Tabard Inn

Talbot Inn, pretty compact and resorted unto by Coaches and Waggons.

Talbot-Inn, High-Street, Borough,—behind 74, near ¼ of a mile on the L. from London-bridge.

Tabard (The). This celebrated inn of Southwark, always associated in our minds with Chaucer and the "Canterbury Pilgrims," was built most probably in the 14th century, as a neighbouring inn, the Bear, certainly was. It was on the eastern side of the High Street (Long Southwark), exactly opposite St. Margaret's Church.

A tabard is a jaquet or sleeveless coat, worne of times past by Noblemen in the warres, but now only by Heraults, and is called theyre coate of Armes in servise. It is the signe of an Inn in Southwarke by London, within the which was the lodging of the Abbott of Hyde by Winchester. This was the Hostelry where Chaucer and the other Pilgrims met together, and with Henry Baily their hoste, accorded about the manner of their journey to Canterbury. And whereas through time it hath been much decaied, it is now by Master J. Preston, with the Abbot's house thereto adjoyned, newly repaired, and with convenient rooms much encreased, for the receipt of many guests.—Speght's Chaucer, fol. 1598, and see Stow, p. 154.

Befel that in that sesoun on a day,
In Southwerk at the Tabard, as I lay,
Redy to wenden on my Pilgrimage
To Canterburie with full devout corage,
At night was come into that hostelrie,
Well nyne-and-twentie in a companye,
Of sondry folk, by adventure i-falle,
In felawschipe, and pilgryms were they alle,
That toward Canterburie wolden ryde;
The chambres and the stables weren wyde,
And wel we weren esed atte beste, etc.
Chaucer, Prologue to Canterbury Tales.

In the great fire which broke out, May 26, 1676, and destroyed the Town Hall and above six houses, Chaucer's Tabard, which was situated in the midst of the part where the fire raged fiercest, was, there can be no doubt, destroyed. It was rebuilt, and probably nearly on the old lines, for, as it came down to our own day, it consisted of open wooden galleries with chambers behind, surrounding an open court, and a large room which continued to be called the Pilgrims' Room. But the landlord of the new house, deeming the Tabard too antiquated a sign, or perhaps unacquainted with its signification, changed the sign to The Talbot, and Betterton describes it under its new name in his modernised version of Chaucer's Prologue. The Tabard and The Talbot are two such distinct names, that a succeeding landlord found it necessary to distinguish Chaucer's inn by the following inscription on the frieze of the beams which hung across the road, and from the centre of which the sign was suspended: "This is the inne where Sir Jeffry Chaucer and the nine and twenty pilgrims lay in their journey to Canterbury, anno 1383." In 1763, when the signs of London were taken down, this inscription was set up over the gateway, but was painted out in 1831. As late as the middle of the 18th century plays were acted in "The Talbot Inn Yard" during Southwark Fair. Timothy Fielding had his "Great Theatrical Booth in the Talbot Inn Yard," and played The Beggar's Opera, the parts "by the Company of Comedians from the new Theatre in Lincoln's Inn Fields," with "all the songs and dances ... as performed at" that theatre, "during the time of the Fair" of 1728. Like most of the old inns, whose main dependence was on the coach and country waggon traffic, the Tabard suffered greatly from the introduction of railways. It gradually fell into a dilapidated, dirty condition; the greater part of it was let for stables, carmen's warerooms, and railway stores. At length in 1873 it was sold by auction, and in 1875-1876 the whole was swept away. A new inn, The Old Tabard (No. 85 Boro' High Street), has been built, and the site of the old one is marked by Talbot Inn Yard, let out chiefly as hop-merchants' offices; and the name is further preserved in Tabard Street, of old notorious as Kent Street. The best and oldest view of The Tabard is in Urry's "Chaucer" (fol. 1721).¹

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¹ The Inns of Old Southwark, by William Rendle and Philip Norman, London, 1888, has a chapter devoted to the Tabard.

