above referred to by Mr. Pip—have been demolished, and a new and better
arrangement of the locality is in active progress for the improvement of
the neighbourhood.
On the opposite side of Holborn are the handsome and extensive offices of
THE PRUDENTIAL ASSURANCE COMPANY. These premises, with their frontage,
occupy the site of FURNIVAL’S INN, which has recently disappeared, having
been pulled down to make room for the extension of the Assurance offices
above referred to—_Sic transit memoria mundi_.
Furnival’s Inn was an interesting locality, as associated with the
earlier experience of Mr. Dickens himself. Here the young author resided
in 1835, the year previous to the production of the “Pickwick Papers,”
the first number of that work being published April 1, 1836. On the day
following that notable date, Mr. Dickens married Miss Catherine Hogarth;
and for some time the young couple resided on the third floor apartments
at _No._ 15 _Furnival’s Inn_—on the right side of the square. A personal
reminiscence of these early days is no doubt intended in chapter 59 of
“David Copperfield;” a pleasant description being there given of the
residential chambers of Mr. and Mrs. Traddles, as located in Gray’s Inn
just beyond.
_Mr. John Westlock_ had his bachelor apartments in this same place at
Furnival’s Inn (_vide_ “Martin Chuzzlewit”), and here he received the
unexpected visit of Tom Pinch on his first arrival in London. We may
remember the incidents of that cordial welcome, when
“John was constantly running backwards and forwards to and from the
closet, bringing out all sorts of things in pots, scooping
extraordinary quantities of tea out of the caddy, dropping French
rolls into his boots, pouring hot water over the butter, and making a
variety of similar mistakes, without disconcerting himself in the
least.”
In the centre of the interior square, standing within the precincts of
Furnival’s Inn during the past seventy-five years, and flourishing in
recent days—a quiet oasis of retirement and good cheer amidst the bustle
and noise of central London—there existed (until 1895) Woods’ Hotel.
This hotel was associated with “The Mystery of Edwin Drood,” being the
house at which Mr. Grewgious found accommodation for the charming Rosa
Budd (on the occasion of her flight from the importunities of Jasper at
Cloisterham), including an “unlimited head chambermaid” for her special
behoof and benefit.
“Rosa’s room was airy, clean, comfortable, almost gay. The Unlimited
had laid in everything omitted from the very little bag (that is to
say, everything she could possibly need), and Rosa tripped down the
great many stairs again, to thank her guardian for his thoughtful and
affectionate care of her.
“‘Not at all, my dear,’ said Mr. Grewgious, infinitely gratified; ‘it
is I who thank you for your charming confidence and for your charming
company. Your breakfast will be provided for you in a neat, compact,
and graceful little sitting-room (appropriate to your figure), and I
will come to you at ten o’clock in the morning. I hope you don’t
feel very strange indeed, in this strange place.’
“‘Oh no, I feel so safe!’
“‘Yes, you may be sure that the stairs are fire-proof,’ said Mr.
Grewgious, ‘and that any outbreak of the devouring element would be
perceived and suppressed by the watchmen.’
“‘I did not mean that,’ Rosa replied. ‘I mean, I feel so safe from
him.’
“‘There is a stout gate of iron bars to keep him out,’ said Mr.
Grewgious smiling; ‘and Furnival’s is fire-proof, and specially
watched and lighted, and _I_ live over the way!’ In the stoutness of
his knight-errantry, he seemed to think the last-named protection
all-sufficient. In the same spirit he said to the gate-porter as he
went out, ‘If some one staying in the hotel should wish to send
across the road to me in the night, a crown will be ready for the
messenger.’ In the same spirit, he walked up and down outside the
iron gate for the best part of an hour, with some solicitude;
occasionally looking in between the bars, as if he had laid a dove in
a high roost in a cage of lions, and had it on his mind that she
might tumble out.”
The Hotel was originally built 1818–19, and was enlarged as recently as
1884. Woods was the proprietor for fifty years.
Crossing to the other side of the street, at a short distance onwards,
opposite Gray’s Inn Road, the Rambler reaches (by No. 334 High Holborn)
the gateway of Staple Inn; a little nook, composed of two irregular
quadrangles behind the most ancient part of Holborn, where certain gabled
houses, some centuries of age, still stand looking on the public way.
Staple Inn was the favourite summer promenade of the meditative _Mr.
