ROCHESTER CITY.
"The silent High Street of Rochester is full of
gables, with old beams and timbers carved into
strange faces. It is oddly garnished with a queer
old clock that projects over the pavement out of a
grave red brick building, as if Time carried on
business there, and hung out his sign."--_The
Seven Poor Travellers._
"The town was glad with morning light."--_The Old
Curiosity Shop._
MUDFOG, Our Town, Dullborough, the Market Town, and Cloisterham were the
varied names that Charles Dickens bestowed upon the "ancient city" of
Rochester. Every reader of his works knows how well he loved it in early
youth, and how he returned to it with increased affection during the
years of his ripened wisdom. Among the first pages of the first chapter
of Forster's _Life_ we find references to it:--"That childhood
exaggerates what it sees, too, has he not tenderly told? How he thought
that the Rochester High-street must be at least as wide as Regent Street
which he afterwards discovered to be little better than a lane; how the
public clock in it, supposed to be the finest clock in the world, turned
out to be as moon-faced and weak a clock as a man's eyes ever saw; and
how in its Town Hall, which had appeared to him once so glorious a
structure that he had set it up in his mind as the model from which the
genie of the Lamp built the palace for Aladdin, he had painfully to
recognize a mere mean little heap of bricks, like a chapel gone
demented. Yet, not so painfully either when second thoughts wisely came.
'Ah! who was I, [he says] that I should quarrel with the town for being
changed to me, when I myself had come back, so changed, to it? All my
early readings and early imaginations dated from this place, and I took
them away so full of innocent construction and guileless belief, and I
brought them back so worn and torn, so much the wiser and so much the
worse!'"
It would occupy too much space in this narrative to adequately give even
a brief historical sketch of the City of Rochester, which is twenty-nine
miles from London, situated on the river Medway, and stands on the chalk
on the margin of the London basin; but we think lovers of Dickens will
not object to a recapitulation of a few of the most noteworthy
circumstances which have happened here, and which are not touched upon
in the chapters relating to the Castle and Cathedral.
According to the eminent local antiquary, Mr. Roach Smith, F.S.A., the
name of the city has been thus evolved:--"The ceastre or chester is a
Saxon affix to the Romano-British (DU)RO. The first two letters being
dropped in sound, it became Duro or Dro, and then ROchester, and it was
the Roman station Durobrovis." The ancient Britons called it "Dur-brif,"
and the Saxons "Hrofe-ceastre"--Horf's castle, of which appellation some
people think Rochester is a corruption.
Rochester is a place of great antiquity, and so far back as A.D. 600 it
seems to have been a walled city. Remains of the mediaeval Wall exist in
very perfect condition, at the back of the Eagle Inn in High Street, and
in other parts of the city. In 676 Rochester was plundered by Ethelred,
King of Mercia; and in 884 the Danes sailed up the Medway and besieged
it, but were effectually repulsed by King Alfred. About 930, when three
Mints were established there by Athelstan, it had grown to be one of the
principal ports of the kingdom. William the Conqueror gave the town to
his half-brother Odo, Bishop of Bayeux. Fires in 1130 and 1137 nearly
destroyed it.
Not a few royal and distinguished personages have visited Rochester on
various occasions, among others Henry VIII., who came there in 1522,
accompanied by the Emperor Charles V. Queen Elizabeth came in 1573, when
she stayed five days, and attended the Cathedral service on Sunday. She
came again in 1583, with the Duke of Anjou, and showed him her "mighty
ships of war lying at Chatham." King James I. also visited the city in
1604 and 1606. On the latter occasion His Majesty, who was accompanied
by Christian IV., King of Denmark, attended the Cathedral, and
afterwards inspected the Navy. Charles II. paid it a visit just before
the restoration in 1660, and again subsequently. It is believed that on
both occasions he stayed at Restoration House (the "Satis House" of
_Great Expectations_) hereafter referred to. Mr. Richard Head presented
His Majesty with a silver ewer and basin on the occasion of the
restoration. James II. came down to the quiet old city December 19th,
1688, and sojourned with Sir Richard Head for a week at a house (now No.
46 High Street), from whence he ignominiously escaped to France by a
smack moored off Sheerness. Mr. Stephen T. Aveling mentioned to us that
"it is curious that Charles the Second 'came to his own' in Rochester,
and that James the Second 'skedaddled' from the same city."[4] Her
Majesty when Princess Victoria stayed at the Bull Inn in 1836 for a
night with her mother, the Duchess of Kent, on their way from Dover to
London. It was a very tempestuous night, some of the balustrades of
Rochester Bridge having been blown into the river, and the Royal
Princess was advised not to attempt to cross the bridge.
"On the last day of June 1667 (says Mr. W. Brenchley Rye in his pleasant
_Visits to Rochester_), Mr. Samuel Pepys, after examining the defences
at Chatham shortly after the disastrous expedition by the Dutch up the
Medway, walked into Rochester Cathedral, but he had no mind to stay to
the service, . . . 'afterwards strolled into the fields, a fine walk,
and there saw Sir F. Clarke's house (Restoration House), which is a
pretty seat, and into the Cherry Garden, and here met with a young,
plain, silly shopkeeper and his wife, a pretty young woman, and I did
kiss her!'" David Garrick was living at Rochester in 1737, for the
purpose of receiving instruction in mathematics, etc., from Mr. Colson.
In 1742, Hogarth visited the city, in that celebrated peregrination with
his four friends, and played hop-scotch in the courtyard of the
Guildhall. Dr. Johnson came here in 1783, and "returned to London by
water in a common boat, landing at Billingsgate."
The city formerly possessed many ancient charters and privileges
granted to the citizens, but these were superseded by the Municipal
Corporations Act of 1835.
The Guildhall, "marked by a gilt ship aloft,"--"where the mayor and
corporation assemble together in solemn council for the public
weal,"--is "a substantial and very suitable structure of brick,
supported by stone columns in the Doric order," and was erected in 1687.
It has several fine portraits by Sir Godfrey Kneller and other eminent
painters, including those of King William III., Queen Anne, Sir
Cloudesley Shovell, Richard Watts, M.P., and others. The Corporation
also possess many interesting and valuable city regalia, namely, a large
silver-gilt mace (1661), silver loving-cup (1719), silver oar and
silver-gilt ornaments (typical of the Admiralty jurisdiction of the
Corporation) (1748), two small maces of silver (1767), sword (1871--the
Mayor being Constable of the Castle), and chain and badges of gold and
enamel (1875), the last-mentioned commemorating many historical
incidents connected with the city.
Emerging from the railway station of the London, Chatham and Dover
Company at Strood, a drive of a few minutes (over the bridge) brings us
to the first object of our pilgrimage, the "Bull Inn,"--we beg pardon,
the "Royal Victoria and Bull Hotel,"--in High Street, Rochester, which
was visited by Mr. Pickwick, Mr. Tupman, Mr. Snodgrass, Mr. Winkle, and
their newly-made friend, Mr. Jingle, on the 13th May, 1827. Our cabman
is so satisfied with his fare ("only a bob's worth"), that he does not,
as one of his predecessors did, on a very remarkable occasion, "fling
the money on the pavement, and request in figurative terms to be allowed
the pleasure of fighting us for the amount," which circumstance we take
to be an improving sign of the times.
Changed in name, but not in condition, it seems scarcely possible that
we stand under the gateway of the charming old inn that we have known
from our boyhood, when first we read our _Pickwick_, what time the two
green leaves of _Martin Chuzzlewit_ were putting forth monthly, and when
the name of Charles Dickens, although familiar, had not become the
"household word" to us, and to the world, that it is now.
[Illustration: Bull Inn Rochester Good house Nice beds. vide Pickwick.]
We look round for evidence--"Good house, nice beds"--"(vide _Pickwick_)"
appear on the two sign-boards fixed on either side of the entrance-gate.
