Ep 31 Fleet Street Pub Crawl Pt 2 - The Devereux, The George On The Strand, The Temple Brewhouse

In this second of two episodes on Fleet Street pubs, we cover The Devereaux, The George on the Strand, and the Temple Brew House

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Google map with pubs covered in previous episodes pinned, courtesy of Andy Meddick:

https://www.google.com/maps/d/u/4/edit?mid=12c-WKa3XiT1qTLydK8psZocUR7Y_Wes&usp=sharing

Or TinyURL: https://tinyurl.com/bduca5dv

The following resources are referenced or quoted frequently in these episodes:

• Ted Bruning  -- Historic Pubs of London (ISBN 978-0658005022) and London By Pub (ISBN 978-0658005022)
• Wikipedia
• https://londonspubswherehistoryreallyhappened.wordpress.com/  by Ann Laffeaty 

Additionally, the  following resource(s) were used / quoted in this episode:

The Devereaux

 https://whatpub.com/pubs/WLD/15931/devereux-london#google_vignette

 https://www.timeout.com/london/bars-and-pubs/the-devereux

The George on The Strand

 https://www.spookyisles.com/the-george-inn-london/

Henry Perfect

https://www.exclassics.com/newgate/ng474.htm

Temple Brewhouse

https://desdemoor.co.uk/essex-street-brewery-wc2-westminster/

Intro Music:  Vivaldi - Spring Allegro by John Harrison w/ the Wichita State University Chamber Orch

Photo: Stephen Richards / The George, Strand

Website: https://historiclondonpubcast.com/

E-mail: hosteric@historiclondonpubcast.com

Transcript

Welcome to this episode of The Historic London Pubcast. I'm Eric Blair, and I'd like to take you on a journey through the rich history of London's iconic pubs. My goal is to share with you my passion for the great old pubs of London. I want to give you some facts to help you appreciate the history of these hallowed establishments mixed in with some fun stories that make it all go down as smooth as a well poured pint.

This is the second episode devoted to Fleet Street pubs called, appropriately enough, Fleet Street Two. In the First Episode, we ended up at The Tipperary. Let's continue our walk west and along the way we'll pass another Fleet Street pub that was covered in a previous episode. This one is The Old Bank of England, which was part of The Seven Stars and its Neighbors Episode as we continue west.

The street name changes from Fleet Street to The Strand, but with your permission, I'll continue to call this Episode Fleet Street Two. When we come to Devereux Street, let's turn down there. And in a couple of minutes, we'll find ourselves on Devereux Court in front of a pub. Not surprisingly, it's called The Devereux. Once again, let's start with the history of the site.

Where we are standing was the site of the Outer Temple, which was owned and occupied by the Knights Templar in 1300. But they were a weakened organization a decade after that, given all their troubles with the French King Philip the Fourth, and the opportunity to confiscate this London Templar property was taken by the powers it be. By the 1500s, it was in the hands of the nobles who built some pretty nice digs on it.

There was a grand mansion that looked out over the river and was originally called Leicester House when it was occupied by the Earl of Leicester, but it became known as Essex House when it was inherited by the Earl of Essex, and that Earl was Robert Devereux, the namesake of the street and the pub. Devereux was born to the nobility.

He was the second cousin of Queen Elizabeth the First. He came to court when he was about 20 years old, and Wiki tells us he became a favorite of Queen Liz, who relished his lively mind and eloquence, as well as his skills as a showman and in courtly love. He benefited from that relationship with the Queen, initially. The guy he inherited the house from, the Earl of Leicester, had a Royal Monopoly on sweet wines. The Queen transferred that right to Devereux. That was a nice prize because it provided him with revenue from taxes. In 1593 he was made a member of her Privy Council, a move into the Queen's inner circle, but after that he kind of blew it. It was reported that his friend and confidant, Francis Bacon, warned him to avoid offending The Queen by attempting to gain power, and underestimating her ability to rule and wield power. Apparently, he didn't take that advice. His later behavior towards her lacked due respect and showed disdain for the influence of her Principal Secretary, Robert Cecil. On one occasion, during a heated Privy Council debate on the problems of Ireland, the Queen reportedly cuffed an insolent Devereux around the ear, prompting him to half draw his sword on her. Oh my!

