doorway, thinking that Miss Mowcher was a long while making her
appearance, when, to my infinite astonishment, there came waddling
round a sofa which stood between me and it, a pursy dwarf, of about
forty or forty-five, with a very large head and face, a pair of
roguish grey eyes, and such extremely little arms, that, to enable
herself to lay a finger archly against her snub nose as she ogled
Steerforth, she was obliged to meet the finger half-way, and lay her
nose against it. Her chin, which was what is called a double-chin,
was so fat that it entirely swallowed up the strings of her bonnet,
bow and all. Throat she had none; waist she had none; legs she had
none, worth mentioning; for though she was more than full-sized down
to where her waist would have been, if she had had any, and though
she terminated, as human beings generally do, in a pair of feet, she
was so short that she stood at a common-sized chair as at a table,
resting a bag she carried on the seat.”
Sites Unlocalised. At this distance of time it is impossible to indicate
the locality of “_The Willing Mind_”—patronised by Mr. Peggotty—the
residence of _Mr. and Mrs. Barkis_, or the establishment of _Messrs Omer
and Joram_. The last is described as being “in a narrow street,” and
should be doubtless looked for in the older part of the town.
Blundeston, the birthplace of Copperfield, may be visited from
_Somerleyton Station_, on the line between Yarmouth and Lowestoft. The
village, with its round-towered church, is situated about four miles
eastward from the railway. The house indicated in the novel as
_Blunderstone Rookery_ stands next the church. The excursion could
include, _en route_, a visit to Somerleyton Park, open to the public on
Wednesdays.
RAMBLE X
_London to Dorking and Portsmouth_
Nicholas Nickleby and Smike on their travels—Excursion by Coach, “The
Perseverance”—Route to Dorking—Residence of Mr. and Mrs. Tony Weller—The
“Marquis of Granby”—The Rev. Mr. Stiggins and his “pertickler vanity”—The
downfall of Stiggins—The old Horse-trough—Dorking to Portsmouth—Parentage
of Dickens—Registration of Charles John Huffham Dickens—Birthplace of
Dickens—The Theatre-Royal—The Old Theatre—Unlocalised
Localities—Portsmouth to London—Westminster Abbey—Tomb of Dickens—His
Funeral as reported by the _Daily News_, June 1870—Poetical Tribute—The
future Outlook.
In the early days of the present century, Nicholas Nickleby leaving
London with Smike, bound for Portsmouth, took the high road _viâ_
Kingston and Godalming (with a view, _en passant_, of the Devil’s
Punch-bowl); walking steadily onward until arrival, on their second day’s
march, at a roadside inn—probably in the neighbourhood of _Horndean_.
Here they met with Mr. Vincent Crummles, of histrionic fame, and ended
their more immediate perplexities by an engagement with that gentleman.
There was no railway communication in those times, and coach fare was
expensive; but now-a-days we have adopted a cheaper and more speedy means
of transit, and may reach Portsmouth from London quickly, by two lines of
railroad.
As, in the following excursion, it is proposed to make an intermediate
visit _en route_ to the residence (once on a time) of Mr. and Mrs. Tony
Weller, a journey by coach is recommended to Dorking, as affording a
suitable compliment to Mr. Weller’s memory and profession. A delightful
journey may thus be made by “The Perseverance” coach, which starts every
week-day during the season, from Northumberland Avenue, at 10.45 A.M.,
and travels four-in-hand, _viâ_ Roehampton, Kingston, Surbiton, Epsom,
Leatherhead, Mickleham, and Boxhill, and arrives at Dorking, in time for
luncheon at the “White Horse Hotel,” at which the coach stops.
The interest of this country town centres, for Pickwickian readers, in
the “_Marquis of Granby_,” once an inn. It exists no longer as such,
having been long since converted into a grocer’s establishment. It will
be found in the High Street, opposite the Post Office, at the side of
_Chequers’ Court_, which runs between it and the _London and County
Bank_. The old sign-board, the cosy bar, with its store of choice wines
and pine-apple rum (Mr. Stiggins’s “pertickler vanity”), and the
horse-trough in which the reverend gentleman was half drowned by the
irate Weller, senior, are now among the things that are not; but the old
house still remains _in situ_, altered to the uses of its present
occupancy.
