In one of his oracular and sententious utterances, Dr. Johnson declared that “there is nothing that has yet been contrived by man by which so much happiness is produced, as by a good tavern or inn.” But, inasmuch as Boswell tells us that this opinion was pronounced just after the great doctor had “dined at an excellent inn,” we may fairly receive the sentiment as the pair received their meal—with a grain of salt. It would be foreign to the purpose of this paper to enlarge upon the benefits or to denounce the evils connected with inns and taverns. It is enough to know that they exercised on the domestic lives and habits of our forefathers an influence sufficiently potent to establish their claim to share the attention of historical writers with churches, and monasteries, and castles. The Royalist tendencies of the citizens were shown by the “King John Tavern,” in the Serge Market, at the head of South Street; the “Plume of Feathers,” at the bottom of North Street; the “Unicorn,” in the Butcher Row; the “King’s Head,” formerly in Spiller’s Lane; and the “Crown and Sceptre,” in North Street.

The oldest of Exeter inns having anything like a connected history was known for centuries by the inappropriate title of the “New Inn.” We may enter it now without any suspicion of its antiquity. Of the ladies of the present day who are so familiar with the house, which bears over its alluring portal the name of “Green & Son,” probably not one in a hundred suspects that her ancestors knew it equally well as the principal inn in Exeter. The archives of the Corporation and of the Dean and Chapter, to whom it jointly belonged, make frequent mention of the “New Inn,” the earliest being a lease in 1456, by which the Master and Brethren of the Magdalen Hospital granted to Roger Schordych and Joan, his wife, two tenements opposite “le Newe Inne,” in the parish of St. Stephen. It appears from Shillingford’s Letters (p. 85), that the inn was then “newly built,” and one of the frequent squabbles between the Cathedral and the City authorities arose out of a “purpresture” or encroachment said to have been made there by the Chapter. A few years later, as we learn from Mr. Cotton’s Gleanings (p. 11), an entry was made in the accounts of the Receiver to the Chamber of 3s. 4d., disbursed for “four gallons of wine sent to Lord Stafford at the Newynne.” From this time it often occurs on successive renewals of the lease. In John Hoker’s Extracts from the Act Books of the Chamber, we find that on the 16th February, 1554, during the mayoralty of John Midwinter, that body resolved to establish at the “New Inn” the cloth mart previously kept at the “Eagle” from 1472—"The newe Inne to be bought of Christian, the wydowe of Thomas Petefyn, and the same to be converted into a commodious hall for all manner of clothe, Lynnen or wollyn, and for all other m’chandises and w^ch shalbe called the m’chaunts hall." In pursuance of this arrangement, Edward Clase and Elizabeth, his wife, who had succeeded Thomas Peytevin, surrendered their lease to the Chamber in 1555. The Act Book also shows that Thomas Johnson was deprived of the tenure of the “New Inn” on the 25th July, 1582, and was succeeded by Valentine Tooker (or Tucker). This tenant had a misunderstanding with the municipal authorities, in which he induced some of his mercantile customers to take up his cause; for amongst the municipal records is a letter addressed to the Chamber on the 20th of June, 1612, in which Matthew Springham, Walter Clarke, John Pettye, and eighteen other London merchants, intercede for Tooker, who had received notice to quit his “nowe dwelling howse, the Newe Inn”; and they pray that in consideration of his years and services “some stipend may be given him.” Shortly after this, Valentine Tooker died, and in 1617 his sons, Thomas and Samuel, state, in a letter to Ignatius Jurdaine, the Mayor, that their father had recovered £43 13s. 4d. from the Chamber by a Decree in Chancery for being compelled to leave the New Inn, of which he had been tenant for many years, and they desired that it might be paid without putting them to the charge of taking out the Decree under the Great Seal. They thought it hard that their father should, without any just cause or indemnity, be thrust out of doors, “after keeping the New Inn for more than thirty years, behaving himself honestly, and paying his rent duly, albeit two or three several times raysed and enhanced therein on the promise afterwards to enjoy it for his life.” Notes are added in favour of the petitioners by the brothers Richard and Symon Baskerville.

This Simon Baskerville, a near relative of the Mayor, was a man of note and influence at this time. He was the son of Thomas Baskerville, an Exeter apothecary, and was born in the city in 1573. He was successively appointed physician to James I. and Charles I., from the latter of whom he received the honour of knighthood. A mural tablet in St. Paul’s, London, records that “Near this place lyeth the body of that worthy and learned gentleman, Sir Simon Baskerville, Knight and Doctor in Physick, who departed this life the fifth of July, 1641, aged 68 years.” The transactions between the sons of Valentine Tooker and the Chamber appear to have closed on the 3rd of April, 1618, when they acknowledged the receipt from that body of £6 16s., “in full satisfaction, recompence and payment, of and for the full and uttermoste value of all those selynges, stayned or paynted, clothes, shelfes, and all other goods, chattels,” etc., left by them in the “New Inn.”

