"You are perfectly right in your construction of

my meaning at Birmingham. If a capital P be put to

the word People in its second use in the sentence,

and not in its first, I should suppose the passage

next to impossible to be mistaken, even if it were

read without any reference to the whole spirit of

my speech and the whole tenor of my writings.

"Faithfully yours,

"CHARLES DICKENS.

"H. S. PEARSON, ESQUIRE."

Dr. Steele had dined several times at Gad's Hill Place, and was

impressed with Dickens's wonderful powers as a host. He never absorbed

the whole of the conversation to himself, but listened attentively when

his guests were speaking, and endeavoured, as it were, to draw out any

friends who were not generally talkative. He liked each one to chat

about his own hobby in which he took most interest. Our informant was

also present at Gad's Hill Place at several theatrical entertainments,

and especially remembers some charades being given. After the

performance of the latter was over, Dickens walked round among his

guests in the drawing-room, and enquired if any one could guess the

"word." Says the doctor, "We never seemed to do so, but there was always

a hearty laugh when we were told what it was. There was a good deal of

company at Gad's Hill at Christmas time."

_A propos_ of private theatricals at Gad's Hill Place, Mr. T. Edgar

Pemberton, in _Charles Dickens and the Stage_, calls attention to the

fact that "Mr. Clarkson Stanfield's _Lighthouse_ Act drop subsequently

decorated the walls of Gad's Hill Place; and although it took the

painter less than a couple of days to execute, fetched a thousand

guineas at the famous Dickens Sale in 1870." A cloth painted for _The

Frozen Deep_, which was the next and last of these productions, also had

a foremost place in the Gad's Hill picture-gallery.

Dr. Steele mentions a conversation once with Dickens about Gad's Hill

and Shakespeare's description of it. He (the doctor) considers that

Shakespeare could not have described it so accurately if he had not been

there, and Dickens agreed with him in this opinion. Possibly he may have

stayed at the "Plough," which was an inn on the same spot as, or close

to, the "Falstaff." The place must have been much wooded at that time,

and Shakespeare might have been there on his way to Dover. A note in

the _Rochester and Chatham Journal_, 1883, states that "Shakespeare's

company made a tour in Sussex and Kent in the summer of 1597."

Dr. Steele, in common with his friend Charles Dickens, strongly

deprecated the action of certain parties in Rochester, by voting at a

public meeting something to this effect:--"That the Theatre was an

irreligious kind of institution, and, in the opinion of the meeting, it

ought to be closed."

The doctor observes that Dickens was not much of a Church-goer. He went

occasionally to Higham, and used to give the vicar assistance for the

poor and distressed. Dickens and Miss Hogarth asked Dr. Steele to point

out objects of charity worthy of relief, and they gave him money for

distribution.

He remarks that Dickens did not care much about associating with the

local residents, going out to dinners, &c. Most of the principal people

of Rochester would have been glad of the honour of his presence as a

guest, but he rarely accepted invitations, preferring the quietude of

home.[18]

As regards readings, our informant says he is under the impression that

Dickens must have had some lessons or hints from some one of experience

(possibly his friend Fechter, the actor), as he noticed from time to

time a regular improvement, which was permanently maintained. On the

subject of the American War, he thinks Dickens's sympathies were

decidedly with the South. With respect to the American Readings, Dr.

Steele expresses his opinion that the excitement, fatigue, and worry

consequent thereon had considerably shortened Dickens's life, if it had

not pretty well killed him. He considered him a most genial sort of

man; "he always looked you straight in the face when speaking."

Before referring to the closing chapter in Dickens's life, we have some

interesting talk respecting Venesection,--_a propos_ of that memorable

occasion on the ice at Dingley Dell, when "Mr. Benjamin Allen was

holding a hurried consultation with Mr. Bob Sawyer on the advisability

of bleeding the company generally, as an improving little bit of

professional practice,"--and Dr. Steele gives us his opinion thereon,

and on some points connected with the medical profession. He was a

student of Guy's and St. Thomas's Hospitals, and was under the

distinguished physicians Drs. Addison and Elliotson. He considered the

characters of Bob Sawyer and Ben Allen not at all overdrawn. They were

good representations of the medical students of those days. He believed

the practice of Venesection commenced to be general about the year 1811,

for his father was a medical practitioner before him, and he does not

remember his (the father's) telling him that he practised it before that

time. Says our friend, "We used to bleed regularly in my young days, and

in cases of pneumonia and convulsions we never thought of omitting to

bleed. We should have considered that to have done so would have been a

grave instance of irregular practice. And," he adds, "I bleed in cases

of convulsions now." The doctor did not think well of the change at the

time, but, speaking generally, he says Venesection had had its turn, and

has now given place to other treatment.

The events in connection with the fatal illness of Dickens are then

touchingly related as follows:--

"I was sent for on Wednesday, the eighth of June, 1870, to attend at

Gad's Hill Place, and arrived about 6.30 p.m. I found Dickens lying on

the floor of the dining-room in a fit. He was unconscious, and never

moved. The servants brought a couch down, on which he was placed. I

applied clysters and other remedies to the patient without effect. Miss

Hogarth, his sister-in-law, had already sent a telegram (by the same

messenger on horseback who summoned me) to his old friend and family

doctor, Mr. Frank Beard, who arrived about midnight. He relieved me in

attendance at that time, and I came again in the morning. There was

unhappily no change in the symptoms, and stertorous breathing, which had

commenced before, now continued. In conversation Miss Hogarth and the

family expressed themselves perfectly satisfied with the attendance of

Mr. Beard and myself. I said, 'That may be so, and we are much obliged

for your kind opinion; but we have a duty to perform, not only to you,

my dear madam, and the family of Mr. Dickens, but also to the public.

What will the public say if we allow Charles Dickens to pass away

without further medical assistance? Our advice is to send for Dr.

Russell Reynolds.' Mr. Beard first made the suggestion.

"The family reiterated their expression of perfect satisfaction with the

treatment of Mr. Beard and myself, but immediately gave way, Dr. Russell

Reynolds was sent for, and came in the course of the day. This eminent

physician without hesitation pronounced the case to be hopeless. He said

at once on seeing him, 'He cannot live.' And so it proved. At a little

past 6 o'clock on Thursday, the 9th of June, 1870, Charles Dickens

passed quietly away without a word--about twenty-four hours after the

seizure."

[Illustration: Rochester: from Strood Pier:]

Such is the simple narrative which the kind-hearted octogenarian

surgeon, whom it is a delightful pleasure to meet and converse with,

communicates to us, and then cordially wishes us "good-bye."

* * * * *

There is an annual pleasure fair at Strood, instituted, it is said, so

far back as the reign of Edward III. It takes place during three days in

the last week of August, and as it is going on while we are on our

tramp, we just look in for a few minutes, the more especially as we were

informed by Mr. William Ball, and others who had seen him, that Dickens

used to be very fond of going there at times in an appropriate disguise,

where perhaps he may have seen the prototype of the famous "Doctor

Marigold." The fair is now held on a large piece of waste ground near

the Railway Station. There are the usual set-out of booths, "Aunt

Sallies," shooting-galleries, "Try your weight and strength, gentlemen"

machines, a theatre, with a tragedy and comedy both performed in about

an hour, and hot-sausage and gingerbread stalls in abundance. But the

deafening martial music poured forth from a barrel-organ by means of a

steam-engine, belonging to the proprietor of a huge "Merry-go-round,"

and the wet and muddy condition of the ground from the effects of the

recent thunderstorm, make us glad to get away.

A MYSTERIOUS DICKENS-ITEM.

Mr. C. D. Levy, Auctioneer, etc., of Strood, was good enough to lend me

what at first sight, and indeed for some time afterwards, was supposed

to be a most unique Dickens-item. It came into his possession in this

way. At the sale of Charles Dickens's furniture and effects, which took

place at Gad's Hill in 1870, Mr. Levy was authorized by a customer to

purchase Dickens's writing-desk, which, however, he was unable to

secure. In transferring the desk to the purchaser at the time of the

sale, a few old and torn papers tumbled out, and being considered of no

value, were disregarded and scattered. One of these scraps was picked up

by Mr. Levy, and proved on further examination to be a sheet of headed

note-paper having the stamp of "Gad's Hill Place, Higham by Rochester,

Kent."--On the first page were a few rough sketches drawn with pen and

ink, which greatly resembled some of the characters in _The Mystery of

Edwin Drood_--Durdles, Jasper, and Edwin Drood. At the side was a

curious row of capital letters looking like a puzzle. On the second and

third pages were short-hand notes, and on the fourth page a few lines

written in long-hand, continued on the next page,--wonderfully like

Charles Dickens's own handwriting,--being the commencement of a speech

with reference to a cricket match. The sheet of paper had evidently been

made to do double duty, for after the sketches had been drawn on the

front page, the sheet was put aside, and when used again was turned

over, so that what ordinarily would have been page 4 became page 1 for

the second object. No "Daniel" in Strood or Rochester had ever been able

to decipher the mysterious hieroglyphics, or make known the

interpretation thereof, during twenty years, or give any explanation of

the sketches. But everybody thought that in some way or other they

related to _The Mystery of Edwin Drood_--and possibly contained a clue

to the solution of that exquisite fragment. So, as a student and admirer

of Dickens, Mr. Levy kindly left the matter in my hands to make out what

I could of it. Reference was accordingly had to several learned pundits

in the short-hand systems of "Pitman," "Odell," and "Harding," but

without avail; and eventually Mr. Gurney Archer, of 20, Abingdon Street,

Westminster (successor to the old-established and eminent firm of

Messrs. W. B. Gurney and Sons, who have been the short-hand writers to

the House of Lords from time immemorial), kindly transcribed the

short-hand notes, which referred to a speech relating to a cricket

match, a portion of which had already been written out in long-hand, as

above stated,--but there was not a word in the short-hand about Edwin

Drood!

So far, one portion of the mystery had been explained--not so the

sketches, which were still believed to contain the key to _The Mystery

of Edwin Drood_. As a _dernier ressort_, application was made to the

fountain-head--to Mr. Luke Fildes, R.A., the famous illustrator of that

beautiful work. He received me most courteously, scrutinized the

document closely; we had a long chat about Edwin Drood generally, the

substance of which has been given in a previous chapter--but he admitted

that the sketches failed to give any solution of the mystery.

The document was subsequently sent by Mr. Kitton to Mrs. Perugini, who

at once replied that it had caused some merriment when she saw it again,

as she remembered it very well. It had been done by her brother, Mr.

Henry Fielding Dickens, when a young man living at home at Gad's

Hill--that the short-hand notes referred to his speech at a dinner after

one of the numerous cricket matches held there, and that the sketches

were rough portraits of some of the cricketers. The capital letters at

the side referred to a double acrostic. The heads of the speech had been

suggested by his father as being desirable to be brought before the

cricket club, which at that time was in a rather drooping condition.

