Established in the early 1800s, The Colonel Fawcett provided a refuge for all manner of Victorian England’s more macabre characters. It harboured an unlikely band of brigands and thieves taking leave from their plunder and pillaging of the countries highways alongside soldiers of the Empire, returned to a London much removed from the one they left when they sailed from the mouth of this city’s great river.
This unlikely group of patrons contrived to give the establishment a reputation that extended far across the dim lit streets and acrid canals of London; this Pub becoming a byword for all that was held in contempt by those who considered themselves to be of high society. It was here that all the vices and sins from across the Empire were collected together in an orgy of inconceivable indulgence and debauchery.
With consummate ease one could corrupt oneself absolutely through inebriation and carnal indecency. And it was not unusual for one of these so called members of the Enlightened, who publicly decried this revelry, to be found hypocritically savouring all it had to offer. And no one more so than the Colonel Fawcett did have a penchant for the debauchery served up with uncompromising consistency.
An English gentleman who had served his queen and country across the British Empire, on returning from India became one of the taverns most loyal patrons. With a taste for gin that only a man who had sailed the seven oceans could possess, and the possessor of an affection for the women who graced this institution, the Colonel was a man who courted favour with many. However it was this very house that sadly saw the end of the demise of this raffish gentleman. The Colonel and his brother –in-law, Lieutenant Munroe, were embroiled in a bitter dispute over land ownership. An unfortunate coincidence brought these two men together at the most inopportune time, and with neither wishing to sacrifice their honor a duel was agreed and fought in this here pub.
In 1834 Colonel David Fawcett received fatal gunshot wounds to the chest in what was to be the last fatal duel in Britain. He retired to the upstairs room where he spent his last two days as he lived, drinking gin and entertaining his fellow patrons with his wit and charm.
