season is closed. The tradesmen of Oxford street, Bond street, and St. James's, discharge their extra workmen, and their "regular hands" are but half employed. But after August and September have been passed, and October is well nigh gone, the winter trade begins. The inferior grades of the upper classes, who have no estates in the country, and who have been visiting the highlands, English watering-places, or the continent, return to town. At last, the new year arrives; parliament assembles, town houses are occupied, and the hotels are filled. Still it is remarkable how a bleak northeast wind, and a chilling spring, will retard the west end trade, as well as vege tation. But court DRAWING-ROOMS and LEVEES are announced; the easter holydays are over; the spring becomes mild and genial; and all becomes bustle and activity. It would be interesting if we could attain correct statistical information respecting the numbers who arrive in London during the season, and the increase and decrease of west-end trade at different periods of the year. There are more than four hundred members of the house of lords, and the house of commons is composed of six hundred and fifty-eight members. If out of this number only four hundred bring their families with them to London, and each household (connexions and dependants, exclusive of servants) is composed, on an average, of but twelve individuals, we have four thousand eight hundred persons, say five thousand, brought to London by the meeting of parliament. Then, if we allow two families of wealthy individuals for every one family connected with a member of the legislature, with the same number to each household, that will give nine thousand six hundred, making altogether, say fifteen thousand persons. If the daily expenditure of these one thousand two hundred families is ten pound each, that will produce twelve thousand pounds a day. But this is mere conjecture, and is much less, probably, than the average fashionable expenditure. Perhaps upward of fifty thousand (exclusive of foreigners and temporary visiters) come to London during the "season." Comparing the months of April and May with those of August and September, there is probably a difference of twenty thousand pounds a day, in the business transacted by the west-end trades

men.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

INNS, HOTELS, TAVERNS, PUBLIC-HOUSES, AND CLUBS.

AT present in the metropolis there are three hundred and ninety-six inns, hotels, and taverns, many of them magnificent, all of them more or less spacious and extensive establishments. If to this we add a number of large private boarding-houses, we shall have at least four hundred and thirty houses for the reception and entertainment of strangers residing temporarily in London. But this is exclusive of the great number of licensed victuallers (that is keepers of public-houses), especially in the city and about the docks, who accommodate strangers, of coffee-rooms and eatinghouses, some of which have lodging-houses attached to them, and of the many private houses which are professionally lodging-houses. Of the numbers of these we can not arrive at any satisfactory approximation.

The number of fashionable hotels-that is, of establishments where everything is on the highest scale of elegance and expense, and which may be fitly termed palaceinns, is about thirty. They are all situated, as might be naturally expected, at the "west end." For instance Mivart (a well-known name in the lists of fashionable arrivals and departures) has two hotels, one in Brook street, Grosvenor square, the other in Davis street, Berkeley square; Warren's hotel is in Regent street; Fenton's in St. James's street; Limmer's in George street, Hanover square; the Clarendon, both in New Bond street and in Albemarle street; the Burlington, in Old Burlington street; Wright's hotel, in Dover street, Piccadilly; and so of the rest, all of them lying at no very considerable distance from each other. The increase of hotels has, however, been much checked by the establishment of "clubs,” of which we shall speak hereafter.

The commercial inns are more scattered about London. Many of these, though not aiming at the elegance of the fashionable hotels, are yet wealthy, long-established, and comfortable houses. Those from which the mail-coaches run, are the Golden Cross, at Charing Cross; the Bolt-in-Tun, Fleet street; the White Horse, Fetter lane; the Bell and Crown, Holborn; the Saracen's Head, Snowhill; the Swan with two Necks, Lad lane; the Spread Eagle, Gracechurch street; the Belle Sauvage, Ludgate hill; and the Bull and Mouth, opposite the general postoffice, in St. Martin's-le-Grand. There are a number of other inns, which though not running mail coaches, are yet extensive stage-coach establishments; and many others which are eminent as wagon-inns. The engraving (on p. 363) represents the "George and Blue Boar," in Holborn, as it appeared some years ago. It has since been considerably altered, and the open galleries no longer exist.

Some of the taverns are well-known, from their connexion with political, charitable, or festive meetings. Such, for instance, are the London, and the City of London taverns, both in Bishopsgate street; the Albion, in Aldersgate street; the Crown and Anchor, in the Strand; the Freemasons' tavern, in Lincoln's Inn Fields; the British coffeehouse and tavern, in Cockspur street; the London coffeehouse and tavern on Ludgate hill; and even, to go out of the heart of London to its southern verge, the Horns tavern fronting Kennington common. Other taverns have various characteristics. Lloyd's coffeehouse, and Garraway's, the first at the Royal exchange, the other not far from it, in 'Change alley, are associated with marine intelligence, underwriters, stock-jobbing, and auctions; the Chapter coffeehouse, a grave and quiet

