in front, and it may be remembered that _Mr. Wilfer_ suggested this
neighbourhood as a waiting-place for Bella, on the occasion of their
“innocent elopement” to Greenwich, while he should array himself in new
garments at her expense, to do honour to the expedition. We now turn
westward by _Tower Street_, and may save time by taking train at _Mark
Lane Station_ for the Mansion House, about ten minutes’ ride. On arrival
at the Mansion House Station we shall find _Queen Street_ close at hand,
leading riverwards to Southwark Bridge, referred to in “Little Dorrit” as
the Iron Bridge. This was Amy Dorrit’s favourite promenade, it being
quieter than many of the neighbouring thoroughfares; and we may recall
the scene when young _John Chivery_ was obliged to take no for an answer,
when he attempted the proffer of his hand and heart.
Proceeding onwards through _Cannon Street_, we turn to the right through
_St. Paul’s Churchyard_, crossing Cheapside to the stately edifice of the
General Post Office, _St. Martin’s-le-Grand_. This building, in the
times of “Nicholas Nickleby,” occasioned honest John Browdie some
surprise:—
“Wa-at dost thee tak’ yon place to be, noo, that ’un ower the wa’?
Ye’d never coom near it, gin ye thried for twolve moonths. It’s na
but a Poast-office. Ho, ho! they need to charge for double latthers.
A Poast-office! What dost thee think of that? Ecod, if that’s on’y
a Poast-office, loike to see where the Lord Mayor o’ Lunnon lives!”
_Aldersgate Street_ leads northward from St. Martin’s-le-Grand; passing
the first block in which, _Falcon Street_ turns on the right (No. 16)
towards _Falcon Square_, a small city piazza, where may be found (No. 8)
The Falcon Hotel. This is the place at which John Jasper sojourned when
visiting London. In “The Mystery of Edwin Drood” we read the following
commendation of the house in question:—
“It is hotel, boarding-house, or lodging-house at its visitor’s
option. It announces itself, in the new Railway advertisers, as a
novel enterprise, timidly beginning to spring up. It bashfully,
almost apologetically, gives the traveller to understand that it does
not expect him, on the good old constitutional hotel plan, to order a
pint of sweet blacking for his drinking, and throw it away; but
insinuates that he may have his boots blacked instead of his stomach,
and may also have bed, breakfast, attendance, and a porter up all
night, for a certain fixed charge.”
Returning to Aldersgate Street, we shall find that the opposite turning,
leading to Smithfield, is _Little Britain_. In “Great Expectations” we
learn that the Offices of Mr. Jaggers, the Old Bailey lawyer, were here
situated, in near proximity to Bartholomew Close; but the house cannot be
precisely indicated. Here _Mr. Wemmick_ assisted his Principal in the
details of his professional business. He may be remembered as having a
decided preference for “portable property.”
Proceeding onward by _Duke Street_, the visitor will shortly come into
Smithfield, a locality which is considerably changed since the days when
Pip first arrived in London. He says—
“When I told the clerk that I would take a turn in the air while I
waited, he advised me to go round the corner and I should come into
Smithfield. So I came into Smithfield; and the shameful place, being
all asmear with filth, and fat, and blood, and foam, seemed to stick
to me. So, I rubbed it off with all possible speed by turning into a
street where I saw the great black dome of Saint Paul’s bulging at me
from behind a grim stone building which a bystander said was Newgate
Prison.”
Adopting the same line of route, the Rambler may pass the south front of
the Metropolitan Meat Market, turning to the left by St. Bartholomew’s
Hospital into _Giltspur Street_, which leads to Newgate Street, and faces
on the opposite corner of Old Bailey Newgate Prison. In “Great
Expectations,” Pip describes his visit to the interior, at the invitation
and in the company of Mr. Wemmick:—
“We passed through the Lodge, where some fetters were hanging up, on
the bare walls among the prison rules, into the interior of the jail.
At that time jails were much neglected, and the period of exaggerated
reaction consequent on all public wrong-doing—and which is always its
longest and heaviest punishment—was still far off. So, felons were
not lodged and fed better than soldiers (to say nothing of paupers),
and seldom set fire to their prisons with the excusable object of
improving the flavour of their soup. It was visiting-time when
Wemmick took me in, and a potman was going his rounds with beer, and
the prisoners behind bars in yards were buying beer and talking to
friends; and a frowsy, ugly, disorderly, depressing scene it was.”
Again, it may be remarked that things have much improved since the good
old days. _Inter alia_, the principles and rules of prison management
and discipline have greatly changed for the better.