First and foremost of these ancient hostelries, and one which retained most of its ancient features down to a comparatively recent date, was the "Tabard Inn," renowned by Chaucer as the rendezvous of the Canterbury Pilgrims, five hundred years ago. Its name, however, had become changed for that of the "Talbot." It stood on the east side of the street, about midway between St. George's Church and London Bridge, and nearly opposite the site of the old Town Hall. The first foundation of this inn would appear to be due to the Abbots of Hyde, or Hide, near Winchester, who, at a time when the Bishops of Winchester had a palace near St. Saviour's Church, fixed their residence in this immediate neighbourhood. The land on which the old "Tabarde" stood was purchased by the Abbot of Hyde in the year 1307, and he built on it not only a hostel for himself and his brethren, but also an inn for the accommodation of the numerous pilgrims resorting to the shrine of "St. Thomas of Canterbury" from the south and west of England, just at the point where the roads from Sussex, Surrey, and Hampshire met that which was known as the "Pilgrims' Way." There can be no doubt that by the end of the fourteenth century the "Tabard" was already one of the inns most frequented by "Canterbury Pilgrims," or else Chaucer would scarcely have introduced it to us in that character.

The Abbey of Hide was founded by Alfred the Great, and the monks were Saxon to the backbone. When the Conqueror landed at Pevensey, the abbot and twelve stout monks buckled on their armour, and with twenty armed men hurried to join Harold. Not one returned from the fatal field of Hastings. Abbot, monks, and men-at-arms all lay dead upon the field; and Norman William never forgave their patriotic valour, but avenged it by taking from the abbey twelve knights' fees and a captain's portion—that is, twelve times the amount of land necessary to support a man-at-arms and a baron's fief. Chaucer must have known this history, and his honest English heart must have glowed with the remembrance as he sat in the old hall of the town residence of the successors of the brave Abbot of Hide. Here it was that the genial poet and the nine-and-twenty pilgrims met, and agreed to enliven their pilgrimage to the shrine of St. Thomas à Becket, at Canterbury, by reciting tales to shorten the way. Macaulay says, "It was a national as well as religious feeling that drew multitudes to the shrine of à Becket, the first Englishman who, since the Conquest, had been terrible to the foreign tyrants." The date of the Canterbury Pilgrimage is generally supposed to have been the year 1383; and Chaucer, after describing the season of spring, writes:—

"Befelle that in that season, on a day,
In Southwerk, at the Tabard as I lay,
Redy to wenden on my pilgrimage
To Canterbury, with devoute courage,
At night was come into that hostelrie
Well nine-and-twenty in a compagnie
Of sondry folk, by aventure yfalle
In felawship; and pilgrimes were they alle,
That toward Canterbury wolden ride,
The chambres and the stables weren wyde,
And wel we weren esed atte beste,
And shortly, when the sonne was gone to reste,
So hadde I spoken with hem everich on
That I was of hir felawship anon,
And I made forword erly for to rise,
And take oure way ther as I you devise."

The "Tabard" is again mentioned in the following lines:—

"In Southwerk at this gentil hostelrie,
That highte the Tabard, faste by the Belle."

John Timbs, in an account of this inn, in the City Press, says:—"Henry Bailly, the host of the 'Tabard,' was not improbably a descendant of Henry Tite or Martin, of the borough of Southwark, to whom King Henry III., in the fifteenth year of his reign, at the instance of William de la Zouch, granted the customs of the town of Southwark during the king's pleasure, he paying to the Exchequer the annual fee and farm rent of £10 for the same. By that grant Henry Tite or Martin was constituted bailiff of Southwark, and he would, therefore, acquire the name of Henry the bailiff, or Le Bailly. But be this as it may, it is a fact on record, that Henry Bailly, the hosteller of the 'Tabard,' was one of the burgesses who represented the borough of Southwark in the Parliament held at Westminster, in the fiftieth Edward III., A.D. 1376; and he was again returned to the Parliament held at Gloucester in the second of Richard II., A.D. 1378." We have already mentioned him in the previous chapter. After the dissolution of the monasteries, the "Tabard" and the abbot's house were sold by Henry VIII. to John Master and Thomas Master; and the particulars of the grant in the Augmentation Office afford description of the hostelry called "the Tabard of the Monastery of Hyde, and the Abbots' place, with the stables, and garden thereunto belonging."

