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Page 4. The Pubs.

                                                                     The Pubs
     Although it appears inns and village ale houses existed in Saxon times, the concept of a public house as we currently
understand it dates from approximately a thousand years ago, when the majority of travellers were nobility, freemen and monks.  At that time most of the country’s population were destined to live and die in the village or town where they were born.
     Hospitality and refuge were provided by the great monasteries and churches scattered throughout the kingdom, whose religious orders grew their own food and brewed their own ale.  As the population grew in size and the feudal system began to break up, traditional hospitality became more of a burden to the religious houses.  Monasteries could no longer cope with or accommodate the volume of travellers.  Gradually hospitality began to be dispensed from a house separate from the religious buildings.
     In providing this separate hospitality, the religious orders no longer felt under an obligation to supply this service free of charge, and a visitor was expected to pay either in cash, goods or labour.  These “public” houses, now usually sited at the gate to the monastery or church were to survive long after the dissolution of the monasteries.
     On the Isle of Wight, only the Cutters Arms by the lych-gate to Carisbrooke church reflected this arrangement.  This little public house, now sadly gone, could have been one of the oldest on the island.
     As these public houses began to flourish, other householders along England’s roads and paths began to cash in on the idea, selling their surplus beer to travellers and advertising it to a largely illiterate population, by displaying a branch or bush at the front of the house.
      As towns grew and the number of inns increased, human nature began to exercise its individuality and inns began to identify themselves with different signs.  This idea of a sign as distinct from a name took hold.  People would speak of lodging or meeting at the sign of the “Star” or the “Lamb”.  They would not have spoken of being at a pub called the Star or the Lamb.

 
St. Crispin, the patron saint of shoemakers.  An old saying goes, "Cobblers and Tinkers are the best drinkers.

     The aristocracy, who were usually as illiterate as the rest of the population, developed a sign language of their own.  This heraldic language was also borrowed for use on tavern signs, giving rise to names such as the Kings Arms and the Crown and Sceptre.  Of course, other traders in towns also put up signs to indicate what they made or sold and eventually regulations were passed by local boroughs to curb these sometimes dangerous structures.
     Pubs were exempt and over the centuries, publicans and breweries proudly made use of their right to display a sign, having moved on from the display of simple objects to elaborate paintings, often of the highest quality.    Many inn signs had a local root or reference, for example, the “Bugle” to signify a young bull on the Isle of Wight.
     The earliest known inn in Newport is believed to be the “Swan” or “Le Swan”, the origin of the name having a direct heraldic link with the coat of arms favoured by Henry VIII and Edward III.  The Swan figures predominately in the ecclesiastical visitations to Newport in early days.  Although the meetings of archdeacon and clergy were held in the “chapel”, the disposition of witnesses as to offenses against the law and order were taken at “Le Swan” in 1606 and probably before.
      In the “Book of Licences”, House of Lords papers.  George White of Newport is named as the licensee of the “Tapster and Pott” in that town.  The licence was apparently in existence before that it is uncertain whether it was older than “Le Swan” or not.  The Swan lasted until the 19th century when it was rebuilt, it was later pulled down in the 20th for its site to be occupied by the present day County Hall in the lower High Street.
     Looking at the record of pub names throughout Newport’s history, one could be forgiven for believing that several hundred had been in existence.
   However, as previously mentioned, human nature and ingenuity in devising new names and signs have been exercised throughout the ages.  Name changes could signify a new publican, a change of brewer, or an attempt to gain popularity by taking a name commemorating a national event, a new monarch or a famous national military victory.
   The disposition of public houses in Newport, initially clustered around the markets, but as new dwellings fleshed our the new town’s streets, inns sprang up to cater to the inhabitants.

 
Mew Langton's brewery in Crocker Street, was for many years in Newport's history, the main source of good beer.  I remember being bemused by the lack of an "L" and an "N" on the writing on the side of the maltings.  The letters read, "W.B. Mew Langton & Co. Brewers to the late King".

