the kidney-end of a loin of veal, roasted; fried sausage-meat; a
partridge, and a pudding. There was wine, and there was strong ale;
and after dinner Mrs. Micawber made us a bowl of hot punch with her
own hands. Mr. Micawber was uncommonly convivial. I never saw him
such good company. He made his face shine with the punch, so that it
looked as if it had been varnished all over. He got cheerfully
sentimental about the town, and proposed success to it, observing
that Mrs. Micawber and himself had been made extremely snug and
comfortable there, and that he never should forget the agreeable
hours they had passed in Canterbury.”
Later on there is recorded in the Copperfield autobiography (chapter 42)
how David, accompanied by his aunt and friends—Messrs. Dick and
Traddles—sojourned for the night at this same hotel. They had arrived at
Canterbury by the Dover Mail, as desired by Mr. Micawber, in readiness to
assist the next day at the memorable “Explosion” which resulted in the
final discomfiture of _Uriah Heep_, “the Forger and the Cheat”—
“At the hotel where Mr. Micawber had requested us to await him, which
we got into, with some trouble, in the middle of the night, I found a
letter, importing that he would appear in the morning punctually at
half-past nine. After which, we went shivering at that uncomfortable
hour to our respective beds, through various close passages, which
smelt as if they had been steeped for ages in a solution of soup and
stables.”
Following the course of St. Margaret Street northward, and passing (left)
the old CHURCH OF ST. MARGARET—recently restored by Sir Gilbert Scott—we
soon arrive at the central main thoroughfare, which here divides the
town, extending from St. Dunstan’s Church (west) to the New Dover Road,
leaving Canterbury on the east.
Crossing the HIGH STREET, and continuing northward through the narrow
thoroughfare of MERCERY LANE (on the opposite side)—once the resort of
the many pilgrims who came aforetime to worship at the shrine of
Thomas-à-Becket—we enter the precincts of the Cathedral by CHRIST CHURCH
GATE (16th century).
Turning to the right within the Close, and passing the secluded
residences of several “grave and reverend seigniors,” we may find, on the
farther side, King’s School, an educational establishment of good repute
and old foundation, pleasantly and quietly situated. The school is
supervised by certain “worthy and approved good masters,” successors to
the amiable DOCTOR STRONG and assistants, under whose careful tutorship
David Copper-field was educated after his adoption by Miss Betsy
Trotwood. In the commencement of chapter 16 of his autobiography, David
thus describes the place:—
“Next morning, after breakfast, I entered on school life again. I
went, accompanied by Mr. Wickfield, to the scene of my future
studies—a grave building in a courtyard, with a learned air about it
that seemed very well suited to the stray rooks and jackdaws who came
down from the Cathedral towers to walk with a clerkly bearing on the
grass-plot—and was introduced to my new master, Doctor Strong.”
Doctor Strong’s Private Residence—at which “some of the higher scholars
boarded”—is an antiquated house, situated at the corner of LADY’S GREEN
(No. 1), at a short distance eastward. Here David was a frequent
visitor, learning particulars of the Doctor’s history, and becoming
intimate with the various personages therewith connected. Pleasant
reminiscences of the doings and sayings of _Mrs. Markleham_—“the Old
Soldier” (so called by the boys “on account of her generalship, and the
skill with which she marshalled great forces of relations against the
Doctor”)—the tender associations which cluster round the story of
_Annie_, the good doctor’s true-hearted wife; with a casual recollection
of the family cousin—_Mr. Jack Maldon_—(no better than he should be)—may
combine to enhance the interest of a visit to this old-fashioned but
comfortable home.