Now although the original theory about this curious document entirely

broke down, and not an atom has been added to what was already known

about _The Mystery of Edwin Drood_, still there is one subject of much

interest which the document has brought to light. The short-hand is the

same system, "Gurney's," as that which Charles Dickens wrote as a

reporter in his early newspaper days--a system not generally used now,

but which he subsequently taught his son to write. Of the many sheets

which Dickens covered with notes in days gone by not one remains. But

there are two manuscripts by Dickens in Gurney's system of short-hand,

now in the Dyce and Forster collection at South Kensington, which relate

to some private matters in connection with publishing arrangements. The

document is certainly interesting from this point of view (_i. e._ the

system which Dickens used), and from its reference to life at Gad's

Hill, and especially to cricket, the favourite game mentioned many times

in this book, in which the novelist took so much interest. Mr. Henry

Fielding Dickens, with whom I had on another occasion some conversation

on the subject of this souvenir of his youth at Gad's Hill, remarked

that many more important issues had hung upon much more slender

evidence. It was done about the year 1865-6, before he went to college.

At our interview Mr. H. F. Dickens told me the details of the following

touching incident which happened at one of the cricket matches at Gad's

Hill. His father was as usual attired in flannels, acting as umpire and

energetically taking the score of the game, when there came out from

among the bystanders a tall, grizzled, and sun-burnt Sergeant of the

Guards. The Sergeant walked straight up to Mr. Dickens, saying, "May I

look at you, sir?" "Oh, yes!" said the novelist, blushing up to the

eyes. The Sergeant gazed intently at him for a minute or so, then stood

at attention, gave the military salute, and said, "God bless you, sir."

He then walked off and was seen no more. In recounting this anecdote,

Mr. H. F. Dickens agreed with me that, reading between the lines, one

can almost fancy some lingering reminiscences similar to those in the

early experience of Private Richard Doubledick.

FOOTNOTES:

[14] Since our tramp in Dickens-Land, Messrs. Winch and Sons have, with

liberality and good taste, restored the old sign at this historic

hostelry with which the memory of Charles Dickens is associated. It has

been suggested that the sign may possibly have had its origin from the

Battle of Agincourt fought on the day of "Saints Crispin-Crispian," 25th

October, 1415. Victories in more recent times have been thus

commemorated on sign-boards, such as the _Vigo_ expedition, and the

fights at Portobello, Trafalgar, Waterloo, Alma, and elsewhere, and the

heroes who won them thus celebrated.

The sign, which is very well painted, represents the patron saints of

the shoe-making fraternity, the holy brothers, Crispin and Crispian, at

work on their cobbler's bench. The legend runs that it was at Soissons,

in the year 287, while they were so employed "labouring with their

hands," that they were seized by the emissaries of the Emperor

Maximinian, and led away to torture and to death. The sign is understood

to have been faithfully copied from a well-known work preserved to this

day, at the church of St. Pantaleon at Troyes.--Abstract of a note in

the _Rochester and Chatham Journal_, October 5th, 1889.

[15] Enthusiastic admirers of Dickens will doubtless envy me the

possession of some remarkable memorials of the great writer. My friend

Mr. Ball is kind enough to present me with a very curious souvenir of

the novelist: his old garden hat! Mr. Ball's father obtained it from the

gardener at Gad's Hill Place, to whom it had been given after his

master's death. The hat is a "grey-bowler," size 7-1/4, maker's name

"Hillhouse," Bond Street, and is the same hat that he is seen to wear in

the photograph of him leaning against the entrance-porch, an engraving

of which appears on page 183. Many hats from Shakespeare and Gesler have

become historical, and there is no reason why Dickens's should not in

the future be an equally interesting personal relic. The gift was

accompanied by a couple of collars belonging to the novelist, with the

initials "C. D." very neatly marked in red cotton. The collar is

technically known as a "Persigny," and its size is 16. Last, not least,

a small bottle of "very rare old Madeira" from Gad's Hill, which calls

to mind pleasant recollections of "the last bottle of the old Madeira,"

opened by dear old Sol. Gills in the final chapter of _Dombey and Son_.

Needless to say, the consumption of the valued contents of Dickens's

bottle is reserved for a very special and appropriate occasion.

[16] This was written soon after our first visit to Strood at the end of

August, 1888. Within little more than two years afterwards, on Thursday,

7th August, 1890, I had the mournful pleasure of being present at the

funeral of my friend, which took place at Frindsbury Church on that day,

in the presence of the sorrowing relatives and of a large concourse of

admirers, both local and from a distance. There were also present many

representatives of distinguished scientific societies, including Dr.

John Evans, F.R.S., Treasurer of the Royal Society, and President of the

Society of Antiquaries.

The kindness which I received from Mr. Roach Smith, to whom I presented

myself in the first instance as a perfect stranger, and which was

extended during the period of two years that I was privileged to enjoy

his friendship, and at times his hospitality, would be ill requited if I

did not here place on record my humble tribute of appreciation. Born

about the commencement of the present century at Landguard Manor House,

near Shanklin, Isle of Wight, after a somewhat diversified education and

experience, he finally settled in London as a wholesale druggist, from

which business he retired in 1856, and came to live at Temple Place,

Strood. The bent of his mind was, however, distinctly in favour of

archaeology, and in this science, which he commenced in the early years

of his business, his work has been enormous. In the matter of the

identification of Roman remains he was _facile princeps_, and for many

years stood without a rival, his investigations and explorations

extending over England and Europe. His principal works are _Collectanea

Antiqua_, seven volumes; _Illustrations of Roman London_; _Catalogue of

London Antiquities_; _Richborough, Reculver, and Lymne_, and numberless

contributions scattered over the journal of the Society of Antiquaries,

the _Archaeologia Cantiana_, and other publications. He was an

enthusiastic Shakespearean, the author of the _Rural Life of

Shakespeare_, and of a little work on _The Scarcity of Home-Grown

Fruits_. He also published two volumes of _Retrospections: Social and

Archaeological_, and was engaged at his death in completing the third

volume. He contributed many articles to Dr. William Smith's _Classical

Dictionaries_, and other similar works.

He was elected a Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries so far back as

1836, and at the time of his death was an Honorary Member or Fellow of

at least thirty learned societies of a kindred nature in Great Britain

and on the continent, and had been honoured by his colleagues and

admirers in having his medal struck on two occasions.

"He was," says one of the highest of living scientists and writers, "one

of the chief representatives of the _science_ of archaeology as

understood in its broadest and widest sense. He has never been a mere

collector of remains of ancient art, regarded only as curiosities, but

has always had in view their use as exponents of the great unwritten

history--the history of the people--which is not to be obtained from

other sources; his writings have tended to the same end. Hence he stands

as one of the foremost amongst those few of the present day who

understand the science in its best and widest sense, his works being

referred to as _the_ authority at home and abroad."

Speaking with his friend and companion for many years, Mr. George Payne,

F.S.A., Hon. Sec. to the Kent Archaeological Society, on my last visit,

about several personal characteristics of our mutual friend, such as his

persistent energy and his indomitable disposition to stoically resist

the infirmities of approaching age, and decline any assistance in

helplessness, and especially as to the _quaestio vexata_, "Bill Stumps,

his mark," Mr. Payne expressed his opinion, that at the bottom of his

heart Mr. Roach Smith may probably have had a feeling that Dickens in

some way (however unintentionally) slighted the science of archaeology,

which he (Mr. Roach Smith) had all his life tried to elevate.

A most distinguished antiquarian, a thoroughly honourable man, a

versatile and accomplished gentleman, and a kind-hearted and liberal

friend, the town of Strood, to which he was for so many years endeared,

will long and deservedly mourn his loss.

[17] It is interesting to place on record here, that the germ of Charles

Dickens's "Readings," which afterwards developed so marvellously both in

England and America, originated in Birmingham. On the 27th of December,

1853, he read his _Christmas Carol_ in the Town Hall in aid of the funds

of the Institute. On the 29th he read _The Cricket on the Hearth_, and

on the 30th he repeated the _Carol_ to an audience principally composed

of working men. The success was overwhelming.

[18] Miss Hogarth informs me that her brother-in-law frequently dined

out in the neighbourhood, accompanied by his daughter and herself.

CHAPTER IX.

CHATHAM:--ST. MARY'S CHURCH, ORDNANCE TERRACE, THE

HOUSE ON THE BROOK, THE MITRE HOTEL, AND FORT

PITT. LANDPORT:--PORTSEA, HANTS.

"The home of his infancy, to which his heart had

yearned with an intensity of affection not to be

described."--_The Pickwick Papers._

"I believe the power of observation in numbers of

very young children to be quite wonderful for its

closeness and accuracy. Indeed, I think that most

grown men who are remarkable in this respect, may,

with greater propriety, be said not to have lost

the faculty than to have acquired it; the rather,

as I generally observe such men to retain a

certain freshness, and gentleness, and capacity of

being pleased, which are also an inheritance they

have preserved from their childhood."--_David

Copperfield._

THE naval and military town of Chatham, unlike the Cathedral city of

Rochester, has, at first sight, few attractions for the lover of

Dickens. Mr. Phillips Bevan calls it "a dirty, unpleasant town devoted

to the interests of soldiers, sailors, and marines." We are not disposed

to agree entirely with him; but we must admit that it has little of the

picturesque to recommend it--no venerable Castle or Cathedral to attract

attention, no scenes in the novels of much importance to visit, no

characters therein of much interest to identify. Mr. Pickwick's own

description of the four towns of Strood, Rochester, Chatham, and

Brompton, certainly applies more nearly to Chatham than to the others;

but things have improved in many ways since the days of that veracious

chronicler, as we are glad to testify:--

"The principal productions of these towns," says

Mr. Pickwick, "appear to be soldiers, sailors,

Jews, chalk, shrimps, officers, and dockyard men.

The commodities chiefly exposed for sale in the

public streets are marine stores, hard-bake,

apples, flat-fish, and oysters. The streets

present a lively and animated appearance,

occasioned chiefly by the conviviality of the

military. . . .

"The consumption of tobacco in these towns,"

continues Mr. Pickwick, "must be very great; and

the smell which pervades the streets must be

exceedingly delicious to those who are extremely

fond of smoking. A superficial traveller might

object to the dirt, which is their leading

characteristic; but to those who view it as an

indication of traffic and commercial prosperity,

it is truly gratifying."

And yet for all this, there are circumstances to be noticed of the

deepest possible interest connected with Chatham, and spots therein to

be visited, which every pilgrim to "Dickens-Land" must recognize. At

Chatham,--"my boyhood's home," as he affectionately calls it,--many of

the earlier years of Charles Dickens (probably from his fourth to his

eleventh) were passed; here it was "that the most durable of his earlier

impressions were received; and the associations around him when he died

were those which at the outset of his life had affected him most

strongly."