Only then are we quite sure our driver has not made a mistake and taken
us to "Wright's next door," which every reader of _Pickwick_ knows, on
the authority of Mr. Jingle, "was dear--very dear--half a crown in the
bill if you look at the waiter--charge you more if you dine out at a
friend's than they would if you dined in the coffee-room--rum
fellows--very."
Haunches of venison, saddles of mutton, ribs of beef, York hams, fowls
and ducks, hang over our heads in the capacious covered gateway; cold
viands are seen in a glass cupboard opposite, and silently promise that
some good fare, like that which regaled Mr. Pickwick and his friends, is
still to be found at the Bull. In the distance is seen the large
old-fashioned coach-yard, surrounded by odd buildings, which on market
days (Tuesdays) is crowded with all sorts of vehicles ancient and
modern. On our right is the kitchen, "brilliant with glowing coals and
rows of shining copper lying well open to view."
By the kindness of Mr. Richard Prall, the town-clerk, beds have been
secured for us, and the landlord meets us at the door with a hearty
welcome. We are conducted to our rooms on the second floor looking
front, on reaching which a strange feeling takes possession of us.
Surely we have been here before? Not a bit of it! But the bedrooms are
nevertheless familiar to us; we see it all in a minute--the writer's
apartment is Mr. Tupman's, and his friend's is Mr. Winkle's!
"Winkle's bedroom is inside mine," said Mr. Tupman, after that
delightful dinner of "soles, broiled fowl, and mushrooms," in the
private sitting-room at the Bull, when all the other Pickwickians had,
"after the cosy couple of hours succeeding dinner, more or less
succumbed to the somniferous influence which the wine had exerted over
them," and he and Mr. Jingle alone remained wakeful, and were discussing
the idea of attending the forthcoming ball in the evening.
It is an unexpected and pleasant coincidence that we are located in
these two rooms, and altogether a good omen for our tramp generally.
They are numbered 13 and 19, and the reason why the numbers are not
consecutive is because 19 (Mr. Winkle's room) is also approached by a
back staircase. Mr. Pickwick's room, as befitted his years and his
dignity as G.C.M.P.C., is a larger room, and is number 17. They are all
comfortable chambers, with "nice beds."
[Illustration: Staircase at "The Bull"]
The principal staircase of the Bull, which is almost wide enough to
drive a carriage and four up it, remains exactly as it was in Mr.
Pickwick's days, as described by Dickens and delineated by Seymour. We
could almost fancy we witnessed the memorable scene depicted in the
illustration, where the irascible Dr. Slammer confronts the
imperturbable Jingle. The staircase has on its walls a large number of
pictures and engravings, some curious and valuable, a few of which are
of purely local interest. A series of oil paintings represent the
costumes of all nations. There is a copy of "The Empty Chair," from the
drawing of Mr. Luke Fildes, R.A., and also one of the scarce proof
lithographs of "Dickens as Captain Bobadil," after the painting by C. R.
Leslie, R.A.
Mr. Lawrence informed us that some years ago "The Owl Club" held its
meetings at the Bull--a social club, reminding us strongly of one of the
early papers in _Bentley's Miscellany_, illustrated by George
Cruikshank, entitled the "Harmonious Owls," which has recently been
reprinted in the collection called _Old Miscellany Days_, in which
paper, by the bye, are several names from Dickens.
In one of the cheerful private sitting-rooms, of which there are many,
we find a portrait of Dickens that is new to us. Never have we seen one
that so vividly reproduced the novelist as one of us saw him, and heard
him read, in the Town Hall at Birmingham, on the 10th of May, 1866. It
is a vignette photograph by Watkins, coloured by Mr. J. Hopper, a local
artist, representing the face of the novelist in full, wearing afternoon
dress--black coat, and white shirt-front, with gold studs--the attitude
being perfectly natural and unconstrained, and a pleasant calm upon the
otherwise firm features. The high forehead is surmounted by the
well-remembered single curl of brown hair, the sole survival of those
profuse locks which grace Maclise's beautiful portrait. The bright blue
eyes, with the light reflected on the pupils like diamonds, seem to
follow one in every direction. The lines, of course, are marked, but not
too strongly; and the faint hectic flush which was apparent in later
years--notably when we saw him again in Birmingham in 1869--shows signs
of development. The beard hides the neck, and the white collar is
conspicuous. Altogether it is one of the most successful portraits we
remember to have seen. As witness of its popularity locally, we may
mention that we saw copies of it at Major Budden's at Gad's Hill, at the
Mitre Hotel, Chatham, and at the Leather Bottle Inn, Cobham. We are also
informed that Mr. Henry Irving gave a good sum for a copy, in the spring
of last year. Mr. Lawrence, our host, by good fortune, happening to
possess a duplicate, kindly allows us the opportunity of purchasing it
("portable property" as Mr. Wemmick remarks), as an addition to our
Dickens collection which it adorns. "Beautiful!" "Splendid!" "Dickens to
the life!" are the comments of friends to whom we show it, who
personally knew, or remembered, the original.
Here is the ball-room, entered from the first-floor landing of the
principal staircase, and the card-room adjoining, precisely as it was in
Mr. Pickwick's days:--
"It was a long room with crimson-covered benches,
and wax candles in glass chandeliers. The
musicians were confined in an elevated den, and
quadrilles were being systematically got through
by two or three sets of dancers. Two card-tables
were made up in the adjoining card-room, and two
pair of old ladies, and a corresponding number of
old gentlemen, were executing whist therein."
A very little stretch of the imagination carries us back sixty years,
and, _presto!_ the ball-room stands before us, with the wax candles
lighted, and the room filled with the _elite_ of Chatham and Rochester
society, who, acting on the principle of "that general benevolence which
was one of the leading features of the Pickwickian theory," had given
their support to that "ball for the benefit of a charity," then being
held there, and which was attended by Mr. Tracy Tupman, in his new
dress-coat with the P. C. button and bust of Mr. Pickwick in the centre,
and by Mr. Jingle, in the borrowed garments of the same nature belonging
to Mr. Winkle.
"P. C.," said the stranger.--"Queer set out--old fellow's likeness and
'P. C.'--What does 'P. C.' stand for? 'Peculiar Coat,' eh?" Imagine the
"rising indignation" and impatience of Mr. Tupman, as with "great
importance" he explains the mystic device!
[Illustration: The "Elevated Den" in the Ball Room: ("Bull" Inn)]
Everybody remembers how, declining the usual introduction, the two
entered the ball-room _incog._, as "Gentlemen from London--distinguished
foreigners--anything;" how Mr. Jingle said in reply to Mr. Tupman's
remark, "Wait a minute--fun presently--nobs not come yet--queer
place--Dock-yard people of upper rank don't know Dock-yard people of
lower rank--Dock-yard people of lower rank don't know small
gentry--small gentry don't know tradespeople--Commissioner don't know
anybody."
The "man at the door,"--the local M.C.,--announces the arrivals.
"Sir Thomas Clubber, Lady Clubber, and the Miss Clubbers!"
"Commissioner--head of the yard--great man--remarkably great man,"
whispers the stranger in Mr. Tupman's ear.
"Colonel Bulder, Mrs. Colonel Bulder, and Miss Bulder," are announced.
"Head of the garrison," says Mr. Jingle. "They exchanged snuff-boxes
[how old-fashioned it appears to us who don't take snuff], and looked
very much like a pair of Alexander Selkirks--Monarchs of all they
surveyed."
More arrivals are announced, and dancing begins in earnest; but the most
interesting one to us is Dr. Slammer--"a little fat man, with a ring of
upright black hair round his head, and an extensive bald plain on the
top of it--Dr. Slammer, surgeon to the 97th, who is agreeable to
everybody, especially to the Widow Budger.--'Lots of money--old
girl--pompous doctor--not a bad idea--good fun,' says the stranger.
