ROCHESTER CATHEDRAL.
"That same afternoon, the massive grey square
tower of an old Cathedral rises before the sight
of a jaded traveller. The bells are going for
daily Vesper Service, and he must needs attend it,
one would say, from his haste to reach the open
Cathedral door. The choir are getting on their
sullied white robes, in a hurry, when he arrives
among them, gets on his own robe, and falls into
the procession filing in to Service. Then, the
Sacristan locks the iron-barred gates that divide
the Sanctuary from the Chancel, and all of the
procession having scuttled into their places, hide
their faces; and then the intoned words, 'WHEN THE
WICKED MAN--' rise among the groins of arches and
beams of roof, awakening muttered
thunder."--_Edwin Drood._
THE readers of Dickens are first introduced to Rochester Cathedral, in
the early pages of the immortal _Pickwick Papers_, by that audacious
_raconteur_, Mr. Alfred Jingle:--
"Old Cathedral too--earthy smell--pilgrims' feet
worn away the old steps--little Saxon
doors--confessionals like money-takers' boxes at
theatres--queer customers those monks--Popes, and
Lord Treasurers, and all sorts of old fellows,
with great red faces, and broken noses, turning up
every day--buff jerkins
too--matchlocks--sarcophagus--fine place--old
legends too--strange stories: capital."
But it was through the medium of _Edwin Drood_, and under the masked
name of Cloisterham, that all the novel-reading world beyond the
"ancient city" first recognized Rochester Cathedral--and indeed the
ancient city too--as having been elevated to a degree of interest and
importance far beyond that imparted to it by its own venerable history
and ecclesiastical associations, numerous and varied as they are. The
early portion of the story introduces us to Cloisterham in imperishable
language:--
[Illustration: Rochester Cathedral]
"An ancient city Cloisterham, and no meet
dwelling-place for any one with hankerings after
the noisy world. . . . A drowsy city Cloisterham,
whose inhabitants seem to suppose, with an
inconsistency more strange than rare, that all its
changes lie behind it, and that there are no more
to come. . . . In a word, a city of another and a
bygone time is Cloisterham, with its hoarse
cathedral bell, its hoarse rooks hovering about
the cathedral tower, its hoarser and less distinct
rooks in the stalls far beneath. . . ."
The particulars in this chapter mainly relate to _The Mystery of Edwin
Drood_, which Longfellow thought "certainly one of Dickens's most
beautiful works, if not the most beautiful of all," but a few words may
not be inappropriate respecting some of the principal events connected
with the Cathedral. It was founded[8] A.D. 604, by Ethelbert, King of
Kent, and the first bishop of the See (Bishop Justus) was ordained by
Augustine, the Archbishop of the Britons. The See of Rochester is
therefore, with the exception of Canterbury, at once the most ancient
and also the smallest in England.
The Cathedral, as well as the city, suffered from the attacks of
Ethelred, King of Mercia, and in 1075, "when Arnot, a monk of Bec, came
to the See, it was in a most deplorable condition." Bishop Gundulph, who
succeeded him, and by whose efforts the Castle was erected, replaced the
old English church by a Norman one (1080), and made other improvements.
The Cathedral suffered from fire in 1138 and 1179. Its great north
transept was built in 1235, and the great south transept in 1240. In
1423, the parish altar of St. Nicholas, in the nave, was removed to a
new Church for the citizens on the north side of the Cathedral. In 1470,
the great west window was inserted. The Norman west front has a richly
sculptured door of five receding arches, containing figures of the
Saviour and the twelve apostles, and statues of Henry I. and his Queen,
Matilda. There are monuments in the Cathedral to St. William of Perth, a
baker of that town, who was murdered near here by his servant, on his
way to the Holy Land (1201), and was canonized, to Bishop Gundulph,
Bishop John de Sheppey, Bishop de Merton (the founder of Merton College,
Oxford), and to many others.
According to Mr. Phillips Bevan, "the chapter-house is remarkable for
its magnificent Decorated Door (about 1344), of which there is a
fac-simile at the Crystal Palace. The figures represent the Christian
and the Jewish Churches, surrounded by Fathers and Angels. The figure at
the top is the pure soul for whom the angels are supposed to be
praying."
Various alterations and additions have been made from time to time, the
last of which appears to be the central tower, which is terribly mean
and inappropriate, and altogether out of place with the ancient
surroundings. It was built by Cottingham in 1825.
We pass, at various times, several pleasant hours in the Cathedral and
its precincts, admiring the beautiful Norman work, and recalling most
delightful memories of Charles Dickens and his associations therewith.