Snagsby_ (see “Bleak House”); and in this Inn _Mr. Grewgious_ occupied a
set of chambers. The house is No. 10, in the inner quadrangle,
“presenting in black and white, over its ugly portal, the mysterious
inscription, ‘P. J. T., 1747.’ Perhaps John Thomas, or Perhaps Joe
Tyler.” And, under certain social conditions, “for a certainty, P. J. T.
was Pretty Jolly Too.” _Neville Landless_ also had rooms in this
locality; the top set in the corner (on the right), overlooking the
garden “where a few smoky sparrows twitter in the smoky trees, as though
they had called to each other, ‘let us play at country.’” Close to these
lived _Mr. Tartar_, in “the neatest, the cleanest, and the best-ordered
chambers ever seen under the sun, moon, and stars.” And we may recall
the writer’s delicate treatment of this, the blushing “beanstalk country”
of dear little Rosa Budd. For the several associations herewith
connected, reference should be made to our author’s last book, “The
Mystery of Edwin Drood.”—See concluding paragraphs of chapter 21:—
“Rosa wondered what the girls would say if they could see her
crossing the wide street on the sailor’s arm. And she fancied that
the passers-by must think her very little and very helpless,
contrasted with the strong figure that could have caught her up and
carried her out of any danger, miles and miles without resting.
“She was thinking further, that his far-seeing blue eyes looked as if
they had been used to watch danger afar off, and to watch it without
flinching, drawing nearer and nearer: when, happening to raise her
own eyes, she found that he seemed to be thinking something about
_them_.
“This a little confused Rosebud, and may account for her never
afterwards quite knowing how she ascended (with his help) to his
garden in the air, and seemed to get into a marvellous country that
came into sudden bloom like the country on the summit of the magic
bean-stalk. May it flourish for ever!”
[Picture: Doorway in Staple Inn]
In this connection, the reader may be interested in chapter 22; the first
part of which deals most tenderly and beautifully with “love’s awaking,”
in the heart of the innocent heroine.
Recrossing to the other side of High Holborn, past _Gray’s Inn Road_ (on
the north), at No. 22, we reach the gateway of GRAY’S INN. At No. 2
South Square (formerly Holborn Court) we may find the upper chambers
formerly occupied by _Mr. Traddles_ and his wife _Sophy_, whose domestic
arrangements included accommodation for “the beauty” and the other
Devonshire sisters. Copperfield says, in the chapter before referred
to:—
“If I had beheld a thousand roses blowing in a top set of chambers,
in that withered Gray’s Inn, they could not have brightened it half
so much. The idea of those Devonshire girls, among the dry
law-stationers, and the attorneys’ offices; and of the tea and toast,
and children’s songs, in that grim atmosphere of pounce and
parchment, red-tape, dusty wafers, ink-jars, brief and draft paper,
law reports, writs, declarations, and bills of costs, seemed almost
as pleasantly fanciful as if I had dreamed that the Sultan’s famous
family had been admitted on the roll of attorneys, and had brought
the talking-bird, the singing-tree, and the Golden water into Gray’s
Inn Hall.”
The offices of _Mr. Perker_, the legal adviser of Mr. Pickwick, were also
located in Gray’s Inn. We read that the “outer door” of these chambers
was to be found “after climbing two pairs of steep and dirty stairs;” but
no indication is given of their exact situation.
Proceeding westward from Gray’s Inn, and passing the stately, elegant,
and commodious _First Avenue Hotel_, between Warwick Court and Brownlow
Street, and a half-a-dozen side streets beyond, we come, on the north
side, at No. 92, to the Bull and Anchor Tavern. This is the house known
in the pages of “Martin Chuzzlewit” as “_The Bull Inn_,” then a more
important hostelry than at present. It will be remembered as the inn at
which Mr. Lewsome, during his illness, was professionally attended by
_Sairey Gamp_ and _Betsy Prig_, “turn and turn about.”
Passing on to the next turning but one, we reach Kingsgate Street, where
_Poll Sweedlepipes_—barber and bird-fancier—once had his business
location, “next door but one to the celebrated mutton-pie shop, and
directly opposite the original cat’s-meat warehouse.” At this place the
immortal _Mrs. Gamp_ had lodgings on the first floor, where she
“Was easily assailed at night by pebbles, walking-sticks, and
fragments of tobacco pipes, all much more efficacious than the
street-door knocker, which was so constructed as to wake the street
with ease, and even spread alarms of fire in Holborn, without making
the smallest impression on the premises to which it was addressed.”