Okay, it's probably time to get out of town and let things cool down. Devereux thought a military career might be best for him at that point. He sailed with Francis Drake on several adventures against Spain in the Armada days. In 1599, he had regained enough political cred to be appointed Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, a position that at the time was more of a military command than a diplomatic or civil servant position.

He led the largest expeditionary force ever sent to Ireland, 16,000 troops, with orders to put an end to the Irish Rebellion that was plaguing The Queen. He departed London to the cheers of the Queen's subjects, and it was expected that the rebellion would be crushed instantly, but the limits of the Crown's resources and of the Irish campaigning season dictated otherwise. He fought some inconsequential engagements, but was viewed as largely wasting funds, and worse, he entered a truce that some considered humiliating to the Crown and to the detriment of English authority. The Queen told him that if she had wished to abandon Ireland, it would scarcely have been necessary to send him there. One thing about Liz, she always spoke her mind. After all, she was Henry the Eighth’s daughter. Also, his management style came under question in all his campaigns, Devereux secured the loyalty of his officers by conferring Knighthoods - an honor the Queen dispensed sparingly, and by the end of his time in Ireland, more than half the Knights in England owed their rank to him. The Irish rebels were said to have joked,

“He never drew a sword, but to make Knights.”

Oh, that’s strong!

On return to England, he faced some legal action due to his Irish failures and was confined but eventually freed. That's the good news. The bad news - that right to get tax money from the sweet wines mentioned earlier? Well, it was taken away. His situation became increasingly desperate, and he shifted from sorrow and repentance to rage and rebellion. In early 1601, he began to fortify Essex House, his inherited mansion on the strand, and gather his followers.

On the morning of the 8th of February, he marched out of Essex House with a party of nobles and gentlemen, and entered the city, intending to force an audience with the Queen. Another military failure. He was arrested, imprisoned, tried as a traitor, and convicted. On the 25th of February 1601, he was beheaded on Tower Green. The last person to be beheaded in the Tower of London.

It was reported to have taken three strokes by the Executioner, Thomas Derek, to complete the beheading. Ugh! Grisly! 

Not to stray off point here but permit me to add just a bit about this Thomas Derek, Devereaux’s Executioner. Derek had been convicted of rape during his military service, but had been pardoned by his Commander, Robert Devereux, on the condition that he become an Executioner at Tyburn, London's place of execution for commoners.

Without Devereux was pardoned, Derek would have been hanged. So, think of that, Devereux pardoned the man that was to become his Executioner. Unfortunately, Devereux chose to go by the chop rather than hanging. You could make your choice in those days. At least the nobles could. Derek was more of an expert with the noose than the axe. Thus, the three whacks.

Nonetheless, Derek went on to have a good career, completing over 3000 executions. He even contributed to the craft. Derek devised a beam with a topping lift and pulleys for hangings instead of the old-fashioned rope over the beam method that had been in use since 1388. Around 1610, he constructed a gallows on which over a dozen people could be hanged at the same time.  High tech, right? The word Derek became an eponym for the frame from which a hangman's noose was supported. Tom's last name remains with us today. Cranes and drilling rigs have components called Derek's. Sorry for this brief diversion, but I found Tom Derek's story too interesting to leave out. So that's a scoop about the namesake of the street and the pub.

Let's talk about the pub's history. Sitting on this site preceding the pub was a pretty hopping place known as The Grecian Coffee House. Again, Wiki clues us in,

“The Grecian Coffee House was first established about 1665, and Wapping all stairs by a Greek former mariner called George Constantine. The enterprise proved successful, and by 1677 Constantine had been able to move his premises to a more central location in Deveraux Court.

In the 1690s, The Grecian Coffee House was a favorite meeting place for the members of the political party, The Whigs. In the early years of the 18th century, it was frequented by members of the Royal Society, including Sir Isaac Newton, Sir Hands from the founder of the British Museum, and the famed astronomer Edmond Halley. Classic scholars were also said to congregate there, and on one occasion two of them for a duel in the street outside because they fell out over where to position the accent on an ancient Greek word.”

