we shortly arrive at The Horse Guards, and may take passing observation
of the OLD CLOCK—famed for its perfection of time-keeping—by whose
warning note _Mark Tapley_ regulated the period of the interview next
referred to. Passing through the arched passage beneath, we now attain
the eastern side of St. James’s Park. This locality will be remembered
as the place of meeting between _Mary Graham_ and _Martin Chuzzlewit_,
previous to his departure for America. As the young lady was escorted by
Mark in the early morning from a City hotel, we may be certain that the
interview must have taken place on this side of the Park, doubtless near
the principal gate of the promenade facing the Horse Guards’ entrance.
Leaving the Park northward, by _Spring Gardens_, we come into _Cockspur
Street_, shortly leading (left) to PALL MALL. At the first corner of the
latter stands Her Majesty’s Theatre. At this establishment, as
reconstructed during the early years of the century, _Mrs. Nickleby_
attended, by special invitation of _Sir Mulberry Hawk_, Messrs. Pyke and
Pluck assisting on that notable occasion, when, by a prearranged
coincidence, Kate and the Wititterlys occupied the adjoining box.—_Vide_
“Nicholas Nickleby,” chapter 27.
This Opera House was burnt down 1789, and rebuilt the following year. It
was remodelled 1818, and again destroyed by fire, December 6, 1867.
Being a second time rebuilt, it was, for some seasons, closed since 1875.
The present theatre is of recent and splendid erection.
At this central position, from which we may readily take departure for
any point in London, the present Ramble will terminate. To all those
needing reparation of tissue, a visit to Epitaux’s Restaurant, near the
Haymarket Theatre, will be satisfactory.
RAMBLE VI
_Excursion to Chatham_, _Rochester_, _and Gadshill_
Emmanuel Church; Mr. Wemmick’s Wedding—Dulwich; Mr. Pickwick’s
Retirement—Dulwich Church; Marriage of Snodgrass and Emily
Wardle—Cobham—“The Leather Bottle;” Tracy Tupman’s Retreat—Mr. Pickwick’s
Discovery—Chatham—Railway Street; Rome Lane Elementary School—The Brook;
Residence of the Dickens Family—Clover Lane Academy; Rev. William Giles,
Schoolmaster—Fort Pitt; Dr. Slammer’s Duelling-Ground; the Recreation
Ground of Chatham—Star Hill; Old Rochester Theatre; Mr. Jingle’s
Engagement—Rochester; Eastgate House; The Nuns’ House—Mr. Sapsea’s
Residence—Restoration House; Residence of Miss Havisham, “Satis
House”—[Joe Gargery’s Forge; Parish of Cooling]—The Monk’s Vineyard—Minor
Canon Row—Rochester Cathedral; The Crypts—Durdles—The Cathedral Tower—St.
Nicholas Church—The College Gate; John Jasper’s Lodging—Watts’s Charity;
“The Seven Poor Travellers”—[Watts’s Almshouses]—Miss Adelaide
Procter—The Bull Hotel; the Ball-room—The Crown Hotel; “The Crozier”—The
Esplanade—Rochester Bridge; Richard Doubledick—Gadshill Place; Residence
of Dickens—Gravesend; Embarkation of Mr. Peggotty and friends—Greenwich
Park; “Sketches by Boz”—Church of St. Alphege; Bella Wilfer’s
Marriage—Quartermaine’s Ship Tavern; “An Innocent Elopement;” The
Rokesmith Wedding Dinner.
Starting from the _Holborn Viaduct_ or _Ludgate Hill Station_ of the
London, Chatham, and Dover Railway, we cross the Thames and proceed _en
route_ for the Kentish uplands. At ten minutes’ distance from the London
terminus, passing the Elephant and Castle and Walworth Road Stations, we
may observe (on the left) the back of Emmanuel Church, as the train
slackens speed for _Camberwell_. This may be noted as the place where
_Mr. Wemmick_ and _Miss Skiffins_ were united in the bonds of matrimony;
so we may here suitably recall the scene narrated in “Great
Expectations,” and the informal and unexpected procedure adopted by Mr.
W. on that occasion—
“We went towards Camberwell Green, and when we were thereabouts,
Wemmick said suddenly, ‘Halloa! Here’s a church!’ There was nothing
very surprising in that; but again I was rather surprised when he
said, as if he were animated by a brilliant idea, ‘Let’s go in!’ We
went in and looked all round. In the meantime Wemmick was diving
into his coat pockets, and getting something out of paper there.