Admirers of the great novelist are much indebted to Mr. Robert Langton,

F. R. Hist. Soc., for his _Childhood and Youth of Charles Dickens_, a

book quite indispensable to a tramp in this neighbourhood, the charming

illustrations by the late Mr. William Hull, the author, and others

rendering the identification of places perfectly easy. Dickens says, "If

anybody knows to a nicety where Rochester ends and Chatham begins, it is

more than I do." "It's of no consequence," as Mr. Toots would say, for

the High Street is one continuous thoroughfare, but as a matter of fact,

a narrow street called Boundary Lane on the north side of High Street

separates the two places.

A few words of recapitulation as to early family history[19] may be

useful here. John Dickens, who is represented as "a fine portly man,"

was a Navy pay-clerk, and Elizabeth his wife (_nee_ Barrow), who is

described as "a dear good mother and a fine woman," the parents of the

future genius, resided in the beginning of this century at 387, Mile End

Terrace, Commercial Road, Landport, Portsea,[20] "and is so far in

Portsea as being in the island of that name." Here Charles Dickens was

born, at twelve o'clock at night, on Friday, 7th February, 1812. He was

the second child and eldest son of a rather numerous family consisting

of eight sons and daughters, and was baptized at St. Mary's, Kingston

(the parish church of Portsea), under the names of Charles John

Huff_h_am; the last of these is no doubt a misspelling, as the name of

his grandfather, from whom he took it, was Huffam, but Dickens himself

scarcely ever used it. In the old family Bible now in possession of Mr.

Charles Dickens it is Huffam in his father's own handwriting. The

Dickens family left Mile End Terrace on 24th June, 1812, and went to

live in Hawke Street, Portsea, from whence, in consequence of a change

in official duties of the elder Dickens, they removed to Chatham in 1816

or 1817, and resided there for six or seven years, until they went to

live in London.

Bearing these circumstances in mind, it is very natural that we should

determine on an early pilgrimage to Chatham, and Sunday morning sees us

at the old church--St. Mary's--where Dickens himself must often have

been taken as a child, and where he saw the marriage of his aunt Fanny

with James Lamert, a Staff Doctor in the Army,--the Doctor Slammer of

_Pickwick_,--of whom Mr. Langton says:--"The regimental surgeon's

kindly manner, and his short odd way of expressing himself, still

survive in the recollections of a few old people." Dr. Lamert's son

James, by a former wife, was a great crony of young Charles Dickens,

taking him to the Rochester theatre, and getting up private theatricals

in which they both acted.

Surely there is a faint description of those times in the second chapter

of _David Copperfield_:--

[Illustration: St. Mary's Church, Chatham.]

"Here is our pew in the church. What a high-backed

pew! With a window near it, out of which our house

can be seen, and _is_ seen many times during the

morning's service by Peggotty, who likes to make

herself as sure as she can that it's not being

robbed, or is not in flames. But though Peggotty's

eye wanders, she is much offended if mine does,

and frowns to me, as I stand upon the seat, that I

am to look at the clergyman. But I can't always

look at him--I know him without that white thing

on, and I am afraid of his wondering why I stare

so, and perhaps stopping the service to

enquire--and what am I to do? It's a dreadful

thing to gape, but I must do something. I look at

my mother, but _she_ pretends not to see me. I

look at a boy in the aisle, and _he_ makes faces

at me. I look at the sunlight coming in at the

open door through the porch, and there I see a

stray sheep--I don't mean a sinner, but

mutton--half making up his mind to come into the

church. I feel that if I looked at him any longer,

I might be tempted to say something out loud; and

what would become of me then!"

The church, now undergoing reconstruction, is not a very presentable

structure, and has little of interest to recommend it, except a brass to

a famous navigator named Stephen Borough, the discoverer of the northern

passage to Russia (1584), and a monument to Sir John Cox, who was killed

in an action with the Dutch (1672). The name of Weller occurs on a

gravestone near the church door.

We cross the High Street, proceed along Railway Street, formerly Rome

Lane, pass the Chatham Railway Station (near which is a statue of

Lieutenant Waghorn, R.N., "pioneer and founder of the Overland Route,"

born at Chatham, 1800, and died 1850),[21] and find ourselves at

Ordnance Terrace, a conspicuous row of two-storied houses, prominently

situated on the higher ground facing us, beyond the Station. In one of

these houses (No. 11--formerly No. 2) the Dickens family resided from

1817 to 1821. The present occupier is a Mr. Roberts, who kindly allows

us to inspect the interior. It has the dining-room on the left-hand side

of the entrance and the drawing-room on the first floor, and is

altogether a pleasantly-situated, comfortable, and respectable dwelling.

No. 11, "the second house in the terrace," is overgrown with a Virginia

creeper, which, from its possible association with Dickens's earliest

years, may have induced him to plant the now magnificent one which

exists at Gad's Hill. "Here it was," says Forster, "that his first

desire for knowledge, and his greatest passion for reading, were

awakened by his mother, who taught him the first rudiments, not only of

English, but also, a little later, of Latin. She taught him regularly

every day for a long time, and taught him, he was convinced, thoroughly

well." Mr. Langton also says that "It was during his residence here that

some of the happiest hours of the childhood of little Charles were

passed, as his father was in a fairly good position in the Navy Pay

Office, and they were a most genial, lovable family." Here it was that

the theatrical entertainments and the genial parties took place, when,

in addition to his brothers and sisters and his cousin, James Lamert,

there were also present his friends and neighbours, George Stroughill,

and Master and Miss Tribe.

Mr. Langton further states that "Ordnance Terrace is known to have

formed the locality and characters for some of the earlier _Sketches by

Boz_." "The Old Lady" was a Miss Newnham, who lived at No. 5, and who

was, by all accounts, very kind to the Dickens children. The "Half-pay

Captain" was also a near neighbour, and he is supposed to have supplied

one of the earliest characters to Dickens as a mere child. Some of the

neighbours at the corner house next door (formerly No. 1) were named

Stroughill,--pronounced Stro'hill (there was, it will be remembered, a

_Struggles_ at the famous cricket-match at All-Muggleton)--and the son,

George, is said to have had some of the characteristics of Steerforth in

_David Copperfield_. He had a sister named Lucy, probably the "Golden

Lucy," from her beautiful locks, and who, according to Mr. Langton, "was

the special favourite and little sweetheart of Charles Dickens." She was

possibly the prototype of her namesake, in the beautiful story of the

_Wreck of the Golden Mary_.

[Illustration: No. 11, Ordnance Terrace, Chatham. _Where the Dickens

Family lived 1817-21._]

About the year 1821 pecuniary embarrassments beset and tormented the

Dickens family, which were afterwards to be "ascribed in fiction" in the

histories of the Micawbers and the Dorrits, and the family removed to

the House on the Brook. In order to follow their steps in perfect

sequence, we have to return by the way we came from the church, cross

the High Street, and proceed along Military Road, so as to visit the

obscure dwelling, No. 18, St. Mary's Place, situated in the valley

through which a brook, now covered over, flows from the higher lands

adjacent, into the Medway.

[Illustration: The House on the Brook, Chatham. _Where the Dickens

Family lived 1821-3._]

The House on the Brook--"plain-looking, whitewashed plaster front, and a

small garden before and behind"--next door to the former Providence

(Baptist) Chapel, now the Drill Hall of the Salvation Army, is a very

humble and unpretentious six-roomed dwelling, and of a style very

different to the one in Ordnance Terrace. Here the Dickens family lived

from 1821 to 1823. The Reverend William Giles, the Baptist Minister,

father of Mr. William Giles, the schoolmaster, formerly officiated at

the chapel. This was the Mr. Giles who, when Dickens was half-way

through _Pickwick_, sent him a silver snuff-box, with an admiring

inscription to the "Inimitable Boz." Dickens went to school at Mr.

Giles's Academy in Clover Lane (now Clover Street), Chatham, and boys of

this and neighbouring schools were thus nicknamed:--

"Baker's Bull-dogs,

"Giles's Cats,

"New Road Scrubbers,

"Troy Town Rats."

[Illustration: Giles's School, Chatham.]

It was in the House on the Brook that he acquired those "readings and

imaginings" which in "boyish recollections" he describes as having been

brought away from Chatham:--"My father had left a small collection of

books in a little room up-stairs, to which I had access (for it adjoined

my own), and which nobody else in our house ever troubled. From that

blessed little room _Roderick Random_, _Peregrine Pickle_, _Humphry

Clinker_, _Tom Jones_, _The Vicar of Wakefield_, _Don Quixote_, _Gil

Blas_, and _Robinson Crusoe_, came out, a glorious host to keep me

company. They kept alive my fancy, and my hope of something beyond that

place and time,--they and the _Arabian Nights_, and the _Tales of the

Genii_,--and did me no harm; for whatever harm was in some of them was

not there for me. _I_ knew nothing of it."

It is very probable that his first literary effort, _The Tragedy of

Misnar, the Sultan of India_, "founded" (says Forster), "and very

literally founded, no doubt, on the _Tales of the Genii_," was composed

after perusal of some of the works above referred to, but it is to be

feared that it was never even rehearsed. The circumstances of the family

had so changed for the worse, that here were neither juvenile parties

nor theatrical entertainments.

A view from one of the upper windows of the house in St. Mary's Place

gives the parish church and churchyard precisely as described in that

pathetic little story, _A Child's Dream of a Star_. Charles Dickens was

the child who "strolled about a good deal, and thought of a number of

things," and his little sister Fanny--or his younger sister Harriet

Ellen--was doubtless "his constant companion" referred to in the story.

[Illustration: Mitre Inn, Chatham.]

We leave with feelings of respect the humble but famous little tenement,

its condition now sadly degraded; proceed along the High Street, and

soon reach "The Mitre Inn and Clarence Hotel," a solid-looking and

comfortable house of entertainment, at which Lord Nelson and King

William IV., when Duke of Clarence, frequently stayed, and (what is more

to our purpose) where we find associations of Charles Dickens. There are

a beautiful bowling-green and grounds at the back, approached by a

series of terraces well planted with flowers, and the green is

surrounded by fine elms which constitute quite an oasis in the desert of

the somewhat prosaic Chatham. The Mitre is thus immortalized in the

"Guest's Story" of the _Holly Tree Inn_:--

"There was an Inn in the Cathedral town where I

went to school, which had pleasanter recollections

about it than any of these. I took it next. It was

the Inn where friends used to put up, and where we

used to go to see parents, and to have salmon and

fowls, and be tipped. It had an ecclesiastical

sign--the 'Mitre'--and a bar that seemed to be the

next best thing to a Bishopric, it was so snug. I

loved the landlord's youngest daughter to

distraction--but let that pass. It was in this Inn

that I was cried over by my rosy little sister,

because I had acquired a black-eye in a fight. And

though she had been, that holly-tree night, for

many a long year where all tears are dried, the

Mitre softened me yet."

About the year 1820 the landlord of the Mitre was Mr. John Tribe, and

his family being intimate with the Dickenses, young Charles spent many

pleasant evenings at the "genial parties" given at this fine old inn.