In chapter 27 of the Pickwick records we read of Sam’s first pilgrimage
to Dorking, on which occasion he paid his filial respects to his
mother-in-law, the rather stout lady of comfortable appearance, who
conducted the business of the house; and made his acquaintance with the
Rev. Mr. Stiggins of saintly memory. The description of the
establishment is given as follows:—
“The ‘Marquis of Granby’ in Mrs. Weller’s time was quite a model of a
roadside public-house of the better class—just large enough to be
convenient, and small enough to be snug. On the opposite side of the
road was a large sign-board on a high post, representing the head and
shoulders of a gentleman with an apoplectic countenance, in a red
coat with deep-blue facings, and a touch of the same blue over his
three-cornered hat, for a sky. Over that again were a pair of flags;
beneath the last button of his coat were a couple of cannon; and the
whole formed an expressive and undoubted likeness of the Marquis of
Granby of glorious memory.
“The bar window displayed a choice collection of geranium plants, and
a well-dusted row of spirit phials. The open shutters bore a variety
of golden inscriptions, eulogistic of good beds and neat wines; and
the choice group of countrymen and hostlers lounging about the
stable-door and horse-trough, afforded presumptive proof of the
excellent quality of the ale and spirits which were sold within. Sam
Weller paused, when he dismounted from the coach, to note all these
little indications of a thriving business, with the eye of an
experienced traveller; and having done so, stepped in at once, highly
satisfied with everything he had observed.”
Mr. Stiggins, the clerical friend and spiritual adviser of the worthy
hostess, having fully ingratiated himself in her good graces, was in the
habit of making himself very much at home at “The Marquis”; greatly
appreciating the creature comforts there obtainable, and the good liquors
kept in stock. In point of fact, knowing when he was well off, he lived
well—if not wisely—on Mrs. Weller’s hospitable bounty, and made
headquarters at this Dorking inn. On the occasion of Sam’s first visit
before referred to—in chapter 27, as above—this estimable character is
thus introduced to the notice of Pickwickian students:—
“He was a prim-faced, red-nosed man, with a long, thin countenance,
and a semi-rattlesnake sort of eye—rather sharp, but decidedly bad.
He wore very short trousers, and black-cotton stockings, which, like
the rest of his apparel, were particularly rusty. His looks were
starched, but his white neckerchief was not, and its long limp ends
straggled over his closely-buttoned waistcoat in a very uncouth and
unpicturesque fashion.”
“The fire was blazing brightly under the influence of the bellows,
and the kettle was singing gaily under the influence of both. A
small tray of tea things was arranged on the table, a plate of hot
buttered toast was gently simmering before the fire, and the
red-nosed man himself was busily engaged in converting a large slice
of bread into the same agreeable edible, through the instrumentality
of a long brass toasting-fork. Beside him stood a glass of reeking
hot pine-apple rum and water, with a slice of lemon in it; and every
time the red-nosed man stopped to bring the round of toast to his
eye, with the view of ascertaining how it got on, he imbibed a drop
or two of the hot pine-apple rum and water, and smiled upon the
rather stout lady, as she blew the fire.”
The downfall of Stiggins. The season of his prosperity came to a sad
ending after the demise of his patroness; and in chapter 52 we read of
his reverse of fortune, and the final _congé_ given to the reverend
gentleman by the irate Mr. Weller, senior, who dismissed him from his
household chaplaincy, in a manner more peremptory than pleasant:—
“He walked softly into the bar, and presently returning with the
tumbler half full of pine-apple rum, advanced to the kettle which was
singing gaily on the hob, mixed his grog, stirred it, sipped it, sat
down, and taking a long and hearty pull at the rum and water, stopped
for breath.
“The elder Mr. Weller, who still continued to make various strange
and uncouth attempts to appear asleep, offered not a single word
during these proceedings; but when Stiggins stopped for breath, he
darted upon him, and snatching the tumbler from his hand, threw the
remainder of the rum and water in his face, and the glass itself into
the grate. Then, seizing the reverend gentleman firmly by the
collar, he suddenly fell to kicking him most furiously, accompanying
every application of his top-boots to Mr. Stiggins’s person, with
sundry violent and incoherent anathemas upon his limbs, eyes, and
body.
“‘Sammy,’ said Mr. Weller, ‘put my hat on tight for me.’
“Sam dutifully adjusted the hat with the long hatband more firmly on
his father’s head, and the old gentleman, resuming his kicking with
greater agility than before, tumbled with Mr. Stiggins through the
bar, and through the passage, out at the front door, and so into the
street; the kicking continuing the whole way, and increasing in
vehemence, rather than diminishing, every time the top-boot was
lifted.
“It was a beautiful and exhilarating sight to see the red-nosed man
writhing in Mr. Weller’s grasp, and his whole frame quivering with
anguish as kick followed kick in rapid succession; it was a still
more exciting spectacle to behold Mr. Weller, after a powerful
struggle, immersing Mr. Stiggins’s head in a horse-trough full of
water, and holding it there until he was half-suffocated.”