‘Halloa!’ said he. ‘Here’s a couple of pairs of gloves! Let’s put
’em on!’ As the gloves were white kid gloves, I now began to have my
strong suspicions. They were strengthened into certainty, when I
beheld the Aged enter at a side door, escorting a lady. ‘Halloa!’
said Wemmick. ‘Here’s Miss Skiffins! Let’s have a wedding!’ . . .
True to his notion of seeming to do it all without preparation, I
heard Wemmick say to himself, as he took something out of his
waistcoat pocket before the service began, ‘Halloa! Here’s a ring!’
. . . ‘Now, Mr. Pip,’ said Wemmick triumphantly, as we came out,
‘let me ask you whether anybody would suppose this to be a wedding
party.’”
The route being continued past _Herne Hill Station_, the train arrives at
Dulwich, which we may recollect _en passant_ as being the locality of Mr.
Pickwick’s retirement, before the days of railway locomotion. The
house—a white, comfortable-looking residence—stands (left) near the
station, as we approach, corresponding in style and position with its
Pickwickian description. _Mr. Tupman_, too, may have been met with in
olden time, walking in the public promenades or loitering in the Dulwich
Picture Gallery—“with a youthful and jaunty air”—still in the enjoyment
of single blessedness, and the cynosure of the numerous elderly ladies of
the neighbourhood.
_Mr. Snodgrass_ and _Emily Wardle_, as we all know, were married at
DULWICH CHURCH, in this vicinity; the wedding guests—including “the poor
relations, who got there somehow”—assembling at Mr. Pickwick’s new house
on that interesting occasion; and we may remember the general verdict
then unanimously given as to the elegance, comfort, and suitability of
our old friend’s suburban retreat—
“Nothing was to be heard but congratulations and commendations.
Everything was so beautiful! The lawn in front, the garden behind,
the miniature conservatory, the dining-room, the drawing-room, the
bedrooms, the smoking-room; and, above all, the study—with its
pictures and easy chairs, and odd cabinets and queer tables, and
nooks out of number, with a large cheerful window opening upon a
pleasant lawn, and commanding a pretty landscape, just dotted here
and there with little houses, almost hidden by the trees.”
Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Weller and family—retainers in the Pickwickian
establishment—also flourished aforetime in these arcadian groves, in
faithful attendance on their illustrious patron.
The journey being resumed, we pass onwards (Crystal Palace on the right
side of the railway) _viâ Penge_ and _Bromley_, and several country towns
beyond—a pleasant ride of about an hour’s duration—arriving in due course
at Sole Street Station (30 miles from London), about a mile south-west
from the village of Cobham. A pleasant walk of twenty minutes on the
high road will lead the wayfarer through Owlet to the pretty parish
aforesaid; the rural retreat—famous in the annals of Pickwickian
history—selected by _Mr. Tracy Tupman_ for his retirement from the world,
after his disappointment at the hands of Miss Rachael Wardle.
[Picture: The “Leather Bottle”, Cobham]
“The Leather Bottle Inn”—where he was found at dinner by his anxious
friends—is described as “a clean and commodious village ale-house,” and
still maintains its favourable repute. It stands opposite the church at
Cobham—
“At Muggleton they procured a conveyance to Rochester. By the time
they reached the last-named place, the violence of their grief had
sufficiently abated to admit of their making a very excellent early
dinner; and having procured the necessary information relative to the
road, the three friends set forward again in the afternoon to walk to
Cobham.
“A delightful walk it was; for it was a pleasant afternoon in June,
and their way lay through a deep and shady wood, cooled by the light
wind which gently rustled the thick foliage, and enlivened by the
songs of the birds that perched upon the boughs. The ivy and the
moss crept in thick clusters over the old trees, and the soft green
turf overspread the ground like a silken mat. They emerged upon an
open park, with an ancient hall, displaying the quaint and
picturesque architecture of Elizabeth’s time. Long vistas of stately
oaks and elm-trees appeared on every side; large herds of deer were
cropping the fresh grass; and occasionally a startled hare scoured
along the ground with the speed of the shadows thrown by the light
clouds which swept across a sunny landscape like a passing breath of
summer. ‘If this,’ said Mr. Pickwick, looking about him, ‘if this
were the place to which all who are troubled with our friend’s
complaint came, I fancy their old attachment to this world would very
soon return.’
“‘I think so too,’ said Mr. Winkle.
“‘And really,’ added Mr. Pickwick, after half-an-hour’s walking had
brought them to the village, ‘really, for a misanthrope’s choice,
this is one of the prettiest and most desirable places of residence I
ever met with.’