It is recollected in the neighbourhood that, fifty years since, a barber
by the name of Patterson (who was also a bird-dealer) lived in this
street, at the second house on the left. The shop has been pulled down,
is now absorbed by the corner premises in Holborn, and can be only
identified by its position. Here, then, did _Mr. Pecksniff_ arrive on
his doleful mission, in accordance with the recommendation of _Mr.
Mould_, the undertaker, with regard to the death of old _Anthony
Chuzzlewit_; and here did that memorable teapot cause a lasting
difference between two friends, as narrated in chapter 49 of “Martin
Chuzzlewit.” “This world-famous personage, Mrs. Gamp, has passed into
and become one with the language” whose vernacular she has adorned with
her own flowers of speech. As Mr. Forster remarks, “she will remain
among the everlasting triumphs of fiction, a superb masterpiece of
English humour.” “Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale, her infinite
variety.” At the Holborn corner of Kingsgate Street we may remember _Mr.
Bailey_, _junior_, on the occasion when, at this exact spot, he collided
with Poll Sweedlepipes, afterwards going “round and round in circles on
the pavement,” the better to exhibit to Poll’s admiring gaze his
fashionable livery as Tiger in the service of _Mr. Montague Tigg_,
“rather to the inconvenience of the passengers generally, who were not in
an equal state of spirits with himself.”
The next turning but one, westward, on the right, by the West Central
Post Office (No. 126), is Southampton Street, leading to Bloomsbury
Square.
Here it will be remembered that lodgings were taken by Mr. Grewgious for
_Miss Twinkleton_ and Rosa, of the redoubtable _Mrs. Billickin_, “the
person of the ’ouse,” who, from prudential motives, suppressed her
Christian name.
“Mr. Grewgious had his agreement-lines and his earnest-money ready.
‘I have signed it for the ladies, ma’am,’ he said, ‘and you’ll have
the goodness to sign it for yourself, Christian and Surname, there,
if you please.’
“‘Mr. Grewgious,’ said Mrs. Billickin in a new burst of candour, ‘no,
sir! You must excuse the Christian name.’
“Mr. Grewgious stared at her.
“‘The door-plate is used as a protection,’ said Mrs. Billickin, ‘and
acts as such, and go from it I will not.’
“Mr. Grewgious stared at Rosa.
“‘No, Mr. Grewgious, you must excuse me. So long as this ’ouse is
known indefinite as Billickin’s, and so long as it is a doubt with
the riff-raff where Billickin may be hidin’, near the street-door or
down the airy, and what his weight and size, so long I feel safe.
But commit myself to a solitary female statement, no, Miss! Nor
would you for a moment wish,’ said Mrs. Billickin, with a strong
sense of injury, ‘to take that advantage of your sex, if you were not
brought to it by inconsiderate example.’
“Rosa reddening as if she had made some most disgraceful attempt to
overreach the good lady, besought Mr. Grewgious to rest content with
any signature. And accordingly, in a baronial way, the sign-manual
BILLICKIN got appended to the document.”
And we may here recall the incidental passage of arms between the worthy
landlady and Miss Twinkleton, Mrs. B. being always in direct antagonism
with the schoolmistress, against whom she “openly pitted herself as one
whom she fully ascertained to be her natural enemy.” Witness “the B.
enveloped in the shawl of State,” as she remarked to Miss Twinkleton that
“‘A rush from scanty feeding to generous feeding, from what you may
call messing to what you may call method, do require a power of
constitution, which is not often found in youth, particular when
undermined by boarding-school. . . . I was put in youth to a very
genteel boarding-school, the mistress being no less a lady than
yourself, of about your own age, or it may be some years younger, and
a poorness of blood flowed from the table, which has run through my
life.’
* * * * *
“‘If you refer to the poverty of your circulation,’ began Miss
Twinkleton, when again the Billickin neatly stopped her.
“‘I have used no such expressions.’
“‘If you refer, then, to the poorness of your blood—’
“‘Brought upon me,’ stipulated the Billickin, expressly, ‘at a
boarding-school—’
“‘Then,’ resumed Miss Twinkleton, ‘all I can say is, that I am bound
to believe, on your asseveration, that it is very poor indeed. I
cannot forbear adding, that if that unfortunate circumstance
influences your conversation, it is much to be lamented, and it is
eminently desirable that your blood were richer.’”
