THE "GOLDEN CROSS," CHARING CROSS
Before the "Golden Cross" was given such prominence in The Pickwick
Papers, it formed the subject of one of the chapters in Dickens's
previous book, Sketches by Boz. But although there is a "Golden
Cross" still standing at Charing Cross to-day, and a fairly old inn
to boot, it is not the actual one which figures in these two books
and in David Copperfield.
As a matter of fact, there have been several "Golden Crosses" at
Charing Cross; one, perhaps the first, stood in the village of
Charing in 1643. But the one which claims our attention stood on
the exact spot where now towers the Nelson Monument in Trafalgar
Square, and was the busiest coaching inn in the west end of London.
In front of it was the King Charles statue and the ancient cross of
Charing. Close at hand was Northumberland House with its famous
lion overlooking the scene.
This "Golden Cross" was either rebuilt in 1811 or in that year had
its front altered to the Gothic style. Whichever is the case, it
was this Gothic inn that Dickens knew and described in his books.
It was demolished in 1827, or thereabouts, to make room for the
improvements in the neighbourhood which developed, into the
Trafalgar Square we all know to-day. It was then that the present
building, facing Charing Cross Station, was erected, which, also in
its turn, has had a new frontage.
Dickens in his early youth, whilst employed in a blacking warehouse
at Hungerford Stairs and during his youthful wanderings, became
intimately acquainted with the district. When, therefore, in the
early 'thirties he commenced his literary career, he recalled those
early days and placed on permanent record his impressions of what he
then saw, amongst which was the Golden Cross Hotel.
And so we find that in writing the chapter in Sketches by Boz on
"Early Coaches" he chooses the "Golden Cross" of his boyhood for its
chief incident, an incident which no doubt happened to himself in
his early manhood. He had risen early on a certain cold morning to
catch the early coach to Birmingham--perhaps to fulfil one of his
reporting engagements:
"It strikes 5:15," he says, "as you trudge down Waterloo Place on
your way to the 'Golden Cross,' and you discover for the first time
that you were called an hour too early. You have no time to go
back, and there is no place open to go into, and you have therefore
no recourse but to go forward. You arrive at the office. . . . You
wander into the booking office. . . . There stands the identical
book-keeper in the same position, as if he had not moved since you
saw him yesterday. He informs you that the coach is up the yard,
and will be brought round in about 15 minutes. . . . You retire to
the tap-room. . . . for the purpose of procuring some hot brandy and
water, which you do--when the kettle boils, an event which occurs
exactly two and a half minutes before the time fixed for the
starting of the coach. The first stroke of six peals from St.
Martin's Church steeple as you take the first sip of the boiling
liquid. You find yourself in the booking office in two seconds, and
the tap waiter finds himself much comforted by your brandy and
water in about the same period. . . . The horses are in. . . . The
place which a few minutes ago was so still and quiet is all bustle.
'All right,' sings the guard. . . . and off we start as briskly as
if the morning were all right as well as the coach."
One of Cruikshank's pictures illustrates the above scene in the
booking office, and in it one of the figures represents Dickens
himself as he appeared at the period. Dotted about on the walls
are bills in which the name of the hotel is very conspicuous.
In chapter two of The Pickwick Papers we get a further glimpse
of the inn, centring in a more exhilarating and epoch-making
incident. The Pickwickians were to start on their memorable
peregrinations from the "Golden Cross" for Rochester by the
famous "Commodore" coach; and Mr. Pickwick having hired a cabriolet
in the neighbourhood of his lodgings in Goswell Street arrived at
the hotel in order to meet his friends for the purpose. On
alighting, and having tendered his fare, an animated incident with
the cabman, who accused him of being an informer, ensued, and ended
in the assault and battery described in the following words:
"The cabman dashed his hat upon the ground with a reckless disregard
of his own private property, and knocked Mr. Pickwick's spectacles
off, and followed up the attack with a blow on Mr. Pickwick's nose
and another on Mr. Pickwick's chest; and a third in Mr. Snodgrass's
eye; and a fourth, by way of variety, in Mr. Tupman's waistcoat, and
then danced into the road and then back again to the pavement, and
finally dashed the whole temporary supply of breath out of Mr.
Winkle's body; and all in half a dozen seconds."