The old horse-trough, as depicted by “Phiz” in the original illustrated
title-page of the book, has long since given place to local alteration
and improvement; but “hereabouts it stood.”
There are many pleasant and humorous associations connected with this old
place of country entertainment, as duly set forth in the Pickwick annals;
but it should be remembered that many years have passed since their
publication (1837), and that men and manners have greatly changed and
bettered. It is satisfactory to reflect that Mr. Stiggins and his
brethren have altogether become obsolete in English middle-class society,
and that the protest so embodied sixty years since is no longer
necessary. In these happier days, earnestness and ability have, in the
main, superseded laziness and cant.
* * * * *
DORKING TO PORTSMOUTH. The journey being resumed by railway, we travel
southward and westward through the pleasant fields and pasture lands of
Sussex, _viâ_ Horsham and Chichester, to the old town of Portsmouth,
where, in Landport, Portsea, Charles Dickens was born, on Friday, the 7th
of February 1812. He was the second son (in a family of eight, six
surviving infancy) of Mr. John Dickens, a clerk in the Navy Pay Office at
the Dockyard. The name of his mother, previous to her marriage, was
Elizabeth Barrow. The baptismal record at Portsea registers him as
CHARLES JOHN HUFFHAM DICKENS, but he very seldom used any other signature
than the one with which we are all familiar. On arrival at the
Portsmouth town station, we leave the railway, turning to the right, and
proceed onwards, in the main thoroughfare of Commercial Road. Thus we
shortly reach, in due course, The Birthplace of Dickens. The house (No.
387 Commercial Road, Landport) stands about half a mile northward (to the
right) from the railway station, with a neat forecourt. It bears a
tablet recording date of the event, as above.
[Picture: Dickens’ Birthplace]
South of the station (leftward), beyond the Town Hall, will be found, on
the right, The Theatre Royal; but it should be noted that this is _not_
the establishment referred to in “Nicholas Nickleby.”
That old theatre, at which Nicholas—adopting the professional _alias_ of
“Johnson”—made his histrionic _début_ under the managerial auspices of
Mr. Vincent Crummles, occupied, some eighty years since, the present site
of The Cambridge Barracks, in the _High Street_, farther onwards.
We read in the same book that the _Crummles_ family resided at the house
of one Bulph, a pilot; that _Miss Snevellicci_ had lodgings in Lombard
Street, at the house of a tailor, where also _Mr. and Mrs. Lillyvick_
found temporary accommodation; and that _Nicholas_ and _Smike_ lived in
two small rooms, up three pair of stairs, at a tobacconist’s shop, on the
Common Hard. But it is not possible to particularise these places;
indeed, it is altogether doubtful whether they had any special assignment
in the mind of the author himself.
* * * * *
Leaving Portsmouth, at convenience, by the _Brighton and South Coast
Railway_, we may take the return journey to London in about three hours,
arriving at the West End Terminus of the line, _Victoria Station_. From
this point we may revisit, _viâ Victoria Street_, about half a mile in
distance, Westminster Abbey, containing the TOMB OF DICKENS, which will
be found in the classic shade of the _Poets’ Corner_. At the time of his
death the _Times_ “took the lead in suggesting that the only fit
resting-place for the remains of a man so dear to England was the Abbey,
in which most illustrious Englishmen are laid;” and accordingly, on the
14th of June, the funeral took place, with a strict observance of
privacy. In Dean Stanley’s “WESTMINSTER ABBEY” the following statement
is given:—
“Close under the bust of Thackeray lies Charles Dickens, not, it may
be, his equal in humour, but more than his equal in his hold on the
popular mind, as was shown in the intense and general enthusiasm
shown at his grave. The funeral, according to Dickens’s urgent and
express desire in his will, was strictly private. It took place at
an early hour in the summer morning, the grave having been dug in
secret the night before; and the vast solitary space of the Abbey was
occupied only by the small band of mourners, and the Abbey clergy,
who, without any music except the occasional peal of the organ, read
the funeral service. For days the spot was visited by thousands;
many were the flowers strewn upon it by unknown hands; many were the
tears shed by the poorer visitors. He rests beside Sheridan,
Garrick, and Henderson.”
The plain stone covering the tomb is inscribed
CHARLES DICKENS,
Born February 7th, 1812. Died June 9th, 1870.
Report of the Funeral, as published in the _Daily News_, June 15th,
1870:—“Charles Dickens lies, without one of his injunctions respecting
his funeral having been violated, surrounded by poets and men of genius.