After the year 1612, we find many references to the “New Inne Halle” or Merchants’ Hall. This was let separately from the inn, and was used as an Exchange, where the cloth merchants congregated, and where the three great yearly cloth fairs drew together traffickers from all parts to carry on the trade previously conducted at “le Egle,” opposite the Guildhall. These merchants rented stalls or shops, which were also distinct from the inn, and in 1640 they petitioned the Chamber to prevent “foreigners,” by whom they meant non-residents, from buying and selling to one another in the city. They suggested that “the hygher roome of Sent Johns (Hospital) be ordenyd to be a store as a roome annyxt unto the New In halle, to reseve all wols browght unto thys cyttaye by foreners.” These restrictive and protectionist measures, operating with the introduction of steam power, finally caused the great woollen manufacture of the West to depart into districts where trade was freer and coal was cheaper.

The “New Inn” extended as far back as Catherine Street, including what was till lately Mr. Seller’s coach factory. Perhaps the sole relic of the original structure is the well in the cellar under this part of the old premises. When this well was opened, in May, 1872, its circular wrought courses of red sandstone plainly testified to its antiquity. The stabling was on the other side of Catherine Street, on a site still used for that purpose, and belonging to the Duke of Bedford. A fire broke out in these stables in 1723, and their great extent is shown by the following advertisement in Andrew Brice’s Postmaster, or Loyal Mercury: “Whereas there has been a Report industriously spread abroad by certain malicious or designing persons, that all or most of the Stables belonging to the New Inn, in the High Street, Exon, are burnt down;—this is to certify that the said Report is vicious and false, there being but one only Stable any way damaged by the said late Fire; and that there are remaining near Three times as much Stable room as belongs to any other Inn House in that City, with handsome Accommodation for Coaches, &c., and above an Hundred Horses.”

The structure already referred to was the first edition of the “New Inn” on that site. About the time of the Restoration of Monarchy the house appears to have been re-built, and then was erected the great Apollo Room, which still remains the chief ornament of the house. This splendid apartment is 32½ feet long by 23½ feet wide, and before the floor was raised by Messrs. Green to increase the height of the shop below, it was 17 feet high. The original contract for the construction of the rich and elaborate ceiling appears to have been made with the Chamber by Richard Over, who was to receive £50 “for his skill and labour in playstering the fore chamber, or dining-room, in the New Inn, according to the form and mould which he hath propounded and laid down in a scheme or map.” But the work appears to have been begun in 1689 by Thomas Lane, a plasterer, for five shillings a yard, and on the following 20th of March he was paid by the Chamber £50 for this admirable work of art. It displays the royal arms, with those of the See of Exeter, and of the county families of Hillersdon, Calmady, Prestwood, Acland, and Radcliffe. The name of this fine room may possibly have been borrowed from the Apollo Club in London, near Temple Bar, a place of great resort in the reign of James I. Its principal room was called the Oracle of Apollo, the bust of the god being set above the door of the room, whilst over the entrance to the house were some verses beginning:—

Perhaps our county magistrates sought his inspiration when they met at the “New Inn” for public business. Amongst the many illustrious visitors who have been lodged there, none ever excited more curiosity than that great potentate, Cosmo III., Grand Duke of Tuscany, who came with an imposing retinue, on his way to London, in the spring of 1669. The Mayor and Alderman waited on him in full state, and were received in a saloon above stairs, perhaps the one that was afterwards converted into the Apollo Room. His highness graciously desired the Mayor to be covered, listened patiently to the inevitable speech or address, accepted the gift of money (£20), which it was then customary to present to great personages, but politely declined his worship’s invitation to a banquet. The Grand Duke afterwards received Sir John Rolle and his two sons, John and Denys, and on the next day returned the visit at their house in the Close, formerly the town mansion of the Abbot of Buckfast, and now occupied as a school by Mrs. Hellins. The fortunes of the “New Inn” began to decline when the Cloth Fair was removed to St. John’s Hospital in 1778, and its decay was probably hastened by the rivalry of the “London Inn,” now the “Bude Haven Hotel.” In his Grand Gazetteer, published a little before this time, Andrew Brice describes the “New Inn” as “not undeserving mention, not only as having most or all the Properties of an Inn super-excellent, but especially for one most magnificent lofty and large room, called the Apollo; the Fellow of which scarce any Inn in the Kingdom can truly boast. It’s the property of the Chamber. Herein is kept the present Cloth Hall, and at Whitsuntide fairs the whole Court and nearly every Room are filled with Clothiers and their wares. It may casually be acceptable to some or other of the worthy Fraternity to note also that the said Apollo is the only constituted Lodge of Exeter Freemasons.” When the testy but clever author of this description ended his long life in 1773, two hundred of his brother Freemasons, members of several lodges, met in full costume at the Apollo Room, and joined the funeral procession to St. Bartholomew’s Yard, singing as they went a solemn Masonic elegy composed for the occasion. It was probably not long after this event that the premises ceased to be used as an inn; but the judges of assize continued to be lodged there until about the year 1836, when they removed to Northernhay Place. In a large upper room, in the rear of the “New Inn” premises, the first popular Literary Society in Exeter held its meetings from the year 1830. It was founded five years earlier in some rooms in South Street, under the title of a Mechanics’ Institute. Soon after the termination of its brief but useful existence, its place was supplied by the still flourishing Exeter Literary Society.

