第62章 THE SKETCH BOOK(3)

An error in the foregoing inscription has been corrected by thevenerable Stowe. "Whereas," saith he, "it hath been far spreadabroad by vulgar opinion, that the rebel smitten down so manfully bySir William Walworth, the then worthy Lord Maior, was named JackStraw, and not Wat Tyler, I thought good to reconcile thisrash-conceived doubt by such testimony as I find in ancient and goodrecords. The principal leaders, or captains, of the commons, wereWat Tyler, as the first man; the second was John, or Jack, Straw,"etc., etc.

STOWE'S LONDON.

Adjoining the church, in a small cemetery, immediately under theback window of what was once the Boar's Head, stands the tombstoneof Robert Preston, whilom drawer at the tavern. It is now nearly acentury since this trusty drawer of good liquor closed his bustlingcareer, and was thus quietly deposited within call of his customers.

As I was clearing away the weeds from his epitaph, the little sextondrew me on one side with a mysterious air, and informed me in a lowvoice, that once upon a time, on a dark wintry night, when the windwas unruly, howling, and whistling, banging about doors and windows,and twirling weathercocks, so that the living were frightened out oftheir beds, and even the dead could not sleep quietly in their graves,the ghost of honest Preston, which happened to be airing itself in thechurch-yard, was attracted by the well-known call of "waiter" from theBoar's Head, and made its sudden appearance in the midst of aroaring club, just as the parish clerk was singing a stave from the"mirre garland of Captain Death;" to the discomfiture of sundrytrain-band captains, and the conversion of an infidel attorney, whobecame a zealous Christian on the spot, and was never known to twistthe truth afterwards, except in the way of business.

I beg it may be remembered, that I do not pledge myself for theauthenticity of this anecdote; though it is well known that thechurch-yards and by-corners of this old metropolis are very muchinfested with perturbed spirits; and every one must have heard ofthe Cock Lane ghost, and the apparition that guards the regalia in theTower, which has frightened so many bold sentinels almost out of theirwits.

Be all this as it may, this Robert Preston seems to have been aworthy successor to the nimble-tongued Francis, who attended uponthe revels of Prince Hal; to have been equally prompt with his"anon, anon, sir;" and to have transcended his predecessor in honesty;for Falstaff, the veracity of whose taste no man will venture toimpeach, flatly accuses Francis of putting lime in his sack; whereashonest Preston's epitaph lauds him for the sobriety of his conduct,the soundness of his wine, and the fairness of his measure.* Theworthy dignitaries of the church, however, did not appear muchcaptivated by the sober virtues of the tapster; the deputy organist,who had a moist look out of the eye, made some shrewd remark on theabstemiousness of a man brought up among full hogsheads; and thelittle sexton corroborated his opinion by a significant wink, and adubious shake of the head.

* As this inscription is rife with excellent morality, Itranscribe it for the admonition of delinquent tapsters. It is, nodoubt, the production of some choice spirit, who once frequented theBoar's Head.

Bacchus, to give the toping world surprise,Produced one sober son, and here he lies.

Though rear'd among full hogsheads, he defy'dThe charms of wine, and every one beside.

O reader, if to justice thou'rt inclined,Keep honest Preston daily in thy mind.

He drew good wine, took care to fill his pots,Had sundry virtues that excused his faults.

You that on Bacchus have the like dependance,Pray copy Bob in measure and attendance.

Thus far my researches, though they threw much light on thehistory of tapsters, fishmongers, and Lord Mayors, yet disappointed mein the great object of my quest, the picture of the Boar's HeadTavern. No such painting was to be found in the church of St. Michael.

"Marry and amen!" said I, "here endeth my research!" So I was givingthe matter up, with the air of a baffled antiquary, when my friend thesexton, perceiving me to be curious in every thing relative to the oldtavern, offered to show me the choice vessels of the vestry, which hadbeen handed down from remote times, when the parish meetings were heldat the Boar's Head. These were deposited in the parish club-room,which had been transferred, on the decline of the ancientestablishment, to a tavern in the neighborhood.