[Illustration: Rochester Cathedral Interior]
Among the many friends we made at Rochester, was Mr. Syms, the
respected Manager of the Gas Company, and an old resident in the city.
To this gentleman we are indebted for several reminiscences of Dickens
and his works. He fancies that _The Mystery of Edwin Drood_ owed its
origin to the following strange local event that happened many years
ago. A well-to-do person, a bachelor (who lived somewhere near the site
of the present Savings Bank in High St., Rochester, Chatham end), was
the guardian and trustee of a nephew (a minor), who was the inheritor of
a large property. Business, pleasure, or a desire to seek health, took
the nephew to the West Indies, from whence he returned somewhat
unexpectedly. After his return he suddenly disappeared, and was supposed
to have gone another voyage, but no one ever saw or heard of him again,
and the matter was soon forgotten. When, however, certain excavations
were being made for some improvements or additions to the Bank, the
skeleton of a young man was discovered; and local tradition couples the
circumstance with the probability of the murder of the nephew by the
uncle.
Mr. Syms thought that the "Crozier," which is probably a set off to the
"Mitre," the orthodox hotel where Mr. Datchery put up with his
"portmanteau," was probably the city coffee-house, an old hotel of the
coaching days, which stood on the site now occupied by the London County
Bank. "It was a hotel of a most retiring disposition," and "business was
chronically slack at the 'Crozier,'" which probably accounts for its
dissolution. Another suggestion is that the "Crozier" may have been "The
Old Crown," a fifteenth-century house, which was pulled down in 1864. He
could not identify the "Tilted Wagon," the "cool establishment on the
top of a hill."
It is generally admitted that "Mr. Thomas Sapsea, Auctioneer, &c.," was
a compound of two originals well known in Rochester--a Mr. B. and a Mr.
F., who had many of the characteristics of the quondam Mayor of
Cloisterham. Mr. Sapsea's house is the fine old timbered building
opposite Eastgate House, which has been previously alluded to.
The "Travellers' Twopenny" of _Edwin Drood_, where Deputy, _alias_
Winks, lodged, Mr. Syms thought to have been a cheap lodging-house well
known in that locality, which stood at the junction of Frog Alley and
Crow Lane, originally called "The Duck," and subsequently "Kitt's
Lodging-house." But, like less interesting and more important relics of
the past, this has disappeared, to make way for modern improvements. It
had been partly burnt down before. To satisfy ourselves, we go over the
ground, which is near Mr. Franklin Homan's furniture establishment.
We are reminded, in reference to _Edwin Drood_, that the chief tenor
singer never heads the procession of choristers. That place of honour
belongs to the smaller boys of the choir. An enquiry from us, as to what
was the opinion of the townsfolk generally respecting Dickens, elicited
the reply that they thought him at times "rather masterful."
We are most attentively shown over the Cathedral and its surroundings by
Mr. Miles, the venerable verger. This faithful and devoted official, who
began at the bottom of the ladder as a choir boy in the sacred edifice
at the commencement of the present century, is much respected, and has
recently celebrated his golden wedding. Few can therefore be more
closely identified with the growth and development of its current
history. Pleasant and instructive it is to hear him recount the many
celebrated incidents which have marked its progress, and to see the
beautiful memorials of past munificence or affection erected by friends
or relatives, which he lovingly points out. It is in no perfunctory
spirit, or as mere matter of routine, that he performs his office: we
really feel that he takes a deep interest in his task, which makes it a
privilege to walk under his guidance through the historic building, and
into its famous crypt, so especially associated with Jasper and Durdles.
[Illustration: The Crypt, Rochester Cathedral.]
We enter "by a small side door, . . . descend the rugged steps, and are
down in the crypt." It is very spacious, and vaulted with stone. Even by
daylight, here and there, "the heavy pillars which support the roof
engender masses of black shade, but between them there are lanes of
light," and we walk "up and down these lanes," being strangely reminded
of Durdles as we notice fragments of old broken stone ornaments
carefully laid out on boards in several places. Formerly there were
altars to St. Mary and St. Catherine in the crypt or undercroft, but Mr.
Wildish's local guide-book says:--"They seem not to have been much
frequented; consequently these saints were not very profitable to the
priests."