Next, if not equal, in importance to the “New Inn” was the “Mermaid,” whose yard is now worthily occupied by two huge blocks of Industrial Dwellings. There was a great oaken staircase, with carven handrail and ample landings, leading to the assembly and other large rooms, for the quality folks, on the left of the entrance. Dr. Oliver, in a contribution to a newspaper in 1833, mentions this assembly room as having been used for balls within the memory of old people then living. It was 56 feet long and 17 wide. Its arched and moulded ceiling was enriched with gold and colour. On a carved stone in the centre of the mantelpiece (30 inches wide by 25 high), and dated 1632, were impaled the arms of the old Devonshire families of Shapleigh and Slanning. Travellers and casual guests were lodged on the left side of the entrance; and besides the spacious yard there was a large garden with a summer-house, commanding a prospect of fields and distant hills. Here the city merchants could look down upon their ships in the haven below, as they smoked their pipes over cups of canary, and held converse touching their foreign ventures. The “Mermaid” was a favourite sign with our forefathers, who had a liking for strange fishes, especially for those connected with fable or mystery. An old book tells how, once upon a time, a long consultation on the choice of a sign ended in the selection of the “Mermaid,” “because,” said the hostess, “she will sing catches to the youths of the parish.” Not from the parish only, but from every quarter of the county, did customers of high degree make their way to the “Mermaid” of Exeter. They sang catches, if she did not. "What things we have seen done at the ‘Mermaid!’" wrote Beaumont to Ben Jonson. Those dashing brethren, Sir Peter and Sir Gawen Carew, with a gallant company of knights and squires and justices of the quorum, rode into its yard, in 1549, after conference with the misguided Catholic insurgents at St. Mary’s Clyst, and there, after supper, words waxed high over the terms of dealing with the rebels.

During the whole of the last century the “Mermaid” was a great rendezvous for carriers; and Edward Iliffe, to whom it belonged in 1764, was a partner with Thomas Parker, of the “New Inn,” and two others, in one of those long vehicles, then called “machines,” advertised to carry passengers from Exeter to London in two days. Iliffe had also “fly waggons,” which performed the journey in four and a half days, setting out from the “Mermaid” every Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday. It may be doubted whether this promised speed was maintained, for, in the course of some alterations of the covered entrance in 1825, discovery was made of a board announcing under the date 1780, that “Iliffe’s Flying Van leaves this yard every Monday morning for London, performing the journey in six days.” Edward Iliffe sold the “Mermaid,” about the year 1810, to Thomas Bury, a wool-stapler, who erected for himself a substantial brick dwelling in the yard. Iliffe prospered in his business, and ended his days at Exmouth, where he lived at Sacheverall Hall, with the title of Esquire, and a mural tablet to his memory may yet be seen in Littleham Church. In later times the yard became the site of a brewery, carried on successively by Mr. Joseph Brutton and the father of the late Mr. John Clench. All traces of its former state are now obliterated, and the “Mermaid” no longer “sings catches to the youths of the parish.”