Crossing the LADY’S GREEN towards the gate of the ancient AUGUSTINIAN
MONASTERY, and proceeding onwards by MONASTERY STREET, we may find at the
end and corner of the street, on the left hand, a noteworthy
antique-looking house, partly incorporated with a second gate of the old
Monastery, at present the residence of a gentleman of the medical
profession. In bygone time this house was a point of considerable
attraction to David during his later school-days at Canterbury, as being
the home of “The Eldest Miss Larkins,” his second love. In chapter 18,
as we may remember, is contained a very pleasant piece of natural
sketching, entitled “A Retrospect,” comprising, _inter alia_, the story
of his youthful passion. David says:—
“I worship the eldest Miss Larkins. The eldest Miss Larkins is not a
little girl. She is a tall, dark, black-eyed, fine figure of a
woman. The eldest Miss Larkins is not a chicken, for the youngest
Miss Larkins is not that, and the eldest must be three or four years
older. Perhaps the eldest Miss Larkins may be about thirty. My
passion for her is beyond all bounds. . . . Everything that belongs
to her, or is connected with her, is precious to me. Mr. Larkins (a
gruff old gentleman with a double chin, and one of his eyes immovable
in his head) is fraught with interest to me. . . . I regularly take
walks outside Mr. Larkins’s house in the evening, though it cuts me
to the heart to see the officers go in, or to hear them up in the
drawing-room, where the eldest Miss Larkins plays the harp. I even
walk, on two or three occasions, in a sickly spooney manner, round
and round the house after the family are gone to bed, wondering which
is the eldest Miss Larkins’s chamber (and pitching, I dare say now,
on Mr. Larkins’s instead), wishing that a fire would burst out; that
the assembled crowd would stand appalled; that I, dashing through
them with a ladder, might rear it against her window, save her in my
arms, go back for something she had left behind, and perish in the
flames.”
The Drawing-Room here mentioned is situated above the old Monastery Gate,
between the two towers which stand on either side. We may recollect it
was here that David, having received an invitation to a private ball
given at the Larkins’s, enjoyed his first dance with “his dear divinity;”
afterwards being introduced to _Mr. Chestle_, a hop-grower from the
neighbourhood of Ashford, “a friend of the family,” and—alas for
David!—the future husband of the eldest Miss Larkins—
“I waltz with the eldest Miss Larkins! I don’t know where, among
whom, or how long. I only know that I swim about in space with a
blue angel, in a state of blissful delirium. . . . I am lost in the
recollection of this delicious interview, and the waltz, when she
comes to me again, with a plain, elderly gentleman, who has been
playing whist all night, upon her arm, and says, ‘Oh, here is my bold
friend! Mr. Chestle wants to know you, Mr. Copperfield.’ I feel at
once that he is a friend of the family, and am much gratified. . . .
I think I am in a happy dream. I waltz again with the eldest Miss
Larkins. She says I waltz so well! I go home in a state of
unspeakable bliss, and waltz in imagination, all night long, with my
arm round the blue waist of my dear divinity.”
Proceeding westward, we pass along the opposite roadway which faces the
house above referred to, by Church Street St. Paul, and Burgate Street,
to the Old Cathedral entrance.
As the Rambler returns, again traversing Mercery Lane, there may be noted
on the left—No. 14—a respectable Butcher’s Shop, now in the keeping of
Mr. Cornes. It is evident from its position, near Christ Church Gate,
that this was the establishment where flourished, in days of yore, that
obnoxious “young butcher” who was “the terror of the youth of
Canterbury,” and the especial enemy of the pupils at King’s School. In
chapter 18—“A Retrospect”—Copperfield writes as follows:—
“There is a vague belief abroad that the beef suet with which he
anoints his hair gives him unnatural strength, and that he is a match
for a man. He is a broad-faced, bull-necked young butcher, with
rough red cheeks, an ill-conditioned mind, and an injurious tongue.
His main use of this tongue is to disparage Dr. Strong’s young
gentlemen. He says publicly that if they want anything he’ll give it
’em. He names individuals among them (myself included) whom he could
undertake to settle with one hand, and the other tied behind him. He
waylays the smaller boys to punch their unprotected heads, and calls
challenges after me in the open streets. For these sufficient
reasons I resolve to fight the butcher.
“It is a summer evening, down in a green hollow, at the corner of a
wall. I meet the butcher by appointment. I am attended by a select
body of our boys; the butcher by two other butchers, a young
publican, and a sweep. The preliminaries are adjusted, and the
butcher and myself stand face to face. In a moment the butcher
lights ten thousand candles out of my left eyebrow. In another
moment I don’t know where the wall is, or where I am, or where
anybody is. I hardly know which is myself and which the butcher; we
are always in such a tangle and tussle, knocking about upon the
trodden grass. Sometimes I see the butcher, bloody but confident;
sometimes I see nothing, but sit gasping on my second’s knee;
sometimes I go in at the butcher madly, and cut my knuckles open
against his face, without appearing to discompose him at all. At
last I awake, very queer about the head, as from a giddy sleep, and
see the butcher walking off, congratulated by the two other butchers
and the sweep and publican, and putting on his coat as he goes, from
which I augur justly that the victory is his.”