The original "Tabard" was in existence as late as the year 1602; it was an ancient timber house, accounted to be as old as Chaucer's time. No part of it, however, as it appeared at the time of its demolition in 1874, was of the age of Chaucer; but a good deal dated from the time of Queen Elizabeth, when Master J. Preston newly repaired it. "The most interesting portion was a stonecoloured wooden gallery, in front of which was a picture of the Canterbury Pilgrimage, said to have been painted by Blake. The figures of the pilgrims were copied from the celebrated print by Stothard. Immediately behind was the chamber known as the pilgrims' room, but only a portion of the ancient hall. The gallery formerly extended throughout the inn-buildings. The inn facing the street was burnt in the great fire of 1676." Dryden says, "I see all the pilgrims in the Canterbury tales, their humour, with their features and their very dress, as distinctly as if I had supper with them at the 'Tabard,' in Southwark." A company of gentlemen assembled at the inn, in 1833, to commemorate the natal day of Chaucer, and it was proposed annually to meet in honour of the venerable poet, whose works Spenser characterises as

"The well of English undefield,
On Fame's eternal beadroll worthy to be filed."
But the idea, if ever seriously entertained, was soon abandoned.

The house was repaired in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, and from that period probably dated the fireplace, carved oak panels, and other portions spared by the fire of 1676, which were still to be seen in the beginning of the present century. In this fire, of which we have already had occasion to speak, some six hundred houses had to be destroyed in order to arrest the progress of the flames; and as the "Tabard" stood nearly in the centre of this area, and was mostly built of wood, there can be little doubt that the old inn perished. It was, however, soon rebuilt, and as nearly as possible on the same spot; and although, through the ignorance of the landlord or tenant, or both, it was for a time called, not the "Tabard," but the "Talbot," there can be no doubt that the inn, as it remained down till recently, with its quaint old timber galleries, and not less quaint old chambers, was the immediate successor of the inn and hostelry commemorated by our great poet.

In Urry's edition of Chaucer, published in 1721, there is a view of the "Tabard" as it then stood, the yard apparently opening upon the street. Down to about the close of the year 1873 the entrance to the inn-yard was under an old and picturesque gateway; this, however, has been removed altogether, and in its place, on our left hand, a new public-house, approaching the ginpalace in its flaunting appearance, has been erected, and, as if in mockery, it has assumed the name of the "Old Tabard." The buildings in the inn-yard, as they remained down to the period above mentioned, consisted of a large and spacious wooden structure, with a high tiled roof, the ground floor of which had been for many years occupied as a luggage office, and a place of call for carmen and railway vans. This was all that remained of the structure erected in the reign of Charles II., out of the old materials after the fire. The upper part of it once was one large apartment, but it had been so much cut up and subdivided from time to time to adapt it to the purpose of modern bed-rooms that it presented in the end but few features of interest.

There was an exterior gallery, also of wood, on the left, which, with the rooms behind it, have been levelled with the ground, in order to make room for a new pile of warehouses. The rooms, dull, heavy, dingy apartments as they were, are said by tradition to have occupied the actual site, or rather to have been carved out of the ancient hall, the room of public entertainment of the hostelry, or, as it was popularly called, "The Pilgrims' Room;" and here it is conjectured Chaucer's pilgrims—if that particular Canterbury pilgrimage was a reality, and not a creation of the poet's brain—spent the evening before wending their way along the Old Kent Road towards the shrine of St. Thomas à Becket—

"The holy blissful martyr for to seeke."

From this old court-yard, then, actually rode forth the company that lives and moves for ever in Chaucer's poetry, or, at any rate, many a company of which the "Canterbury Tales" present a life-like copy. In that room lay the seemly prioress and her nuns; here the knight, with the "yong Squier" sharing his chamber, and waiting dutifully upon his needs; that staircase the burly monk made re-echo and quake with his heavy tread; and here, leaning upon the balustrade-work, the friar and the sompour (summoner or attorney) had many a sharp passage of arms.

Mr. Corner, who has left the best account¹ of the old Southwark inn, was of opinion, from personal examination, that there was nothing at all in the remains of the "Tabard," as they existed at the time of its demolition, earlier than the Southwark fire of 1676, after which was built the "Pilgrims' Hall," the fireplaces of which were of this date. The Rev. John Ward, in his "Diary," remarks that "the fire began at one Mr. Welsh's, an oilman, near St. Margaret's Hill, betwixt the 'George' and 'Talbot' inns, as Bedloe (the Jesuit) in his narrative relates."