“In this opinion also both Mr. Winkle and Mr. Snodgrass expressed
their concurrence; and having been directed to the Leather Bottle, a
clean and commodious village ale-house, the three travellers entered,
and at once inquired for a gentleman of the name of Tupman. The
three friends entered a long, low-roofed room, furnished with a large
number of high-backed leather-cushioned chairs, of fantastic shapes,
and embellished with a great variety of old portraits. At the upper
end of the room was a table, with a white cloth upon it, well covered
with a roast fowl, bacon, ale, and et ceteras; and at the table sat
Mr. Tupman, looking as unlike a man who had taken his leave of the
world as possible.”
Resting here awhile, we may recall the “immortal discovery” made by Mr.
Pickwick, “which has been the pride and boast of his friends and the envy
of every antiquarian in this or any other country”—that famous stone
found by the chairman of the Pickwick Club himself; “partially buried in
the ground in front of a cottage door,” in this same village of Cobham,
on which “the following fragment of an inscription was clearly to be
deciphered”:—
[Picture: Cobham Inscription]
Full particulars are duly recorded in “The Pickwick Papers,” chapter 11.
We may also remember the celebrated controversy in scientific and erudite
circles, to which this remarkable stone gave rise; Mr. Pickwick being
“elected an honorary member of seventeen native and foreign societies for
the discovery.”
The journey being resumed from Sole Street, we travel _viâ Strood_, ten
miles, to the important station of
CHATHAM.
Mr. Pickwick’s description (taken from his note-book sixty years since)
is a fairly correct view of the general appearance of Chatham at
present:—
“The principal productions of these towns appear to be soldiers,
sailors, Jews, chalk, shrimps, officers, and dockyardmen. The
commodities chiefly exposed for sale in the public streets are marine
stores, hard-bake, apples, flat-fish, and oysters. The streets
present a lively and animated appearance, occasioned chiefly by the
conviviality of the military.”
In this city five years of Dickens’s boyhood were passed. Mr. Dickens,
senior, was appointed in 1816 to a clerkship at the Naval Pay Office, in
connection with the Royal Dockyard, and the Dickens family here resided
till little Charles was nine years of age.
On arrival at the Chatham Station, we may enter the town on the right
from the railway exit (north side of the line), shortly passing under an
archway into Railway Street—formerly Rome Lane—in which was once situated
the elementary school where the boy first attended, with his sister
Fanny. Revisiting Chatham in after years, Dickens found that it had been
pulled down
“Ages before, but out of the distance of the ages, arose,
nevertheless, a not dim impression that it had been over a dyer’s
shop; that he went up steps to it; that he had frequently grazed his
knees in doing so; and that in trying to scrape the mud off a very
unsteady little shoe, he generally got his leg over the scraper.”
At the upper end of Railway Street we proceed (right) by the _High
Street_, and at a short distance (left) by _Fair __Row_ to the _Brook_.
Turning to the left, we shall find, standing immediately beyond the
corner, on the west side, the old Residence of the Dickens Family, No.
18, next door to _Providence Chapel_. The house is a modest-looking
dwelling of three storeys, with white-washed plaster front as in former
days, six steps leading up to the front door, and a small garden before
and behind. The chapel previously referred to has been, in more recent
years, used for meetings of the Salvation Army, since becoming a clothing
factory. During the residence of the family at Chatham, the minister of
this place of worship was a _Mr. William Giles_, who was also the
schoolmaster of Clover Lane Academy. For the last two years of Charles’s
Chatham experience he was placed under the educational supervision of
this young Baptist minister, whose influence seems to have been
favourable to the development of his pupil’s youthful talents.
Regaining the High Street by _Fair Row_, and turning to the left for a
short distance onwards, we reach, on the right hand of the street, past
the Mitre Hotel, Clover Street, on the south side of which (at the corner
of Richard Street) the Academy, with its playground behind, may still be
seen. Forster says:—
“Charles had himself a not ungrateful sense in after years, that this
first of his masters, in his little-cared-for childhood, had
pronounced him to be a boy of capacity; and when, about half-way
through the publication of Pickwick, his old teacher sent a silver
snuff-box with admiring inscription to ‘the inimitable Boz,’ it
reminded him of praise far more precious obtained by him at his first
year’s examination in the Clover Lane Academy.”