We "go up the winding staircase of the great tower, toilsomely turning
and turning, and lowering [our] heads to avoid the stairs above, or the
rough stone pivot around which they twist." About ninety steps bring us
on to the roof of the Cathedral over the choir, and then, keeping along
a passage by the parapet, we reach the belfry, and from thence go on by
ladder to the bell-chamber, which contains six bells--dark--very--long
ladders--trap-doors--very heavy--almost extinguish us when lowering
them--more ladders from bell-chamber to roof of tower. The parapet of
the tower is very high; we can just see over it when standing on a
narrow ledge near the top-coping of the leaded roof. There are a number
of curious carved heads on the pinnacles of the tower, and the parapet,
to our surprise, appears to be about the same height as the top of the
Castle Keep. A panoramic view of Cloisterham presents itself to our view
(alas! not by moonlight, as in the story), "its ruined habitations and
sanctuaries of the dead at the tower's base; its moss-softened,
red-tiled roofs and red-brick houses of the living, clustered beyond."
We are anxious to go round the triforium, but there is no passage
through the arches; it was closed, we are told, at the time of the
restoration, about fifteen years ago, when the walls of the Cathedral
were pinned for safety. The verger, on being asked, said he did not call
to mind that Dickens ever went round the triforium or ascended the
tower. If this is so, then much of the wonderful description of that
"unaccountable sort of expedition," in the twelfth chapter of _Edwin
Drood_, must have been written from imagination.
As it is Sunday, and as the summer is nearly over, Mr. Miles, with a
feeling akin to that which George Eliot has expressed regarding
imperfect work:--
"but God be praised,
Antonio Stradivari has an eye
That winces at false work and loves the true,"--
apologetically explains that one-half the choir are absent on leave, and
perhaps we shall not have the musical portion of the service conducted
with that degree of efficiency which, as visitors, we may have expected.
Nevertheless we attend the afternoon service; and Mendelssohn's glorious
anthem, "If with all your hearts," appeals to us with enhanced effect,
from the exquisite rendering of it by the gifted pure tenor who takes
the solo, followed by the delicate harmonies of the choir, as the sound
waves carry them upwards through and around the arches, and from the
sublime emotions called into being by the impassioned appeal of the
Hebrew prophet.
We study "the fantastic carvings on the under brackets of the stall
seats," and examine the lectern described as "the big brass eagle
holding the sacred books upon his wings," and in imagination can almost
call up the last scene described in _The Mystery of Edwin Drood_, where
Her Royal Highness, the Princess Puffer, "grins," and "shakes both fists
at the leader of the choir," and "Deputy peeps, sharp-eyed, through the
bars, and stares astounded from the threatener to the threatened."
Upon being interrogated as to whether he knew Charles Dickens, our guide
immediately answers with a smile--"Knew him! yes. He came here very
often, and I knew him very well. The fact is, they want to make me out
to be 'Tope.'" And indeed there appears to be such a relevancy in the
association, that we frequently find ourselves addressing him as "Mr.
Tope," at which he good-humouredly laughs. He further states that
Dickens was frequently in Rochester, and especially so when writing
_Edwin Drood_, and appeared to be studying the Cathedral and its
surroundings very attentively.
The next question we put is:--"Was there ever such a person as Durdles?"
to which he replies, "Of course there was,--a drunken old German
stonemason, about thirty years ago, who was always prowling about the
Cathedral trying to pick up little bits of broken stone ornaments,
carved heads, crockets, finials, and such like, which he carried about
in a cotton handkerchief, and which may have suggested to Dickens the
idea of the 'slouching' Durdles and his inseparable dinner bundle. He
used to work for a certain Squire N----." His earnings mostly went to
"The Fortune of War,"--now called "The Life-Boat,"--the inn where he
lodged.
Mr. Miles does not remember the prototypes of any other "cathedraly"
characters--Crisparkle and the rest--but he quite agrees with the
general opinion previously referred to as to the origin of Mr. Sapsea.
He considers "Deputy" (the imp-like satellite of Durdles and the
"Kinfreederel") to be decidedly a street Arab, the type of which is more
common in London than in Rochester. He thinks that the fact of the rooms
over the gatehouse having once been occupied by an organ-blower of the
Cathedral may have prompted Dickens to make it the residence of the
choir-master. He also throws out the suggestion that the discovery in
1825 of the effigy of Bishop John de Sheppey, who died in 1360, may
possibly have given rise to the idea of the "old 'uns" in the crypt, the
frequent object of Durdles's search, _e.g._ "Durdles come upon the old
chap (in reference to a buried magnate of ancient time and high degree)
by striking right into the coffin with his pick. The old chap gave
Durdles a look with his open eyes as much as to say, 'Is your name
Durdles? Why, my man, I've been waiting for you a Devil of a time!' and
then he turned to powder. With a two-foot rule always in his pocket, and
a mason's hammer all but always in his hand, Durdles goes continually
sounding and tapping all about and about the Cathedral; and whenever he
says to Tope, 'Tope, here's another old 'un in here!' Tope announces it
to the Dean as an established discovery."