'I'll dance with her--cut out the doctor--here goes.'" Then comes the
flirtation, the dancing, the negus and biscuits, the coquetting, the
leading of Mrs. Budger to her carriage. The volcano bursts with terrific
energy. . . .
"'You--you're a shuffler, sir,' gasps the furious doctor, 'a poltroon--a
coward--a liar--a--a--will nothing induce you to give me your card,
sir?'" and in the morning comes the challenge to the duel. It all passes
before our delighted mental vision, as we picture the circumstances
recorded in the beloved _Pickwick_ of our youth upwards.
Here also is the bar, just opposite the coffee-room, where the "Tickets
for the Ball" were purchased by Mr. Tupman for himself and Mr. Jingle at
"half a guinea each" (Mr. Jingle having won the toss), and where Dr.
Slammer's friend subsequently made inquiry for "the owner of the coat,
who arrived here, with three gentlemen, yesterday afternoon." We find it
to be a very cosy and comfortable bar-room too, wherein we subsequently
enjoy many a social pipe and pleasant chat with its friendly
frequenters, reminding us of the old tavern-life as described in Dr.
Johnson's days.
The coffee-room of the Bull, in which we take our supper, remains
unaltered since the days of the Pickwickians. It is on the left-hand
side as we enter the hotel from the covered gateway--not very large, but
warm and comfortable, with three windows looking into the High Street.
Many scenes in the novels have taken place in this memorable
apartment--in fact, it is quite historical, from a Dickensian point of
view.
Here it was that the challenge to the duel from Dr. Slammer to Mr.
Winkle was delivered; and, when Mr. Winkle appeared, in response to the
call of the boots, that "a gentleman in the coffee-room" wanted to see
him, and would not detain him a moment, but would take no denial, "an
old woman and a couple of waiters were cleaning the coffee-room, and an
officer in undress uniform was looking out of the window." Here also the
Pickwickians assembled on that eventful morning when the party set out,
three in a chaise and one on horseback, for Dingley Dell, and
encountered such dire mishaps. "Mr. Pickwick had made his preliminary
arrangements, and was looking over the coffee-room blinds at the
passengers in the High Street, when the waiter entered, and announced
that the chaise was ready--an announcement which the vehicle itself
confirmed, by forthwith appearing before the coffee-room blinds
aforesaid." Subsequently, as they prepare to start, "'Wo-o!' cried Mr.
Pickwick, as the tall quadruped evinced a decided inclination to back
into the coffee-room window."
It is highly probable that the descriptions of "the little town of Great
Winglebury," and "the Winglebury Arms," in "The Great Winglebury Duel"
of the _Sketches by Boz_, one of the earliest works of the novelist,
refer to the city of Rochester and the Bull Inn, for they fit in very
well in many respects, although it _is_ stated therein that "the little
town of Great Winglebury is exactly forty-two miles and three-quarters
from Hyde Park Corner."
The Blue Boar mentioned in _Great Expectations_--one of the most
original, touching, and dramatic of Dickens's novels--is indubitably the
Bull Hotel. Although there is an inn in High Street, Rochester, called
the Blue Boar, its description does not at all correspond with the text.
We find several instances like this, where, probably for purposes of
concealment, the real identity of places and persons is masked.
Our first introduction to the Blue Boar is on the occasion of Pip's
being bound apprentice to Joe Gargery, the premium for whom was paid out
of the twenty-five guineas given to Pip by Miss Havisham. Pip's sister
"became so excited by the twenty-five guineas, that nothing would serve
but we must have a dinner out of that windfall at the Blue Boar, and
that Pumblechook must go over in his chaise cart, and bring the Hubbles
and Mr. Wopsle." The dinner is duly disposed of, and although poor Pip
was frequently enjoined to "enjoy himself," he certainly failed to do
so on this occasion. "Among the festivities indulged in rather late in
the evening," says Pip, "Mr. Wopsle gave us _Collins's Ode_, and 'threw
his blood-stain'd sword in thunder down,' with such effect, that a
waiter came in and said 'The Commercials underneath sent up their
compliments, and it wasn't the Tumblers' Arms!'" from which we gather
that the said dinner took place in a private sitting-room (No. 3) over
the commercial room, on the opposite side of the gateway to the
coffee-room.
It will be remembered that on Pip's attaining "the second stage of his
expectations," Pumblechook had grown very obsequious and fawning to
him--pressed him to take refreshment, as who should say, "But, my dear
young friend, you must be hungry, you must be exhausted. Be seated. Here
is a chicken had round from the Boar, here is a tongue had round from
the Boar, here's one or two little things had round from the Boar that I
hope you may not despise. 'But do I,' said Mr. Pumblechook, getting up
again the moment after he had sat down, 'see afore me him as I ever
sported with in his times of happy infancy? And may I--_may_ I--?' This
'May I?' meant might he shake hands? I consented, and he was fervent,
and then sat down again."
Returning to the coffee-room, we discover it was the identical apartment
in which the unexpected and very peculiar meeting took place between Pip
and "the spider," Bentley Drummle, "the sulky and red-looking young man,
of a heavy order of architecture," both "Finches of the Grove," and
rivals for the hand of Estella. Each stands shoulder to shoulder against
the fire-place, and, but for Pip's forbearance, an explosion must have
taken place.
Through the same coffee-room windows, poor Pip looks under the reverses
of his great expectations in consequence of the discovery and subsequent
death of his patron. The "servile Pumblechook," who appears here
uninvited, again changes his manner and conduct, becoming ostentatiously
compassionate and forgiving, as he had been meanly servile in the time
of Pip's new prosperity, thus:--"'Young man, I am sorry to see you
brought low, but what else could be expected! what else could be
expected! . . . This is him . . . as I have rode in my shay-cart; this
is him as I have seen brought up by hand; this is him untoe the sister
of which I was uncle by marriage, as her name was Georgiana M'ria from
her own mother, let him deny it if he can.' . . ."
Dickens takes leave of the Blue Boar, in the last chapter of the work,
in these words:--
"The tidings of my high fortunes having had a
heavy fall, had got down to my native place and
its neighbourhood, before I got there. I found the
Blue Boar in possession of the intelligence, and I
found that it made a great change in the Boar's
demeanour. Whereas the Boar had cultivated my good
opinion with warm assiduity when I was coming into
property, the Boar was exceedingly cool on the
subject now that I was going out of property.
"It was evening when I arrived, much fatigued by
the journey I had so often made so easily. The
Boar could not put me into my usual bedroom, which
was engaged,--probably by some one who had
expectations,--and could only assign me a very
indifferent chamber among the pigeons and
post-chaises up the yard. But, I had as sound a
sleep in that lodging as in the most superior
accommodation the Boar could have given me, and
the quality of my dreams was about the same as in
the best bedroom."
The visitors' book in the coffee-room, at the Bull--we never shall call
it "The Royal Victoria and Bull Hotel"--abounds with complimentary
remarks on the hospitable treatment received by its guests; and there
are several poetical effusions, inspired by the classic nature of
"Dickens-Land." One of these, under date of the 18th September, 1887, is
worth recording:--
"The man who knows his Dickens as he should,
Enjoys a double pleasure in this place;
He loves to walk its ancient streets, and trace
The scenes where Dickens' characters have stood.
He reads _The Mystery of Edwin Drood_
In Jasper's Gatehouse, and, with Tope as guide,
Explores the old cathedral, Durdles' pride;
Descends into the Crypt, and even would
Ascend the Tower by moonlight, thence to see
Fair Cloisterham reposing at his feet,
And passing out, he almost hopes to meet
Crisparkle and the white-haired Datchery.
The gifted writer 'sleeps among our best
And noblest' in our Minster of the West;
Yet still he lives in this, his favourite scene,
Which for all time shall keep his memory green."