Shakespeare’s marble effigy looked yesterday into his open grave; at his
feet are Dr. Johnson and David Garrick; his head is by Addison and
Handel; while Oliver Goldsmith, Rowe, Southey, Campbell, Thomson,
Sheridan, Macaulay, and Thackeray, or their memorials, encircle him; and
‘Poets’ Corner,’ the most familiar spot in the whole Abbey, has thus
received an illustrious addition to its peculiar glory. . . . Dickens’s
obsequies were as simple as he desired. The news that a special train
left Rochester at an early hour yesterday morning, and that it carried
his remains, was soon telegraphed to London; but every arrangement had
been completed beforehand, and there was no one in the Abbey; no one to
follow the three simple mourning coaches and the hearse; no one to
obtrude upon the mourners. The waiting-room at Charing Cross Station was
set apart for the latter for the quarter of an hour they remained there;
the Abbey doors were closed directly they reached it; and even the
mourning coaches were not permitted to wait. A couple of street cabs and
a single brougham took the funeral party away when the last solemn rites
were over, so that passers-by were unaware that any ceremony was being
conducted; and it was not until a good hour after that the south transept
began to fill. There were no cloaks, no weepers, no bands, no scarfs, no
feathers, none of the dismal frippery of the undertaker. We yesterday
bade the reader turn to that portion of ‘Great Expectations,’ in which
the funeral of Joe Gargery’s wife is described; he will there find full
details of the miserable things omitted. In the same part of the same
volume he will find reverent allusion to the time when ‘those noble
passages are read which remind humanity how it brought nothing into the
world and can take nothing out, and how it fleeth like a shadow, and
never continueth long in one stay;’ and will think of the solemn scene in
Westminster Abbey, with the Dean reading our solemn burial service, the
organ chiming in, subdued and low, and the vast place empty, save for the
little group of heart-stricken people by an open grave; a plain oak
coffin, with a brass plate bearing the inscription:—
‘CHARLES DICKENS,
Born February 7th, 1812,
Died June 9th, 1870’;
a coffin strewed with wreaths and flowers by the female mourners; and
then dust to dust and ashes to ashes! Such was the funeral of the great
man who has gone. In coming to the Abbey, in the first coach were the
late Mr. Dickens’s children—Mr. Charles Dickens, jun., Mr. Harry Dickens,
Miss Dickens, Mrs. Charles Collins. In the second coach were Mrs.
Austin, his sister; Mrs. Charles Dickens, jun.; Miss Hogarth, his
sister-in-law; Mr. John Forster. In the third coach Mr. Frank Beard, his
medical attendant; Mr. Charles Collins, his son-in-law; Mr. Dewey, his
solicitor; Mr. Wilkie Collins; Mr. Edmund Dickens, his nephew.
“By the orders of the Dean of Westminster, the officials were instructed
to keep the grave open until six o’clock last evening, and all who came
had the melancholy satisfaction of seeing not only the grave itself, but
the polished oak coffin which contained the remains of the lamented
deceased. A raised platform was placed around the grave, and two of the
vergers of the Abbey were in attendance to prevent crowding and preserve
order, an almost unnecessary precaution, for all who came, comprising
persons of various classes, conducted themselves in the most exemplary
manner. In the afternoon, when the fact of the interment became
generally known, and that the coffin was to be seen, the crowds arriving
at the Abbey became very great, and between twelve and six o’clock many
thousands of persons had been present. Large numbers paid a simple
tribute to the memory of the deceased by throwing the flowers they wore
in their coat or dress on to the coffin, until, towards the close of the
afternoon, it was completely covered with these simplest offerings of
public affection.”
* * * * *
The following Poetical Tribute, _in Memoriam_, was, at that sad time,
contributed to the public Press, and is worthy of remembrance:—
“The Artist sleeps, yet friends are here he gave
The fair dream-children that his fancy drew;
A phantom crowd still gathers at his grave,
And in each character he lives anew.
“Soft winds of summer breathe along the fane,
The honoured sepulchre where Dickens lies;
An Emigravit write we in our pain—
He is not dead—the artist never dies.
“The statesman wins the mantle of a peer,
The warrior boasts all titles of renown;
We leave one laurel only on his bier,
And England’s love is greater than a crown.”
“S. C.”
* * * * *
So long as the art of printing remains in Society, and the powers of
affection, appreciation, and sympathy survive in the hearts of
Anglo-Saxons—of the Old World or the New—the name and fame of CHARLES
DICKENS will be ever held fresh and green amongst us. And, through the
coming summer-dawn of time—amidst the destined agencies slowly evolving
the brighter omens of the future—his genius shall remain co-operant.