[Illustration: Minor Canon Row: Rochester]
On the south side of the Cathedral is the curious little terrace of
old-fashioned houses, about seven in number, called "Minor Canon
Row"--"a wonderfully quaint row of red-brick tenements" (Dickens's name
for it is "Minor Canon Corner"),--chiefly occupied by the officers and
others attached to the Cathedral. Here it was that Mr. Crisparkle dwelt
with his mother, and where the little party was held (after the dinner
at which Mr. Luke Honeythunder, with his "Curse your souls and
bodies--come here and be blessed" philanthropy, was present, and caused
"a most doleful breakdown"), which included Miss Twinkleton, the
Landlesses, Rosa Bud, and Edwin Drood, as shown in the illustration, "At
the Piano." The Reverend Septimus Crisparkle's mother, who is the
hostess (and celebrated for her wonderful closet with stores of pickles,
jams, biscuits, and cordials), is beautifully described in the story:--
"What is prettier than an old lady--except a young
lady--when her eyes are bright, when her figure is
trim and compact, when her face is cheerful and
calm, when her dress is as the dress of a china
shepherdess: so dainty in its colours, so
individually assorted to herself, so neatly
moulded on her? Nothing is prettier, thought the
good Minor Canon frequently, when taking his seat
at table opposite his long-widowed mother. Her
thought at such times may be condensed into the
two words that oftenest did duty together in all
her conversations: 'My Sept.'"
The backs of the houses have very pretty gardens, and, as evidence of
the pleasant and healthy atmosphere of the locality, we notice beautiful
specimens of the ilex, arbutus, euonymus, and fig, the last-named being
in fruit. The wall-rue (_Asplenium ruta-muraria_) is found hereabout.
There, too, is a Virginia creeper, but we do not observe one growing on
the Cathedral walls, as described in _Edwin Drood_. Jackdaws fly about
the tower, but there are no rooks, as also stated. Near Minor Canon Row,
to the right of Boley Hill (or "Bully Hill," as it is sometimes called),
is the "paved Quaker settlement," a sedate row of about a dozen houses
"up in a shady corner."
"Jasper's Gatehouse" of the work above mentioned is certainly an object
of great interest to the lover of Dickens, as many of the remarkable
scenes in _Edwin Drood_ took place there. It is briefly described as "an
old stone gatehouse crossing the Close, with an arched thoroughfare
passing beneath it. Through its latticed window, a fire shines out upon
the fast-darkening scene, involving in shadow the pendent masses of ivy
and creeper covering the building's front." There are _three_ Gatehouses
near the Cathedral, a fact which proves somewhat embarrassing to those
anxious to identify the original of that so carefully described in the
story. A short description of these may not be uninteresting.
[Illustration: College Gate--(or Chertsey's Gate) Rochester.]
[Illustration: Prior's Gate: Rochester]
(A) "College Yard Gate," "Cemetery Gate," and "Chertsey's Gate," are the
respective names of what we know as "Jasper's Gatehouse." It is a
picturesque stone structure, weather-boarded above the massive archway,
and abuts on the High Street about a hundred yards north of the
Cathedral. Some of the old houses near have recently been demolished,
with the result that the Gatehouse now stands out in bold relief against
the main thoroughfare of the city. No "pendent masses of ivy" or
"creeper" cover it. The Gate was named "Chertsey" after Edward Chertsey,
a gentleman who lived and owned property near in the time of Edward IV.,
and the Cathedral authorities still continue to use the old name,
"Chertsey's Gate." The place was recently the residence of the
under-porter of the Cathedral, and is now occupied by poor people. There
are four rooms, two below and two above.
(B) "Prior's Gate" is a castellated stone structure partly covered with
ivy, standing about a hundred yards south of the Cathedral, and is not
now utilized in any way. There is only one room, approached by a winding
staircase or "postern stair." The Gate was formerly used as a school for
choristers, until the new building of the Choir School was opened in
Minor Canon Row about three years ago.