[Illustration: Old Rochester Bridge]
We follow Mr. Pickwick's example as regards early rising, and, taking a
turn before breakfast, find ourselves on Rochester Bridge. Nature has
not much changed since the memorable visit of that "truly great man,"
who in the original announcement of _The Pickwick Papers_ is stated with
his companions to have "fearlessly crossed the turbid Medway in an open
boat;" but the march of civilization has effaced the old bridge, and lo!
three bridges stand in the place thereof. The beautiful stone structure
(temp. Edward III.) which Mr. Pickwick leant over, having become
unsuitable, was blown up by the Royal Engineers in 1856, and a handsome
iron bridge erected in its place. The debris was removed by Mr. J. H.
Ball, the contractor, who presented Dickens with one of the balustrades,
others having been utilized to form the coping of the embankment of the
esplanade under the castle walls. The iron bridge was built by Messrs.
Fox and Henderson, the foundations being laid in 1850. The machinery
constituting "the swing-bridge or open ship canal (fifty feet wide) at
the Strood end is very beautiful; the entire weight to be moved is two
hundred tons, yet the bridge is readily swung by two men at a capstan."
So says one of the Guide Books, but as a matter of fact we find that it
is not now used! The other two bridges (useful, but certainly not
ornamental) belong to the respective railway companies which have
systems through Rochester, and absolutely shut out every prospect below
stream. What _would_ Mr. Pickwick say, if his spirit ever visited the
ancient city? Nevertheless, we realize for the first time, with all its
freshness and beauty (although perhaps a little marred by the smoke of
the lime-kilns, and by the "Medway coal trade," in which it will be
remembered Mr. Micawber was temporarily interested, and which "he came
down to see"), the charm of the prospect which Dickens describes, and
which Mr. Pickwick saw, in the opening of the fifth chapter of the
immortal _Posthumous Papers_:--
"Bright and pleasant was the sky, balmy the air,
and beautiful the appearance of every object
around, as Mr. Pickwick leant over the balustrades
of Rochester Bridge, contemplating nature, and
waiting for breakfast. The scene was indeed one,
which might well have charmed a far less
reflective mind, than that to which it was
presented.
"On the left of the spectator lay the ruined wall,
broken in many places, and in some, overhanging
the narrow beach below in rude and heavy masses.
Huge knots of sea-weed hung upon the jagged and
pointed stones, trembling in every breath of wind;
and the green ivy clung mournfully round the dark
and ruined battlements. Behind it rose the ancient
castle, its towers roofless, and its massive walls
crumbling away, but telling us proudly of its old
might and strength, as when, seven hundred years
ago, it rang with the clash of arms, or resounded
with the noise of feasting and revelry. On either
side, the banks of the Medway, covered with
corn-fields and pastures, with here and there a
windmill, or a distant church, stretched away as
far as the eye could see, presenting a rich and
varied landscape, rendered more beautiful by the
changing shadows which passed swiftly across it,
as the thin and half-formed clouds skimmed away in
the light of the morning sun. The river,
reflecting the clear blue of the sky, glistened
and sparkled as it flowed noiselessly on; and the
oars of the fishermen dipped into the water with a
clear and liquid sound, as their heavy but
picturesque boats glided slowly down the stream."
It was over the same old bridge that poor Pip was pursued by that
"unlimited miscreant" Trabb's boy in the days of his "great
expectations." He says:--
"Words cannot state the amount of aggravation and
injury wreaked upon me by Trabb's boy, when,
passing abreast of me, he pulled up his
shirt-collar, twined his side hair, stuck an arm
akimbo, and smirked extravagantly by, wriggling
his elbows and body, and drawling to his
attendants: 'Don't know yah; don't know yah, 'pon
my soul, don't know yah!' The disgrace [continues
Pip] attendant on his immediately afterwards
taking to crowing and pursuing me across the
bridge with crows, as from an exceedingly dejected
fowl who had known me when I was a blacksmith,
culminated the disgrace with which I left the
town, and was, so to speak, ejected by it into the
open country."
There is generally a stiff breeze blowing on the bridge, and the fact
may probably have suggested to the artist the positions of the
characters in the river scene, one of the plates of _Edwin Drood_, where
Mr. Crisparkle is holding his hat on with much tenacity. One other
reference to the bridge occurs in the _Seven Poor Travellers_, where
Richard Doubledick, in the year 1799, "limped over the bridge here with
half a shoe to his dusty foot on his way to Chatham."
After a Pickwickian breakfast in the coffee-room of "broiled ham, eggs,
tea, coffee, and sundries," we take a stroll up the High Street. We do
not know what the feelings of other pilgrims in "Dickens-Land" may have
been on the occasion of a first visit, but we are quite sure that to us
it is a perfect revelation to ramble along this quaint street of "the
ancient city," returning by way of Star Hill through the Vines, all
crowded with associations of Charles Dickens. _Pickwick_, _Great
Expectations_, _Edwin Drood_, and many of the minor works of the eminent
novelist, had never before appeared so clear to us--they acquire new
significance. The air is full of Dickens. At every corner, and almost at
the door of every house, we half expect to be met by one or other of
the characters who will claim acquaintance with us as their friends or
admirers. We are simply delighted, and never tire of repeating our
experience in the pleasant summer days of our week's tramp in
"Dickens-Land."
[Illustration: The Guildhall: Rochester]
[Illustration: The "Moonfaced" Clock in High Street]
[Illustration: In High Street: Rochester]
[Illustration: Eastgate House]
Starting from the Bull, and walking along the somewhat narrow but
picturesque street towards Chatham,--"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 color and general conformation very like a
Quakeress's bonnet, up in a shady corner,"--we pass in succession the
Guildhall, the City Clock, Richard Watts's Charity, the College Gate
(Jasper's Gatehouse), Eastgate House (the Nuns' House), and, nearly
opposite it, the residence of Mr. Sapsea, which, as we ourselves
discover, was also the residence of "Uncle Pumblechook." The latter
buildings are about a quarter of a mile from Rochester Bridge, and are
splendid examples of sixteenth-century architecture, with carved
oaken-timbered fronts and gables and latticed bay-windows. Eastgate
House--the "Nuns' House" of _Edwin Drood_, described as "a venerable
brick edifice, whose present appellation is doubtless derived from the
legend of its conventual uses"--is especially beautiful, and its
"resplendent brass plate on the trim gate" is still so "shining and
staring." The date, 1591, is on one of the inside beams, and the fine
old place abounds with quaint cosy rooms with carved oak mantel-pieces,
and plaster enrichments to the ceilings, as well as mysterious back
staircases and means of exit by secret passages. Charles II. is said to
have been entertained here by Colonel Gibbons, the then owner, when he
visited Chatham and inspected the _Royal George_; but this has been
recently disputed. For many years during this century, the house has
been occupied as a Ladies' School, and the old pianos used for practice
by the pupils are there still, the keys being worn into holes. We wonder
whether Rosa Bud and Helena Landless ever played on them! Looking round,
we half expect to witness the famous courting scene in _Edwin Drood_,
and afterwards "the matronly Tisher to heave in sight, rustling through
the room like the legendary ghost of a dowager in silken skirts, [with
her] 'I trust I disturb no one; but there _was_ a paper-knife--Oh,
thank you, I am sure!'" An excellent local institution, called "The
Rochester Men's Institute," has its home here. The house has been
immortalized by Mr. Luke Fildes in one of the illustrations to _Edwin
Drood_ ("Good-bye, Rosebud, darling!"), where, in the front garden, the
girls are cordially embracing their charming school-fellow, and Miss
Twinkleton looks on approvingly, but perhaps regretfully, at the
possible non-return of some of the young ladies. Mrs. Tisher is saluting
one of the girls. There is a gate opening into the street, with the lamp
over it kept in position by an iron bracket, just as it is now, heaps of
ladies' luggage are scattered about, which the housemaid and the
coachman are removing to the car outside; and one pretty girl stands in
the gateway waving a farewell to the others with her handkerchief.