In the tale of “Barnaby Rudge” is the narrative of the burning of Newgate
and the liberation of the prisoners by the rioters (1780), on which
occasion it will be remembered that our old friend Gabriel Varden was
somewhat roughly handled. For full particulars, see chapter 64.
Immediately south of Newgate is the adjacent Central Criminal Court of
The Old Bailey, the scene of Charles Darnay’s trial in “The Tale of Two
Cities.” At the time there described (1775)—
“The Old Bailey was famous as a kind of deadly Inn yard, from which
pale travellers set out continually, in carts and coaches, on a
violent passage to the other world, traversing some two miles and a
half of public street and road, and shaming few good citizens, if
any. So powerful is use, and so desirable to be good use in the
beginning. It was famous, too, for the pillory, a wise old
institution, that inflicted a punishment of which no one could
foresee the extent; also for the whipping-post, another dear old
institution, very humanising and softening to behold in action; also
for extensive transactions in blood-money, another fragment of
ancestral wisdom.”
Facing eastward from Newgate Street is the _Holborn Viaduct_, which has
for many years superseded the old ascending and descending road of
Holborn Hill.
The Saracen’s Head, the old coaching-house on Snow Hill, with which we
have been familiar from the days of “Nicholas Nickleby,” as the
headquarters of Mr. Squeers, has disappeared since 1868, having been
pulled down long ago, with many other buildings of this neighbourhood,
giving room to the great improvements which have taken place in this part
of London. Hereabouts it stood, on a lower level, not far from St.
Sepulchre’s Church—
“Just on that particular part of Snow Hill where omnibus horses going
eastward seriously think of falling down on purpose, and horses in
hackney cabriolets going westward not unfrequently fall by accident.”
The present _Police Station_, Snow Hill, stands on part of the site
formerly occupied by this old hostelry.
This modern thoroughfare of Snow Hill commences at the first turning on
the right, in which has been erected a commodious hotel of the same name
(No. 10), where, by the aid of a little refreshment and a slight exercise
of imagination, we may recall the departure of Nicholas for Dotheboy’s
Hall, Greta Bridge, by the Yorkshire coach, with Mr. Squeers and the
pupils; also the later arrival in London of Mr. and Mrs. Browdie,
accompanied by the lovely Fanny as bridesmaid, and the first meeting of
Nicholas with Frank Cheeryble, newly returned from Continental travel.
Snow Hill leads to the lower level of _Farringdon Road_, at a point
immediately north of the Holborn Viaduct spanning the thoroughfare, in
which, turning to the right, we walk onwards to the intersection of
_Clerkenwell Road_ (eight minutes’ work). On the right hand, across the
railway, is Clerkenwell Green, referred to in “Oliver Twist” as
“That open square in Clerkenwell which is yet called by some strange
perversion of terms The Green.”
It was near this place that little Oliver became enlightened as to the
business of Charley Bates and the Artful Dodger. We read that the boys,
traversing a narrow court in this neighbourhood, came out opposite a
bookstall, where Mr. Brownlow was reading, abstracted from all other
mundane considerations, so affording “a prime plant” for the operations
of these light-fingered gentlemen. This court leads from the road
opposite the Sessions House into _Pear Tree Court_, giving into the main
road at some distance beyond, at which the scene above referred to was
enacted.
Walking onwards by the _King’s Cross Road_ we soon come to the point
where _Exmouth Street_ joins it from the east, facing the south-east
angle of the House of Correction. Here we strike into the route taken by
Oliver Twist when he first came from Barnet to London, under the escort
of _Mr. John Dawkins_. The text of the story is as follows:—
“They crossed from the ‘Angel’ into St. John’s Road, struck down the
small street which terminates at Sadler’s Wells Theatre, through
Exmouth Street and Coppice Row, down the little court by the side of
the Workhouse, across the classic ground which once bore the name of
Hockley-in-the-Hole, thence into Little Saffron Hill, and so into
Saffron Hill the Great.”
Following the line thus indicated from Exmouth Street, we come on the
south side of the Workhouse, nearly opposite Little Saffron Hill, which
leads into _Great Saffron Hill_ as above. Crossing _Clerkenwell Road_,
and proceeding for a short distance down Great Saffron Hill, we arrive at
the cross street of _Hatton Wall_, in which, past two doors to the left
on the south side, will be found—between the _Hat and Tun Inn_ and No. 17
beyond—the entrance of HATTON YARD, a long narrow lane or mews (leading
to _Kirby Street_), occupied by carmen and stabling. In this eligible
position was situated, some fifty years since, “the very notorious
Metropolitan Police Court” to which Oliver Twist was taken on the charge
of theft; and we may here recall the administration of the presiding
magistrate, the notable Mr. Fang, as shown in the examination of the
prisoner.