But a few years afterwards David—ætat. 17—becomes a better match for his
opponent; and we read in the same chapter how—after his youthful
disappointment _in re_ “the eldest Miss Larkins”—having received new
provocation from the butcher, he goes out to battle a second time, and
gloriously defeats him.
Turning again on the right into the main central thoroughfare, we may
find, on the south side, the Fleur de Lys Hotel—34 High Street. A
well-appointed and respectable establishment, at which, in the time of
Copperfield’s school-days, Mr. Dick was in the habit of stopping every
alternate Wednesday, arriving from Dover by the stage-coach on his
special fortnightly visits to David. We read that
“These Wednesdays were the happiest days of Mr. Dick’s life; they
were far from being the least happy of mine. He soon became known to
every boy in the school, and though he never took an active part in
any game but kite-flying, was as deeply interested in all our sports
as any one among us.”
On the opposite (north) side of the road stands the old-fashioned George
and Dragon Inn—No. 18 High Street. In the days of Copperfield, the
London and Dover Coach, passing _en route_ through Canterbury, stopped
here for change of horses. At this inn, therefore, was the “COACH
OFFICE,” referred to in chapter 17 as being the place of arrival and
departure of Mr. Dick, as aforesaid. This London Coach is also mentioned
in the closing paragraph of the same chapter, David being on his way to
offer Micawber a soothing word of comfort in reply to a dismal letter
just received from that “Beggared Outcast”—
“Halfway there, I met the London coach with Mr. and Mrs. Micawber up
behind; Mr. Micawber, the very picture of tranquil enjoyment, smiling
at Mrs. Micawber’s conversation, eating walnuts out of a paper bag,
with a bottle sticking out of his breast pocket. As they did not see
me, I thought it best, all things considered, not to see them. So,
with a great weight taken off my mind, I turned into a by-street that
was the nearest way to school, and felt, upon the whole, relieved
that they were gone, though I still liked them very much,
nevertheless.”
Turning on the right (northward) from High Street, by a short
intermediate road, the Rambler approaches PALACE STREET, on the east side
of which, near the western end of the Cathedral, stands the Church of St.
Alphege. This edifice was casually referred to by the “Old Soldier,”
_Mrs. Markleham_, as the church where the marriage of her daughter Annie
with the worthy Dr. Strong was solemnised. The reference occurs, by way
of interruption on the part of Mrs. M., during a very touching conference
between the doctor and his wife, as related in “Copperfield,” chapter
45—“Mr. Dick fulfils my aunt’s predictions.”
Passing onwards through ST. PETER’S STREET to WESTGATE STREET, crossing
the western branch of the river, we come by a turning on the right to
NORTH LANE, in which is situated the former Residence of Uriah Heep. It
is a small two-storeyed house with plastered front, on the right side,
near the entrance of the lane—No. 65; the “’umble dwelling” to which
David was introduced as described in chapter 17 of his history—
“We entered a low, old-fashioned room, walked straight into from the
street, and found there Mrs. Heep, who was the dead image of Uriah,
only short. . . . It was a perfectly decent room, half parlour and
half kitchen, but not at all a snug room. The tea things were set
upon the table, and the kettle was boiling on the hob. There was a
chest of drawers with an escritoire top, for Uriah to read or write
at of an evening; there was Uriah’s blue bag lying down and vomiting
papers; there was a company of Uriah’s books commanded by Mr. Tidd;
there was a corner cupboard, and there were the usual articles of
furniture. I don’t remember that any individual object had a bare,
pinched, spare look, but I do remember that the whole place had.”
Returning to the main street, we pass the ancient WEST GATE—a fine
specimen of medieval architecture, built between two massive round
towers, with battlements and portcullis—and continue westward by ST.
DUNSTAN STREET. At a short distance onwards, on the south side of the
thoroughfare, nearly facing the approach to the SOUTH-EASTERN Railway
Station, there may be observed—No. 71—an old picturesque timbered house,
with three projecting gables and antiquated windows. This was the
Residence of Mr. Wickfield, as described by David, in chapter 15, when he
was first taken to Canterbury by Miss Betsy Trotwood—
“At length we stopped before a very old house, bulging out over the
road; a house with long low lattice windows bulging out still
farther, and beams with carved heads on the ends, bulging out too, so
that I fancied the whole house was leaning forward, trying to see who
was passing on the narrow pavement below. It was quite spotless in
its cleanliness. The old-fashioned brass knocker on the low arched
door, ornamented with carved garlands of fruit and flowers, twinkled
like a star; the two stone steps descending to the door were as white
as if they had been covered with fair linen; and all the angles and
corners and carvings and mouldings, and quaint little panes of glass,
and quainter little windows, though as old as the hills, were as pure
as any snow that ever fell upon the hills.”