We feel morally certain that Eastgate House is also the prototype of
Westgate House in the _Pickwick Papers_, although, for the purposes of
the story, it is therein located at Bury St. Edmund's. The wall
surrounding the garden is about seven feet high, and a drop from it into
the garden would be uncommonly suggestive of the scene which took place
between Sam Weller and his master in the sixteenth chapter, on the
occasion of the supposed intended elopement of one of the young ladies
of Miss Tomkins's Establishment--which also had the "name on a brass
plate on a gate"--with Mr. Charles FitzMarshall, _alias_ Mr. Alfred
Jingle. The very tree which Mr. Pickwick "considered a very dangerous
neighbour in a thunderstorm" is there still--a pretty acacia.
[Illustration: Mr. Sapsea's House.]
[Illustration: Mr. Sapsea's Father.]
The house opposite Eastgate House was of course Mr. Sapsea's
dwelling--"Mr. Sapsea's premises are in the High Street over against
the Nuns' House. They are of about the period of the Nuns' House,
irregularly modernized here and there." A carved wooden figure of Mr.
Sapsea's father in his rostrum as an auctioneer, with hammer poised in
hand, and a countenance expressive of "Going--going--gone!" was many
years ago fixed over a house (now the Savings Bank) in St. Margaret's,
Rochester, and was a regular butt for practical jokes by the young
officers of the period, although they never succeeded in their attempts
to pull it down. To us the house appears to be an older building than
Eastgate House, with much carved oak and timber work about it, and in
its prime must have been a most delightful residence. The lower part is
now used as business premises, and from the fact that it contains the
little drawers of a seedsman's shop, it answers very well to the
description of Mr. Pumblechook's "eminently convenient and commodious
premises"--indeed there is not a little in common between the two
characters. "Mr. Pumblechook's premises in the High Street of the market
town [says Pip] were of a peppercorny and farinaceous character, as the
premises of a corn chandler and seedsman should be. It appeared to me
that he must be a very happy man indeed to have so many little drawers
in his shop; and I wondered when I peeped into one or two of the lower
tiers, and saw the tied-up brown paper packets inside, whether the
flower seeds and bulbs ever wanted of a fine day to break out of those
jails, and bloom." Part of these premises is used as a dwelling-house,
and Mr. Apsley Kennette, the courteous assistant town-clerk, to whom we
were indebted for much kind attention, has apartments on the upper
floors of the old mansion, the views from which, looking into the
ancient city, are very pretty. There is a good deal of oak panelling and
plaster enrichment about the interior, restored by Mr. Kennette, who in
the course of his renovations found an interesting wall fresco.
He has had painted most appropriately in gilt letters over the
mantel-piece of his charming old panelled chamber of carved and polished
oak (with its quaint bay-window looking into the street) the pathetic
and sombre lines of Dante Gabriel Rossetti:--
"May not this ancient room thou sitt'st in dwell
In separate living souls for joy or pain;
Nay, all its corners may be painted plain,
Where Heaven shows pictures of some life spent well;
And may be stamped a memory all in vain
Upon the site of lidless eyes in Hell."
[Illustration: Restoration House.]
The beautiful residence in Maidstone Road, formerly Crow Lane, opposite
the Vines, called Restoration House, is the "Satis House" of _Great
Expectations_--"Miss Havisham's up-town." "Everybody for miles round had
heard of Miss Havisham up-town as an immensely rich and grim lady, who
lived in a large and dismal house barricaded against robbers, and who
led a life of seclusion." There is a veritable Satis House as well, on
the opposite side of the Vines alluded to elsewhere. Restoration House,
now occupied by Mr. Stephen T. Aveling, is a picturesque old
Elizabethan structure, partly covered with ivy, having fine oak
staircases, floors, and wainscoted rooms. Charles II. lodged here in
1660, and he subsequently presented to his host, Sir Francis Clarke,
several large tapestries, representing pastoral scenes, which the
present owner kindly allowed us to see. The tapestry is said to have
been made at Mortlake. It was the usual present from royalty in those
days--just as Her present Majesty now gives an Indian shawl to a
favoured subject. Like many houses of its kind, it contains a secret
staircase for escape during times of political trouble.
Mr. Aveling very kindly placed at our disposal the manuscript of an
interesting and "true ghost story" written by him relating to
Restoration House, which is introduced at the end of this chapter.
Many names in Dickens's novels and tales appear to us as old friends,
over the shops and elsewhere in Rochester. Looking through the list of
Mayors of the city from 1654 to 1887, we notice nearly twenty of the
names as having been given by Dickens to his characters, viz. Robinson,
Wade, Brooker, Clarke, Harris, Burgess, Head, Weller, Baily, Gordon,
Parsons, Pordage, Sparks, Simmons, Batten, Saunders, Thomson, Edwards,
and Budden. The name of Jasper also occurs as a tradesman several times
in the city, but we are informed that this is a recent introduction. In
the Cathedral burying-ground occur the names of Fanny Dorr_ett_ and
Richard Pordage. Dartle, we were informed, is an old Rochester name.
The population of the "four towns" of Rochester, Strood, Chatham, and
New Brompton, at the census of 1891, was upwards of 85,000. The
principal industries of Rochester are lime and cement making, "the
Medway coal trade," and boat and barge building.
Rochester is very well off for educational institutions. In addition to
the Board schools, there is the King's (or Cathedral) Grammar School
founded by Henry VIII., a handsome building in the Vines. The tuition
fee commences at L15 per annum for boys under 12, and there is a
reduction made when there are brothers. There are two or three annual
competitive Scholarships tenable for a period of years, and there are
also two Exhibitions of L60 a year to University College, Oxford. There
is also Sir J. Williamson's Mathematical School in the High Street,
founded in 1701, having an income of L1500 a year from endowments, and
the teaching, which has a wide range, includes physical science. The
fees are very small, commencing at about L5 per annum, and there are
foundation Scholarships and "Aveling Scholarships" to the value of L20
per annum.
In addition to the famous Richard Watts's Charity, which is described in
another chapter, the city possesses several other important charities,
viz.:--St. Catherine's Charity on Star Hill, founded by Simon Potyn in
1316, which provides residences for sixteen aged females, with stipends
varying from L24 to L28 each; St. Bartholomew's Hospital in New Road,
which was founded in 1078 by Bishop Gundulph for the benefit of lepers
returning from the Crusades (the present Hospital was erected in 1858,
and is supported by voluntary contributions); Sir John Hawkins's
Hospital for decayed seamen in Chatham, founded in 1592, and provides
for twelve inmates with their wives; and Sir John Hayward's Charity on
the Common, founded in 1651, which provides an asylum for twelve poor
and aged females, parishioners of St. Nicholas.
Not least noteworthy among the numerous objects of interest in the
"ancient city" are the beautiful gardens belonging to several of the
houses in the High Street, particularly those of Mr. Syms and Mr.
Wildish. The fresh green turf, the profusion of flowers, and the rich
growth of foliage and fruit, quite surprise and delight the stranger.
Mr. Stephen T. Aveling's garden is a marvel of beauty to be seen in a
town. "The Cloisterham gardens blush with ripening fruit."
Some of the old-fashioned cries of street hawkers, as "hot rolls,"
"herrings," "watercresses," and the like, similar to those in the London
of Charles Dickens's early days, still survive at Rochester, and are
very noticeable and quaint in the quiet morning.
As illustrative of the many changes which have been brought about by
steam, even in the quiet old city of Rochester, Mr. Syms called
attention to the fact that fifty years ago he could count twenty-eight
windmills on the surrounding heights, but now there are scarcely a dozen
to be seen.