(C) The "Deanery Gatehouse" is the name of a quaint and very cosy old
house, having ten rooms, some of which, together with the staircase, are
beautifully panelled; its position is a little higher up to the eastward
of the College Yard Gate, and adjoining the Cathedral, while a gateway
passage under it leads to the Deanery. The house was formerly the
official residence of the Hon. and Reverend Canon Hotham, who was
appointed a Canon in residence in 1808, and lived here at intervals
until about 1850, when the Canonry was suppressed. Of all the
Gatehouses, this is the only one suitable for the residence of a person
in Jasper's position, who was enabled to offer befitting hospitality to
his nephew and Neville Landless. Formerly there was an entrance into the
Cathedral from this house, which is now occupied by Mr. Day and his
family, who kindly allowed us to inspect it. We were informed that
locally it is sometimes called "Jasper's Gatehouse." The interior of the
drawing-room on the upper floor presents a very strong resemblance to
Mr. Luke Fildes's illustration, "On dangerous ground." Accordingly, to
settle the question of identity, I wrote to Mr. Fildes, whose
interesting and courteous reply to my inquiries is conclusive. Before
giving it, however, I may mention that my fellow-tramp, Mr. Kitton,
suggested, more particularly with reference to another illustration in
_Edwin Drood_, viz., "Durdles cautions Mr. Sapsea against boasting,"
that, for the purposes of the story, the Prior's Gate is placed where
the College Yard Gate actually stands.
[Illustration: Deanery Gate. Rochester]
"11, MELBURY ROAD, KENSINGTON, W.
"_25th October, 1890._
"DEAR SIR,
"The background of the drawing of 'Durdles
cautioning Sapsea,' I believe I sketched from what
you call A., _i. e._ The College Gate. I am almost
certain it was not taken from B., the Prior's.
"The room in the drawing, 'On dangerous ground,'
is imaginary.
"I do not believe I entered any of the Gatehouses.
"The resemblance you see in the drawing to the
room in the Deanery Gatehouse (C.), might not be
gained by actual observation of the _interior_.
"In many instances an artist can well judge what
the interior may be from studying the _outside_. I
only throw this out to show that the artist may
not have seen a thing even when a strong
resemblance occurs. I am sorry to leave any doubt
on the subject, though personally I feel none.
"You see I never felt the necessity or propriety
of being locally accurate to Rochester or its
buildings. Dickens, of course, meant Rochester;
yet, at the same time, he chose to be obscure on
that point, and I took my cue from him. I always
thought it was one of his most artistic pieces of
work; the vague, dreamy description of the
Cathedral in the opening chapter of the book. So
definite in one sense, yet so locally vague.
"Very faithfully yours,
"LUKE FILDES.
"W. R. HUGHES, ESQ."
The College Yard Gate (A) must therefore be regarded as the typical
Jasper's Gatehouse, but, with the usual novelist's license, some points
in all three Gatehouses have been utilized for effect. So we can imagine
the three friends in succession going up the "postern stair;" and,
further on in the story, we can picture that mysterious "single buffer,
Dick Datchery, living on his means," as a lodger in the "venerable
architectural and inconvenient" official dwelling of Mr. Tope, minutely
described in the eighteenth chapter of _Edwin Drood_, as "communicating
by an upper stair with Mr. Jasper's," watching the unsuspecting Jasper
as he goes to and from the Cathedral.
Chapters twelve, fourteen, and twenty-three refer to Jasper's Gatehouse,
and its proximity to the busy hum of human life, in very vivid terms,
especially chapter twelve:--
"Among these secluded nooks there is little stir
or movement after dark. There is little enough in
the high tide of the day, but there is next to
none at night. Besides that, the cheerfully
frequented High Street lies nearly parallel to the
spot (the old Cathedral rising between the two),
and is the natural channel in which the
Cloisterham traffic flows, a certain awful hush
pervades the ancient pile, the cloisters, and the
churchyard after dark, which not many people care
to encounter. . . . One might fancy that the tide
of life was stemmed by Mr. Jasper's own Gatehouse.
The murmur of the tide is heard beyond; but no
wave passes the archway, over which his lamp burns
red behind the curtain, as if the building were a
Lighthouse. . . .
"The red light burns steadily all the evening in
the Lighthouse on the margin of the tide of busy
life. Softened sounds and hum of traffic pass it,
and flow on irregularly into the lonely precincts;
but very little else goes by save violent rushes
of wind. It comes on to blow a boisterous gale. . . .
John Jasper's lamp is kindled, and his Lighthouse
is shining, when Mr. Datchery returns alone
towards it. As mariners on a dangerous voyage,
approaching an iron-bound coast, may look along
the beams of the warning light to the haven lying
beyond it that may never be reached, so Mr.
Datchery's wistful gaze is directed to this beacon
and beyond. . . ."
The sensation of calm in passing suddenly out of the busy High Street of
Rochester into the subdued precincts of the Cathedral, as above
described, is very marked and peculiar, and must be experienced to be
realized.
Among the many interesting ancient buildings in "the lonely precincts"
may be mentioned the old Episcopal Palace of the Bishops of Rochester.
