The Covent Garden Ladies: The Extraordinary Story of Harris's List Read Online Free Page B

that blighted Maiden Lane. Only a few doors down from the Bedford Head throbbed a stinking sore of a public house, Bob Derry’s Cider Cellar. Bob Derry, with his wife, daughter and son-in-law, just about managed the alcohol-fuelled traffic that pushed in and out of his rancid den. ‘As its name implied’, wrote John Timbs, a recorder of tavern history, the interior and fittings of the Cider Cellar ‘were rude and rough’. Bob Derry’s was open all night and accepted into its fold the dregs of an evening out: those already too intoxicated to walk or talk straight. There, under Derry’s blind eye, pickpockets and disease-ridden streetwalkers did a roaring trade. As Samuel Derrick wrote in 1761, the establishment was noted for its regular hiccups of violence – spectacles of brutality where men bludgeoned their rivals and ladies of the night tore at each other’s faces. Patrons of Derry’s were not known for interceding in a good fight, but rather for placing bets on its outcome. On one occasion, the outcome was the double murder of two drinkers, who after a fierce argument were mercilessly stabbed to death.
    Although the annals of Covent Garden never placed the Bedford Head’s name on a par with that of its vice-riddled neighbour, in its day it would hardly have been considered a paragon of lawfulness. The majority of the area’s establishments would have involved themselves in some form of criminal trade, whether this entailed permitting prostitutes to solicit openly (a generally accepted practice), receiving stolen goods or harbouring known criminals from the watch. Frequently, far worse activities committed by proprietors or their staff, such as coin-clipping, counterfeiting, theft, extortion, violent assault and incidents of rape, were allowed to transpire in upstairs rooms and cellars. In an environment where the orderly and the unlawful were woven inextricably into a single fabric, John Harrison would have been initiated into the realm of the law-breaker before he could have even differentiated between the two. As tavern-waiting and pimping were virtually inseparable practices, it is unlikely that George Harrison would have discouraged his son from earning money by ‘making introductions’. Not unlike his alter ego, it would have been circumstance as well as a father’s encouragement that made him a pimp.
    In the eighteenth century, the urban tavern and its cousin the coffee house were primarily male domains. They could at times be quite close in definition, serving as social meeting houses and as a forum where business and news could be discussed between gentlemen. Although certain professions might hold preferences for specific locations, generally a range of occupations and social strata brushed elbows under their roofs. While the coffee houses’ main attraction was the caffeinated novelty tipple they peddled, they also, like the cafés of continental Europe, provided alcohol. The better venues of both variety offered food in addition to liquid refreshment, which could be taken either in the communal taproom or in a private, above-stairs space, if the patron was wealthy enough. Over the course of the century, the activities of these upstairs rooms took on a history of their own. They were ideal areas for the members of gentlemen’s societies to host their monthly or yearly gatherings. These events, which frequently began in the evening hours with discussions of politics, science or art over a formal meal, had a habit of degenerating into a night of wholesale debauchery. Respectable society dictated that men could not be considered either dignified or safe when soused with liquor, and therefore any woman who had pretensions of calling herself a lady would not venture near the door of such an establishment. Nevertheless, women abounded in taverns and coffee houses, especially those around Covent Garden. These were the women that writers of the age might argue were designated by virtue of their class to