The premises (No. 9, on the left) once formed part and parcel of the
police court referred to; but the arrangements of the neighbourhood have
been subjected to much alteration during the last half century. Mr.
Forster states that Dickens “had himself a satisfaction in admitting the
identity of Mr. Fang, in ‘Oliver Twist,’ with Mr. Laing of Hatton
Garden.” In a letter (now in possession of Mr. S. R. Goodman, of
Brighton) written to Mr. Haines, Reporter, June 3rd, 1838, Dickens writes
as follows:—
“In my next number of ‘Oliver Twist’ I must have a magistrate; and,
casting about for a magistrate whose harshness and insolence would
render him a fit subject to be _shown up_, I have as a necessary
consequence stumbled upon Mr. Laing of Hatton Garden celebrity. I
know the man’s character perfectly well; but as it would be necessary
to describe his personal appearance also, I ought to have seen him,
which (fortunately or unfortunately as the case may be) I have never
done. In this dilemma it occurred to me that perhaps I might under
your auspices be smuggled into the Hatton Garden office for a few
moments some morning. If you can further my object I shall be really
very greatly obliged to you.”
“The opportunity was found; the magistrate was brought up before the
novelist; and shortly after, on some fresh outbreak of intolerable
temper, the Home Secretary found it an easy and popular step to remove
Mr. Laing from the Bench.”
Returning to GREAT SAFFRON HILL, we may recall its description as given
in the days of “Oliver Twist”—
“The street was very narrow and muddy, and the air was impregnated
with filthy odours. The sole places that seemed to prosper amid the
general blight of the place were the public-houses, and in them the
lowest orders of the Irish were wrangling with might and main.
Covered ways and yards, which here and there diverged from the main
street, disclosed little knots of houses where drunken men and women
were positively wallowing in filth.”
Field Lane, in the immediate vicinity, _was_
“Near to that spot on which Snow Hill and Holborn Hill meet . . a
narrow dismal alley leading to Saffron Hill. In its filthy shops are
exposed for sale huge bunches of second-hand silk handkerchiefs of
all sizes and patterns, for here reside the traders who purchase them
from the pickpockets.”
This place has been effaced by the Holborn Valley improvements, and we
may now look in vain for the precise locality of the house of _Fagin_ the
Jew. In this neighbourhood also was situated “The Three Cripples,” a
public-house of evil repute patronised by Sykes, Fagin, and Monks. We
may recall the circumstance of _Mr. Morris Bolter’s_ (_alias_ Noah
Claypole’s) arrival at this house, when he and _Charlotte_ first came to
London, and of his subsequent interview with the wily Jew.
It is pleasant to remark that Saffron Hill has greatly improved in its
character since the above-quoted description was correct. It now affords
accommodation for the headquarters of the _Central Shoeblacks’ Society_
(as established under the auspices of the late Earl of Shaftesbury), and
about midway in the street where thieves “did once inhabit,” a large
_Board School_ is doing good educational service for the elevation of the
humbler classes.
Turning from Great Saffron Hill westward by the _One Tun_ public-house,
we come into _Charles Street_, on the south side of which, towards Hatton
Garden, is Bleeding Hart Yard (entrance by the Bleeding Hart Tavern, No.
19). This locality is associated with the tale of “Little Dorrit.” It
will be remembered that here the factory of _Messrs. Doyce and Clennam_
was situated, and here also resided _Mr. and Mrs. Plornish_, the humble
friends of the Dorrit family. In these degenerate days the place has
much altered, and the amiable _Mr. Casby_ would certainly find it more
difficult than ever to collect his weekly dues, even by the agency of his
energetic assistant, Mr. Pancks.
Passing from this unpretending locality, we come (at No. 8) into _Hatton
Garden_, which leads southward to _Holborn Circus_.
In Hatton Garden, on the east side, can be observed (No. 20) the
old-established warehouse of Messrs. Rowland and Son. In this connection
there may be remembered the mad old gentleman “in small clothes,” who
lived next door to the _Nicklebys_, at Bow. On the only occasion of his
visiting the family indoors, he incidentally referred to “Mrs. Rowland,
who, every morning, bathes in Kalydor for nothing.”—See “Nicholas
Nickleby,” chapter 49.