My friend Mr. George Payne, F.S.A., Hon. Sec. of the Kent Archaeological
Society, who now lives there, writes me that:--"it is impossible to say
when it was first built, but it was rebuilt _circa_ 1200, the Palace
which preceded it having been destroyed by fire. Bishop Fisher was
appointed to the See in 1504, and mainly resided at Rochester. The
learned prelate here entertained the great Erasmus in 1516, and Cardinal
Wolsey in 1527. In 1534 Bishop Fisher left Rochester never to return,
being beheaded on Tower Hill, June 22nd, 1535. The front of the Palace
has been coated with rough plaster work dusted over with broken tile,
but the rear walls are in their original state, being wholly composed of
rag, tufa, and here and there Roman tiles. The cellars are of the most
massive construction, and many of the rooms are panelled."
[Illustration: The Vines and Restoration House]
The Monks' Vineyard of _Edwin Drood_ exists as "The Vines," and is one
of the "lungs" of Rochester, belonging to the Dean and Chapter, by whom
it is liberally leased to the Corporation for a nominal consideration.
It was a vineyard, or garden, in the days of the monks, and is now a
fine open space, planted with trees, and has good walks and well-trimmed
lawns and borders. Remains of the wall of the city, or abbey, previous
to the Cathedral, constitute the northern boundary of "The Vines." There
are commodious seats for the public, and it was doubtless on one of
these, as represented in the illustration entitled "Under the Trees,"
that Edwin Drood and Rosa sat, during that memorable discussion of their
position and prospects, which began so childlike and ended so sadly.
"'Can't you see a happy Future?' For certain, neither of them sees a
happy Present, as the gate opens and closes, and one goes in and the
other goes away." A fine clump of old elms (seven in number), called
"The Seven Sisters," stands at the east end of the Vines, nearly
opposite Restoration House, and it was under these trees that the
conversation took place.
So curiously exact at times does the description fit in with the places,
that we notice opposite Eastgate House the "Lumps of Delight Shop," to
which it will be remembered that after the discussion Rosa Bud directed
Edwin Drood to take her.
Dickens's last visit to Rochester was on Monday, 6th June, 1870, when he
walked over from Gad's Hill Place with his dogs; and he appears to have
been noticed by several persons in the Vines, and particularly by Mr.
John Sweet, as he stood leaning against the wooden palings near
Restoration House, contemplating the beautiful old Manor House. These
palings have since been removed, and an iron fence substituted. The
object of this visit subsequently became apparent, when it was found
that, in those pages of _Edwin Drood_ written a few hours before his
death, Datchery and the Princess Puffer held that memorable conference
there. "They have arrived at the entrance to the Monks' Vineyard; an
appropriate remembrance, presenting an exemplary model for imitation, is
revived in the woman's mind by the sight of the place," in allusion of
course to a present of "three shillings and sixpence" which Edwin Drood
gave her Royal Highness on a previous occasion to buy opium.
[Illustration: Restoration House, Rochester, as it appeared in Dickens's
time. (From a sketch by an Amateur.)]
The extensive promenade called the Esplanade (where in 1889 we saw the
Regatta in which, after a series of annual defeats, Rochester maintained
its supremacy), on the east side of the river Medway, under the Castle
walls, pleasantly approached from the Cathedral Close, is memorable as
having been the spot described in the thirteenth chapter where Edwin and
Rosa met for the last time, and mutually agreed to terminate their
unfortunate and ill-assorted engagement.
"They walked on by the river. They began to speak
of their separate plans. He would quicken his
departure from England, and she would remain where
she was, at least as long as Helena remained. The
poor dear girls should have their disappointment
broken to them gently, and, as the first
preliminary, Miss Twinkleton should be confided in
by Rosa, even in advance of the reappearance of
Mr. Grewgious. It should be made clear in all
quarters that she and Edwin were the best of
friends. There had never been so serene an
understanding between them since they were first
affianced."
We are anxious to identify Cloisterham Weir, frequently mentioned in
_Edwin Drood_, but more particularly as being the place where Minor
Canon Crisparkle found Edwin's watch and shirt-pin. The Weir, we are
told in the novel, "is full two miles above the spot to which the young
men [Edwin and Neville] had repaired [presumably the Esplanade] to
watch the storm." There is, however, no Weir nearer than Allington, at
which place the tide of the Medway stops, and Allington is a
considerable distance from Rochester, probably seven or eight miles. How
well the good Minor Canon's propensity for "perpetually pitching himself
headforemost into all the deep water in the surrounding country," and
his "pilgrimages to Cloisterham Weir in the cold rimy mornings," are
brought into requisition to enable him to obtain the watch and pin.