The sign was ignorantly changed from the "Tabard" to the "Talbot"—an old name for a dog—about the year 1676, and Betterton describes it under its new name in his modernised version of Geoffrey Chaucer's prologue. On the beam of the gateway facing the street was formerly inscribed, "This is the inn where Sir Jeffry Chaucer and the nine-and-twenty pilgrims lay in their journey to Canterbury, anno 1383." This was painted out in 1831; it was originally inscribed upon a beam across the road, whence swung the sign; but the beam was removed in 1763, as interfering with the traffic.

In Urry's view the several wooden buildings are shown. The writing of the inscription over the sign seemed ancient; yet Tyrwhitt is of opinion that it was not older than the seventeenth century, since Speght, who describes the "Tabard" in his edition of Chaucer, published in 1602, does not mention it. Probably it was put up after the fire of 1676, when the "Tabard" had changed its name into the "Talbot."

The sign in reality was changed in 1673, when the signs of London were taken down, "and when," says Aubrey, "the ignorant landlord or tenant, instead of the ancient sign of the Tabard, put up the Talbot, or dog." Aubrey tells us further that before the fire it was an old timber house, "probably coeval with Chaucer's time." It was "probably this old part, facing the street, that was burnt.

"Chaucer has often been named as 'the well of English underfiled;' but from a general review of all his works," writes Dr. Johnson, in his "Lives of the Poets," "it will appear that he entertained a very mean opinion of his native language, and of the poets who employed it, and that, during a great part of his life, he was incessantly occupied in translating the works of the French, Italian, and Latin poets. His 'Romaunt of the Rose' is a professed translation from William de Lorris and Jean de Meun; the long and beautiful romance of 'Troilus and Cressida' is principally translated from Boccaccio's Filostrato; the 'Legend of Good Women' is a free translation from Ovid's Epistles, combined with the histories of his heroines, derived from various chronicles. The 'House of Fame' is a similar compilation; and 'Palamon and Arcite' is known to be an imitation of the 'Theseide' of Boccaccio. On the whole, it may be doubted whether he thought himself sufficiently qualified to undertake an original work till he was past sixty years of age, at which time . … he formed and began to execute the plan of his 'Canterbury Tales.'"

This elaborate work—the scene of which is laid in the guest-chamber and in the court-yard of the "Tabard"—was intended to contain a sketch of all the characters of society in his time. These were to be sketched out in an introductory prologue, to be contrasted by characteristic dialogues, and probably to be engaged in incidents which should further develop their characters and dispositions; and as stories were absolutely necessary in every popular work, an appropriate tale was to be put into the mouth of each of the pilgrims. It is not extraordinary that the remainder of Chaucer's life should not have been sufficient for the completion of so ambitious a plan. What he has actually executed can be regarded only as a fragment of a larger whole; but, imperfect as it is, it contains more information respecting the manners and customs of the fourteenth century than could be gleaned from the whole mass of contemporary writers, English and foreign. "Chaucer's vein of humour," remarks Warton, "although conspicuous in the 'Canterbury Tales,' is chiefly displayed in the characters, described in the Prologue, with which they are introduced. In these his knowledge of the world availed him in a peculiar degree, and enabled him to give such an accurate picture of ancient manners as no contemporary nation has transmitted to posterity. It is here that we view the pursuits and employments, the customs and diversions, of our ancestors, copied from the life, and represented with equal truth and spirit by a judge of mankind whose penetration qualified him to discern their foibles and discriminating peculiarities, and by an artist who understood that proper selection of circumstances and those predominant characteristics which form a finished portrait. We are surprised to find, in an age so gross and ignorant, such talent for satire and for observation on life—qualities which usually exert themselves in more civilised periods, when the improved state of society, by . … establishing uniform modes of behaviour, disposes mankind to study themselves, and renders deviations of conduct and singularities of character more immediately and more necessarily the objects of censure and ridicule. These curious and valuable remains are specimens of Chaucer's native genius, unassisted and unalloyed. The figures are all British, and bear no suspicious signatures of classical, Italian, or French imitation." In fact, in his "Canterbury Tales" Chaucer is at his best, and those Canterbury tales belong especially to the street and house of which we are now treating.

It may not be out of place here to give a brief outline of the plan of the immortal work which, as long as the English language lasts, will stand connected with the hostelry of the "Tabard." The framework of the "Canterbury Tales," it need hardly be said, embraces a rich collection of legends and narratives of various characters. The plot may have been suggested by the "Decameron" of Boccaccio, but that is all; for, instead of adopting the tame and frigid device of assembling a bevy of Florentine youths and maidens, who tell and listen to amorous tales, with no coherence or connection, Chaucer has sketched in bold and sharp outlines life-like pictures of the manners and social condition of his age, and has made his figures stand picturesquely forth, as types of the several classes which they represent.