In Rochester we heard frequent mention of "Gavelkind," one of the
ancient customs of Kent, whereby the lands do not descend to the eldest
son alone, but to the whole number of male children equally. Lambarde,
the eminent lawyer and antiquary (born 1536), author of _A Perambulation
of Kent_,[5] says:--"I gather by _Cornelius Tacitus_, and others, that
the ancient Germans, (whose Offspring we be) suffered their lands to
descend, not to their eldest Sonne alone, but to the whole number of
their male Children: and I finde in the 75th Chapter of _Canutus_ Law (a
King of this Realm before the Conquest), that after the death of the
Father, his Heires should divide both his goods, and his lands amongst
them. Now, for as much as all the next of the kinred did this inherit
together, I conjecture, that therefore the land was called, either
_Gavelkyn_ in meaning, _Give all kyn_, because it was given to all the
next in one line of kinred, or _Give all kynd_, that is, to all the male
Children: for _kynd_ in Dutch signifieth yet a male Childe." The learned
historian suggests a second possible origin of this curious custom from
the writ called "Gavelles," to recover "the rent and service arising out
of these lands."
The remarkable custom of "Borough English," whereby the youngest son
inherits the lands, also survives in some parts of the county of Kent.
Mr. Robert Langton has done good service by giving in his delightful
book, _The Childhood and Youth of Charles Dickens_, an illustration by
Mr. W. Hull, of the old Rochester Theatre, which formerly stood at the
foot of Star Hill, and in which Jingle and Dismal Jemmy--"rum
fellow--does the heavy business--no actor--strange man--all sorts of
miseries--dismal Jemmy, we call him on the circuit"--were to play on the
morrow after the duel. It exists no more, for the Conservative
Association has its club-house and rooms on the site of the building.
The theatre is referred to in _Edwin Drood:_--"Even its drooping and
despondent little theatre has its poor strip of garden, receiving the
foul fiend, when he ducks from its stage into the infernal regions,
among scarlet beans or oyster-shells, according to the season of the
year." And again in _The Uncommercial Traveller_, on "Dullborough
Town," when the beginning of the end had appeared:--
[Illustration: Old Rochester Theatre, Star Hill.]
"It was To Let, and hopelessly so, for its old
purposes; and there had been no entertainment
within its walls for a long time, except a
Panorama; and even that had been announced as
'pleasingly instructive,' and I knew too well the
fatal meaning and the leaden import of those
terrible expressions. No, there was no comfort in
the Theatre. It was mysteriously gone, like my own
youth. Unlike my own youth, it might be coming
back some day; but there was little promise of
it."
We did not stay at the Bull during the whole of our visit, comfortable
lodgings in Victoria Street having been secured for us by the courtesy
of Mr. Prall, the landlady of which, from her kindness and consideration
for our comfort, we are pleased to recognize as a veritable "Mrs.
Lirriper."
* * * * *
Among many reminiscences of Charles Dickens obtained at Rochester, the
following are the most noteworthy:--
We had an interesting chat with Mr. Franklin Homan, Auctioneer,
Cabinet-maker, and Upholsterer of High Street, Rochester. Our informant
did a good deal of work for Charles Dickens at Gad's Hill Place, and
remarked "he was one of the nicest customers I ever met in my life--so
thoroughly precise and methodical. If anything had to be done, he knew
exactly what he wanted, and gave his instructions accordingly. He
expected every one who served him to be equally exact and punctual."
The novelist wrote to Mr. Homan from America respecting the furnishing
of two bedrooms, describing in detail how he wished them fitted up--one
was maple, the other white with a red stripe. These rooms are referred
to in another chapter. The curtains separating them from the
dressing-rooms were ordered to be of Indian pattern chintz. When Dickens
came home and saw them complete, he said, "It strikes me as if the room
was about to have its hair cut,--but it's my fault, it must be altered;"
so crimson damask curtains were substituted.
In the little billiard-room near the dining-room was a one-sided couch
standing by the window, which did not seem to please the master of Gad's
Hill Place. He said to Mr. Homan one day, "Whenever I see that couch, it
makes me think the window is squinting." The result was that Mr. Homan
had to make a window-seat instead.
On one occasion, when our informant was waiting in the dining-room for
some orders from Miss Hogarth, he saw Dickens walking in the garden with
a lady, to whom he was telling the story of how as a boy he longed to
live in Gad's Hill Place, and determined to purchase it whenever he had
an opportunity.
Mr. Homan mentioned that the act drop painted by Clarkson Stanfield,
R.A., for _The Lighthouse_ and the scene from _The Frozen Deep_, painted
by the same artist, which adorned the hall at Gad's Hill Place, and
which fetched such enormous sums at the sale, were technically the
property of the purchaser of Tavistock House, but he said, "Perhaps you
would like to have them, Mr. Dickens," and so they continued to be the
property of the novelist.
The valuation for Probate was made by Mr. Homan, and he subsequently
sold for the executors the furniture and other domestic effects at Gad's
Hill Place. The art collection was sold by Messrs. Christie, Manson, and
Woods. There was a very fine cellar of wine, which included some magnums
of port of rare vintage. Mr. Homan purchased a few bottles, and gave one
to a friend, Dr. Tamplin of London, who had been kind to his daughter.
At a dinner-party some time afterwards at the Doctor's, a connoisseur
being present, the magnum in question was placed on the table, the
guests being unaware from whence it came. Reference was made to the
choice quality of the wine. "Yes," said the connoisseur, "it _is_
good--very fine. I never tasted the like before, except once at Gad's
Hill Place."
Mr. Homan recollects seeing among the plate two oak cases which were not
sold, containing the silver figures for dining-table emblematic of
spring, summer, and autumn. These were the presents of a Liverpool
admirer who wished to remain anonymous. The incident is alluded to in
Forster's _Life_, the correspondent being described as "a self-raised
man, attributing his prosperous career to what Dickens's writings had
taught him at its outset of the wisdom of kindness and sympathy for
others, and asking pardon for the liberty he took in hoping that he
might be permitted to offer some acknowledgment of what not only had
cheered and stimulated him through all his life, but had contributed so
much to the success of it." The letter enclosed L500, but Dickens
declined this, intimating to the writer that if he pleased to send him
any small memorial in another form, he would be glad to receive it.
The funeral was conducted by Mr. Homan, who mentioned that Dickens's
instructions in his Will were implicitly followed, as regards privacy
and unostentation. It was an anxious time to him, in consequence of the
changes which were made in the arrangements, the interment being first
suggested to take place at St. Nicholas's Cemetery, then at Shorne, then
at Rochester Cathedral, and finally at Westminster Abbey. The mourners,
together with the remains, travelled early in the morning by South
Eastern Railway from Higham Station to Charing Cross, where a
procession, consisting of three mourning-coaches and a hearse, was
quietly formed. There was neither show nor public demonstration of any
kind. On reaching Westminster Abbey, about half-past nine o'clock, the
procession was met by Dean Stanley in the Cloisters, who performed the
funeral service. A journalist being by accident in the Abbey at the time
of the funeral, Mr. Homan remarked that he became almost frantic when he
heard who had just been buried, at having missed such an opportunity.
Mr. Homan possesses several souvenirs of Gad's Hill Place, presented to
him by the family, including Charles Dickens's walking-stick, and
photographs of the interior and exterior of the house and the chalet.
* * * * *
We were courteously received by the Rev. Robert Whiston, M.A., who
resides at the Old Palace, a beautiful seventeenth-century house,
abounding with oak panelling and carving, on Boley Hill, bequeathed in
1674, by Mr. Richard Head, after the death of his wife, to the then
Bishop of Rochester and his successors, who were "to hold the same so
long as the church was governed by Protestant Bishops." This residence
was sold by permission of the Ecclesiastical Commissioners, together
with the mansion at Brinley, in order to help to pay for the new palace
of Danbury in Essex.