Mr. Waterbrook’s establishment, situated in _Ely Place_, _Holborn_, is
entitled to passing mention as the place where David and his friend
Traddles met each other for the first time after their schoolboy days, on
the occasion of a dinner-party, at which also _Agnes Wickfield_ and
_Uriah Heep_ attended. Ely Place is situated on the north side of
HOLBORN CIRCUS, and once comprised the rose garden of the Bishop of Ely,
afterwards leased to Sir Christopher Hatton.
On the opposite side of the Circus, and near to St. Andrew’s Church, is
situated Thavies Inn, in which _Mrs. Jellyby_ and family resided, in the
days when her daughter _Caddy_ acted as amanuensis _in re_ the affairs of
Borrioboola-Gha.
It is described in “Bleak House” as being
“A narrow street of high houses like an oblong cistern to hold the
fog.”
The house No. 13, on the right, has been indicated as once the disorderly
residence of the Jellyby family. We may recollect it as the place where
_Esther Summerson_ and _Ada_ were accommodated for their first night in
London, on which occasion little unfortunate _Peepy_ was found with his
head between the area railings, and the house generally turned upside
down; while Mrs. Jellyby serenely dictated her correspondence in the
family sitting-room, altogether oblivious of such minor domestic
accidents.
Esther thus narrates her first impressions:—
“Mrs. Jellyby had very good hair, but was too much occupied with her
African duties to brush it. The shawl in which she had been loosely
muffled dropped on to her chair, when she advanced towards us; and,
as she turned to resume her seat, we could not help noticing that her
dress didn’t nearly meet up the back, and that the open space was
railed across with a lattice work of staylace—like a summer house. .
. . ‘You find me, my dears,’ said Mrs. Jellyby, ‘as usual, very
busy; but that you will excuse. The African project at present
employs my whole time. . . . We hope by this time next year to have
from a hundred and fifty to two hundred healthy families cultivating
coffee and educating the natives of Borrioboola-Gha, on the left bank
of the Niger.”—See “Bleak House,” chapter 4.
_The Buffet of Messrs. Spiers and Pond_ will be found a short distance
eastward from Holborn Circus, on the right, next the terminus of the
London, Chatham, and Dover railway. A visit to its welcome “contiguity
of shade” is confidently recommended to those who may be disposed for
necessary rest and refreshment.
RAMBLE IV
_Holborn Circus to Tottenham Court Road_
Langdale’s Distillery—Barnard’s Inn; Pip’s Chambers—Furnival’s Inn;
Dickens’s and John Westlock’s Apartments—Staple Inn; Mr. Grewgious’s
Chambers, P.J.T.; Rooms of Neville Landless and Mr. Tartar; “The Magic
Bean-Stalk Country”—Gray’s Inn; Mr. and Mrs. Traddles and “the girls;”
Offices of Mr. Perker—The Bull Inn; Scene of Lewsome’s Illness—Kingsgate
Street; Poll Sweedlepipe’s Shop; Sairey Gamp’s Apartments—Mrs.
Billickin’s Lodgings in Southampton Street; Miss Twinkleton and Rosa
Budd—Bloomsbury Square; Lord Mansfield’s Residence—Queen Square—The
Children’s Hospital; Johnny’s Will—Foundling Hospital; “No Thoroughfare;”
Walter Wilding—“The Boot Tavern”—No. 48 Doughty Street—Tavistock House,
Tavistock Square—Mrs. Dickens’s Establishment, No. 4 Gower Street, North;
Mrs. Wilfer’s Doorplate—No. 1 Devonshire Terrace—Mr. Merdle’s House,
Harley Street—Mr. Dombey’s House—Madame Mantalini’s, Wigmore
Street—Wimpole Street; Mr. Boffin’s West-end Residence—Welbeck Street;
Lord George Gordon’s Residence—Brook Street, Claridge’s Hotel; Mr.
Dorrit’s Return—Devonshire House; Guild of Literature and Art—Hatchett’s
Hotel; White Horse Cellars; Mr. Guppy in attendance—193 Piccadilly;
Messrs. Chapman and Hall—Golden Square; Ralph Nickleby’s
Office—Apartments of the Kenwigs family—The Crown Inn—“Martha’s”
Lodgings—Newman Street; Mr. Turveydrop’s Academy—Carlisle House; Doctor
Manette and Lucie.
