Wood mentions that the first coffee-house was at Oxford, and was kept, in 1650, by Jacobs, a Jew. The first in London seems to have been kept by a foreigner named Rosa Pasquee, in 1652, in St. Michael's Alley, Cornhill, whilst Hatton says[291]: 'I find it Recorded that one _James Farr_, a Barber, who kept the Coffee House which now is the _Rainbow_, by the Inner Temple Gate, (one of the first in England) was in the year 1657 presented by the Inquest of St. Dunstans in the W. for Making and Selling a sort of Liquor, called Coffee, as a great Nusance and Prejudice of the neighbourhood, &c. And who would then have thought London would ever have had near 3,000 such Nusances, and that Coffee should have been (as now) so much Drank by the best of Quality and Physicians.' Of these 'near 3,000' I have, in my searches through the newspapers, etc., of the period, found the names of over 500, which, to preserve them again from falling into oblivion, are to be found in the Appendix to this book. [Footnote 291: _New View of London_, 1708.] These coffee-houses sold alcoholic liquors as well as coffee; a fact which is somewhat whimsically illustrated in the following extract from a letter of Bishop Trelawney to Bishop Sprat, July 20, 1702 or 3.[292] 'I had a particular obligation to Burnett, and will publicly thank him in print (among other matters I have to say to him, and to his Articles against our religion) for his causing it to be spread by his emissaries that I was drunk at Salisbury the 30th of January; whereas the Major General,[293] Captain Culleford, a very honest Clergyman, and the people of the Inn (which was a coffee house too) can swear I drank nothing but two dishes of Coffee; and, indeed I had not stopped at all, but to enable my children by a very slender bait, to hold out to Blandford, where I dined at 6 that night.' [Footnote 292: _Atterbury's Correspondence_, ed. 1784, vol. iii. p. 87.] [Footnote 293: His brother. Bishop Trelawney was also a baronet; and he had an unepiscopal habit of swearing occasionally, but when such a _faux pas_ occurred he always said it was the baronet, not the bishop, that swore. The inconvenience of this arrangement was pointed out to him one day by a friend, who remarked that, if the baronet was damned for swearing, what would become of the bishop.]