"He threw off his clothes, he plunged into the icy
water, and swam for the spot--a corner of the
Weir--where something glistened which did not move
and come over with the glistening water drops, but
remained stationary. . . . He brought the watch to
the bank, swam to the Weir again, climbed it, and
dived off. He knew every hole and corner of all
the depths, and dived and dived and dived, until
he could bear the cold no more. His notion was
that he would find the body; he only found a
shirt-pin sticking in some mud and ooze."
Our failure to identify Cloisterham Weir exhibits another instance
where, for the purposes of the story, an imaginary place is introduced.
To Mr. William Ball is due the credit for subsequently suggesting that
Snodland Brook and Snodland Weir may have possibly been in Dickens's
mind in originating Cloisterham Weir; so we tramped over to inspect
them. Near the village, the brook (or river, for it is of respectable
width) is turbid and shallow, but higher up--a mile or so--we found it
clearer and deeper, and we heard from some labourers, whom we saw
regaling themselves by the side of a hayrick, that a local gentleman had
some years ago been in the habit of bathing in the stream all the year
round.
[Illustration: St. Nicholas' Burying Ground]
The ancient Church of St. Nicholas (1423) is on the north side of the
Cathedral. In front of it is a narrow strip of ground, enclosed with
iron railings, formerly the burial-ground of the Church, but now
disused, referred to in _Edwin Drood_ as "a fragment of a burial-ground
in which an unhappy sheep was grazing." In this enclosure, which is
neatly kept, there are a weeping willow at each end, and in the centre
an exquisite specimen of the catalpa tree (_Catalpa syringifolia_), the
floral ornament of the Cathedral precincts. At the time of our visit it
is in perfect condition, the large cordate bright green leaves, and the
massive trusses of labiate flowers of white, yellow, and purple colours
(not unlike those of the _Impatiens noli-me-tangere_ balsam, only
handsomer) are worth walking miles to see. It is a North American plant,
and in its native country sometimes grows to a height of forty feet.
The specimen here described is about twenty feet high, and was planted
about fifteen years ago.[9]
On the opposite side of the way is the old cemetery of St. Nicholas'
Church, originally part of the Castle moat, but which was converted to
its present purpose about half a century ago. This quiet resting-place
of the dead has intense interest for the lover of Dickens, as it was
here that he desired to be buried; and his family would certainly have
carried his wishes into effect, but that the place had been closed for
years and no further interments were allowed. Pending other arrangements
at Shorne, an admirable suggestion was made in the _Times_, which
speedily found favour with the nation in its great affection for him,
namely, that he should rest in Westminster Abbey; and, the Dean of
Westminster promptly and wisely responding to the suggestion, it was at
once carried into effect.
As we pause, and look again and again at the sheltered nook in the old
cemetery sanctified by his memory, and adorned by rich evergreens and
other trees, among which the weeping willow and the almond are
conspicuous, we quite understand and sympathize with Dickens's love for
such a calm and secluded spot.
The Dean and Chapter of Rochester, it will be recollected, were anxious
that the great novelist's remains should be placed in or near their
Cathedral, and that wish might have been gratified, except, as just
explained, that the public decreed otherwise. However, they sanctioned
the erection, by the executors, of a brass, which enriches the wall of
the south transept of the edifice, and which has the following
inscription:--
[Illustration: CHARLES DICKENS
BORN AT PORTSMOUTH SEVENTH OF FEBRUARY 1812 DIED AT GADSHILL PLACE BY
ROCHESTER NINTH OF JUNE 1870 BURIED IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY
TO CONNECT HIS MEMORY WITH THE SCENES IN WHICH HIS EARLIEST AND HIS
LATEST YEARS WERE PASSED AND WITH THE ASSOCIATIONS OF ROCHESTER
CATHEDRAL AND ITS NEIGHBOURHOOD WHICH EXTENDED OVER ALL HIS LIFE
THIS TABLET WITH THE SANCTION OF THE DEAN AND CHAPTER IS PLACED BY HIS
EXECUTORS]
The unfinished novel of _Edwin Drood_, which, as we have seen, is so
inseparably connected with Rochester Cathedral, has been _finished_ by
at least half a dozen authors, probably to their own satisfaction; but
it is a hard matter to the reader to struggle through any one of them.
However, there is a little _brochure_ in this direction which we feel
may here be appropriately noticed. It is called, _Watched by the Dead: A
Loving Study of Charles Dickens's half-told Tale_, 1887, and was written
by R. A. Proctor, F.R.A.S., the Astronomer, whose untimely death from
fever in America was announced after our return from our week's tramp.