Now side note here, I was not able to confirm this with other sources, so view it as legend rather than a fact at this point, but is too juicy to leave out, but still a bit too far-fetched to believe on face value, don't you think? 

By 1803, The Grecian was no longer the meeting place of radical scholars and scientists, but Lawyers were close to the Law Courts, and it finally closed in 1843, becoming a pub. And today it's still a pub and the building is Grade II listed. In other words, protect it. CAMRA tells us about today's pub,

“Following a brief period of closure, this venue, located in a quiet courtyard in the heart of London's legal district, reopened in March 2019.

The pub is deceptively larger inside than its exterior would suggest. Wood paneling, booths, partitions and historical prints predominate.” 

The entertainment and events magazineTime Out liked it. In their review they closed by saying,

“It may not be extravagant, but The Devereux has heart and a finger on the pulse of the capital. Add to that a surprisingly quiet location for somewhere just off the strand, and there are far worse pubs for a very modern, thoroughly old-fashioned post-work tipple.”

Clearly worth a visit as you go in, look at the sign. It's the Devereux Coat Of Arms. As you quaff your libation, don't dwell on the namesake’s faults. Think about his good points. He conferred Knightship to a lot of dudes, he pardoned at least one man who went on to have a good career in public service, and in his early days, he was a fun guy at court.

Okay, on to the next one. Back to The Strand. Right on the corner we have The George, typically referred to as The George On The Strand, not be confused with the really famous one and something you would be forgiven for thinking that the namesake of this pub is a Royal, but no, it started out as George's Coffeehouse in 1723 and George was the Owner.

The place had some famous patrons, including literati Oliver Goldsmith and Samuel Johnson, and the politician Horace Walpole. Another famous, or maybe should I say infamous patron was a guy named Henry Perfect. Not only did he drink here, but he also rented accommodations at The George. Henry was the son of a Leicester clergyman, and at one time had been a Lieutenant in a regiment, but after his military service he turned to a less respected profession, that of con man. He married twice, both to women with money, but that evidently wasn't enough. Posing as a member of the clergy (I guess he learned how to do that by observing his dad), he used various names like Reverend Mr. Paul, the Reverend Daniel Minot, Mrs. Grant, and Mrs. Smith of the Clergy, among others, to scam a number of well-heeled persons by writing what was termed, ‘Begging Letters.’

Henry's passion for record keeping and good order appears to have contributed to his undoing. A contemporary account of the case reads,

“When his lodgings were searched, a book was found in his own handwriting, giving an account of the money received, by which it appeared that he had plundered the public to the amount of 488 pounds within two years, with a list of donors’ names.”

Now we don't know if the search of his lodgings occurred at The George or not. He was tried in October 1804 for obtaining money under false pretenses and summarily convicted. Just as today the public back then was fascinated by rogues and swindlers, so Henry's case drew a lot of attention. He was sentenced to seven years transportation and was sent to Botany Bay, Australia, in April 1805.

That is a bit more than just a ticket to Downunder. Henry would have been placed in a penal colony there, where he would have to serve out his time performing labor. Whether he was ever able to come back to The George or not is unknown, although I would doubt it. 

On to another story about George's Coffee House, this one involving Sir James Lowther, a nobleman, a prominent landowner and a long time MP who lived from the 1730s to the end of that century. Sir James was wealthy but notoriously cheap, so he goes to George's Coffee House. One day he orders a dish of coffee, and when it was time to pay, he gave the coffee girl a piece of silver and received his change in coppers. 

This was in the latter part of his life, and Sir James had trouble getting around. Getting in and out of his carriage was done with some effort, and he had to have assistance at his departure. Nonetheless, a few hours later he returned to the coffee house. Making the short but labored journey from his carriage to the inside of the coffee house, he approached the woman who ran the establishment and told her that she had given him a bad half-penny in his change. He demanded that she give him a good half-penny in exchange. After all, it was half-penny. 

One more contribution to James Lowther’s legend as a famous miser I couldn't find. When the coffee shop transitioned to a pub sometime in the 1800s it was still a coffee house in 1829 and underwent a big refurbishment in the 1890s. So, the transition occurred somewhere in there. Or maybe the 1890s upgrade was the changeover point? 

