourscoreandthreeodd。
Anerrorintheforegoinginscriptionhasbeencorrectedbythe
venerableStowe。"Whereas，"saithhe，"ithathbeenfarspread
abroadbyvulgaropinion，thattherebelsmittendownsomanfullyby
SirWilliamWalworth，thethenworthyLordMaior，wasnamedJack
Straw，andnotWatTyler，Ithoughtgoodtoreconcilethis
rash—conceiveddoubtbysuchtestimonyasIfindinancientandgood
records。Theprincipalleaders，orcaptains，ofthecommons，were
WatTyler，asthefirstman；thesecondwasJohn，orJack，Straw，"
etc。，etc。
STOWE’SLONDON。
Adjoiningthechurch，inasmallcemetery，immediatelyunderthe
backwindowofwhatwasoncetheBoar’sHead，standsthetombstone
ofRobertPreston，whilomdraweratthetavern。Itisnownearlya
centurysincethistrustydrawerofgoodliquorclosedhisbustling
career，andwasthusquietlydepositedwithincallofhiscustomers。
AsIwasclearingawaytheweedsfromhisepitaph，thelittlesexton
drewmeononesidewithamysteriousair，andinformedmeinalow
voice，thatonceuponatime，onadarkwintrynight，whenthewind
wasunruly，howling，andwhistling，bangingaboutdoorsandwindows，
andtwirlingweathercocks，sothatthelivingwerefrightenedoutof
theirbeds，andeventhedeadcouldnotsleepquietlyintheirgraves，
theghostofhonestPreston，whichhappenedtobeairingitselfinthe
church—yard，wasattractedbythewell—knowncallof"waiter"fromthe
Boar’sHead，andmadeitssuddenappearanceinthemidstofa
roaringclub，justastheparishclerkwassingingastavefromthe
"mirregarlandofCaptainDeath；"tothediscomfitureofsundry
train—bandcaptains，andtheconversionofaninfidelattorney，who
becameazealousChristianonthespot，andwasneverknowntotwist
thetruthafterwards，exceptinthewayofbusiness。
Ibegitmayberemembered，thatIdonotpledgemyselfforthe
authenticityofthisanecdote；thoughitiswellknownthatthe
church—yardsandby—cornersofthisoldmetropolisareverymuch
infestedwithperturbedspirits；andeveryonemusthaveheardof
theCockLaneghost，andtheapparitionthatguardstheregaliainthe
Tower，whichhasfrightenedsomanyboldsentinelsalmostoutoftheir
wits。
Beallthisasitmay，thisRobertPrestonseemstohavebeena
worthysuccessortothenimble—tonguedFrancis，whoattendedupon
therevelsofPrinceHal；tohavebeenequallypromptwithhis
"anon，anon，sir；"andtohavetranscendedhispredecessorinhonesty；
forFalstaff，theveracityofwhosetastenomanwillventureto
impeach，flatlyaccusesFrancisofputtinglimeinhissack；whereas
honestPreston’sepitaphlaudshimforthesobrietyofhisconduct，
thesoundnessofhiswine，andthefairnessofhismeasure。*The
worthydignitariesofthechurch，however，didnotappearmuch
captivatedbythesobervirtuesofthetapster；thedeputyorganist，
whohadamoistlookoutoftheeye，madesomeshrewdremarkonthe
abstemiousnessofamanbroughtupamongfullhogsheads；andthe
littlesextoncorroboratedhisopinionbyasignificantwink，anda
dubiousshakeofthehead。
*Asthisinscriptionisrifewithexcellentmorality，I
transcribeitfortheadmonitionofdelinquenttapsters。Itis，no
doubt，theproductionofsomechoicespirit，whooncefrequentedthe
Boar’sHead。
Bacchus，togivethetopingworldsurprise，
Producedonesoberson，andherehelies。
Thoughrear’damongfullhogsheads，hedefy’d
Thecharmsofwine，andeveryonebeside。
Oreader，iftojusticethou’rtinclined，
KeephonestPrestondailyinthymind。