The author had evidently studied the matter both lovingly and
attentively, and starts with the assumption that it is an example of
what he calls "Dickens's favourite theme," which more than any other had
a fascination for him, and was apparently regarded by him as likely to
be most potent in its influence on others. It was that of "a wrong-doer
watched at every turn by one of whom he has no suspicion, for whom he
even entertains a feeling of contempt," and Mr. Proctor has certainly
evolved a very suggestive and not improbable conclusion to the story.
Instances of Dickens's favourite theme are adduced from _Barnaby Rudge_,
where Haredale, unsuspected, steadily waits and watches for Rudge,
till, after more than twenty years, "At last! at last!" he cries, as he
captures his brother's murderer on the very spot where the murder had
been committed; from _The Old Curiosity Shop_, where Sampson and Sally
Brass are watched by the Marchioness--their powerless victim as they
supposed, and by whom their detection is brought about; from _Nicholas
Nickleby_, where Ralph Nickleby is watched by Brooker; and from _Dombey
and Son_, where Dombey is watched by Carker, and he in turn is watched
by good Mrs. Brown and her unhappy daughter. Instances of this kind also
appear in _David Copperfield_, _Bleak House_, and _Little Dorrit_.
Reasoning from similar data, Mr. Proctor concludes that Jasper was
watched by Edwin Drood in the person of Datchery, and thus he was to
have been tracked remorselessly "to his death by the man whom he
supposed he had slain." The _denouement_ as regards the other characters
seems also not improbable. Rosa Bud was to have married Lieutenant
Tartar, and Crisparkle, Helena Landless. Neville was to have died, but
not before he had learned to understand the change which Edwin's
character had undergone. As to Edwin Drood himself, "purified by trial,
strengthened though saddened by his love for Rosa," Edwin would have
been one of those characters Dickens loved to draw--a character entirely
changed from a once careless, almost trivial self, to depth and
earnestness. "All were to join in changing the ways of dear old
Grewgious from the sadness and loneliness of the earlier scenes" in the
story, "to the warmth and light of that kindly domestic life for which,
angular though he thought himself, his true and genial nature fitted him
so thoroughly." This attempt to solve _The Mystery of Edwin Drood_ will
amply repay perusal. It was probably one of the last works of this very
able and versatile author.
* * * * *
It is right to state that Mr. Luke Fildes, R.A., the illustrator of _The
Mystery of Edwin Drood_, with whom we have had the pleasure of an
interview, entirely rejects this theory. He does not favour the idea
that Datchery is Edwin Drood; his opinion is that the ingenuous and
kind-hearted Edwin, had he been living, would never have allowed his
friend Neville to continue so long under the grave suspicion of murder.
Nay more: he is convinced that Dickens intended that Edwin Drood should
be killed by his uncle; and this opinion is supported by the fact of the
introduction of a "large black scarf of strong close-woven silk," which
Jasper wears for the first time in the fourteenth chapter of the story,
and which was likely to have been the means of death, _i. e._ by
strangulation. Mr. Fildes said that Dickens seemed much surprised when
he called his attention to this change of dress--very noticeable and
embarrassing to an artist who had studied the character--and appeared as
though he had unintentionally disclosed the secret. He further stated
that it was Dickens's intention to take him to a condemned cell in
Maidstone or some other gaol, in order "that he might make a drawing,"
"and," said Dickens, "do something better than Cruikshank;" in allusion,
of course, to the famous drawing of "Fagin in the condemned cell."
"Surely this," remarked our informant, "points to our witnessing the
condemned culprit Jasper in his cell before he met his fate."[10]
Mr. Fildes spoke with enthusiasm of the very great kindness and
consideration which he received from Dickens, and the pains he took to
introduce his young friend to the visitors at Gad's Hill, and in London
at Hyde Park Place, who were his seniors. He was under an engagement to
visit Dickens,--had his portmanteau packed in fact, almost ready to
start on his journey--when he saw to his amazement the announcement of
his death in the newspapers--and it was a very great shock to him. Not
long afterwards, Mr. Fildes said, the family, with much kind
thoughtfulness, renewed the invitation to him to stay a few days at
Gad's Hill Place, and during that time he made the imperishable drawing
of "The Empty Chair."
Bearing in mind the above circumstances coming from so high an
authority, a missing link has been supplied, but--_The Mystery of Edwin
Drood_ is still unsolved!
FOOTNOTES:
[8] It is interesting to record that the foundations of this Church were
met with for the first time, in restoring the west front of the
Cathedral, in 1889.
[9] This was written in 1888; on a subsequent visit to Rochester we were
sorry to find that the frost had made sad havoc with this beautiful
tree.
[10] Mr. Charles Dickens informs me that Mr. Fildes is right, and that
Edwin Drood was dead. His (Mr. Dickens's) father told him so himself.