Coming through Clover Street, and turning (right) into the _New Road_, we
shortly regain the neighbourhood of Chatham Station, on the south side of
which a road in the westward direction leads to Fort Pitt, now the
Chatham Military Hospital. Pickwickians will remember that Fort Pitt was
indicated by Lieutenant Tappleton, the friend of the choleric _Doctor
__Slammer_, as being in the vicinity of a field where the quarrel between
the doctor and Mr. Winkle could be adjusted. This old field, and the
contiguous land surrounding the Fort, now form The Recreation Ground of
the City. Visitors may hence obtain an interesting and comprehensive
view of the town and neighbourhood. We are, doubtless, all familiar with
the happy termination of the affair of honour above referred to; the
unworthy Jingle being at the bottom of the mischief. Full particulars of
the dilemma may be found in chapter 2 of “The Pickwick Papers.”
Returning to the New Road, the Rambler, passing ST. BARTHOLOMEW’S
HOSPITAL (founded in the eleventh century) on the right, may proceed by
_Star Hill_, in the outskirts of Rochester. On the south side (left) of
the descent there may be noted _en passant_ the new building of the
ROCHESTER CONSERVATIVE CLUB, which stands on the site of The Old Theatre.
Here the versatile Mr. Jingle and his melancholic friend, “elegantly
designated Dismal Jemmy,” were engaged to perform “in the piece that the
Officers of the Fifty-second” got up, when Mr. Pickwick commenced his
travels, May 1827.
The theatre was demolished December 1884.
Continuing the route, we soon arrive at the central street of the old
City of
ROCHESTER.
This place will be interesting to readers of Dickens for its several
associations with his books, including “Pickwick,” “Great Expectations,”
“The Seven Poor Travellers,” and “The Mystery of Edwin Drood,” his latest
and uncompleted work. In chapter 3 of this last-mentioned tale is the
following description:—
“An ancient city, Cloisterham, and no meet dwelling-place for any one
with hankerings after the noisy world. A monotonous, silent city,
deriving an earthly flavour throughout, from its Cathedral crypt. . .
. A drowsy city, Cloisterham, whose inhabitants seem to suppose,
with an inconsistency more strange than rare, that all its changes
lie behind it, and that there are no more to come. . . . So silent
are the streets of Cloisterham (though prone to echo on the smallest
provocation), that of a summer day the sunblinds of its shops scarce
dare to flap in the south wind; while the sun-browned tramps who pass
along and stare, quicken their limp a little that they may the sooner
get beyond the confines of its oppressive respectability. This is a
feat not difficult of achievement, seeing that the streets of
Cloisterham city are little more than one narrow street by which you
get into it, and get out of it; the rest being mostly disappointing
yards with pumps in them and no thoroughfare—exception made of the
Cathedral-close, and a paved Quaker settlement. . . . In a word, a
city of another and a bygone time is Cloisterham, with its hoarse
Cathedral bell, its hoarse rooks hovering about the Cathedral tower,
its hoarser and less distinct rooks in the stalls far beneath.
Fragments of old wall, saint’s chapel, chapter-house, convent, and
monastery have got incongruously or obstructively built into many of
its houses and gardens, much as kindred jumbled notions have become
incorporated into many of its citizens’ minds. All things in it are
of the past.”
[Picture: Eastgate House, Rochester]
Entering the busier part of the town by the Eastgate thoroughfare, we may
shortly observe, on the right, Eastgate House, now occupied by the CITY
OF ROCHESTER WORKMEN’S CLUB. It is a fine old Elizabethan building; a
well-preserved specimen of the domestic architecture of the sixteenth
century. The building abuts on the street, with a large courtyard and
entrance at the side; and a spacious garden is attached at the back of
the house. For more than fifty years (until about twenty years since)
this establishment flourished as a ladies’ boarding-school, and is
referred to in the pages of “Edwin Drood” as The Nuns’ House, the
seminary conducted by the eminently respectable _Miss Twinkleton_—
“In the midst of Cloisterham stands the Nuns’ House; a venerable
brick edifice, whose present appellation is doubtless derived from
the legend of its conventual uses. On the trim gate enclosing its
old courtyard, is a resplendent brass plate flashing forth the
legend, ‘Seminary for young Ladies. Miss Twinkleton.’ The
house-front is so old and worn, and the brass plate is so shining and
staring, that the general result has reminded imaginative strangers
of a battered old beau with a large modern eye-glass stuck in his
blind eye.”
On the opposite side of the High Street (Nos. 146 and 147) stands Mr.
Sapsea’s House. It will be remembered that we are introduced to _Mr.