"Who has not heard," asks Dr. Pauli, in his "Pictures of Old England," "of the far-famed sanctuary of Canterbury, where rested the bones of the archbishop, Thomas Becket, who bravely met his death to uphold the cause of the Roman Church, and who, venerated as the national saint of England, became renowned as a martyr and worker of miracles? To that sanctuary, year by year, and especially in the spring months, crowds of devout pilgrims flocked from every part of the Christian world; and although such pilgrimages were no doubt often undertaken from the most laudable motives, it is certain that even in the fourteenth century they had become, among the great masses of the people, too often a pretext for diversion . … It was such a pilgrimage as this that Chaucer took for the framework of his great poem; and, as a Kentish man, he was probably able to describe from experience and personal observation all that occurred on an occasion of this kind. The prologue, which is of extraordinary length, begins with a short description of spring, when nature begins to rejoice, and men from every part of the land seek the 'blissful martyr's' tomb at Canterbury. At such a season—and some writers have calculated that Chaucer refers to the 27th of April, 1383—the poet was staying, with this purpose in view, at the 'Tabard,' where pilgrims were wont to assemble, and where they found good accommodation for themselves and their horses before they set forth on their way, travelling together, no doubt, at once for companionship and for mutual protection. Towards evening, when the host's room was filled, Chaucer had already made acquaintance with most of the guests, who were of all conditions and ranks. The twenty-nine persons who composed the party are each introduced to us with the most individual and life-like colouring. A knight most appropriately heads the list. For years his life has been spent either in the field or in the Crusades; for he was present when Alexandria was taken, and helped the Teutonic knights in Prussia against the Russians, fought with the Moors in Granada, with the Arabs in Africa, and with the Turks in Asia. One may see by his dress that he seldom doffs his armour; but, however little attention he pays to externals, his careful mode of speech, and his meek and Christian-like deportment, betray the true and gentle knight. He is accompanied by his son, a slim, light-haired, curlyheaded youth of twenty, the perfect young squire of his day, who is elegantly and even foppishly dressed. He has already made a campaign against the French, and on that occasion, as well as in the tourney, he has borne him well, in the hopes of gaining his lady's grace. Love deprives him of his sleep; and, like the nightingale, he is overflowing with songs to his beloved; yet he does not fail, with lowly service, to carve before his father at table. In attendance on him is a yeoman, probably one of his father's many tenants, who, clad in green, with sword and buckler, his bow in his hand, and his arrows and dagger in his belt, represents, with his sunburnt face, that has grown brown among woods and fields, the stalwart race who won for the Plantagenets the victories of Crecy, of Poitiers, and Agincourt.

"In contrast with this group appears a daughter of the Church, Madame Eglantine,² a prioress of noble birth, as her delicate physiognomy, and the nicety with which she eats and drinks, testify plainly. With a sweet but somewhat nasal tone, she chants the Liturgy, or parts of it; she speaks French, too, by preference, but it is the French, not of Paris, but of 'Stratford atte Bow.' She would weep if they showed her a mouse in a trap, or if they smote her little dog with a rod. A gold brooch, ornamented with the letter A, encircled with a crown, bearing the inscription Amor vincit omnia, hangs from her string of coral beads. Next to her comes a portly monk of the Benedictine order, whose crown and cheeks are as smooth as glass, and whose eyes shine like burning coals. He, too, is elegantly dressed, for the sleeves of his robe are trimmed with the finest fur, while a golden love-knot pin holds his hood together. Clear is the sound of the bells on his bridle, for he knows well how to sit his horse; whilst hare-hunting and a feast on a fat swan are more to him than the rule of St. Benedict and the holy books in his cell. A worthy pendant to this stately figure is the Mendicant Friar, whose ready familiarity and good humour make him the friend of the country-folks, and the favourite Father Confessor. No one understands better than he how to collect alms for his cloister; for he knows how to please the women with timely gifts of needles and knives, whilst he treats the men in the taverns, in which he always knows where to find the best cheer. He lisps his English with affected sweetness; and when he sings to his harp his eyes twinkle like the stars on a frosty night.