 The larger inns faced onto the High Street and other main routes into the town.  They not only provided board and lodgings to wealthy merchants and travellers but were places of entertainment for local townsfolk.
    Dances, concerts, recitals and spectator events such as cock fights and boxing matches were provided.  Societies and associations thrived in the private rooms in these establishments.  Masonic lodges, local societies, self improvement classes and political clubs used their facilities for meetings. The pubs were centres for the cultural life of the town as well as providing a source of oblivion from the daily grind for Newport’s poorer citizens.   However, by the early nineteenth century, this public drunkenness due to gin and spirit consumption was becoming a local and national scandal.
    In 1830 Goldbourne’s Act empowered any householder and rate payer to open his house as a beer shop merely on the payment of two guineas to the local Excise Office.  This was an attempt by the government to encourage beer drinking and wean the general populace off gin spirits by taxing it heavily.
    The only advantage the regular inn keeper enjoyed over the two guinea licensee was the freedom to sell liquor after 10:00 o’clock at night and before 4.00 a.m. in the morning.
    These beerhouses proliferated as the century wore on, the drunkenness and squalor induced by excessive gin drinking now replaced by that of excessive ale drinking.
    Many became dens frequented by thieves, rogues, drunks and prostitutes.  The large military presence in the town compounded matters.  Off duty soldiers with money in their pockets and little by way of entertainment were often the instigators and victims of trouble in the town’s numerous back streets.

 
            Garrison Town
Troops march past the  Crispin Inn at the top of the High Street.
     Many of the names of Newport’s pubs and beerhouses betray these military links, amongst which were the Valiant Soldier, the Trooper, the Battle of Waterloo and the Military Arms.
     From the early part of the twentieth century, the number of pubs in Newport began to decline.  Licensing Acts drew up national guidelines for magistrates to refuse renewal of licences on the grounds of trade (the lack of it) and the number of public houses necessary per head of population.  A redundancy fund was set up, financed by the pubs themselves to compensate landlords for loss of their livelihood.  Many of the smaller beer houses were swept away as were many of Newport’s well known inns, some of them hundreds of years old.

 
Mew Langton, Newport's Brewers, display their dray for the camera.
However, by the 1960’s, Mew Langton & Co., the town’s local brewer and its rival, Brickwoods of Portsmouth, still managed a respectable number of outlets in the town. Then catastrophe struck.  A take-over of Mew Langtons by Strongs of Romsey, initially made to protect the character of the local trade, went horribly wrong when Strongs itself was taken over by theWhitbread giant, Brickwoods succumbed a few years later and the town’s pubs found themselves under this single company’s control. 




 
Seventy years on in the 1960's, Mew's dray poses again for the camera in Crocker Street
     This unusual monopoly situation was exploited mercilessly by the new regime and the majority of Newport’s pubs were to face closure, sale and transformation.  Even the largest of hotels was not immune from these asset stripping tendencies and the town centre lost the historic Bugle along with its other well established pubs.
     By the time legislation to curb the abuses of local monopolies was enacted, the damage done was irreversible and the Whitbread company found it  could dispense with its Island depot on the old Mew Langton brewery site and deliver direct to its remaining outlets from the mainland.  However, in the late 1990’s, a “Hogshead Tavern” had been opened in the lower High Street by a subsidiary of the Whitbread giant.  This Victorian style theme pub is an attempt to recreate a lot of what was wantonly destroyed a generation before.

     Most of the photographs in this book relate to those that closed during the twentieth century, but I have tried to include as much historical material as possible.  No building is frozen in time until it is destroyed.  Pub names change, buildings are enlarged, altered, and rebuilt.
    Where possible, I have tried to include more than one photograph of a site to show this.  Also included are excerpts from press reports, licensing hearings and inn directories.  These are the windows to the past that belong to us all.
     The pubs are all still there, the old pubs that haunt Newport’s street.  They hold the voices of men, women and children, the songs, the shrieks of laughter, the drunken curses, the clink and shatter of glasses, the toasts, the applause, the music.
     They are all still there, as are the sigh of coals in the grate, the ticking of a pub clock, the thud of darts in a board, the quiet murmurings whilst cards are played and the whisper of lovers in the snug.
     They are all still there in our collective memories and consciousness.    And when they are all gone, then perhaps the words of Hilaire Belloc, the essayist and historian, who died in 1953 may come to haunt us instead.
 
 

                                                    “When you have lost your inns”, he once wrote,
                                                                          “drown your empty selves,
                                                               for you will have lost the last of England”.
 

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