Ted Bruning in London By Pub tells us about the current architecture and how we got there,

“The pub has something of an atmosphere of the 18th Century, but in fact it is entirely late Victorian and of the school described by Architectural Historian Mark Girouard as, “Back to the inn, characterized by half-timbered gables, leaded lights, modern glass lanterns, wooden barrels, carved black oak and artificially smoked ceiling between artificially warp beams.””

The George, with its tall, imposing half-timbered facade, is something of a landmark being situated where the City of London ends and Westminster begins. This rebuild was commissioned in the late 1890s by entrepreneur Frederick Stanley, who was making a nice profit on another pub called The Windsor. He spent heavily on The George and ended up losing twice as much per year as he was making on The Windsor, and soon he went bust.

All too common a tale for those who pursued pub restoration in the last decade of the 1800s. Over and over again we see grand dreams leading to financial ruin. But hey, we are left with some really nicely fitted pubs. The website spookyisles.com relates a couple of tales about a ghost or ghost haunting The George particularly in the basement.

“In one of the stories back in the 1970s, work crew was getting started on their day and the Foreman went down into the basement to see what needed to be done. He returned upstairs quickly with a look of terror on his face. When the Manager asked him what was wrong, he said he saw a man who stared him down and then just suddenly disappeared. “No big deal,” said the Manager, pouring him a glass of Brandy. My wife sees him all the time.””

Some people will do anything for a free shot, right? Another haunted pub story submitted for your consideration. Okay, on to our next establishment. I know this is The Historic London Pubcast, but our last libation stop is not particularly historic in the usual sense.

We're popping into The Temple Brewhouse, a subterranean venue located at 46 Essex Street. The pub was founded in 2014, endured a change or changes in ownership and is now owned by Young's. Its website boasts the following,

“The Temple Brewhouse is London's most central microbrewery, just a stone's throw from the banks of The Thames, we've created a relaxed, friendly basement pub where you can enjoy a pint or two of your favorite beers and maybe find a new one to share with your friends. Winner of the Best Beer, Pub or Bar at the 2017 Great British Pub Awards, we're a renowned and well-respected Purveyor of interesting and unusual beers.”

Why am I throwing this in here? First of all, it's close to where we've been visiting today. Only a one-minute walk from The George. But also, it's a modern tribute to a big contributor to British pub history and that is the tradition of the Ale House. The modern pub's heritage comes from an amalgamation of the Inn, which came from the lodging side, the Tavern which came from the food service side, and the Ale House, which came from the low-cost boozer side. Typically, they were set up cheaply and provided low-cost drink, often produced right there on site.

Prior to the Industrial Revolution in the countryside, Ale Houses were largely indistinguishable from private houses, and the poor standard of rural roads meant that, away from larger towns, the only beer available was often brewed by the Publican himself. The Beer House Act of 1830 allowed selling beer at your house to become almost a cottage industry. Ale Houses proliferated in London after that.

A previous Episode, Pubs Versus The Wrecking Ball, covered a slum pub, the late Still and Star, that started as a house and became a low rent provider of drink to the locals. So today the British Brew Pub has a long tradition, its predecessor being what we would call variously Ale Houses, Beer Houses and some, Pubs. If you have time, pop in to The Temple Brewhouse and drink a toast to this great tradition.

One more stop for today and it's really just a walk by. If you continue to walk west on The Strand to Surrey Street and turn left and just a few steps down, you will see what is known as the former Aldridge Station. If you're using Google Maps, be sure you type it in just that way, “The Former Aldwych Station.” It first opened in 1907 and for most of its life supported a stop called The Strand. As the name above it indicates, it was closed in 1993 but still finds use as a spot where TV and movies can be shot when a tube scene is needed. Also, The Museum of Londonprovides tours of the facility, giving you a look at what a tube stop was like in the first half of the 20th Century. Tours are a bit pricey, about 45 pounds a head, but to look at it from the street costs absolutely nothing, and since we were in the area and, well, I thought I should point it out.

Well, that does it for another episode. Thanks so much for listening. Please like, thumbs up, and subscribe, as is your one and drop me a line or comment at the email in the notes hosteric@historiclondonpubcast.com if the notion strikes you. Until next time, Cheers!