This house does not answer in every respect to the full description as
contained in the book. The “little round tower that formed one side of
the house”—containing Uriah Heep’s circular office—being wanting to
complete; but we may readily imagine that this existed, some sixty years’
since, at the western side, in the space now occupied by some gates and a
roof of more modern erection. This residence must certainly be located
in the _main London road_, as David—referring, at the close of chapter
15, as above, to his recent pedestrian journey from the Metropolis to
Dover—speaks of his “coming through that old city and passing that very
house he lived in, without knowing it.”
[Some friends resident at Canterbury have been disposed to locate Mr.
Wickfield’s house at No. 15 BURGATE STREET, now in occupation of the
legal firm of Messrs. Fielding and Plummer (names, by-the-bye, which are
used by Dickens in “The Cricket on the Hearth”); but neither the house
nor its position will in any way correspond with Copperfield’s
description of the same.]
[Picture: The Home of Agnes]
Here then was the Home of _Agnes_—that finest delineation of feminine
portraiture ever conceived by our author—the central figure of the many
pure and beautiful associations which entwine themselves with the chief
interests of this most charming tale. In view of the personal history
and character of its heroine, we may well understand Thackeray’s eulogium
of his contemporary, as providing for the delectation of his daughters
“the pure pages of David Copperfield;” and we can as readily appreciate
the preference of Charles Dickens himself, when he says:—
“Of all my books I like this the best. It will be easily believed
that I am a fond parent to every child of my fancy, and that no one
can ever love that family as dearly as I love them. But, like many
fond parents, I have, in my heart of hearts, a favourite child, and
his name is David Copperfield.”
Leaving CANTERBURY by the direct line of the LONDON, CHATHAM AND DOVER
RAILWAY, we are carried onward through a pleasant country towards the
south-east coast; the white roads of the district indicating the abundant
chalkiness of the soil. In Copperfield’s 13th chapter, narrating the
circumstances of his long tramp to Dover, he says, “From head to foot I
was powdered almost as white with chalk and dust as if I had come out of
a lime-kiln.”
Passing three minor stations, the train arrives at DOVER PRIORY—about
which more anon—whence it proceeds through an intervening tunnel to the
town station, at the old port of
DOVER.
The town is of especial interest to readers of “David Copperfield,” as
containing on its suburban heights the cottage residence of Miss Trotwood
and Mr. Dick.
Proceeding eastward from the station, a short distance along COMMERCIAL
QUAY; turning left, then right; and walking onwards _viâ_ SNARGATE, BENCH
and KING STREETS, the Rambler may reach the Market Place, centrally
situated in the lower part of the town, and may recall the circumstance
of poor David resting near at hand, on his arrival—a juvenile stranger in
a strange land—after a morning’s fruitless inquiry as to the whereabouts
of his aunt. We read (in chapter 13) as follows:—
“I inquired about my aunt among the boatmen first, and received
various answers. One said she lived in the South Foreland light, and
had singed her whiskers by doing so; another, that she was made fast
to the great buoy outside the harbour, and could be only visited at
half-tide; a third, that she was locked up in Maidstone Jail for
child stealing; a fourth, that she was seen to mount a broom in the
last high wind and make direct for Calais. The fly-drivers among
whom I inquired were equally jocose and equally disrespectful; and
the shopkeepers, not liking my appearance, generally replied without
hearing what I had to say, that they had got nothing for me. I felt
more miserable and destitute than I had done at any period of my
running away. My money was all gone, I had nothing left to dispose
of; I was hungry, thirsty, and worn out, and seemed as distant from
my end as if I had remained in London.”
At the junction of CHURCH STREET and CASTLE STREET, both leading to and
from the Market Place—at the northeast angle—there may be noted the
Street Corner at which David sat down, considering the position of
affairs, and where he received the first practical intimation for the
proper direction of his search:—
“The morning had worn away in these inquiries, and I was sitting on
the step of an empty shop at a street corner, near the Market-place,
deliberating upon wandering towards those other places which had been
mentioned, when a fly-driver, coming by with his carriage, dropped a
horsecloth. Something good-natured in the man’s face, as I handed it
up, encouraged me to ask him if he could tell me where Miss Trotwood
lived. . . . ‘I tell you what,’ said he. ‘If you go up there,’
pointing with his whip towards the heights, ‘and keep right on till
you come to some houses facing the sea, I think you’ll hear of her.’”