looking place in Paternoster row, close to St. Paul's churchyard, is much dedicated to the business of booksellers; Peel's, in Fleet street, and Deacon's, in Walbrook, are sought for by those who wish to consult numerous files of newspapers of every description, provincial and foreign; the lover of literary reminiscences and associations may stroll down Fleet street, seek for Dr. Johnson's tavern, in Bolt court, endeavor to ascertain the site of the Devil tavern, where Ben Jonson held his club, and Swift, and Addison, and Garth, and Steele, have dined, or else turn aside into the Mitre. If he mourn the almost total obliteration of the old taverns of the classical eras of Elizabeth and Anne, he may cross over to Southwark, and though even there the hand of improvement is at work, still he will find some traces of "former days." In London there are upward of seventy public-houses bearing the name of the "Grapes," sixty-two "Ships," and twenty-eight ships combined with something else, such as "Ship and Shovel," and "Ship and Shears" no less than two hundred and five "White Bears," "White Harts," "White Horses," and "White Swans;" eighty-eight "King's Arms," and sixty-nine "King's Heads;" fifty-six Queen's Heads and Arms; seventy-four "Crowns," and fifty-three combined Crowns; fifty-six "Coach and horses," twenty-six "Bells," nineteen "Feathers," and the same number of "Fountains."

It does not appear that there existed in London anything of the nature of a club, that is, as Dr. Johnson defines the word," an assembly of good fellows meeting under certain conditions," before the reign of Elizabeth. The times were doubtless too rude and unsettled, and liberty of action too much circumscribed, to tolerate the existence of any regular convivial association, whose objects might not have been under

stood, or might have been misinterpreted. "Good fellows" must, therefore, have been contented to seek each other's company at taverns, in accidental or preconcerted meetings, not daring (probably not thinking of it) to establish a permanent associa tion. But in the more settled and brilliant times of her of whom Andrew Marvel exclaims,

"None ever reigned like old Bess in the ruff,"

the remarkable men of a remarkable time, established the first clubs that are recorded in our literature. Ben Jonson's club, for which he wrote his "Leges Convivales," or laws of conviviality, met at the Devil tavern, which stood near Temple bar; and at the Mermaid tavern, in Friday street, which runs off Cheapside, was held a still more famous club, of which Shakspere, Beaumont and Fletcher, Sir Walter Raleigh, Selden, Donne, and others, were members.

After the Restoration, a principal resort of literary men, wits, talkers, and idlers, was Will's coffeehouse, which stood at the corner of Bow street. Here Dryden reigned, by universal consent, as the literary monarch of the age. But it is painful to contemplate the dissolute period of the reign of Charles II. The conduct of a large portion of the higher and better-educated classes of that time appears almost as if a general determination had been come to, of employing all the ingenuity of intellect to degrade and brutify the diviner faculties of man.

There were a great number of clubs in existence in London during the early part of the eighteenth century; and Steele and Addison, with their delightful ideal paper clubs in the Tatler and Spectator, contributed much to spread them, and bring them into fashion with all classes. But evil as well as good sprung from the great increase of these associations. If literary and educated men met together, to enjoy in easy and convivial intercourse the outpourings of wit and fancy, there were not wanting others who imitated what they did not understand, and substituted brutality and drunkenness for exhilaration and pleasant enjoyment. A royal proclamation was issued in April, 1721, for the suppression of "certain scandalous clubs or societies of young persons who meet together," whose conduct was certainly of a most improper kind.

What a change has a few years produced! "Good fellows" may still meet in taverns and coffeehouses under Dr. Johnson's "certain conditions," but their proceedings are unmarked and unknown to any but themselves. The word "club” has been carried off by a new species of association, which has produced a great refinement in the art of luxury. It has been objected, that these societies are not "clubs," in the "good old English" acceptation. But it seems idle to dispute the appropriation of the word-these associations are, emphatically, "the clubs of Lon don." The stranger who walks along Pall-Mall, and turns up St. James street, will pass a number of the finest buildings in the metropolis-these are "club-houses," erected by the societies to which they belong, and appropriated exclusively to their purposes. Three or four of the clubs are avowedly political associations, admission to them being supposed to stamp the political opinions and predilections of the members. Others occupy neutral ground, where educated, literary, travelled, and professional men are supposed to congregate, without reference to particular notions or opinions. What are termed "subscription" club-houses, are the property of private individuals; and one or two of these enjoy a rather equivocal reputation, being supposed to be frequented by those who are fond of gambling. If the exterior of the club-houses (in Pall-Mall especially) attract the eye by their architectural beauties, no less will the interior please the visiter by the elegance with which they are fitted up. Here the members are in their own houses-they are "at home," surrounded by the comforts and attention of a fashionable hotel. They can stroll down to their "clubs," pass the day as they please, reading or writing, dine singly or in company, join in conversation, or retreat into a corner with the newspaper or the last "Review." The members of these clubs are admitted by a ballot election; they pay a certain sum as entrance money, and an annual subscription. The large number of members of which generally each club is composed, the eager competition which exists for filling up vacancies as they occur, the new clubs and the new club-houses which are constantly springing up-display, in a remarkable manner, the power of combination and concentration. The scene presented by Pall-Mall and St. James's street can not be matched; for nowhere in the world can be seen, in so short a time, so many noble buildings devoted by associations of men to their personal enjoyment, comfort, and convenience.