Mr. Langton mentions that the late Mr. Alderman William Tribe, son of

Mr. John Tribe, the former proprietor, perfectly recollected Charles

Dickens and his sister Fanny coming to the Mitre, and on one occasion

their being mounted on a dining-table for a stage, and singing what was

then a popular duet, _i. e._--

"Long time I've courted you, miss,

And now I've come from sea;

We'll make no more ado, miss,

But quickly married be.

Sing Fal-de-ral," &c.

The worthy alderman is also stated to have had in his possession a card

of invitation to spend the evening at Ordnance Terrace, addressed from

Master and Miss Dickens to Master and Miss Tribe, which was dated about

this time.

In consequence of the elder Dickens being recalled from Chatham to

Somerset House, to comply with official requirements, the family removed

to London in 1823,[22] "and took up its abode in a house in Bayham

Street, Camden Town." Dickens thus describes his journey to London in

"Dullborough Town," one of the sketches in _The Uncommercial

Traveller_:--

"As I left Dullborough in the days when there were

no railroads in the land, I left it in a

stage-coach. Through all the years that have since

passed, have I ever lost the smell of the damp

straw in which I was packed--like game--and

forwarded, carriage paid, to the Cross Keys, Wood

Street, Cheapside, London? There was no other

inside passenger, and I consumed my sandwiches in

solitude and dreariness, and it rained hard all

the way, and I thought life sloppier than I had

expected to find it. . . ."

Mr. W. T. Wildish, the proprietor of the _Rochester and Chatham

Journal_, kindly favours us with some interesting information which has

recently appeared in his journal, relating to Charles Dickens's

nurse--the Mary Weller of his boyhood (and perhaps the Peggotty as

well), but known to later generations as Mrs. Mary Gibson of Front Row,

Ordnance Place, Chatham, who died in the spring of the year 1888, at the

advanced age of eighty-four. Very touchingly, but unknowingly, did

Dickens write from Gad's Hill, 24th September, 1857, being unaware that

she was still living:--

"I feel much as I used to do when I was a small child, a few miles off,

and somebody--_who_, I wonder, and which way did _she_ go when she

died?--hummed the evening hymn, and I cried on the pillow--either with

the remorseful consciousness of having kicked somebody else, or because

still somebody else had hurt my feelings in the course of the day."

Mrs. Gibson, when Mary Weller (what a host of pleasant recollections

does the married name of the "pretty housemaid" bring up of the

Pickwickian days!), lived with the family of Mr. John Dickens, at No.

11, Ordnance Terrace, Chatham, and afterwards when they moved to the

House on the Brook. Her recollections were most vivid and interesting.

According to the testimony of her son, communicated to Mr. Wildish, Mrs.

Gibson "used to be very fond of talking of the time she passed with the

Dickens family, and one of her highest satisfactions in her later years

was to hear Charles Dickens's works read by her son Robert; and while

listening to the descriptions of characters read to her, his mother

would detect likenesses unsuspected by other persons whom Dickens must

have known when a boy; and she also agreed in thinking, with Dickens's

biographer, that in Mr. Micawber's troubles were related some of the

experiences of the elder Dickens, who is believed for a time to have

occupied a debtor's prison. She, however, would never bring herself to

believe that her hero was himself ever reduced to such great hardships

as the blacking-bottle period in _David Copperfield_ would suggest if

taken literally. She used to speak of the future author as always fond

of reading, and said he was wont to retire to the top room of the House

on the Brook, and spend what should have been his play-hours in poring

over his books, or in acting to the furniture of the room the creatures

that he had read about."

Mr. Langton, who had a personal interview with Mrs. Gibson herself, has

recorded the fact that she well remembered singing the Evening Hymn to

the children of John Dickens, and seemed very much surprised at being

asked such a question. She lived with the family when Dickens's little

sister, Harriet Ellen, died--a circumstance that no doubt in after years

inspired the _Child's Dream of a Star_ already referred to. When the

family removed to London, Mary Weller was pressed to accompany them, but

was not in a position to accept the offer, in consequence of her promise

to marry Mr. Thomas Gibson, a shipwright of the Chatham Dockyard, with

whom she lived happily until his death, in 1886, at the age of

eighty-two.

Mrs. Gibson modestly declined, on her son Robert's suggestion, to seek

an introduction to Charles Dickens, when he read some of his works at

the old Mechanics' Institute at Chatham, fearing that he had forgotten

her. It is certain, however, that, from the reproduction of her name as

the pretty housemaid at Mr. Nupkins's at Ipswich, and from the extract

from the letter above referred to, she had a kindly place in his

recollections.

Poor David Copperfield, on his way to his aunt's at Dover, stopped at

Chatham--"footsore and tired," he says, "and eating bread that I had

bought for supper." He is afraid "because of the vicious looks of the

trampers;" and even if he could have spared the few pence he possessed

for a bed at the "one or two little houses" with the notice "lodgings

for travellers," he would have hardly cared to go in, on account of the

company he would have been thrown into. And so he says, "I sought no

shelter, therefore, but the sky; and toiling into Chatham--which, in

that night's aspect, is a mere dream of chalk, and draw-bridges, and

mastless ships in a muddy river, roofed like Noah's arks,--crept, at

last, upon a sort of grass-grown battery overhanging a lane, where a

sentry was walking to and fro. Here" [he continues] "I lay down near a

cannon; and, happy in the society of the sentry's footsteps, . . . slept

soundly until morning." Of course it is not possible for us to identify

this spot. "Very stiff and sore of foot," he says, "I was in the

morning, and quite dazed by the beating of drums and marching of troops,

which seemed to hem me in on every side when I went down towards the

long narrow street." However, he has to reserve his strength for getting

to his journey's end, and to this effect he resolves upon selling his

jacket.

There are plenty of marine-store dealers at Chatham, whom we notice on

our tramp, but none of them would, we believe, now answer to the

description of "an ugly old man, with the lower part of his face all

covered with a stubbly grey beard, in a filthy flannel waistcoat, and

smelling terribly of rum," such as he who assailed little David, in

reply to his offer to sell the jacket, with, "Oh, what do you want? Oh,

my eyes and limbs, what do you want? Oh, my lungs and liver, what do you

want? Oh--goroo, goroo!" After losing his time, and being rated at and

frightened by this "dreadful old man to look at," who in every way tries

to avoid giving him the money asked for,--half-a-crown,--offering him in

exchange such useless things to a hungry boy as "a fishing-rod, a

fiddle, a cocked hat, and a flute," the poor lad is obliged to close

with the offer of a few pence, "with which [he says] I soon refreshed

myself completely; and, being in better spirits then, limped seven miles

upon my road."

The Convict Prison at Chatham is said to have been built on a piece of

ground which, in the middle of the last century, belonged to one Thomas

Clark, a singular character, who lived on the spot for many years by

himself in a small cottage, and who used every night, as he went home,

to sing or shout, "Tom's all alone! Tom's all alone!" This, according to

the opinion of some, may have given rise to the "Tom all alone's" of

_Bleak House_, more especially considering the fact that military

operations were frequently going on at Chatham, which Dickens would

notice in his early days. The circumstance is thus referred to in the

novel:--"Twice lately there has been a crash, and a crowd of dust, like

the springing of a mine, in Tom all alone's, and each time a house has

fallen."

Mr. George Robinson of Strood directs our attention to the fact that a

"child's caul," such as that described in the first chapter of _David

Copperfield_, which he was born with, and which was advertised "at the

low price of fifteen guineas," would be a likely object to be sought

after in a sea-faring town like Chatham, in Dickens's early days, when

the schoolmaster was less abroad than he is now.

In after years, memories of Chatham Dockyard appear in many of the

sketches in the _Uncommercial Traveller_ and other stories. "One man in

a Dockyard" describes it as having "a gravity upon its red brick offices

and houses, a staid pretence of having nothing to do, an avoidance of

display, which I never saw out of England." "Nurse's Stories" says that

"nails and copper are shipwrights' sweethearts, and shipwrights will run

away with them whenever they can." In _Great Expectations_ the refrain,

"Beat it out, beat it out--old Clem! with a clink for the stout--old

Clem!" which Pip and his friends sang, is from a song which the

blacksmiths in the dockyard used to sing in procession on St. Clement's

Day.

By accident we make the acquaintance of Mr. William James Budden of

Chatham, who informs us that Charles Dickens was better known there in

his latter years for his efforts, by readings and otherwise, to place

the Mechanics' Institute on a sound basis and free from debt.

Dickens, as the _Uncommercial Traveller_, thus describes the Mechanics'

Institute and its early efforts to succeed:--

"As the town was placarded with references to the

Dullborough Mechanics' Institution, I thought I

would go and look at that establishment next.

There had been no such thing in the town in my

young days, and it occurred to me that its extreme

prosperity might have brought adversity upon the

Drama. I found the Institution with some

difficulty, and should scarcely have known that I

had found it if I had judged from its external

appearance only; but this was attributable to its

never having been finished, and having no front:

consequently, it led a modest and retired

existence up a stable-yard. It was (as I learnt,

on enquiry) a most flourishing Institution, and of

the highest benefit to the town: two triumphs

which I was glad to understand were not at all

impaired by the seeming drawbacks that no

mechanics belonged to it, and that it was steeped

in debt to the chimney-pots. It had a large room,

which was approached by an infirm step-ladder: the

builder having declined to construct the intended

staircase, without a present payment in cash,

which Dullborough (though profoundly appreciative

of the Institution) seemed unaccountably bashful

about subscribing."

Mr. Budden is of opinion that the origin of the "fat boy" in _Pickwick_

was Mr. James Budden, late of the Red Lion Inn in Military Road, who

afterwards acquired a competence, and who had the honour of entertaining

Dickens at a subsequent period of his life. Mr. Budden is under the

impression, from local hearsay, that Dingley Dell formerly existed

somewhere in the neighbourhood of Burham.

* * * * *

We are obligingly favoured with an interview by Mr. John Baird of New

Brompton, Chairman of the Chatham Waterworks Company, although he is

suffering from serious indisposition at the time of our visit. This

gentleman was born in 1810 (two years before Charles Dickens), and

recollects reading with delight the famous _Sketches by Boz_, as they

appeared in the _Morning Chronicle_. The most curious coincidence about

Mr. Baird is, that in stature and facial appearance he is the very

counterpart of the late Charles Dickens in the flesh--his double, so to

speak. This remarkable resemblance, our informant says, is "something

to be proud of, to be mistaken for so great a man, but it was very

inconvenient at times."

On one occasion, as Mr. Baird was hastening to catch a train at

Rochester Bridge Station, a stout elderly lady, handsomely dressed,

supposed to be Dean Scott's wife,--but to whom he was unknown,--bowed

very politely to him, and in slackening his pace to return the

compliment, which he naturally did not understand, he very nearly missed

his train.

