Tales of London

Numerous courts, yards and alleys feed off the eastern side of Borough High Street, a maze of warrens and hidden pubs. These sites are all that remain of a multitude of galleried coaching inns that for centuries inundated the area, the last surviving example in the whole of London being the George.

The George was purportedly originally known as the George & the Dragon, or even the Saint George, but the honorific was dropped in the mid-sixteenth century due to the rise in Protestantism and the pantheon of saints no longer being in ecclesiastical vogue. The pub has existed since at least 1542, but is probably from a much earlier time than even that. In 1676 however, ten years after the Great Fire of London had ravaged the City north of the Thames, the Great Fire of Southwark swept through the settlement south of the river, destroying the George in the process. It was rebuilt shortly thereafter, and it’s from this time that the extant building dates.

For over seventeen centuries, from the Roman period until the building of Westminster Bridge in 1750, London Bridge was the only permanent crossing over the Thames into the City of London. Being the southern approach to London Bridge, what is now Borough High Street was the major thoroughfare from Kent and the south coast; being outside of the jurisdiction of the City, with its sometimes puritanical regulations on drinking, gambling, whoring and acting, Southwark became a very popular location for travellers who wanted a good time in the capital – and for traders who didn’t want to pay to pay the toll to cross London Bridge.

A multitude of coaching inns sprang up in the side alleys off Borough High Street, from whence and to huge numbers of coaches and wagons carrying passengers and goods would depart and arrive - Borough High Street was akin to Victoria Coach Station being just outside the Congestion Charge Zone. For centuries one of the major goods arriving into Southwark was Kentish hops, used for brewing ale; still today some of the buildings along the high street bear the signs from when they were employed as warehouses for hops.

Being situated on prime real estate at the southern end of London Bridge, over the centuries the George was frequented by many of the great and the good. Charles Dickens would have been an alcoholic if he’d visited all of the public houses in London that claim to have an association with him, but he certainly enjoyed patronising the coffee house within the George and he namechecked the pub in Little Dorrit. A book on the George’s history titled Shakespeare’s Local might have been stretching the truth a little, as there’s no evidence to say the Bard actually visited the pub; but given its proximity to the Globe Theatre, on balance of probabilities it’s more than likely Shakespeare would have at least known of the George and in all possibility drank there too. In the mid eighteenth century Edward, 6th Baron Digby would visit the nearby Marshalsea debtors prison twice a year at Christmas and Easter, pay off the debts of several inmates, and then escort the now free fellows to the George for a slap up meal.

But as railway mania began to sweep the country in the mid-nineteenth century, this sounded the death knell for London’s coaching inns. Trains could transport goods and passengers much faster and in much larger numbers than the coaches ever could. The George was purchased by the Great Northern Railway, who demolished the northern and eastern ranges of the pub in 1874 to make way for warehousing. In a way, it was merely economic evolution rather than wanton destruction: the pub had served the coaches for centuries, and now it would serve the railways in their place. We should be grateful that at least the George's southern range remains: Talbot Yard, the alley directly south of the George, was once the site of the Tabard coaching inn. Dating from the early fourteenth century, the Tabard was the departure point for Chaucer’s pilgrims in The Canterbury Tales. In 1873 it was razed to the ground.

In 1937, the London & North Eastern Railway – as the Great Northern Railway had become – sold the George to the National Trust, guaranteeing its future survival. Now a Grade I listed building, it's tenanted to Greene King; its location, history, and beautifully preserved interior makes it a very popular destination, but it’s very much worthwhile squeezing inside for a drink. You might even spot the ghost of nineteenth century landlady Miss Amelia Murray, who is said to cause mobile phone batteries to mysteriously drain; possibly she’s just understandably irked by those playing on TikTok in her pub.

For more stories about the bizarre and quirky history of the capital, check out my other articles, or click here to subscribe to future updates!