Mr. Whiston was a friend of Charles Dickens, and is one of the oldest
inhabitants of Rochester. He was formerly Head-Master of the Cathedral
Grammar, or King's, School of Henry VIII., an office which he resigned
in 1877. Many years previously, Mr. Whiston published _Cathedral Trusts
and their Fulfilment_, which ran through several editions, and was
immediately followed by his dismissal from his mastership, on the ground
that he had published "false, scandalous, and libellous" statements, and
had libelled "the Chapter of Rochester and other Chapters, and also the
Bishop." Much litigation followed--appeals to the Court of Chancery,
the Court of Queen's Bench, and Doctors' Commons, which resulted in his
replacement in office; and then a second dismissal, followed by his
pleading his own cause for five days at Doctors' Commons against eminent
counsel, and after three years of litigation he was fully reinstated in
his office. The result at Rochester, for which Mr. Whiston contended,
was "an increase of L19 for each of the twenty scholars, and of L35 for
each of the four students, a total of L520 a year, and the restoration
of the six bedesmen of the Cathedral, with L14 13_s._ 4_d._ a year each,
who had disappeared since 1810, making altogether L608 a year." Reforms
were effected at other cathedrals, and handsome testimonials--one from
Australia--were presented to Mr. Whiston.
A characteristic paper, entitled "The History of a certain Grammar
School," in No. 72 of _Household Words_, dated 9th August, 1851, gives a
sketch of Mr. Whiston's labours, and of the reforms which he effected.
He is thus referred to:--
"But the Reverend Adolphus Hardhead was not merely a scholar and a
schoolmaster. He had fought his way against disadvantages, had gained a
moderate independence by the fruits of early exertions and constant but
by no means sordid economy; and, while disinterested enough to
undervalue abundance, was too wise not to know the value of money. He
was an undoubted financialist, and never gave a farthing without doing
real good, because he always ascertained the purpose and probable effect
of his charity beforehand. While he cautiously shunned the idle and
undeserving, he would work like a slave, with and for those who would
work for themselves; and he would smooth the way for those who had in
the first instance been their own pioneers, and would help a man who
had once been successful, to attain a yet greater success."
Anthony Trollope, in _The Warden_, also thus refers to this
gentleman:--"The struggles of Mr. Whiston have met with sympathy and
support. Men are beginning to say that these things must be looked
into."
_Punch_ has also immortalized Mr. Whiston, for in the issue of 29th
January, 1853, there is a burlesque account with designs of "A stained
glass window for Rochester Cathedral." The design is divided into
compartments; each containing a representation in the mediaeval fashion
of a "Fytte" in "Ye Gestes of Maister Whyston ye Confessour."
Mr. Whiston had dined at Gad's Hill several times, and said that nothing
could be more charming than Dickens's powers as a host. Some years after
his death, by a fortunate circumstance, a large parcel of letters,
written by the novelist, came into the hands of Mr. Whiston, who had the
pleasure of handing them to Miss Hogarth and Miss Dickens, by whom they
were published in the collection of letters of Charles Dickens.
* * * * *
Thomas Millen of Rochester informed us that he knew Charles Dickens. His
(Millen's) father was a hop-farmer, and about the years 1864-5 lived at
Bridgewood House, on the main road from Rochester to Maidstone. One
afternoon in the autumn, Dickens, accompanied by Miss Hogarth and his
daughters, Mary and Kate, drove along the road, and stopped to admire a
pear tree which was covered with ripe fruit. Millen happened to be in
the garden at the time, and while noticing the carriage, Dickens spoke
to him, and referred to the very fine fruit. Millen said, "Will you
have some, sir?" to which Dickens replied, "Thank you, you are very
good, I will." He gave him some pears and some roses. Dickens then said,
"You have not the pleasure of knowing me, and I have not the pleasure of
knowing you. I am Charles Dickens; and when you pass Gad's Hill, I shall
take it as a favour if you will look in and see my place." Millen
replied, "I feel it to be a great honour to speak to you, sir. I have
read most of your works, and I think _David Copperfield_ is the
master-piece. I hope to avail myself of your kind invitation some day."
Dickens laughed, wished Millen "Good-day," and the carriage drove on
towards Maidstone.
"Some little time after," said Millen, "I was going to visit an uncle at
Gravesend, and drove over with a one-horse trap by way of Gad's Hill. As
I came near the place, I saw Mr. Dickens in the road. He said, 'So you
are here,' and I mentioned where I was going. He took me in, and we went
through the tunnel, and by the cedars, to the chalet, which stood in the
shrubbery in front of the house. He showed me his work there--a
manuscript on the table, and also some proofs. They were part of _Our
Mutual Friend_, which was then appearing in monthly numbers; and on that
morning a proof of one of the illustrations had arrived from Mr. Marcus
Stone. It was the one in which 'Miss Wren fixes her idea.' I was then
about sixteen or seventeen, and Dickens said, 'You are setting out in
life; mind _you_ always fix your idea.' He asked me what I was going to
be, and I said a farmer. He said, 'Better be that than an author or
poet;' and after I had had two glasses of wine, he bade me 'good-bye.'"
* * * * *
We were kindly favoured with an interview by the Misses Drage, of No. 1
Minor Canon Row, daughters of the late Rev. W. H. Drage, who was Curate
of St. Mary's Church, Chatham, from 1820 to 1828, and lived during that
time in apartments at No. 3 Ordnance Terrace, next door to the Dickens
family. Afterwards their father was Vicar of St. Margaret's, Rochester,
for many years, and resided in their present home. About the year 1850,
the Vicar, being interested in the daughter of one of his parishioners,
whom he was anxious to get admitted into a public institution in
London--a penitentiary or something of the kind--wrote to Miss (now the
Baroness) Burdett Coutts, who was a patroness or founder, or who
occupied some position of influence in connection therewith. In answer
to the reverend gentleman's application, a letter was received from
Charles Dickens, then residing at Devonshire Terrace, who appeared to be
associated with Miss Burdett Coutts in the management of the
institution, proposing to call at Minor Canon Row on a certain day and
hour. The letter then concluded with these remarkable words:--"I trust
to my childish remembrance for putting your initials correctly."
The letter was properly addressed "The Rev. _W. H._ Drage," and it is
interesting to record this circumstance as showing Dickens's habitual
precision and excellent memory. The future novelist was about eleven
years old when he left Chatham (1823), consequently a period of
twenty-seven years or more must have elapsed since he knew his father's
neighbour as Curate there; yet, notwithstanding the multiplicity and
diversity of his occupations during the interim, his recollection after
this long period was perfectly accurate.
It is scarcely necessary to add that the interview took place (probably
Dickens came down from London specially), and that the Vicar obtained
admission for his _protegee_. The younger Miss Drage, who was in the
room at the time of Dickens's visit, particularly noticed what a
beautiful head the novelist's was, and in her enthusiasm she made a
rough sketch of it while he was talking to her father.
In conversation with the present Mr. Charles Dickens on a subsequent
occasion regarding this circumstance, he informed me that there was an
institution of the kind referred to, "A Home," at Shepherd's Bush, in
which his father took much interest. Forster also says in the _Life_
that this Home "largely and regularly occupied his time for several
years."
* * * * *
We heard from a trustworthy authority, _Y. Z._, at Rochester, some
particulars respecting an interesting custom at Gad's Hill Place. On New
Year's Eve there was always a dinner-party with friends, and a dance,
and games afterwards. Some of the games were called "Buzz," "Crambo,"
"Spanish Merchant," etc. Claret-cup and other refreshments were
introduced later, and at twelve o'clock all the servants came into the
entrance-hall. Charles Dickens then went in, shook hands with them all
round, wished them a Happy New Year ("A happy new year, God bless us
all"), and gave each half-a-sovereign. This custom was maintained for
many years, until a man-servant--who used to travel with
Dickens--disgracefully betrayed his trust,--robbed his master, in
fact,--when it was discontinued, and the name of the man who had thus
disgraced himself was never allowed to be mentioned at Gad's Hill.
