The English Inn by Thomas Burke (1930)

The English Inn was published by Herbert Jenkins in 1930 and revised by the author, Thomas Burke, in 1947. It is an affectionate, romanticised and ultimately pessimistic account that, like many other works since, predicted the demise of its subject.

Some of what he writes has oft been echoed in more contemporary work. While “Englishmen have lost respect for their Parliament, their Church and their press, they still respect their inns” is a view expressed variously before and since. That is not to say inns were egalitarian. Travellers were assessed for their wealth and accommodated and fed accordingly, or often not at all in the case of those travelling by foot.

Burke declares the pub to be all but finished and the inn to be dying: “The old-style pub is already doomed and the inn will quickly follow”. He describes how pubs had replaced taverns but they too would not stand the test of time, becoming “community centres, working-men’s clubs or family cafes”. We will overlook his failure to foresee the development of micropubs.

Of the Inn he predicts that “speed will kill it….but will be utterly useless when the plane displaces the car as…those inns outside the air-track will have to close”. His rather fanciful predictions of localised and ubiquitous air travel may have been wide of the mark but he also takes aim at the brewers and the railway. On brewers taking ownership he bemoans:

“Their modern attempts at black and white plaster work – Ye Olde Thisse and Thatte – makes that defiant glare by which the guilty conscience of fake gives it away. They tried to make their houses restaurants and have at last succeeded in making them nothing – not taverns, not pubs, not restaurants, but a blend of the three at their worse”.

Burke considered that inns were being displaced by railway hotels and roadhouses, both of which he scorned. On railway hotels he quoted Dickens approvingly, referring to the “flashy gaudiness of a station house albergo”. Roadhouses didn’t fare much better, “that harsh, glaring, frigid importation from America with its cacophonous dance-band, it’s swimming pool, it’s tennis court, radio and snack-bar”. Radio – such decadence!

Whilst he doesn’t approve of anything that represented any form of change, he writes warmly of a great many inns. You get the impression the research for the book was hugely enjoyable. He particularly liked the Sun in Splendour in Notting Hill “for its grotto, and its waterfall, and its wonderful dog”. He is very taken with the dog:

“The dog is worth knowing. The landlord takes him out of the room. You hide a penny in any place you choose, say under a vase on a shelf. The dog is brought in and, within a minute, without any hint or direction finds that penny. Having found it, it takes it to the counter and buys a biscuit”. Well it beats reading Twitter on your phone.

Other inns had their own unique attractions. The Bell and Mackerel in Mile End had an “exhaustive entomological collection” while The Widow’s Son in Bromley-by-Bow was “well-known for its collection of mouldering hot-cross buns”. This relates to the story of a widow baking her missing sailor son a hot-cross bun and hanging it up every year, awaiting his return. When the pub reopened in 2017, the tradition was resumed.

The biggest boon to the 1930’s ticker was an index of ancient inns and famous extinct inns, including a few hostels that supplied Wayfarers Dole – a piece of bread and a mug of small beer. There are over 250 on the list, some now obscure, others still thriving. Now there’s an idea…….