From HOLBORN CIRCUS the Rambler now proceeds westward by the main
thoroughfare of _Holborn_, passing _Fetter Lane_ on the left, and arrives
at (No. 26) the old premises, now partially rebuilt, formerly Langdale’s
Distillery. Half of the same remains (at the moment), but will shortly
be superseded by a modern building. The eastern portion is occupied by
Messrs. Buchanan, whisky merchants, who have recently purchased the
premises. This establishment was sacked (1780) by the Gordon rioters.
Mr. Langdale being a Catholic, was obnoxious to the No-Popery mob; and
the stores of liquor at this distillery afforded an additional temptation
for the attack. The terrible scenes enacted on the occasion are
powerfully described in “Barnaby Rudge,” chapters 67 and 68—
“At this place a large detachment of soldiery were posted, who fired,
now up Fleet Market, now up Holborn, now up Snow Hill—constantly
raking the streets in each direction. At this place too, several
large fires were burning, so that all the terrors of that terrible
night seemed to be concentrated in one spot.
“Full twenty times, the rioters, headed by one man who wielded an axe
in his right hand, and bestrode a brewer’s horse of great size and
strength, caparisoned with fetters taken out of Newgate, which
clanked and jingled as he went, made an attempt to force a passage at
this point, and fire the vintner’s house. Full twenty times they
were repulsed with loss of life, and still came back again; and
though the fellow at their head was marked and singled out by all,
and was a conspicuous object as the only rioter on horseback, not a
man could hit him. . . .
“The vintner’s house, with half-a-dozen others near at hand, was one
great, glowing blaze. All night, no one had essayed to quench the
flames, or stop their progress; but now a body of soldiers were
actively engaged in pulling down two old wooden houses, which were
every moment in danger of taking fire, and which could scarcely fail,
if they were left to burn, to extend the conflagration immensely.
“. . . The gutters of the street, and every crack and fissure in the
stones, ran with scorching spirit, which being dammed up by busy
hands, overflowed the road and pavement, and formed a great pool,
into which the people dropped down dead by dozens. They lay in heaps
all round this fearful pond, husbands and wives, fathers and sons,
mothers and daughters, women with children in their arms and babies
at their breasts, and drank until they died. While some stooped with
their lips to the brink and never raised their heads again, others
sprang up from their fiery draught, and danced, half in a mad
triumph, and half in the agony of suffocation, until they fell, and
steeped their corpses in the liquor that had killed them. . . .
“On this last night of the great riots—for the last night it was—the
wretched victims of a senseless outcry, became themselves the dust
and ashes of the flames they had kindled, and strewed the public
streets of London.”
It will be remembered that Mr. Langdale and Mr. Haredale, being in the
house that night, were rescued by Edward Chester and Joe Willett, all
four finding their way to safety by a back entrance.
“The narrow lane in the rear was quite free of people. So, when they
had crawled through the passage indicated by the vintner (which was a
mere shelving-trap for the admission of casks), and had managed with
some difficulty to unchain and raise the door at the upper end, they
emerged into the street without being observed or interrupted. Joe
still holding Mr. Haredale tight, and Edward taking the same care of
the vintner, they hurried through the streets at a rapid pace.”
This door gives into Fetter Lane (No. 79), and still exists for the
inspection of the curious. The old house in Holborn has, for more than a
century, replaced the premises so destroyed. Close at hand (by No. 23)
is the entrance to Barnard’s Inn—
“The dingiest collection of shabby buildings ever squeezed together
in a rank corner as a club for tom-cats.”
The locality is referred to in these complimentary terms by Mr. Pip (in
the pages of “Great Expectations”), who lived here with his friend
Herbert Pocket for a short time when he first came to London. Mr. Joe
Gargery’s verdict is worth remembrance:—
“The present may be a wery good inn, and I believe its character do
stand i; but I wouldn’t keep a pig in it myself, not in the case that
I wished him to fatten wholesome, and to eat with a meller flavour on
him.”
Pip further describes as follows:—
“We entered this haven through a wicket-gate, and were disgorged by
an introductory passage into a melancholy little square that looked
to me like a flat burying-ground. I thought it had the most dismal
trees in it, and the most dismal sparrows, and the most dismal cats,
and the most dismal houses (in number half-a-dozen or so), that I had
ever seen. . . . A frowzy mourning of soot and smoke attired this
forlorn creation of Barnard, and it had strewed ashes on its head,
and was undergoing penance and humiliation as a mere dust-hole. Thus
for my sense of sight; while dry rot, and wet rot, and all the silent
rots that rot in neglected root and cellar—rot of rat, and mouse, and
bug, and coaching stables near at hand besides—addressed themselves
faintly to my sense of smell, and moaned, ‘Try Barnard’s Mixture.’”