Hedrewgoodwine，tookcaretofillhispots，
Hadsundryvirtuesthatexcusedhisfaults。
YouthatonBacchushavethelikedependance，
PraycopyBobinmeasureandattendance。
Thusfarmyresearches，thoughtheythrewmuchlightonthe
historyoftapsters，fishmongers，andLordMayors，yetdisappointedme
inthegreatobjectofmyquest，thepictureoftheBoar’sHead
Tavern。NosuchpaintingwastobefoundinthechurchofSt。Michael。
"Marryandamen！"saidI，"hereendethmyresearch！"SoIwasgiving
thematterup，withtheairofabaffledantiquary，whenmyfriendthe
sexton，perceivingmetobecuriousineverythingrelativetotheold
tavern，offeredtoshowmethechoicevesselsofthevestry，whichhad
beenhandeddownfromremotetimes，whentheparishmeetingswereheld
attheBoar’sHead。Theseweredepositedintheparishclub—room，
whichhadbeentransferred，onthedeclineoftheancient
establishment，toatavernintheneighborhood。
Afewstepsbroughtustothehouse，whichstandsNo。12MilesLane，
bearingthetitleofTheMason’sArms，andiskeptbyMasterEdward
Honeyball，the"bully—rock"oftheestablishment。Itisoneofthose
littletavernswhichaboundintheheartofthecity，andformthe
centreofgossipandintelligenceoftheneighborhood。Weentered
thebar—room，whichwasnarrowanddarkling；forintheseclose
lanesbutfewraysofreflectedlightareenabledtostruggledown
totheinhabitants，whosebroaddayisatbestbutatolerable
twilight。Theroomwaspartitionedintoboxes，eachcontainingatable
spreadwithacleanwhitecloth，readyfordinner。Thisshowedthat
theguestswereofthegoodoldstamp，anddividedtheirday
equally，foritwasbutjustoneo’clock。Atthelowerendoftheroom
wasaclearcoalfire，beforewhichabreastoflambwasroasting。A
rowofbrightbrasscandlesticksandpewtermugsglistenedalongthe
mantelpiece，andanold—fashionedclocktickedinonecorner。There
wassomethingprimitiveinthismedleyofkitchen，parlor，andhall，
thatcarriedmebacktoearliertimes，andpleasedme。Theplace，
indeed，washumble，buteverythinghadthatlookoforderand
neatness，whichbespeaksthesuperintendenceofanotableEnglish
housewife。Agroupofamphibious—lookingbeings，whomightbeeither
fishermenorsailors，wereregalingthemselvesinoneoftheboxes。As
Iwasavisitorofratherhigherpretensions，Iwasusheredintoa
littlemisshapenbackroom，havingatleastninecorners。Itwas
lightedbyaskylight，furnishedwithantiquatedleathernchairs，
andornamentedwiththeportraitofafatpig。Itwasevidently
appropriatedtoparticularcustomers，andIfoundashabby
gentleman，inarednoseandoil—clothhat，seatedinonecorner，
meditatingonahalf—emptypotofporter。
Theoldsextonhadtakenthelandladyaside，andwithanairof
profoundimportanceimpartedtohermyerrand。DameHoneyballwasa
likely，plump，bustlinglittlewoman，andnobadsubstituteforthat
paragonofhostesses，DameQuickly。Sheseemeddelightedwithan
opportunitytooblige；andhurryingupstairstothearchivesofher
house，wherethepreciousvesselsoftheparishclubweredeposited，
shereturned，smilingandcourtesying，withtheminherhands。
Thefirstshepresentedmewasajapannedirontobacco—box，of
giganticsize，outofwhich，Iwastold，thevestryhadsmokedat
theirstatedmeetings，sincetimeimmemorial；andwhichwasnever
sufferedtobeprofanedbyvulgarhands，orusedoncommon
occasions。Ireceiveditwithbecomingreverence；butwhatwasmy
delight，atbeholdingonitscovertheidenticalpaintingofwhichI
