The Old Inns of Old England, Volume 2 (of 2): A Picturesque Account of the Ancient and Storied Hostelries of Our Own Country

In Short

This volume surveys the historic pub and hostelry heritage of provincial England, mapping how traditional inns served as centers of commerce, romance, and community life. Blending architectural observation, local folklore, literary history, and personal travel notes, the narrative examines every facet of tavern culture—from remote mountain shelters and converted roadside buildings to curious painted signboards, fireside architecture, and whimsical epitaphs. It captures a vanishing landscape of stagecoach stops, tracing how changing transit, shifting social customs, and modern developments transformed or silenced these once-bustling hubs of English public life.

The Story

The book opens with a broad survey of notable regional hostelries, examining the architectural beauty and structural quirks of storied houses across Cheshire and the surrounding counties. It moves through magnificent Elizabethan and Jacobean survivors like the "Maid's Head" at Norwich, the "Old Hall" at Sandbach, and the "Luttrell Arms," detailing carved timber framing, leaded casements, and elaborate plaster overmantels. From these prosperous sites, the narrative pivots to inns that have retired from business or fallen into decay—such as the quieted "Chapel House" near Oxford, which sank from a bustling coaching depot where sixty coaches passed daily into a sleepy rural boarding-house.

The author then systematically catalogues the oddities preserved within tavern walls. He explores establishments containing peculiar relics, like the "Widow's Son" in Bromley-by-Bow with its hanging basket of Easter buns, or Chiswick's ancient whetstone. The journey ascends to the most remote and bleak elevations of the realm, profiling desolate shebeens like the "Tan Hill" inn on the windswept Yorkshire commons. Investigating the visual language of the roadside, the text considers gallows signs spanning entire highways, as well as artistic signboards painted by figures like George Morland, Hogarth, and Walter Crane. The survey continues through eccentric names—from the "Ass in the Bandbox" to the "World Turned Upside Down"—before turning to the rustic atmosphere of village ale-houses, their cozy ingle-nooks, and the evolution of country taverns over time.

In its closing movements, the book considers how the human record is preserved around these establishments. It traces the humor and pathos found in innkeepers' epitaphs recorded in nearby churchyards, uncovers odd legal privileges and local customs, and explores the portrayal of inns in English literature. After analyzing the fictional and real-world associations of places like Tewkesbury's "Bell" inn or Dean Swift's bitter glass-scratched verses at Chester and Willoughby, the work concludes with a study of historical visitors' books, leaving readers with a sweeping, detailed portrait of the ancient hostelry's place in national memory.

How It Unfolds

The tour commences The journey begins among the architectural marvels of old provincial towns, where ancient taverns retain their Jacobean bars, carved oak paneling, and stout timber framing.

Tracing fallen houses The narrative turns to inns retired from service, documenting how once-teeming coaching hubs decayed, lost their stables, and faded into quiet rural cottages as rail travel bypassed the old turnpikes.

Unearthing curious relics The focus shifts to taverns guarding strange tokens of the past, from century-old Easter buns suspended from ceiling nets to ancient scythe-whetstones fixed in doorways.

Ascending the heights A trip into bleak highland solitaries profiles the country's highest shebeens, where misanthropic keepers serve travellers amidst desolate, wind-scoured commons.

Decoding the signs The text examines the visual art of the roadside, exploring gallows-style signs spanning whole roads, artist-painted boards, and bizarre titles reflecting political satire or nursery rhymes.

Examining firesides and graves Stepping inside rustic tap-rooms, the author inspects cozy ingle-nooks and dog-gates, then wanders into neighboring graveyards to read the satirical and solemn epitaphs of dead landlords.

Searching literary shrines The final chapters explore how famous authors immortalized specific houses, tracking the real-world locations behind fictional novels and the spiteful verses scratched onto tavern windowpanes by Dean Swift.

The People

Charles G. Harper The observant author and illustrator guides the reader along neglected turnpikes and into remote tap-rooms. Seeking first-hand knowledge despite inclement weather, snow-blizzards, and rough roads, he approaches each house with an antiquarian's eye, sharply criticizing bad modern renovations while celebrating genuine Jacobean woodwork, rustic home-brewed ale, and authentic local folklore.

Dean Jonathan Swift The famous satirist appears through historical anecdotes as an impatient, sharp-tongued traveller on the Holyhead Road. Armed with his diamond ring, he travels between London and Ireland, leaving a trail of biting rhymes and malicious lampoons scratched into the glass windows of taverns whose hosts or local clergy managed to offend him.

George Morland The talented eighteenth-century painter serves as the classic example of the dissolute artistic genius who frequented roadside beerhouses. Choosing ostlers and potboys as his companions, he produced thousands of exquisite rustic scenes and tavern signs to settle his drinking debts before dying prematurely in a debtors' house.

Sir Francis Blake Delaval's Attorney This unfortunate historical lawyer illustrates the wilder side of tavern history during Parliamentary elections. After orchestrating a practical joke by swapping banquet invitations between local officers and the town corporation at the "George" in Andover, he was promptly thrown out of an upper-story window by the enraged guests, resulting in a famous £500 legal bill for his broken leg.

In Its Own Voice

"Ergo, as the old wording proceeds, 'it must have been he that stole John de Ingham’s goods at his tavern in the Cook Rowe.'"

This 1287 Norwich court record humorously demonstrates how an unlucky night-walker was convicted on suspicion alone.

"And when you are come, in summer hot, in winter searched through and through by the bitter blast that--Shakespeare notwithstanding--is by a long chalk more unkind than man’s ingratitude, to these unkindly altitudes, what, oh my brothers, do you see?"

The author dryly laments the grueling efforts required to reach remote, high-altitude hill-top inns.

"To the stranger who first catches sight of it, this polar bear among the geraniums and the sweet-williams is sufficiently startling."

This observation captures the surprise of finding a massive white wooden bear from a demolished London inn relocated to a quiet Surrey garden.

What It's Really About

Beneath its topographical descriptions, the book investigates how physical spaces hold collective memory and document social evolution. It charts the decline of a traditional way of life, showing how the rise of railways silenced once-vital turnpikes and turned bustling centers of news and travel into forgotten ruins or quiet boarding-houses. Through its focus on signs, epitaphs, and interior relics, the text argues that everyday vernacular architecture and folk customs reveal more about historical English character than grand monuments or formal histories do. It stands as a defense of local identity against modern homogenization.

Why Read It Today

This volume appeals to social historians, antiquarians, travellers, and anyone who delights in the obscure corners of English history. Reading it feels like taking a brisk, opinionated walking tour with an overly articulate Victorian guide who refuses to mince words about bad weather, ugly modern storefronts, or poor architecture. The prose balances precise architectural inventory with dry, sarcastic humor, offering vivid glimpses of forgotten roads and forgotten people.

Readers should be prepared for the author's uncompromising tone and his periodic, uncompromising Victorian prejudices—he has little patience for temperance enthusiasts, modern renovations, or romantic idealizations of uncomfortable high-altitude living. The text relies heavily on precise geography, historical references, and regional details that can occasionally feel dense or relentless to a casual reader. However, its charm lies in that very detail: the sheer abundance of strange anecdotes, unusual inn signs, and literary lore creates an immersive, affectionate portrait of an older, slower England that continues to haunt the edges of modern highways.