But although the “Mermaid” has completely vanished, its rival, the “Dolphin,” over the way, still retains the name, and little but the name, that was once so widely known. Francis Pengelly, an Exeter apothecary, its owner at the beginning of the last century, gave it in charity to trustees for certain benevolent purposes, which were not to take effect until after the death of Joan, his wife. Once, in 1725, the “Dolphin” happened to remain unlet for a week, and was kept open by the trustees. Their accounts show that during this short period there came carriers from Moreton, Yeovil, Ashburton, Totnes, and Okehampton, with fifty-six pack-horses amongst them. The regular charge was sixpence per night for each horse. A century before this, the “Dolphin,” like the “Mermaid,” was frequented by guests of a higher class. Amongst the documents preserved in the Record Room of Exeter Guildhall are some lengthy depositions of witnesses on a charge of murder, supposed to have been committed by some of these. From their testimony may be gleaned the following condensed outline of the story. It appears that on a January night, in the year 1611, there was staying at the “Dolphin” Sir Edward Seymour, of Berry Pomeroy, the first Devonshire member of the new order of baronets created by James I. as a means of raising money for his royal needs without the aid of Parliament. Sir Edward was seated in an upper chamber, playing at cards with some friends, when the party was joined by Master William Petre, a member of a distinguished family no longer connected with Devonshire, and by John and Edward Drewe, then of Killerton, but whose worthy descendants are now seated at the Grange in Broadhembury. One of the Drewes wore a white hat and cloak, the other was clad in black. Edward carried a short sword, and John a rapier. These three young gallants, already flushed with wine at the “Mermaid” and at the “Bear,” in South Street, drank “a pot or two of beer” and some more wine with Sir Edward Seymour at the “Dolphin.” Perhaps they were in too quarrelsome a mood to be very acceptable company, for after tarrying there an hour, and indulging in a rude practical joke on the tapster, they remounted their horses, dropped in at a few more taverns, and finally rode out of the city through the East Gate. Here Will Petre spurred on at a reckless pace up the broad highway of St. Sidwell, and was soon lost in the darkness. The Drewes gave chase, but stopped at St. Anne’s Chapel, and shouted to their companion by name. Receiving no answer, they groped their way to a house where a light was burning, but the woman of the house had seen nothing of Will Petre. They rode on to his home, at Whipton House, and there found his horse standing, riderless, at the gate, whereupon a servant of the house came forth and opened the gate. He (Edward Drewe) then willed him to take of his master’s horse, and then the servant demanded where his master was. Drewe, contenting himself with the answer that he thought he would come by-and-bye, rode on with his brother to their home at Killerton. The dawn of Sunday morning showed the dead body of Will Petre lying by the causeway near St. Anne’s Chapel, with a ghastly wound on the head. The hue and cry was raised, and the two Drewes were taken as they lay in their beds, and brought before the city justices on the charge of murdering their friend. Some of the witnesses testified to a quarrel between Edward Drewe and Will Petre; but, though the papers do not disclose the issue of the trial, I think it must have ended in the discharge of the accused.

The “Bear Inn,” where the three roysterers had called for a quart of wine, was in South Street, at the lower corner of Bear Lane. It probably took its name from the Bere or Bear Gate, which was so styled in 1286, when the Cathedral Close was first surrounded by a wall. It was rebuilt in 1481, and was then the town mansion of the abbots of Tavistock, the wealthiest, if not the oldest, of the monastic houses of Devonshire. It is described as “le Bere Inne alias Bere” in the lease; by which John Peryn, the last abbot, in view of the pending dissolution of his house, leased it, in the year 1539, to Edward Brygeman and Jane, his wife, for a term of sixty years. King Henry VIII., on the 30th January, 1546, granted the freehold of the premises to William Abbot, Esq., by whom, on the 15th February, 1548, they were sold to Griffin Amerideth and John Fortescue, who, on the 28th October, 1549, renewed the lease granted by the abbot to Edward Bridgman. Shortly afterwards the property was held in moieties, one of which belonged to William Buckenham, Mayor of Exeter in 1541, and was, in pursuance of his will, together with the other moiety which he purchased of Edward Ameredith in 1565, conveyed by Buckenham’s executor, Philip Chichester, on the 6th of March, 1566, to the mayor, bailiffs, and commonalty of the city of Exeter, for the benefit of the poor persons lodged in the Twelve (Ten) Cells in Billiter Lane, now called Preston Street. Prince, in his Worthies of Devon, published in 1701, tells us that the arms of Tavistock Abbey and of Ordgar, its founder, were “to be seen in painted glass in the great window of the dining room,” with the figure of a man standing on a bridge. This was, no doubt, a rebus on the name of Bridgeman, the former owner. Even so late as the beginning of the present century, when Jenkins wrote his History of Exeter, he could remember that a “great part of the old buildings, particularly the chapel, was standing a few years since; they were built with freestone, of excellent Gothic workmanship, decorated with fretwork panels. Mutilated inscriptions and different sculptures were seen, and over the cornice, even with the battlements, was a cabossed statue of a bear, holding a ragged staff between its paws.” Dr. Shapter is the fortunate possessor of some admirable sketches of bits of the old building from the pencil of the late John Gendall. These show the heavy stone arches of the basement, and a massive stone spiral staircase leading to the floor above, evidently portions of the structure rebuilt in 1481. When newspapers began to be published in Exeter, early in the last century, the “Bear” appeared now and then in their quaint advertisements, and, like the “Mermaid” and the “Dolphin,” it became a noted house for carriers. One of these advertisements announced, in July, 1722, that “Since the widow Wibber has left The Bear, for the Better Accommodation of Merchants, Tradesmen, &c., who frequent the Serge Market, at The Mitre, in the same Street, is commodious Entertainment for Man and Horse by Henry Dashwood.” Simon Phillip advertised that he had taken the “Bear” in 1779, and when he died, in 1796, Mary, his widow, continued the business. She kept it until it ceased to be an inn, and Robert Russell re-modelled it for his great waggon establishment. This gentleman, familiarly known as Robin Russell, offered to assist the Government with three hundred draught horses at the time of the threatened French invasion in 1798. He became wealthy, built himself a house, called Russell House, on the quay at Exmouth, and finally died there in 1822, at the age of 63.