Sir Arthur Otway told Mr. Baird that the Rev. Mr. Webster, late Vicar of

Chatham, had always mistaken him for Charles Dickens.

At one of the Readings given by Dickens on behalf of the Mechanics'

Institute at Chatham, Mr. Charles Collins, his son-in-law, and his wife

and her sister being present in the reserved seats in the gallery, Mr.

Baird noticed that they looked very eagerly at him, and this pointed

notice naturally made him feel very uncomfortable. Dickens himself,

accompanied by his son and daughter, once passed our friend in the

street, and scanned him very closely, and he fancies that Dickens called

attention to the resemblance.

At the last reading which the novelist gave at Chatham, Mr. Baird being

present as one of the audience, the policeman at the door mistook him

for Dickens, and shouted to those in attendance outside, "Mr. Dickens's

carriage!" It is interesting to add, that after the reading a cordial

vote of thanks to Dickens was proposed by Mr. H. G. Adams, the

Naturalist, at one time editor of _The Kentish Coronal_, who recounted

the well-known story of the novelist's father taking him, when a little

boy, to see Gad's Hill Place, and of the strong impression it made upon

his mind.

Our informant had the honour of meeting Dickens at dinner at Mr. James

Budden's, and states that he was standing against the mantel-piece in

the drawing-room when the novelist arrived, and that he walked up to him

and shook hands cordially, without the usual ceremony of introduction.

Dickens was no doubt too polite to refer to the curious resemblance.

But the most remarkable case remains to be told, illustrating the

converse of the old proverb--"It is a wise father that knows his own

child." This is given in Mr. Baird's own words:--

"My daughter, when a little girl about six years old, was with her

mother and some friends in a railway carriage at Strood station (next

Rochester), and one of them called the child's attention to a gentleman

standing on the platform, asking if she knew who he was. With surprised

delight she at once exclaimed, 'That's my papa!' That same gentleman was

Mr. Charles Dickens!"

Mr. Baird speaks of the great appreciation which the people of Chatham

had of Dickens's services at the readings, and says it was very good and

kind of him to give those services gratuitously. He confirms the general

opinion as to the origin of the "fat boy," and the "very fussy little

man" at Fort Pitt, who was the prototype of Dr. Slammer.

It struck us both forcibly that Mr. Baird's appearance at the time of

our visit was very like the last American photograph of Dickens, taken

by Gurney in 1867.

* * * * *

Mr. J. E. Littlewood[23] of High Street, Chatham, knew Charles Dickens

about the year 1845 or 1846 at the Royalty (Miss Kelly's) Theatre in

Dean Street, Soho, our informant having been in times past a bit of an

amateur actor, and played Bob Acres in _The Rivals_. He subsequently

heard Dickens read at the Chatham Mechanics' Institute about 1861, and

said that the facial display in the trial scene from _Pickwick_ (one of

the pieces read) was wonderful. He had the honour of dining at the late

Mr. Budden's in High Street, opposite Military Road, to meet Dickens.

There was a large company present. In acknowledging the toast of his

health, which had been proposed at the dinner--either by Sir Arthur

Otway or Captain Fanshawe--Dickens said he was very pleased to read "in

memory of the old place," meaning Chatham, but that he might be reading

"all the year round" for charities.

Mr. Littlewood also heard Dickens say, that "he had passed many happy

hours in the House on the Brook" looking at "the Lines" opposite. "At

that time" (said our informant) "the place was more rural--considered a

decent spot--not so crowded up as now--nor so vulgar--many respectable

people lived there in Dickens's boyhood. The place has sadly changed

since for the worse."

* * * * *

Mr. Humphrey Wood, Solicitor, of Chatham, was, about the year 1867,

local Hon. Secretary to the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty

to Animals, and, having applied to Charles Dickens to give a Reading on

behalf of the Society, received the following polite answer to his

application. If only a few words had to be said, they were well said and

to the purpose.

"GAD'S HILL PLACE,

"HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT.

"_Thursday, 5th September, 1867._

"SIR,

"In reply to your letter, I beg to express my

regret that my compliance with the request it

communicates to me, is removed from within the

bounds of reasonable possibility by the nature of

my engagements, present and prospective.

"Your faithful servant,

"CHARLES DICKENS.

"HUMPHREY WOOD, ESQ."

Like other towns in Kent, Chatham contains many names which are

suggestive of some of Dickens's characters, _viz._ Dowler, Whiffen,

Kimmins, Wyles, Arkcoll, Perse, Winch, Wildish, Hockaday, Mowatt,

Hunnisett, and others.

It is, of course, scarcely necessary to mention, in passing, that

Chatham is one of the most important centres of ship-building for the

Royal Navy; the dockyards--often referred to in Dickens's minor

works--cover more than seventy acres, and are most interesting. Here, at

the Navy Pay-Office, the elder Dickens was employed during his residence

at Chatham.

Fort Pitt next claims our attention. It stands on the high ground above

the Railway Station at Chatham, just beyond Ordnance Terrace. In Charles

Dickens's early days, and indeed long after, until the establishment of

the magnificent Institution at Netley, Fort Pitt was the principal

military Hospital in England, and was visited by Her Majesty during the

Crimean War. It is still used as a hospital, and contains about two

hundred and fifty beds. The interesting museum which previously existed

there has been removed to Netley.

From Fort Pitt we see the famous "Chatham lines," which constitute the

elaborate and almost impregnable fortifications of this important

military and ship-building town. The "lines" were commenced as far back

as 1758, and stretch from Gillingham to Brompton, a distance of several

miles, enclosing the peninsula formed by the bend of the river Medway.

Forster says:--

[Illustration: Navy Pay-Office, Chatham.]

"By Rochester and the Medway to the Chatham lines was a favourite walk

with Charles Dickens. He would turn out of Rochester High Street through

the Vines, . . . would pass round by Fort Pitt, and coming back by

Frindsbury would bring himself by some cross-fields again into the

high-road."

The Chatham lines are locally understood as referring to a piece of

ground about three or four hundred yards square, near Fort Pitt, used as

an exercising-ground for the military.

Chapter IV. of _Pickwick_, "describing a field day and bivouac," refers

to the Chatham lines as the place where the review was held, on the

third day of the visit of the Pickwickians to this neighbourhood, and

which (having been relieved of the company of their quondam friend, Mr.

Jingle, who had caused at least one of the party so much anxiety) they

all attended, possibly at Mr. Pickwick's suggestion, as he is stated to

have been "an enthusiastic admirer of the army." The programme is thus

referred to:--

"The whole population of Rochester and the

adjoining towns, rose from their beds at an early

hour of the following morning, in a state of the

utmost bustle and excitement. A grand review was

to take place upon the lines. The manoeuvres of

half a dozen regiments were to be inspected by the

eagle eye of the commander-in-chief; temporary

fortifications had been erected, the citadel was

to be attacked and taken, and a mine was to be

sprung."

The evolutions of this "ceremony of the utmost grandeur and importance"

proceed. Mr. Pickwick and his two friends (Mr. Tupman "had suddenly

disappeared, and was nowhere to be found"), who are told to keep back,

get hustled and pushed by the crowd, and the unoffending Mr. Snodgrass,

who is in "the very extreme of human torture," is derided and asked

"vere he vos a shovin' to." Subsequently they get hemmed in by the

crowd, "are exposed to a galling fire of blank cartridges, and harassed

by the operations of the military." Mr. Pickwick loses his hat, and not

only regains that useful article of dress, but finds the lost Mr.

Tupman, and the Pickwickians make the acquaintance of old Wardle and his

hospitable family from Dingley Dell, by whom they are heartily

entertained, and from whom they receive a warm invitation to visit Manor

Farm on the morrow.

There is a fine view of Chatham and Rochester from the fields round Fort

Pitt, and on a bright sunny morning the air coming over from the Kentish

Hills is most refreshing, very different indeed to what it was on a

certain evening in Mr. Winkle's life, when "a melancholy wind sounded

through the deserted fields like a giant whistling for his house-dog."

We ramble about for an hour or more, and in imagination call up the

pleasant times which Charles Dickens, as a boy, spent here.

[Illustration: Fort Pitt, Chatham.]

Almost every inch of the ground must have been gone over by him. What a

delightful "playing-field" this and the neighbouring meadows must have

been to him and his young companions, before the railway and the builder

took possession of some of the lower portions of the hill which forms

the base of Fort Pitt. "Here," says Mr. Langton, "is the place where the

schools of Rochester and Chatham used to meet to settle their

differences, and to contend in the more friendly rivalry of cricket,"

and no doubt Dickens frequently played when "Joe Specks" in Dullborough

"kept wicket." In after life the memory of the past came back to

Dickens with all its freshness, when he again visited the neighbourhood

as the _Uncommercial Traveller_ in "Dullborough":--

"With this tender remembrance upon me" [that of

leaving Chatham as a boy], "I was cavalierly

shunted back into Dullborough the other day, by

train. My ticket had been previously collected,

like my taxes, and my shining new portmanteau had

had a great plaster stuck upon it, and I had been

defied by Act of Parliament to offer an objection

to anything that was done to it, or me, under a

penalty of not less than forty shillings or more

than five pounds, compoundable for a term of

imprisonment. When I had sent my disfigured

property on to the hotel, I began to look about

me; and the first discovery I made, was, that the

Station had swallowed up the playing-field.

"It was gone. The two beautiful hawthorn-trees,

the hedge, the turf, and all those buttercups and

daisies, had given place to the stoniest of

jolting roads; while, beyond the Station, an ugly

dark monster of a tunnel kept its jaws open, as if

it had swallowed them and were ravenous for more

destruction. The coach that had carried me away,

was melodiously called Timpson's Blue-eyed Maid,

and belonged to Timpson, at the coach-office up

street; the locomotive engine that had brought me

back was called severely No. 97, and belonged to

S.E.R., and was spitting ashes and hot-water over

the blighted ground.

"When I had been let out at the platform-door,

like a prisoner whom his turnkey grudgingly

released, I looked in again over the low wall, at

the scene of departed glories. Here, in the

haymaking time, had I been delivered from the

dungeons of Seringapatam, an immense pile (of

haycock), by my countrymen, the victorious British

(boy next door and his two cousins), and had been

recognized with ecstasy by my affianced one (Miss

Green), who had come all the way from England

(second house in the terrace) to ransom me, and

marry me."

Fort Pitt must have had considerable attractions in Mr. Pickwick's time,

as it would appear that it was visited by him and his friends on the

first day of their arrival at Rochester. Lieutenant Tappleton (Dr.

Slammer's second), when presenting the challenge for the duel, thus

speaks to Mr. Winkle in the second chapter of _Pickwick_:--

"'You know Fort Pitt?'

"'Yes; I saw it yesterday.'

"'If you will take the trouble to turn into the

field which borders the trench, take the foot-path

to the left, when you arrive at an angle of the

fortification; and keep straight on till you see

me; I will precede you to a secluded place, where

the affair can be conducted without fear of

interruption.'