wasinquest！TherewasdisplayedtheoutsideoftheBoar’sHead
Tavern，andbeforethedoorwastobeseenthewholeconvivial
group，attable，infullrevel；picturedwiththatwonderful
fidelityandforce，withwhichtheportraitsofrenownedgenerals
andcommodoresareillustratedontobacco—boxes，forthebenefitof
posterity。Lest，however，thereshouldbeanymistake，thecunning
limnerhadwarilyinscribedthenamesofPrinceHalandFalstaffon
thebottomsoftheirchairs。
Ontheinsideofthecoverwasaninscription，nearlyobliterated，
recordingthatthisboxwasthegiftofSirRichardGore，forthe
useofthevestrymeetingsattheBoar’sHeadTavern，andthatit
was"repairedandbeautifiedbyhissuccessor，Mr。JohnPackard，
1767。"Suchisafaithfuldescriptionofthisaugustandvenerable
relic；andIquestionwhetherthelearnedScribleriuscontemplatedhis
Romanshield，ortheKnightsoftheRoundTablethelong—sought
san—greal，withmoreexultation。
WhileIwasmeditatingonitwithenrapturedgaze，DameHoneyball，
whowashighlygratifiedbytheinterestitexcited，putinmyhandsa
drinkingcuporgoblet，whichalsobelongedtothevestry，andwas
descendedfromtheoldBoar’sHead。Itboretheinscriptionof
havingbeenthegiftofFrancisWythers，knight，andwasheld，she
toldme，inexceedinggreatvalue，beingconsideredvery"antyke。"
Thislastopinionwasstrengthenedbytheshabbygentlemaninthe
rednoseandoil—clothhat，andwhomIstronglysuspectedofbeinga
linealdescendantfromthevaliantBardolph。Hesuddenlyrousedfrom
hismeditationonthepotofporter，and，castingaknowinglookat
thegoblet，exclaimed，"Ay，ay！theheaddon’tachenowthatmadethat
therearticle！"
Thegreatimportanceattachedtothismementoofancientrevelry
bymodernchurchwardensatfirstpuzzledme；butthereisnothing
sharpenstheapprehensionsomuchasantiquarianresearch；forI
immediatelyperceivedthatthiscouldbenootherthantheidentical
"parcel—giltgoblet"onwhichFalstaffmadehisloving，but
faithlessvowtoDameQuickly；andwhichwould，ofcourse，be
treasuredupwithcareamongtheregaliaofherdomains，asa
testimonyofthatsolemncontract。*
*Thoudidstsweartomeuponaparcel—giltgoblet，sittinginmy
Dolphinchamber，attheroundtable，byasea—coalfire，onWednesday，
inWhitsunweek，whentheprincebrokethyheadforlikeninghisfather
toasingingmanatWindsor；thoudidstsweartomethen，asIwas
washingthywound，tomarryme，andmakememylady，thywife。
Can’stthoudenyit？—HenryIV。，Part2。
Minehostess，indeed，gavemealonghistoryhowthegoblethadbeen
handeddownfromgenerationtogeneration。Shealsoentertainedme
withmanyparticularsconcerningtheworthyvestrymenwhohave
seatedthemselvesthusquietlyonthestoolsoftheancientroysterers
ofEastcheap，and，likesomanycommentators，uttercloudsofsmokein
honorofShakspeare。TheseIforbeartorelate，lestmyreadersshould
notbeascuriousinthesemattersasmyself。Sufficeittosay，the
neighbors，oneandall，aboutEastcheap，believethatFalstaffandhis
merrycrewactuallylivedandrevelledthere。Nay，thereareseveral
legendaryanecdotesconcerninghimstillextantamongtheoldest
frequentersoftheMason’sArms，whichtheygiveastransmitteddown
fromtheirforefathers；andMr。M’Kash，anIrishhair—dresser，whose
shopstandsonthesiteoftheoldBoar’sHead，hasseveraldry
jokesofFatJack’s，notlaiddowninthebooks，withwhichhemakes
hiscustomersreadytodieoflaughter。