Southampton Street is not a long one, and is now chiefly occupied by
solicitors and architects; but there is reason to believe that the
Billickins’ residence was, aforetime, to be found at No. 18, which is
situated next door but one to an archway. As Mrs. B. herself candidly
pointed out,
“The arching leads to a mews; mewses must exist.”
The mews aforesaid is now superseded by a factory. Mrs. Billickin has
long since relinquished the cares of housekeeping and retired from public
life. The present amiable landlady conducts the business on different
principles, and will be at all times disposed to give her patrons
satisfaction, whether they be of the scholastic persuasion or otherwise.
Southampton Street leads immediately northward into Bloomsbury Square.
This place is mentioned in “Barnaby Rudge” as the locality in which _Lord
Mansfield’s_ residence was situated at the period of the Gordon Riots.
In chapter 66 its destruction by the rioters is thus described:—
“They began to demolish the house with great fury; and setting fire
to it in several places, involved in a common ruin the whole of the
costly furniture, the plate and jewels, a beautiful gallery of
pictures, the rarest collection of manuscripts ever possessed by any
one private person in the world, and, worst of all, because nothing
could replace the loss, the great Law Library, on almost every page
of which were notes, in the judge’s own hand, of inestimable value;
being the results of the study and experience of his whole life.”
[Picture: The Children’s Hospital]
The house occupied the site of No. 29, on the east side of the square.
We subsequently read in the same book that two of the
rioters—cripples—were hanged in this square, the execution being
momentarily delayed, as they were placed facing the house they had
assisted to despoil. Leaving the square at its north-east angle (right)
by _Bloomsbury Place_, the Rambler shortly comes into _Southampton Row_,
turning left, and proceeding for a short distance upwards to _Cosmo
Place_ on the right, a short cut which leads directly to the contiguous
shades of Queen Square just beyond. It will be remembered that in this
neighbourhood Richard Carstone had furnished apartments at the time when
he was pursuing the experimental study of the Law under the auspices of
Messrs. Kenge and Carboy (see “Bleak House,” chapter 18). There is
reason to believe that the “quiet old” house intended was No. 28
_Devonshire Street_, leading from the south-east angle of the square.
Leaving Queen Square by _Great Ormond Street_ (eastward), we immediately
arrive, on the north side (No. 50), at The Children’s Hospital, adjacent
to the Catholic Church and Convent of St. John. In 1858, February 9th, a
public dinner was arranged, by way of charitable appeal, for funds
necessary to carry on and develop the work. It was happily resolved to
invite Charles Dickens to preside on that occasion, and he “threw himself
into the service heart and soul.” His earnest, pathetic, but powerful
appeal—“majestic in its own simplicity”—that night added more than £3000
to the treasury, which amount was, two months afterwards, substantially
increased by the proceeds of a public reading of his “Christmas Carol.”
It is pleasant to record that this institution has ever since flourished
amain, thus fulfilling the prediction of Dickens when, suggesting that
the enterprise could not be possibly maintained unless the Hospital were
made better known, he continued as follows:—
“I limit myself to saying—better known, because I will not believe
that, in a Christian community of fathers and mothers, and brothers
and sisters, it can fail, being better known, to be well and richly
endowed.”
We may here recall the scene narrated in chapter 9 of “Our Mutual
Friend,” when _Johnny_ makes his will and arranges his affairs, leaving
“a kiss for the boofer lady”—
“The family whom God had brought together were not all asleep, but
were all quiet. From bed to bed, a light womanly tread and a
pleasant fresh face passed in the silence of the night. A little
head would lift itself into the softened light here and there, to be
kissed as the face went by—for these little patients are very
loving—and would then submit itself to be composed to rest again. . .
. Over most of the beds, the toys were yet grouped as the children
had left them when they last laid themselves down, and in their
innocent grotesqueness and incongruity they might have stood for the
children’s dreams.”