"The next in order is a merchant, with his forked beard, his Flemish beaver, and his wellclasped boots. He knows the money-exchange on both sides of the Channel, and best of all does he understand how to secure his own interest. Then follow a couple of learned men. First comes the Clerk of Oxenford (Oxford), hollowed-cheeked, and lean as the horse on which he rides, and with threadbare coat, for he has not yet secured a benefice; but his books are his whole joy, and chief among them is his Aristotle. He knows no greater joy than learning and teaching; yet he shrinks back modestly and timidly, and nowhere pushes himself forward. The other is a widelyknown Serjeant of the Law, who has at his fingers' ends the whole confused mass of all the laws and statutes from the days of William the Conqueror to his own times, and knows admirably also how to apply his learning practically. Although his heavy fees and rich perquisites make him a rich man, he goes forth on his pilgrimage dressed in a plain and homely fashion. Next follows a Franklyn, who is described as the owner of a freehold estate, and as a man of note in his country, as having already served as knight of the shire, and also as sheriff. There is no stint of good eating and drinking in his house; for the dishes on his board come as thick and close as flakes of snow, each in its turn, according to the season of the year.

"The working classes are represented by a haberdasher, a carpenter, a weaver, a dyer, and a tap'ster, honest industrious folk, each clad in the dress that appertains to his order, and wearing the badge of his guild. They have all interest and money enough to make aldermen at some future time; and their wives would gladly hear themselves greeted as 'madame,' and would fain go to church in long and flowing mantles. With these are associated a cook, who is master of all the delicacies of his art, but who is not the less able on that account to relish a cup of London ale. The 'shipman,' of course, could not be absent from such a gathering; and here we see him as he comes from the west country, sunburnt, and clad in the dress of his class, equally prepared to quaff a draught of the fine Burgundy that he is bringing home while the master of the ship slumbers in his cabin, or to join in a sea-fight against the foes of his native land. He has visited every shore, from Gothland to Cape Finisterre, and he knows every harbour and bay in his course. The doctor of physic, too, is well versed in all the branches of his art; for, in addition to the skilful practice of his profession, he has systematically studied both astronomy and the science of the horoscope, and is familiar with all the learned writers of Greece and Arabia. He dresses carefully, and smartly; but he knows how to keep the treasures which he amassed during the prevalence of the 'black death.'

"Next follows a Wife of Bath, rich and comely, who especially attracts the poet's attention, and who is more communicative in regard to her own affairs than any one else in the company. She wears clothing of the finest stuffs, a broad hat with a new-fashioned head-attire, red and tight-fitting stockings, and a pair of sharp spurs on her heels. She is already well advanced in years, has been three times to Jerusalem, and has seen Rome and Bologna, Compostella, and Cologne. Her round, fair, reddish face looks a little bold, and shows that after her many experiences of life it would not be easy to put her out of countenance. She relates to her fellow-travellers, with the most edifying frankness, that she has been married five times, and that, therefore, independently of other considerations, she is entitled to say a word or two about love. She tells them how in her young and giddy days she beguiled and deluded her first three husbands, who were old but rich; and she does not even withhold from them the narration of some sharp 'curtain-lectures.' Her fourth marriage terminated, she tells them, in both parties taking their own way; but her last husband, although he is only twenty years old, has studied at Oxford, and is not to be drawn away from the perusal of a ponderous tome, in which are collected the injunctions of the Fathers of the Church to men to lead a life of celibacy, enriched by examples culled from ancient and modern times, of the manner in which wives are wont to circumvent their husbands. Once, when in her spite she tore some leaves out of this book, she says that he beat her so hard that ever since she has been deaf in one ear, but that since they have got on admirably together. In opposition to this dame, who forms one of the most important links of connection between the different members of the miscellaneous circle, we have another admirably-drawn character, a poor Parson, the son of humble but honest parents, who, notwithstanding his scanty benefice, is ever contented, even when his tithes fall short, and who never fails, even in the worst of weather, to sally forth, staff in hand, in order to visit the sick members of his flock. He is always ready to comfort and aid the needy; and undismayed by the pride of the rich and great, faithfully and honestly proclaims the word of the Lord in his teaching. The Parson is accompanied by his brother, a hard-working, honest, and pious ploughman; and thus the two are brought forward as belonging to that class which was bound to the soil which it tilled.