The same authority spoke of the long walks that Dickens regularly took
after breakfast--usually six miles,--but he gave these up after the
railway accident at Staplehurst, which, it will be remembered,
occurred, on the "fatal anniversary," the 9th June, 1865. During one of
these walks, he fell in with a man driving a cart loaded with manure,
and had a long chat with him, the sort of thing he frequently did (said
our informant) in order to become acquainted with the brogue and
feelings of the working people. When Dickens went on his way, one of the
man's fellow-labourers said to him, "Do you know that that was Charles
Dickens who spoke to you?" "I don't know who it was," replied the man,
"but he was a d----d good fellow, for he gave me a shilling."
Our informant also referred to a conversation between Dickens and some
of his friends at Gad's Hill, respecting the unhappy marriages of
actors. Twenty such marriages were instanced, and out of these only two
turned out happily. He said that Charles Dickens at home was a quiet,
unassuming man. He remembers on one occasion his saying, in relation to
a war which was then going on, "What must the feelings of a soldier be,
when alone and dying on the battle-field, and leaving his wife and
children far away for ever?"
* * * * *
A TRUE GHOST STORY RELATING TO MISS HAVISHAM'S HOUSE.
"I live in an old red-brick mansion, nearly
covered with ivy--one of those picturesque
dwellings with high-pitched roofs and ornamental
gables, which were scattered broadcast over
England in the days of good Queen Bess. Every
stranger looking at it exclaims, 'That house must
have a history and a ghost!' Many a story has been
told of the ghost which has from time to time been
seen, or said to have been seen, within its walls;
and many a servant has, from fear, refused service
in this so-called haunted house.
"On the 28th May, one thousand six hundred and
sixty, Charles the Second sojourned and slept
here. This being the eve of 'The Restoration,' a
new name was given to the then old house, which
name it has since retained. Charles, having
knighted the owner (Sir Francis Clarke), departed
early the next morning for London.
"There are secret passages _in_ the house, and,
under ground, _from_ the house. From the room in
which the king slept, a secret passage through one
of the lower panels of the wainscot, leads to
various parts of the house. This passage is so
well concealed that I occupied the house some
years before it was discovered. I had occasion to
make a plan of the house, and the inside and
outside not agreeing, disclosed the space occupied
by the unexplored passage. The jackdaws had
forestalled me in my discovery, and had had
undisturbed possession for two centuries, having
got access through a hole under the eaves of the
roof. They had deposited _several bushels_ of
sticks. They had not been the only tenants, as
skeletons and mummies of birds, etc., were also
found.
"I came into possession of this old house in
December 1875, and on the 27th of April, 1876,
slept in it for the first time. At ten o'clock on
that night, my family retired to rest; having some
letters to write, I sat up later. At a quarter to
twelve, I was startled by a loud noise--a sort of
rumbling sound, which appeared to proceed from the
hall. I left my writing and went to the hall, and
found that the noise proceeded from the staircase,
but I could see nothing unusual.
"The staircase is one of those so often described
as being 'wide enough to drive a carriage and pair
up,' with massive oak posts and balustrades. The
walls are covered with tapestry, given to the
house by 'The Merry Monarch,' after his visit. An
oak chest or two, and some high-backed chairs on
the landings, picture to one a suitable habitation
for a ghost. Fortunately, or unfortunately, I had
no belief in ghosts, and commenced an
investigation of this extraordinary noise.
"Could it be rats, or mice, or owls? No; the noise
was ten times louder than could possibly proceed
from these creatures; besides, I knew there were
no rats in the house. The clever builder of the
house had filled all the space between the
ceilings and floors with silver sand, which
rendered it impossible for a rat or mouse to make
passages. To prick a hole in a ceiling is to have
a continuous stream of sand run down, as from an
hour-glass.
"The noise was repeated, but much louder (two
drum-sticks upon a large drum would not have made
more noise), and I was able to localize it, still
I could see nothing. I thought some one had fallen
on the stairs, and I shouted 'Who is there?' A
reply came 'Hush!'--first softly, and then very
loud--too loud for a human voice. As no person was
visible, I was puzzled, and went up-stairs by a
back staircase, and ascertained that none of my
family had left their bedrooms, and that certainly
no trick was being played me.
"The same rumbling, rolling sound was repeated;
and as I stood on the top of the great staircase,
I felt a little uncomfortable, but not frightened.
The noise seemed to proceed from a large carved
oak coffer or chest (as old as the house), which
stood on a landing, about half-way up the stairs.
I approached the chest, and from it appeared to
come again the word 'Hush!' Could it be the wind
whistling through a crack? No; it was far too loud
for any such explanation. I opened the lid of the
chest and found it empty. Again the noise, now
from _under_ the chest. I was just strong enough
to move the chest; I turned it over and slid it
down the stairs on to the next landing. Again the
noise, and again the 'Hush!' which now appeared to
come from the floor where the coffer had stood.
"I felt I would rather have had some one with me
to assist in my investigation, and to join me in
making the acquaintance of the ghost; but,
although my sensations were probably the most
uncomfortable I ever experienced, I was
determined, if possible, to unearth the mystery.
"The light was imperfect, and I went to another
part of the house for a candle to enable me to
examine the floor. In my absence the noise was
repeated louder than ever, and not unlike distant
thunder. On my return, I was saluted with 'Hush!'
which I felt convinced came from a voice
immediately under the floor. By the light of the
candle I examined the dark oak boards, and
discovered what appeared to be a trap door about
two feet six inches square. The floor at some time
had been varnished, and the cracks, or joints of
the trap, had been filled and sealed with the
varnish. I now hoped I had found the habitation of
my troublesome and noisy guest. I procured a
chisel and cut the varnished joint, and found that
there was a trap door, as I supposed. By the aid
of a long screwdriver I was able to move the door,
but at that moment a repetition of the noise,
immediately under me, made me hesitate for a
moment to try and raise it. With feelings better
imagined than described, I raised the lid, and
looked into a dark chasm. All was still, and I
heard the cathedral bell tolling the hour of
midnight. A long African spear was in the corner
near me, and I struck this into the opening. I
tied a string to the candlestick to lower it into
the opening, but at this moment I was startled,
and was for the first time nervous, or I may say,
frightened; but this had better remain for another
chapter.
"So far I have not in the smallest degree
exaggerated or overdrawn any one of the matters I
have recounted. Every word has been written with
the greatest care to truth and accuracy.
"S. T. A."
* * * * *
To cut our ghost story short, without adding another chapter, Mr.
Aveling, on looking into the dark chasm by the meagre light of the
lowered candle, beheld, to his amazement, the reflection of his own face
in the water of a large cistern underneath the staircase, the house
having formerly been supplied from the "large brewery" a short distance
off. The unearthly noise was no doubt caused by air in the pipes,
through which the water rushed when suddenly turned on by the brewers,
who were working late at night. In _Great Expectations_ it is stated
that:--"The brewery buildings had a little lane of communication with
it" [the courtyard of Satis House], "and the wooden gates of that lane
stood open" [at the time of Pip's first visit, when Estella showed him
over the premises], "and all the brewery beyond stood open, away to the
high enclosing wall; and all was empty and disused. The cold wind seemed
to blow colder there, than outside the gate; and it made a shrill noise
in howling in and out at the open sides of the brewery, like the noise
of wind in the rigging of a ship at sea."
FOOTNOTES:
[4] Mr. Aveling subsequently informed me that the vessel in which the
king took his departure continued to be used in the Royal Navy for many
years as a lighter--its name being altered to the "Royal Escape."
Afterwards it was used as a watch-vessel in the Coastguard service at
Chatham, and was eventually broken up at Sheerness Dockyard so recently
as 1876.
[5] "A Perambulation of Kent: Conteining the Description, Hystorie, and
Customes of that Shire. Written in the yeere 1570 by William Lambarde of
Lincoln's Inne Gent."