For, let us rest assured that “the thoughts of men are widened with the
process of the suns”; that the wheel of time is rolling, surely for an
end; and that all worthy labour in the cause of human progress shall
become Immortal, as it helps to make the world purer, gentler, and more
Christian; and hastens onwards the fulfilment of its nobler destiny.
APPENDIX
“The Pickwick Papers”; Mrs. Bardell’s House—The Spaniards’ Inn
[Wellington Academy]. “Oliver Twist”; Mr. Brownlow’s Residence—Fagin and
Bill Sykes. “Nicholas Nickleby”; The London Tavern—Mrs. Nickleby and
Kate in Thames Street—Mortimer Knag’s Library—General Agency
Office—Messrs. Cheeryble Brothers—Residence of Mrs. Wititterly. “Barnaby
Rudge”; The Golden Key—Cellar of Mr. Stagg—The Black Lion Tavern.
“Martin Chuzzlewit”; Anthony Chuzzlewit and Son—Montague Tigg, Esq., Pall
Mall—Tom Pinch and Ruth at Islington. “Dombey & Son”; Polly Toodles at
Staggs Gardens—Miss Tox and Major Bagstock, Princess Place—Mrs.
MacStinger and Captain Cuttle, No. 9 Brig Place. “David Copperfield”;
Mr. Creakle’s Establishment, Salem House—The Micawber family—Residence of
Mrs. Steerforth—Doctor and Mrs. Strong—Mr. and Mrs. D. Copperfield—Mr.
Traddles’s lodgings. “Bleak House”; Addresses of Mr. Guppy and his
Mother—Apartments of Mr. Jarndyce—Mr. and Mrs. Smallweed, Mount
Pleasant—George’s Shooting Gallery—Mr. and Mrs. Bagnet—Harold Skimpole
and family. “Little Dorrit”; The House of Mrs. Clennam—Residence of Mr.
Tite Barnacle—The Patriarchal Casby. “Tale of Two Cities”; Old Church of
St. Pancras in the Fields. “Great Expectations”; Private Residence of
Mr. Jaggers—Wemmick’s Castle, Walworth—Mr. Barley, _alias_ old
Gruff-and-Glum. “Our Mutual Friend”; Gaffer Hexam’s House—The Six Jolly
Fellowship Porters—Rogue Riderhood and his Daughter—Mr. Twemlow’s
Lodgings—The Veneerings and the Podsnaps—Boffin’s Bower.—Mr. R. Wilfer’s
Residence—Establishment of Mr. Venus. “Mystery of Edwin Drood”; The
Opium Smokers’ Den.
The various localities referred to in the foregoing RAMBLES comprise all
the more interesting and better-known points which the Reader of Dickens
would most naturally desire to visit. In addition to these, however,
there are several places mentioned in the many works of “The inimitable
Boz” which may be enumerated, but cannot for the following reasons be
included in such specified routes:—
(1) Neighbourhoods have, in course of years, altogether changed, making
it extremely difficult (in many cases impossible) to specify with
exactitude the former situation of old houses, which have long become
part and parcel of the forgotten past, “lost to sight” and now only “to
memory dear.”
(2) The indications given in the various tales have, in some cases, been
purposely rendered vague and uncertain; it being the evident aim of the
author to avoid precision, and to afford no definite clue to the position
of many places named.
(3) Some of the localities specified are situated at a considerable
distance from any main line of route, and can be visited only by separate
excursion specially undertaken for the purpose.
In the following addendum these uncertain or distant addresses are given
under the headings of those books in which they respectively occur; in
order that Ramblers, if so disposed, may—in the words of Mr.
Peggotty—“fisherate” for themselves.
THE PICKWICK PAPERS.
Mrs. Bardell’s House was located in _Goswell Street_, certainly in a
central position; for we read that, as Mr. Pickwick looked from his
chamber-window on the world beneath,
“Goswell Street was at his feet, Goswell Street was on his right
hand, as far as the eye could reach, Goswell Street extended on his
left, and the opposite side of Goswell Street was over the way.”
The “Spaniards’ Inn” at _Hampstead_ may be remembered as the scene of the
tea-party at which _Mrs. Bardell_ and a few select friends enjoyed
themselves, previous to her unexpected arrest and removal to the Fleet
Prison, at the suit of _Messrs. Dodson and Fogg_. There still exists the
“Spaniards” at Heath End, Hampstead Heath.