"'_Fear_ of interruption!' thought Mr. Winkle."

Everybody remembers how the meeting took place on Fort Pitt. Mr. Winkle,

attended by his friend Mr. Snodgrass, as second, is punctuality itself.

"'We are in excellent time,' said Mr. Snodgrass,

as they climbed the fence of the first field; 'the

sun is just going down.' Mr. Winkle looked up at

the declining orb, and painfully thought of the

probability of his 'going down' himself, before

long."

Presently the officer appears, "the gentleman in the blue cloak," and

"slightly beckoning with his hand to the two friends, they follow him

for a little distance," and after climbing a paling and scaling a hedge,

enter a secluded field.

Dr. Slammer is already there with his friend Dr. Payne,--Dr. Payne of

the 43rd, "the man with the camp-stool."

The arrangements proceed, when suddenly a check is experienced.

"'What's all this?' said Dr. Slammer, as his

friend and Mr. Snodgrass came running up.--'That's

not the man.'

"'Not the man!' said Dr. Slammer's second.

"'Not the man!' said Mr. Snodgrass.

"'Not the man!' said the gentleman with the

camp-stool in his hand.

"'Certainly not,' replied the little doctor.

'That's not the person who insulted me last

night.'

"'Very extraordinary!' exclaimed the officer.

"'Very,' said the gentleman with the camp-stool."

Mutual explanations follow, and, notwithstanding the temporary

dissatisfaction of Dr. Payne, Mr. Winkle comes out like a trump--defends

the honour of the Pickwick Club and its uniform, and wins the admiration

of Dr. Slammer.

"'My dear sir,' said the good-humoured little

doctor, advancing with extended hand, 'I honour

your gallantry. Permit me to say, Sir, that I

highly admire your conduct, and extremely regret

having caused you the inconvenience of this

meeting, to no purpose.'

"'I beg you won't mention it, Sir,' said Mr.

Winkle.

"'I shall feel proud of your acquaintance, Sir,'

said the little doctor.

"'It will afford me the greatest pleasure to know

you, Sir,' replied Mr. Winkle.

"Thereupon the doctor and Mr. Winkle shook hands,

and then Mr. Winkle and Lieutenant Tappleton (the

doctor's second), and then Mr. Winkle and the man

with the camp-stool, and finally Mr. Winkle and

Mr. Snodgrass: the last-named gentleman in an

excess of admiration at the noble conduct of his

heroic friend.

"'I think we may adjourn,' said Lieutenant

Tappleton.

"'Certainly,' added the doctor."

We ourselves also adjourn, taking with us many pleasant memories of

Chatham and Fort Pitt, and of the period relating to "the childhood and

youth of Charles Dickens."

[Illustration: BIRTHPLACE OF CHARLES DICKENS,

387 Mile End Terrace, Commercial Road, Landport.]

* * * * *

No tramp in "Dickens-Land" can possibly be complete without a visit to

the birthplace of the great novelist, and on another occasion we

therefore devote a day to Portsea, Hants. A fast train from Victoria by

the London, Brighton, and South Coast Railway takes us to Portsmouth

Town, the nearest station, which is about half a mile from Commercial

Road, and a tram-car puts us down at the door. We immediately recognize

the house from the picture in Mr. Langton's book, but the first

impression is that the illustration scarcely does justice to it. From

the picture it appears to us to be a very ordinary house in a row, and

to be situated rather low in a crowded and not over respectable

neighbourhood. Nothing of the kind. The house, No. 387, Mile End

Terrace, Commercial Road, Landport, where the parents of Charles Dickens

resided before they removed to another part of Portsea, and subsequently

went to live at Chatham, and where the future genius first saw light,

was eighty years ago quite in a rural neighbourhood; and in those days

must have been considered rather a genteel residence for a family of

moderate means in the middle class. Even now, with the pressure which

always attends the development of large towns, and their extension on

the border-land of green country by the frequent conversion of

dwelling-houses into shops, or the intrusion of shops where

dwelling-houses are, this residence has escaped and remains unchanged to

this day.

There is another point of real importance to notice. Mr. Langton,

referring to this house, says:--"The engraving shows the little

fore-court or front garden, with the low kitchen window of the house,

whence the movements of Charles [who is presumably represented in the

engraving by the figure of a boy about two or three years old, with

curly locks, dressed in a smart frock, and having a large ball in his

right hand], attended by his dear little sister Fanny, could be

overlooked."[24] Very pretty indeed, but alas! I am afraid, purely

imaginary, considering, as will hereafter appear, that Charles was a

baby in arms, aged about four months and sixteen days, when his parents

quitted the house in which he was born.

The house is now, and has been for many years, occupied by Miss Sarah

Pearce, the surviving daughter of Mr. John Dickens's landlord, her

sisters, who formerly lived with her, being all dead. It stands high on

the west side of a good broad road, opposite an old-fashioned villa

called Angus House, in the midst of well-trimmed grounds, and the

situation is very open, pleasant, and cheerful. It is red-brick built,

has a railing in front, and is approached by a little entrance-gate

opening on to a lawn, whereon there are a few flower-beds; a hedge

divides the fore-court from the next house,[25] and a few steps guarded

by a handrail lead to the front door. It is a single-fronted,

eight-roomed house, having two underground kitchens, two floors above,

and a single dormer window high up in the sloping red-tiled roof. As is

usual with old-fashioned houses of this type, the shutters to the lower

windows are outside. Both the front and back parlours on the ground

floor are very cheerful, cosy little rooms (in one of them we are glad

to see a portrait of the novelist), and the view from the back parlour

looking down into the well-kept garden, which abuts on other gardens, is

very pretty, marred only by a large gasometer in the distance, which

could hardly have been erected in young Charles Dickens's earliest days.

In the garden we notice a lovely specimen of the _Lavatera arborea_, or

tree-mallow, covered with hundreds of white and purple blossoms. It is a

rarity to see such a handsome, well-grown tree, standing nearly eight

feet high, and it is not unlikely, from the luxuriance of its growth,

that it existed in Charles Dickens's infancy. From the pleasant

surroundings of the place generally, and from the fact that flowers are

much grown in the neighbourhood (especially roses), it is more than

probable that Dickens's love for flowers was early developed by these

associations. The road leads to Cosham, and to the picturesque old ruin

of Porchester Castle, a nice walk from the town of Portsmouth, and

probably often traversed by Dickens, his sister, and his nurse.

Mr. Langton states that "it is said in after years Charles Dickens could

remember places and things at Portsmouth that he had not seen since he

was an infant of little more than two years old (he left Portsmouth when

he was only four or five), and there is no doubt whatever that many of

the earliest reminiscences of _David Copperfield_ were also tender

childish memories of his own infancy at this place."

Mr. William Pearce, solicitor of Portsea, son of the former landlord,

and brother of Miss Sarah Pearce, the present occupant, has been kind

enough to supply the following interesting information respecting No.

387, Mile End Terrace:--

"The celebrated novelist was born in the front bedroom of the above

house, which my sisters many years ago converted into a drawing-room,

and it is still used as such.

"Mr. John Dickens, the father of the novelist, and his wife came to

reside in the house directly after they were married. Mr. John Dickens

rented the house of my father at L35 a-year, from the 24th June, 1808,

until the 24th June, 1812, when he quitted, and moved into Hawke Street,

in the town of Portsea. Miss Fanny Dickens, the novelist's sister, was

the first child born in the house, and then the novelist.

"I was born on the 22nd February, 1814, and have often heard my mother

say that Mr. Gardner, the surgeon, and Mrs. Purkis, the monthly nurse

(both of whom attended my mother with me and her six other children),

attended Mrs. Dickens with her two children, Fanny and Charles, who were

both born in the above house; besides this, Mrs. Purkis has often called

on my sisters at the house in question, and alluded to the above

circumstances.

[Illustration: St. Mary's Church, Portsea.]

"Mr. Cobb (whom I recollect), a fellow-clerk of Mr. John Dickens in the

pay-office in the Portsmouth Dockyard, rented the same house of my

father after Mr. John Dickens left, and often alluded to the many happy

hours he spent in it while Mr. Dickens resided there."

We next visit the site of old Kingston Parish Church,--St. Mary's,

Portsea--where Charles Dickens was baptized on 4th March, 1812. A very

handsome and large new church, costing nearly forty thousand pounds, and

capable of seating over two thousand persons, has been erected, and

occupies the place of the old church, where the ceremony took place.

Mr. Langton has given a very pretty little drawing of the old church in

his book, so that its associations are preserved to lovers of Dickens.

The old church itself was the second edifice erected on the same spot,

and thus the present one is the third parish church which has been built

here. There is a large and crowded burial-ground attached to it; but a

cursory examination does not disclose any names on the gravestones to

indicate characters in the novels.

It is right to note here, that the kind people of Portsmouth were

desirous of inserting a stained-glass window in their beautiful new

church to the memory of one of their most famous sons (the eminent

novelist, Mr. Walter Besant, was born at Portsmouth, as also were

Isambard K. Brunel, the engineer, and Messrs. George and Vicat Cole,

Royal Academicians), but they were debarred by the conditions of

Dickens's will, which expressly interdicted anything of the kind. It

states:--

"I conjure my friends on no account to make me the subject of any

monument, memorial, or testimonial whatever. I rest my claim to the

remembrance of my country upon my published works, and to the

remembrance of my friends upon their experience of me in addition

thereto."

Before leaving Portsmouth, we just take a hasty glance at the Theatre

Royal, which remains much as it was during the days of Mr. Vincent

Crummles and his company, as graphically described in the twenty-second

and following chapters of _Nicholas Nickleby_. Of that genial manager,

Mr. T. Edgar Pemberton, in his _Charles Dickens and the Stage_,

observes:--

"Every line that is written about Mr. Crummles and his followers is

instinct with good-natured humour, and from the moment when, in the

road-side inn 'yet twelve miles short of Portsmouth,' the reader comes

into contact with the kindly old circuit manager, he finds himself in

the best of good company."

Mr. Rimmer, in his _About England with Dickens_, referring to the

"Common Hard" at Portsmouth, says that the "people there point out in a

narrow lane leading to the wharf, the house where Nicholas is supposed

to have sojourned."

FOOTNOTES:

[19] So far as I am aware, nothing has been done to trace the genealogy

of the Dickens family, and it may therefore be of interest to place on

record the title of, and an extract from, a very scarce and curious thin

quarto volume (pp. 1-28) in my collection. Sir Walter Scott was

immensely proud of his lineage and historical associations, but it would

be a wonderful thing if we could trace the descent of Charles Dickens

from King Edward III.

In the _Rambler in Worcestershire_ (Longmans, 1854), Mr. John Noake, the

author, in alluding to the parish of Churchill, Worcestershire,

says:--"The Dickens family of Bobbington were lords of this manor from

1432 to 1657, and it is said that from this family Mr. Dickens, the

author, is descended."