Our final notice must be given to the inn now known as the “Clarence.” It was the first in Exeter, if not the first in England, to assume the French title of hotel, and in its early days was commonly referred to as “The Hotel in the Churchyard.” It was built about the year 1770 by William Mackworth Praed, Esq., a partner in the adjacent Exeter Bank, the oldest banking-house in the city. The first landlord of the hotel was Peter Berlon, a clever Frenchman, who nevertheless failed in 1774, and was succeeded by one Connor, from the well-known “Saracen’s Head” in London. Connor remained less than two years, and the house, which was still known as “Berlon’s Hotel,” was entered on by Richard Lloyd, who had kept the old “Swan Inn” in High Street, where Queen Street now joins it. Lloyd succeeded no better than Berlon, and in October, 1778, he went to the “New Inn,” whilst his waiter, Thomas Thompson, took his place, and the house was thenceforward known as “Thompson’s Hotel.” This landlord fared better than his predecessors, for his reign lasted more than twenty years. In 1799, the hotel was kept by James Phillips, but in October, 1813, he was overtaken by the bad fortune of former landlords, and was succeeded by Samuel Foote, from Plymouth. Foote at once proceeded to carry out several improvements, including the restoration of the large assembly-room. For decorating this in the “Egyptian style,” he engaged the services of an artist named De Maria, whose work on the ceiling is described in a newspaper of the day as a masterpiece of “classic taste and elegance.” The new room was opened with a ball in the following year, and in 1815 a meeting was held there to consider a plan for lighting Exeter with gas—an invention which this city was the first place in Devonshire to adopt. Samuel Foote was chiefly known to fame as the parent of Maria Foote, the celebrated actress, whose brilliant career on the stage had just commenced at the time when her father entered on the hotel. She finally quitted the boards in 1831 to become the wife of Charles, Earl of Harrington. The Countess survived until the 27th of December, 1867. Her only son having died in his father’s lifetime, the Earldom passed to his uncle.

Samuel Foote was succeeded by Mr. Congdon, who afterwards took the Subscription Rooms, while Mrs. Street became landlady of the hotel. Under Foote and Congdon, the house was visited by many guests of high distinction. In 1799, during Phillips’ time, a great crowd assembled in front to welcome the arrival of Lord Duncan soon after his great victory at Camperdown, and his lordship was presented with the freedom of the city.

The Duke of Kent was there in 1802, and in 1806 Lord Cochrane, with his friend, Col. Johnson, set out from thence in a coach drawn by six horses, decorated with purple ribbons, to visit the electors of the immaculate borough of Honiton. In 1817, Samuel Foote received no less a guest than the Grand Duke Nicholas, afterwards Emperor of Russia. But the event which earned for the hotel its present name of the “Clarence” occurred on the 13th of July, 1827, whilst Mrs. Street was the landlady. The Duchess of Clarence, afterwards Queen Adelaide, came to Exeter on her way to join the Duke, who had arrived at Plymouth by sea. Her carriage was escorted into the city by a procession, and the streets through which she passed were gaily decorated. Lord Rolle and the Recorder received the Duchess at the hotel, and the Bishop and cathedral dons were introduced. On the next morning she went to the Bishop’s Palace and the Cathedral, and then pursued her journey to Plymouth, by way of Teignmouth and Torquay. In later years she visited the city as the Dowager Queen Adelaide, and was again a guest at the “Clarence.”

This sketch of the old inns of Exeter, however imperfect, may at least suffice to prove their importance in the trade of the city, and their influence in moulding the habits of the citizens.