The embarrassing situation was only saved by the intervention of
Mr. Jingle, who quickly settled the cabman and escorted Mr. Pickwick
into the travellers' waiting-room and had a raw beefsteak applied to
Mr. Pickwick's eye, which had been badly mauled by the irate cabman.
All things righted themselves, however, and the merry party left the
"Golden Cross" on the coach for their journey to Rochester, to
the accompaniment of Mr. Jingle's staccato tones as they drove
through the archway, warning the company to take care of their heads:
"'Terrible place--dangerous work--other day--five children--mother-
tall lady, eating sandwiches-forgot the arch--crash--knock--children
look round--mother's head off--sandwich in her hand--no mouth to put
it in--head of family off--shocking--shocking.'"
The arch referred to by our jesting friend can be seen in the
picture here shown.
The "Golden Cross" also figures prominently in David Copperfield on
the occasion of the arrival of the hero of the book from Canterbury:
"We went to the 'Golden Cross,'" he says, "then a mouldy sort of
establishment in a close neighbourhood. A waiter showed me into the
coffee-room, and a chambermaid introduced me to my small bedchamber,
which smelt like a hackney coach and was shut up like a family vault."
Later in the evening he met his old school friend, Steerforth, who
was evidently on better and more familiar terms with the waiter, for
he not only demanded, but secured a better bedroom for David.
[illustration: The Golden Cross Hotel, Charing Cross, in 1828.
From an engraving]
"I found my new room a great improvement on my old one," he says,
"it not being at all musty and having a fourpost bedstead in it,
which was quite a little landed estate. Here, among pillows enough
for six, I soon fell asleep in a blissful condition, and dreamed
of ancient Rome, Steerforth and friendship, until the early morning
coaches rumbling out of the archway underneath made me dream of
thunder and the gods."
This comfortable new aspect of the inn did not stop at his bedroom,
for he took breakfast the next morning "in a snug private
apartment, red-curtained and Turkey carpeted, where the fire burnt
bright and a fine hot breakfast was set forth on a table covered
with a clean cloth. . . . I could not enough admire the change
Steerforth had wrought in the 'Golden Cross'; or compose the dull,
forlorn state I had held yesterday with this morning's comfort and
this morning's entertainment."
It was on another occasion later in the story that David Copperfield,
then lodging in Buckingham Street close by, encountered poor old
Peggotty on the steps of St. Martin's Church. It was a snowy,
dismal night and Peggotty was resting on his journey in search
for Little Emily.
"In those days," says Dickens, "there was a side entrance to the
stable yard of the 'Golden Cross' nearly opposite to where we stood.
I pointed out the gateway, put my arm through his, and we went
across. Two or three public rooms opened out of the stable yard;
and looking into one of them, and finding it empty, and a good fire
burning, I took him in there."
The side entrance here referred to was at the time in St. Martin's
Lane--that part of it which then ran down from St. Martin's Church
to the Strand. It led into the stable yard, backing into what is
now Trafalgar Square, and was part of the old inn of Pickwick and
The Sketches, and not of the present one, which many topographers
have asserted.
But the "Golden Cross" had its fame apart from Dickens, although it
is Dickens who has immortalized its name for the general public.
As we have pointed out it was the most popular of the West End
coaching inns of London. This remark applies to the various houses
which have borne its name. It is recorded that as far back as 1757
coaches plied between Brighton, or Brighthelmstone as it was then
called, and the "Golden Cross." The fare was 13s.--(children in lap
and outside passengers half price). For years afterwards it was the
favourite starting-place for the famous Brighton coaches, and in
1821 forty were running to and fro daily.
Coaches from the same inn served Exeter, Salisbury, Blandford,
Dorchester and Bridport; Hastings and Tunbridge Wells; Cambridge,
Cheltenham, Dover, Norwich and Portsmouth. It was from here that
the historic "Comet" and "Regent" to Brighton and the "Tally Ho" for
Birmingham set. out on their journeys, and although the "Golden
Cross" which stands to-day cannot boast the glory of the old days of
the coaching era, it is still a busy centre, situated as it is in
the very heart of London opposite one of its busiest railway
termini.
To-day new Dickensian associations circle round it, for on certain
days during the summer months motor coaches, chartered by the
Dickens Fellowship, make this the starting point for their
pilgrimages into Dickens-land, often taking the route the
Pickwickians did, as recorded in their chronicles.