Leaving the Market Place from its north-west corner, and keeping somewhat
to the left, the Rambler may ascend by CANNON and BIGGIN STREETS, as
indicated by the coachman’s whip, to the heights of Priory Hill, on which
elevation, in the neighbourhood of ST. MARTIN’S PRIORY and the PRIORY
FARM, there may be found several semi-detached residences pleasantly
overlooking the “silver streak” and the intervening town below. Here, in
an eligible position, there may be seen Stanley Mount, a villa residence
of two storeys, with bow windows and contiguous lawn. This house now
replaces an older one, which aforetime was the cottage at which the
worthy Miss Trotwood lived; the miniature lawn in front being the “patch
of green” over which that amiable lady asserted private right of way;
persistently maintaining it against all comers in general, and the Dover
donkey boys in particular—
“The one great outrage of her life, demanding to be constantly
avenged, was the passage of a donkey over that immaculate spot. In
whatever occupation she was engaged, however interesting to her the
conversation in which she was taking part, a donkey turned the
current of her ideas in a moment, and she was upon him straight.
Jugs of water and watering-pots were kept in secret places, ready to
be discharged on the offending boys, sticks were laid in ambush
behind the door, sallies were made at all hours, and incessant war
prevailed.”
Midway between Railway Stations and Quay, there may be noted The King’s
Head Hotel, as being the old Coaching House at which the London Mail
terminated its journey, and referred to in “The Tale of Two Cities” by
the name of “The Royal George.” Here may be recalled the interview
related in chapter 4, which took place at this hotel between _Mr. Lorry_
and _Miss Manette_, and at which the reader is first introduced to the
eccentric _Miss Pross_—“dressed in some extraordinary tight-fitting
fashion”; wearing on “her head a most wonderful bonnet, like a Grenadier
measure (and a good measure too) or a great Stilton cheese.”
Returning to London by South-Eastern Rail, the Rambler will pass, about
half-way on the road, the picturesque village of Staplehurst. Near this
station it may be remembered that, on June 9th, 1865, a sad disaster
occurred to the train in which Mr. Dickens was a traveller. The
_Postscript_ to “Our Mutual Friend” contains the following reference:—
“Mr. and Mrs. Boffin (in their manuscript dress) were on the
South-Eastern Railway with me, in a terribly destructive accident.
When I had done what I could to help others, I climbed back into my
carriage—nearly turned over a viaduct, and caught aslant upon the
turn—to extricate the worthy couple. They were very much soiled, but
otherwise unhurt. . . . I remember with devout thankfulness that I
can never be much nearer parting company with my readers for ever
than I was then, until there shall be written against my life the two
words with which I have this day closed this book—The End.”
RAMBLE VIII
_Excursion to Henley-on-Thames_
Route by Great Western Railway _viâ_ Maidenhead and Twyford to Henley—The
Red Lion Inn, place of accommodation for Mr. Eugene Wrayburn—Marriage of
Mr. Wrayburn and Lizzie Hexam—The Anchor Inn, the “little inn” at which
Bella Wilfer first visited Lizzie Hexam—Henley Railway Station—The Tow
Path, scene of the interview between Lizzie and Eugene—Marsh Mill, at
which Lizzie was employed—Neighbourhood where Betty Higden died—Shiplake
Churchyard, where Betty was buried—“A cry for help”—West bank of Thames,
Henley Bridge and Poplar Point, the neighbourhood where occurred Bradley
Headstone’s attack on Eugene Wrayburn—Lizzie’s walk by Marsh Lock to the
Eastern Tow Path beyond Henley Bridge—Her rescue of Eugene—Henley _viâ_
Aston and Medmenham to Hurley Lock, “Plashwater Weir Mill” Lock, Rogue
Riderhood, Deputy Lockkeeper—Final scene of the Tragedy—Churchyard of
Stoke Pogis—Mr. Micawber’s Quotation—The Homeward Journey—John Harmon’s
Reflections.
A very delightful country excursion may be made for visiting the
neighbourhood of Henley-on-Thames, of especial interest to the readers of
“Our Mutual Friend.”