"Before the poet leaves this rank of the social scale, he brings before us also several other prominent characters belonging to the people of his day. There is the miller, a stout churl, bony and strong, with a hard head, a fox-red beard, and a wide mouth. He was not over-scrupulous in appropriating to himself some of the corn which his customers brought to his mill. Over his white coat and blue hood he carried a bag-pipe, and we fear it must be added, that his talk was of a wanton kind. Next comes the Manciple of a religious house, who is connected with at least thirty lawyers, and knows how to make his own profits whilst he is buying for his masters. The Reeve of a Norfolk lord, a man as lean as a rake, shaven and choleric, appears dressed in a blue coat, riding a grey horse. In his youth he had been a carpenter; but no one knows better than he how to judge of the yielding of the seed, or of the promise of the cattle. Nobody could well call him to account, for his books are always in the best order, and he and his master are in good accord. The Summoner of an archdeacon, with a fiery-red face, which no apothecary's art can cool down, is appropriately described as one of the lowest and least reputable of the company. Lustful and gluttonous, he cares most of all for his wine; and when he is 'half seas over,' he speaks nothing but bad Latin, having picked up some scraps of that tongue in attendance in the Courts. His rival in viciousness is a Pardoner, who has come straight from the Court of Rome. His hair is as yellow as flax, and he carries in his wallet a handful of relics, by the sale of which he gets more money in a day than the Parson can make in two months."

Such are the troop of worthy, and some perhaps rather unworthy, guests who assembled in the ancient hostelry a little less than five hundred years ago, and whom the host, Harry Baily, right gladly welcomes in his guesten-room, with the best cheer that the "Tabard" can supply. Whilst the wine is passing round among the company, he proposes, with a boldness often to be seen in men of his craft, to join them on the morrow in their pilgrimage; but takes the liberty of suggesting first that it would be a good means of shortening the way between London and Canterbury, if each pilgrim were to tell one tale going and returning also, and that the one who should tell the best tale should have a supper at the inn at the expense of the rest upon their safe return. Next, without more ado, he offers himself to act as judge of the performances; and his proposition meets with general approval. The company then retire to rest, and the next morning, when the sun is up and the day is fine, they mount their horses at the door of the "Tabard," and, turning their backs on London, take the road into Kent. The plan of our work will not allow us to follow them beyond St. George's Church, where they branch to the left along the Old Kent Road, towards Blackheath and Rochester, and so on to Becket's shrine. It only remains to add that the poet did not live to complete even half of his projected poem, which breaks off somewhat abruptly before the pilgrims actually enter Canterbury, and hence, to our lasting regret, we lose the expected pleasure of a graphic description of their sayings and doings in that city, and of their promised feast upon returning to Southwark. With the tale, or rather discourse, of the Parson, Chaucer brings his pilgrims to Canterbury; "but," observes Mr. T. Wright, "his original plan evidently included the journey back to London. Some writer, within a few years after Chaucer's death, undertook to continue the work, and produced a ludicrous account of the proceedings of the pilgrims at Canterbury, and the story of Beryn, which was to be the first of the stories told on their return. These are printed by Urry, from a manuscript, to which, however, he is anything but faithful."

As regards the name of the inn now under notice, Stow says of the "Tabard" that "it was so called of a jacket, or sleeveless coat, whole before, open on both sides, with a square collar, winged at the shoulders. A stately garment of old time, commonly worn of noblemen and others, both at home and abroad in the wars; but then (to wit, in the wars) with their arms embroidered depicted upon them, that every man by his coat of arms might be known from others. But now these tabards are only worn by the heralds, and be called their coats of arms in service." The name of the dress is, or was till very lately, kept in remembrance by the Tabarders, as certain scholars or exhibitioners are termed at Queen's College, Oxford. It may be added that the name of the author of the "Canterbury Tales" will still be kept in remembrance in Southwark by the "Chaucer" lodge of Freemasons which has been instituted at the "Bridge House Tavern."

In the middle of the last century, the "Tabard" (or Talbot) appears to have become a great inn for carriers and for posting, and a well-known place of accommodation for visitors to London from distant parts of the country. Mr. Thomas Wright, F.S.A., remarks, "When my grandfather visited London towards the close of the reign of George II., or early in that of George III., he tells me in his 'Autobiography' that he and his companions took up their quarters as guests at the 'Talbot,' in Southwark."