[Title.]

A

POSTHUMOUS POEM

of the

late THOMAS DICKENS, ESQ.,

Lieut.-Colonel in the First Regiment of Foot Guards,

Dedicated, by permission,

to his Royal Highness, the Duke of Gloucester,

to which is added

The genealogy of the Author from King Edward III.;

also

A few grateful stanzas to the Deity, three months

previous to his death, _Sep. 21st, 1789_.

CAMBRIDGE:

Printed by J. Archdeacon, Printer to the University.

And may be had of the Editor, C. DICKENS, LL.D., near Huntingdon,

and of T. PAYNE AND SON, Booksellers, London.

MDCCXC.

Above the title is written in ink: "Peter Cowling to Charles Robert

Dickens, 3rd son to Sam. Trevor Dickens, this 10th August, 1807, and

from said Chas. R. Dickens to his loved father, on the 16th June, 1832."

[EXTRACT.]

Genealogy of the late Thomas Dickens, Esq.

KING EDWARD III.

LIONEL, Duke of Clarence his Son

PHILIPPA, married to EDMUND MORTIMER, Earl of March his Daughter

ROGER, Earl of March her Son

ANN, who married RICHARD, Duke of York and Earl of

Cambridge his Daughter

RICHARD, Duke of York her Son

GEORGE, Duke of Clarence, brother to Edward IV. his Son

Countess of SALISBURY his Daughter

Viscount MONTAGUE her Son

Lady BARRINGTON his Daughter

Sir Francis BARRINGTON her Son

Lady MASHAM his Daughter

William MASHAM, ESQ. her Son

Sir FRANCIS MASHAM her Son

JOHANNA MASHAM, who married Counsellor Hildesley his Daughter

JOHN HILDESLEY, ESQ. her Son

MARY HILDESLEY, who married the Reverend SAMUEL

DICKENS his Daughter

THOMAS DICKENS, ESQ., the Author her Son

Opposite GEORGE, Duke of Clarence, is written in ink, "Drown'd in a

Butt of Malmsey Madeira," and following THOMAS DICKENS, ESQ., the

Author, also written in ink--

"Lieut.-Gen. Sir SAML. T. DICKENS, K.C.H. his Son

Capt. SAML. T. DICKENS, R.N. his Son"

And following the last-mentioned names written in pencil--

"Admiral SAMUEL TREVOR DICKENS, R.N. my Son"

Also written in pencil underneath the above--

"qy. CHARLES DICKENS the Novelist."

[20] In a copy--in my collection--of the second edition 8vo of "_The

History and Antiquities of Rochester and its Environs_, embellished with

engravings (pp. i-xvii, 1-419), printed and sold by W. Wildash,

Rochester, 1817," there occurs in the list of subscribers--about four

hundred in number--the name:--DICKENS MR. JOHN, CHATHAM.

[21] A most interesting paper entitled "The Life and Labours of

Lieutenant Waghorn," appeared in _Household Words_ (No. 21), August

17th, 1850.

[22] See Note to Chapter ii. p. 38.

[23] Since this was written, Mr. Littlewood has passed over to the great

majority. He was found drowned near Chatham Pier in March, 1890.

[24] This was taken from the first edition of Mr. Langton's book,

published in 1883. In the new edition, 1891--a beautiful volume--this

passage has been eliminated, but the engraving is untouched.

[25] This house is appropriately named "Highland House," and was also

the property of John Dickens's landlord, in which the family then and

for many years after resided. At the time referred to Mr. Pearce owned

not only the above-mentioned houses, but all the surrounding property.

CHAPTER X.

AYLESFORD, TOWN MALLING, AND MAIDSTONE.

"Its river winding down from the mist on the

horizon, as though that were its source, and

already heaving with a restless knowledge of its

approach towards the sea."--_Edwin Drood._

"Oh, the solemn woods over which the light and

shadow travelled swiftly, as if Heavenly wings

were sweeping on benignant errands through the

summer air; the smooth green slopes, the

glittering water, the garden where the flowers

were symmetrically arranged in clusters of the

richest colours, how beautiful they

looked!"--_Bleak House._

ANOTHER delightful morning, fine but overcast, favours our tramp in this

neighbourhood. We are up betimes on Monday, and take the train by the

South-Eastern Railway from Strood station to Aylesford. It is a distance

of nearly eight miles between these places; and the intermediate

stations of any note which we pass on the way are Cuxton (about three

miles) and Snodland (about two miles further on), which are two large

villages. As the railway winds, we obtain excellent views of the chalk

escarpments on the series of hills opposite, these being the result of

centuries of quarrying. The land on either side of the river is marshy

and intersected by numerous water-courses. These grounds are locally

termed "saltings," caused by the overflow of the Medway at certain

times, and are used as sanitaria for horses which require bracing.

[Illustration: Aylesford]

Cuxton is at the entrance of the valley between the two chalk ranges of

hills which form the water-parting of the river Medway. As Mr Phillips

Bevan rightly observes--"this valley is utilized for quarrying and

lime-burning to such an extent, that it has almost the appearance of a

northern manufacturing district," but it is a consolation, on the

authority of Sir A. C. Ramsay, to know that "man cannot permanently

disfigure nature!"

At Snodland the river becomes narrower, and the scenery of the valley is

more picturesque. Early British and Roman remains have been found in the

district, and according to the authority previously quoted--"In one of

the quarries, which are abundant, Dr. Mantell discovered some of the

most interesting and rarest chalk fossils with which we are acquainted,

including the fossil Turtle (_Chelonia Benstedi_)."

Alighting from the train at Aylesford station, we have but a few minutes

to ramble by the river, the banks of which are brightened by the

handsome flowers of the purple loosestrife. We notice the charming

position of the Norman church, which stands on an eminence on the right

bank of the Medway, overlooking the main street, and is surrounded by

fine old elm trees--the bells were chiming "Home, sweet home," a name

very dear to Dickens. The Medway ceases to be a tidal river at Allington

beyond Aylesford, and one or other of the weirs at Allington or Farleigh

(further on) may have suggested the idea of "Cloisterham Weir" in _Edwin

Drood_; but they are too far distant (as shown in Chapter V.) to fit in

with the story. The ancient stone bridge which spans the Medway at

Aylesford is seven-arched; a large central one, and three smaller ones

on either side. One or two of the arches on the left bank are filled up,

as though the river had silted on that side. Mr. Roach Smith considers

the bridge to be a very fine specimen of mediaeval architecture. It is

somewhat narrow, but there are large abutments which afford shelter to

foot passengers.

[Illustration: Aylesford Bridge]

We are much inclined to think that Aylesford Bridge was in the mind of

Dickens when he makes the Pickwickians cross the Medway, only a wooden

bridge is mentioned in the text for the purpose perhaps of concealing

identity. The place is certainly worth visiting, and the approach to it

by the river is exceedingly picturesque.

Aylesford is supposed to be the place where the great battle between

Hengist and Vortigern took place. Near to it, at a place called Horsted,

is the tomb of Horsa, who fell in the battle between the Britons and

Saxons, A.D. 455. Names of Dickens's characters, Brooks, Joy, etc.,

occur at Aylesford. There is a very fine quarry here, from whence the

famous Kentish rag-stone--"a concretionary limestone"--is obtained. It

forms the base, and is overlaid by the Hassock sands and the river

drift. In the distance is seen the bold series of chalk rocks

constituting the ridge of the valley.

Just outside Aylesford we pass Preston Hall, a fine modern Tudor mansion

standing in very pretty grounds, and belonging to Mr. H. Brassey.

We now resume our tramp towards the principal point of our destination,

Town Malling,[26] or West Malling, as it is indifferently called (the

"a" in Malling being pronounced long, as in "calling"). The walk from

Aylesford lies through the village of Larkview, and is rather pretty,

but there is nothing remarkable to notice until we approach Town

Malling. Here it becomes beautifully wooded, especially in the

neighbourhood of Clare House Park, the Spanish or edible chestnut, with

its handsome dark green lanceolate serrate leaves, and clumps of Scotch

firs, with their light red trunks and large cones, the result of healthy

growth, which would have delighted the heart of Mr. Ruskin, being

conspicuous. On the road we pass a field sown with maize, a novelty to

one accustomed to the Midlands. The farmer to whom it belongs says that

it is a poor crop this year, owing to the excess of wet and late summer,

but in a good season it gives a fine yield. We are informed that it is

used in the green state as food for cattle and chickens.

[Illustration: The High St Town Malling]

A pleasant tramp of about three miles brings us to Town Malling, which

stands on the Kentish rag. The approach to Town Malling is by a

waterfall, and there are the ruins of the old Nunnery, founded by Bishop

Gundulph in 1090, in the place. East Malling is a smaller town, and lies

nearer to Maidstone. Our object in visiting this pretty, old-fashioned

Kentish country town, is to verify its identity with that of Muggleton

of the _Pickwick Papers_. Great weight must be attached to the fact

that the present Mr. Charles Dickens, in his annotated Jubilee Edition

of the above work, introduces a very pretty woodcut of "High Street,

Town Malling," with a note to the effect that--

"Muggleton, perhaps, is only to be taken as a fancy sketch of a small

country town; but it is generally supposed, and probably with sufficient

accuracy, that, if it is in any degree a portrait of any Kentish town,

Town Malling, a great place for cricket in Mr. Pickwick's time, sat for

it."

The reader will remember that when at the hospitable Mr. Wardle's

residence at Manor Farm in Dingley Dell (by the bye, there is a

veritable "Manor Farm" at Frindsbury, near Strood, with ponds adjacent,

which may perhaps have suggested the episode of Mr. Pickwick on the

ice), an excursion was determined on by the Pickwickians to witness a

grand cricket match about to be played between the "All Muggleton" and

the "Dingley Dellers," a conference first took place as to whether the

invalid, Mr. Tupman, should remain or go with them.

"'Shall we be justified,' asked Mr. Pickwick, 'in

leaving our wounded friend to the care of the

ladies?'

"'You cannot leave me in better hands,' said Mr.

Tupman.

"'Quite impossible,' said Mr. Snodgrass."

The result of the conference was satisfactory.

"It was therefore settled that Mr. Tupman should

be left at home in charge of the females, and that

the remainder of the guests under the guidance of

Mr. Wardle should proceed to the spot, where was

to be held that trial of skill, which had roused

all Muggleton from its torpor, and inoculated

Dingley Dell with a fever of excitement.

"As their walk, _which was not above two miles

long_,[27] lay through shady lanes and

sequestered footpaths, and as their conversation

turned upon the delightful scenery by which they

were on every side surrounded, Mr. Pickwick was

almost inclined to regret the expedition they had

used, when he found himself in the main street of

the town of Muggleton."