Thomas Sapsea_, auctioneer and Mayor of Cloisterham, in the 4th chapter
of the same book, as being “the purest jackass” in the town; adopting, in
his voice and style, the professional mannerism of his superiors—
“Mr. Sapsea ‘dresses at’ the Dean; has been bowed to for the Dean, in
mistake; has even been spoken to in the street as My Lord, under the
impression that he was the Bishop come down unexpectedly, without his
chaplain. Mr. Sapsea is very proud of this, and of his voice, and of
his style. He has even (in selling landed property) tried the
experiment of slightly intoning in his pulpit, to make himself more
like what he takes to be the genuine ecclesiastical article. So, in
ending a Sale by Public Auction, Mr. Sapsea finishes off with an air
of bestowing a benediction on the assembled brokers, which leaves the
real Dean—a modest and worthy gentleman—far behind.”
Much of the humorous element of the tale is connected with this
character. According to local tradition, Mr. S. is supposed to be a
combination of two well-known townsmen, formerly resident in _Rochester_;
a councilman who lived at the above address, and an auctioneer, once
mayor of the city, over whose door the pulpit spoken of in “Edwin Drood”
could have been seen—
“Over the doorway is a wooden effigy, about half life-size,
representing Mr. Sapsea’s father, in a curly wig and toga, in the act
of selling. The chastity of the idea, and the natural appearance of
the little figure, hammer, and pulpit, have been much admired.”
Both the aforesaid local prototypes have departed this life some time
since, and the premises have been occupied by others (equally competent,
but less pretentious) of that ilk.
[Picture: Restoration House, Rochester]
We now turn on the left into _Crow Lane_; at the further end of which, on
the south side, stands Restoration House, another specimen of the
Elizabethan style, in the present occupation of Stephen T. Aveling, Esq.
This residence is of interest as being the _Satis House_ of “Great
Expectations,” in which _Miss Havisham_ lived. We may recollect the
circumstance of _Pip_ being escorted in _Mr. Pumblechook’s_ chaise-cart
to this address, “to play” for the diversion of Miss Havisham. Here he
first met _Estella_, who then treated him with extreme contempt, but with
whom he fell desperately in love notwithstanding. Pip says, when
speaking of his departure from the house:—
“I set off on the four-mile walk to our forge, pondering, as I went
along, on all I had seen, and deeply revolving that I was a common
labouring-boy: that my hands were coarse; that my boots were thick;
that I had fallen into a despicable habit of calling knaves Jacks;
that I was much more ignorant than I had considered myself last
night, and generally that I was in a low-lived bad way.”
[Joe Gargery’s Forge and wooden house were in the little village of
_Cooling_, six miles north of Rochester. The greater part of the parish
is marsh-land, extending to the Thames. Mr. Forster recalls, in his
biography, the occasion when he and his friend stood on the spot; Dickens
saying that “he meant to make it the scene of the opening of his
story—Cooling Castle ruins, and the desolate church lying out among the
marshes, seven miles from Gadshill.” Here it was that Pip met the
convict _Magwitch_—by secret appointment—and supplied him with “wittles”
and a file, thus materially influencing his own future fortunes.]
Turning to the left, we reach the _Promenade and Recreation Ground_,
called “The Vines,” an open space of more than three acres, formerly the
vinery of the ancient Priory. It is referred to in “Edwin Drood,”
chapter 14, as the Monk’s Vineyard, in which, near a wicket-gate in a
corner, Edwin met the old woman from the opium-smoking den in the East
end of London, from whom he received warning of a threatened danger.
This is the last occasion that we read of Edwin Drood previous to his
mysterious disappearance—
“The woman’s words are in the rising wind, in the angry sky, in the
troubled water, in the flickering lights. There is some solemn echo
of them even in the Cathedral chime, which strikes a sudden surprise
to his heart as he turns in under the archway of the Gate house. And
so he goes up the postern stair.”
Passing on the right the handsome residence of the Head Master of the
Grammar School, we cross the Vines, and turn on the right hand to Minor
Canon Row, a terrace of seven red-brick houses at the north end of _St.
Margaret Street_ and on the south side of the Cathedral Close. This
locality bears the appellation, in the before-mentioned book, of Minor
Canon Corner, the residence of the _Rev. Septimus Crisparkle_ and his
mother, the “china shepherdess.” In chapter 6 we find the following
pleasant reference to the same:—
“Minor Canon Corner was a quiet place in the shadow of the Cathedral,
which the cawing of the rooks, the echoing footsteps of rare passers,
the sound of the Cathedral bell, or the roll of the Cathedral organ,
seemed to render more quiet than absolute silence. . . . Red-brick
walls harmoniously toned down in colour by time, strong-rooted ivy,
latticed windows, panelled rooms, big oaken beams in little places,
and stone-walled gardens where annual fruit yet ripened upon monkish
trees, were the principal surroundings of pretty old Mrs. Crisparkle
and the Reverend Septimus as they sat at breakfast.”