Proceeding eastward by _Great Ormond Street_ and turning (left) through
_Lamb’s Conduit Street_, to its northern end, we face the entrance of the
Foundling Hospital. This beneficent institution was established by
Captain Thomas Coram, about the middle of the last century, and is
associated with “No Thoroughfare,” the Christmas number (and last in the
series) of “All the Year Round,” 1867. Visitors attending the morning
service of the _Foundling Church_ on Sundays are admitted to the
children’s _Dining-Hall_ thereafter, and so may have an opportunity of
realising the scene portrayed by Dickens, when the “veiled lady” induced
a female attendant to point out Walter Wilding:—
“The bright autumnal sun strikes freshly into the wards; and the
heavy-framed windows through which it shines, and the panelled walls
on which it shines, are such windows, and such walls as pervade
Hogarth’s pictures. Neat attendants silently glide about the orderly
and silent tables, the lookers-on move or stop as the fancy takes
them; comments in whispers on face such a number, from such a window,
are not unfrequent—many of the faces are of a character to fix
attention. Some of the visitors from the outside public are
accustomed visitors. They have established a speaking acquaintance
with the occupants of particular seats at the table, and halt at
those points to say a word or two.”
In “Little Dorrit,” too, reference is made to this institution, _in re_
the adoption of Tattycoram by good Papa and Mamma Meagles. In the times
of Barnaby Rudge, the London streets were not greatly extended northward
beyond this (now central) neighbourhood. We may remember that the
headquarters of the “Captain,” Sim Tappertit, Hugh, and Dennis were at
The “Boot” Tavern, which is described as
“A lone place of public entertainment, situated in the fields at the
back of the Foundling Hospital; a very solitary spot at that period,
and quite deserted after dark. The Tavern stood at some distance
from any high road, and was only approachable by a dark and narrow
lane.”
Proceeding onwards through _Guilford Street_, we reach _Doughty Street_,
_Mecklenburgh Square_, running transversely north and south. On the east
side we may note No. 48 Doughty Street, as the house to which Dickens
removed from _Furnival’s Inn_, in the early spring of 1837, and in which
he lived two years and a half, previous to his longer residence at _No._
1 _Devonshire Terrace_. In it “Oliver Twist” and “Nicholas Nickleby”
were written; and here, too, the early friendship, which had been for
some time steadily developing between Dickens and Forster, became
cemented for life. His biographer says:—
“Nor had many weeks passed before he addressed to me from Doughty
Street, words which it is my sorrowful pride to remember have had
literal fulfilment. ‘I look back with unmingled pleasure to every
link which each ensuing week has added to the chain of our
attachment. It shall go hard, I hope, ere anything but death impairs
the toughness of a bond now so firmly riveted.’”
The route being retraced to the Foundling Hospital, and thence continued
through Guilford Street to _Russell __Square_, we turn (right) by _Woburn
Place_ to TAVISTOCK SQUARE, on the south side of which (TAVISTOCK VILLAS)
is situated Tavistock House. To this residence Dickens removed (from
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE) in October 1851, retaining its possession for nearly
ten years. During this time “Bleak House” was completed, and “Hard
Times,” “Little Dorrit,” and the “Tale of Two Cities” were given to the
world. TAVISTOCK HOUSE is now transformed into a Jewish College. _Hans
Christian Andersen_, visiting his friend in London, gives the following
description:—
“In Tavistock Square stands Tavistock House. This and the strip of
garden in front of it are shut out from the thoroughfare by an iron
railing. A large garden, with a grass plat and high trees, stretches
behind the house, and gives it a countrified look in the midst of
this coal and gas steaming London. In the passage from street to
garden hung pictures and engravings. Here stood a marble bust of
Dickens, so like him, so youthful and handsome; and over a bedroom
door were inserted the bas-reliefs of Night and Day, after
Thorwaldsen. On the first floor was a rich library, with a fireplace
and a writing-table, looking out on the garden; and here it was that
in winter Dickens and his friends acted plays to the satisfaction of
all parties. The kitchen was underground, and at the top of the
house were the bedrooms.”
[Picture: Tavistock House]
Leaving this locality at the north-west angle, passing _Gordon Square_,
we turn (right) into _Gordon Street_, and (left) through _Gower Place_,
to GOWER STREET, on the west side of which—opposite—is the house once
bearing a large brass plate on the door, announcing Mrs. Dickens’s
Establishment, being the place at which Mrs. Dickens (mother of Charles)
endeavoured to set up a school during the difficult times of 1822. The
family lived here for a short time, previous to the Marshalsea
imprisonment of Dickens senior; Charles being then a boy ten years of
age. In the first chapter of Forster’s Biography is the following:—