The chronicle of _Pickwick_ then proceeds to state that--

"Muggleton is a corporate town, with a mayor,

burgesses, and freemen; . . . an ancient and loyal

borough, mingling a zealous advocacy of Christian

principles with a devoted attachment to commercial

rights; in demonstration whereof, the mayor,

corporation, and other inhabitants, have presented

at divers times, no fewer than one thousand four

hundred and twenty petitions, against the

continuance of negro slavery abroad, and an equal

number against any interference with the factory

system at home; sixty-eight in favour of the sales

of livings in the Church, and eighty-six for

abolishing Sunday trading in the streets."

On the occasion of their second visit to Manor Farm to spend Christmas,

the Pickwickians came by the "Muggleton Telegraph," which stopped at the

"Blue Lion," and they walked over to Dingley Dell.

Assuming, as has been suggested by Mr. Frost in his _In Kent with

Charles Dickens_, that Dingley Dell is somewhere on the eastern side of

the river Medway, within fifteen miles of Rochester,--Mr. William James

Budden (a gentleman whom we met at Chatham) gave as his opinion that it

was near Burham,[28]--then it would require a much greater walk than

that ("which was not above two miles long") to reach Town Malling

(leaving out of the question the fact that Burham is only about six

miles from Rochester instead of fifteen miles, as the waiter at the Bull

told Mr. Pickwick in reply to his enquiry), whereby we reluctantly for

the time arrive at the conclusion,--as Mr. Frost did before us--that

Dingley Dell as such near Town Malling cannot be identified.

On another visit to "Dickens-Land" Mr. R. L. Cobb suggested that Cobtree

Hall, near Aylesford, was the prototype of Dingley Dell. It may have

been; but except one goes as the crow flies, it is more than two miles

distant from Town Malling. But as Captain Cuttle would say--we "make a

note of it."

After all, Dingley Dell is no doubt a type of an English yeoman's

hospitable home. There are numbers of such in Kent, Warwickshire,

Worcestershire, Devonshire, and other counties, and the one in question

may have been seen by Dickens almost anywhere.

There is, at any rate, one objection to Muggleton being Town

Malling--the latter is not, as mentioned in the text, "a corporate

town." The neighbouring corporate towns which might be taken for it are

Faversham, Tunbridge Wells, and Seven Oaks; but, as Mr. Rimmer, in his

_About England with Dickens_, points out--"These have no feature in

common with the enterprising borough which had so distinguished itself

in the matter of petitions." On the other hand, there is _one_ very

strong reason in favour of Town Malling, and that is its devotion to the

noble old English game of cricket. So far as we could make out, no town

in Kent has done better service in this respect. But more of this

presently.

* * * * *

[Illustration: Cob Tree Hall]

So many friends recommended us to see Cobtree Hall that, after the

foregoing was written, we determined to follow their advice, and on a

subsequent occasion we take the train to Aylesford and walk over, the

distance being a pleasant stroll of about a mile. We were well repaid.

The mansion, formerly called Coptray Friars, belonging to the Aylesford

Friary, is an Elizabethan structure of red brick with stone facings

prettily covered with creeping plants, standing on an elevated position

in a beautifully wooded and undulating country overlooking the Medway

and surrounded by cherry orchards and hop gardens. Major Trousdell was

so courteous as to show us over the building, which has been altered and

much enlarged during the last half century. Internally there is

something to favour the hypothesis of its being the type of Manor Farm,

Dingley Dell. Such portions of the old building remaining, as the

kitchen, are highly suggestive of the gathering described in that

good-humoured Christmas chapter of _Pickwick_ (xxviii.), and there is a

veritable beam to correspond with Phiz's plate of "Christmas Eve at Mr.

Wardle's." "The best sitting-room, [described as] a good long,

dark-panelled room with a high chimney-piece, and a capacious chimney up

which you could have driven one of the new patent cabs, wheels and all,"

may still be discerned in the handsome modern dining-room, with carved

marble mantel-piece of massive size formerly supplied with old-fashioned

"dogs." The views from the bay-window are very extensive and

picturesque. The mansion divides the two parishes of Boxley and

Allington, the initials of which are carved on the beam in the kitchen.

Externally, there is much more to commend it to our acceptance. Remains

of a triangular piece of ground, with a few elm-trees, still survive as

"the rookery," where Mr. Tupman met with his mishap, and to our delight

there is "the pond," not indeed covered with ice, as on Mr. Pickwick's

memorable adventure, but crowded with water-lilies on its surface; its

banks surrounded by the fragrant meadow-sweet and the brilliant

rose-coloured willow herb. Furthermore we were informed, by Mr. Franklin

of Maidstone, that the "Red Lion," which formerly stood on the spot now

occupied by Mercer's Stables, is locally considered to be the original

of "a little roadside public-house, with two elm-trees, a horse-trough,

and a sign-post in front;" where the Pickwickians sought assistance

after the breakdown of the "four-wheeled chaise" which "separated the

wheels from the body and the bin from the perch," but were inhospitably

repulsed by the "red-headed man and the tall bony woman," who suggested

that they had stolen the "immense horse" which had recently played Mr.

Winkle such pranks. Finally, in a pleasant chat with the Rev. Cyril

Grant, Vicar of Aylesford, and his curate, the Rev. H. B. Boyd (a son

of A. K. H. B.), we elicited the fact that Cobtree Hall is locally

recognized as the original of Manor Farm. Nay more, in Aylesford

churchyard a tomb was pointed out on the west side with the

inscription:--"Also to the memory of Mr. W. Spong, late of Cobtree, in

the Parish of Boxley, who died Nov. 15th, 1839," who is said to have

been the prototype of the genial and hospitable "old Wardle."

True, neither the distance to Rochester nor to Town Malling fits in with

the narrative, but this is not material. Dickens, with the usual

"novelist's licence," found it convenient often-times to take a nucleus

of fact, and surround it with a halo of fiction, and this may have been

one of many similar instances. His wonderfully-gifted and ever-facile

imagination was never at fault.

So on our return journey we console ourselves by reading the following

description, in chapter vi. of _Pickwick_, of the first gathering of the

Pickwickians at their host's, one of the most delightful bits in the

whole book, and "make-believe," as the Marchioness would say, that we

have actually seen Manor Farm, Dingley Dell.

"Several guests who were assembled in the old

parlour, rose to greet Mr. Pickwick and his

friends upon their entrance; and during the

performance of the ceremony of introduction, with

all due formalities, Mr. Pickwick had leisure to

observe the appearance, and speculate upon the

characters and pursuits, of the persons by whom he

was surrounded--a habit in which he in common with

many other great men delighted to indulge.

"A very old lady, in a lofty cap and faded silk

gown,--no less a personage than Mr. Wardle's

mother,--occupied the post of honour on the

right-hand corner of the chimney-piece; and

various certificates of her having been brought up

in the way she should go when young, and of her

not having departed from it when old, ornamented

the walls, in the form of samplers of ancient

date, worsted landscapes of equal antiquity, and

crimson silk tea-kettle holders of a more modern

period. The aunt, the two young ladies, and Mr.

Wardle, each vying with the other in paying

zealous and unremitting attentions to the old

lady, crowded round her easy-chair, one holding

her ear-trumpet, another an orange, and a third a

smelling-bottle, while a fourth was busily engaged

in patting and punching the pillows, which were

arranged for her support. On the opposite side sat

a bald-headed old gentleman, with a good-humoured

benevolent face,--the clergyman of Dingley Dell;

and next him sat his wife, a stout, blooming old

lady, who looked as if she were well skilled, not

only in the art and mystery of manufacturing

home-made cordials, greatly to other people's

satisfaction, but of tasting them occasionally,

very much to her own. A little hard-headed,

Ripstone pippin-faced man, was conversing with a

fat old gentleman in one corner; and two or three

more old gentlemen, and two or three more old

ladies, sat bolt upright and motionless on their

chairs, staring very hard at Mr. Pickwick and his

fellow-voyagers.

"'Mr. Pickwick, mother,' said Mr. Wardle, at the

very top of his voice.

"'Ah!' said the old lady, shaking her head; 'I

can't hear you.'

"'Mr. Pickwick, grandma!' screamed both the young

ladies together.

"'Ah!' exclaimed the old lady. 'Well; it don't

much matter. He don't care for an old 'ooman like

me, I dare say.'

"'I assure you, madam,' said Mr. Pickwick,

grasping the old lady's hand, and speaking so loud

that the exertion imparted a crimson hue to his

benevolent countenance; 'I assure you, ma'am, that

nothing delights me more, than to see a lady of

your time of life heading so fine a family, and

looking so young and well.'

"'Ah!' said the old lady, after a short pause;

'it's all very fine, I dare say; but I can't hear

him.'

"'Grandma's rather put out now,' said Miss

Isabella Wardle, in a low tone; 'but she'll talk

to you presently.'

"Mr. Pickwick nodded his readiness to humour the

infirmities of age, and entered into a general

conversation with the other members of the

circle.

"'Delightful situation this,' said Mr. Pickwick.

"'Delightful!' echoed Messrs. Snodgrass, Tupman,

and Winkle.

"'Well, I think it is,' said Mr. Wardle.

"'There ain't a better spot o' ground in all Kent,

sir,' said the hard-headed man with the

pippin-face; 'there ain't indeed, sir--I'm sure

there ain't, sir,' and the hard-headed man looked

triumphantly round, as if he had been very much

contradicted by somebody, but had got the better

of him at last. 'There ain't a better spot o'

ground in all Kent,' said the hard-headed man

again after a pause.

"''Cept Mullins' meadows!' observed the fat man,

solemnly.

"'Mullins' meadows!' ejaculated the other, with

profound contempt.

"'Ah, Mullins' meadows,' repeated the fat man.

"'Reg'lar good land that,' interposed another fat

man.

"'And so it is, sure-ly,' said a third fat man.

"'Everybody knows that,' said the corpulent host.

"The hard-headed man looked dubiously round, but

finding himself in a minority, assumed a

compassionate air, and said no more.

"'What are they talking about?' inquired the old

lady of one of her grand-daughters, in a very

audible voice; for, like many deaf people, she

never seemed to calculate on the possibility of

other persons hearing what she said herself.

"'About the land, grandma.'

"'What about the land? Nothing the matter, is

there?'

"'No, no. Mr. Miller was saying our land was

better than Mullins' meadows.'

"'How should he know anything about it?' inquired

the old lady indignantly. 'Miller's a conceited

coxcomb, and you may tell him I said so.' Saying

which, the old lady, quite unconscious that she

had spoken above a whisper, drew herself up, and

looked carving-knives at the hard-headed

delinquent."

* * * * *

In the course of our tramp we fall in with "a very queer small boy,"

rejoicing in the Christian names of "Spencer Ray," upon which we

congratulate him, and express a hope that he will do honour to the

noble names which he bears, one being that of the great English

philosopher, and the other that of the famous English naturalist. This

boy, who is just such a bright intelligent lad as Dickens himself would

have been at his age (twelve and a half years), gives us some

interesting particulars respecting Town Malling and its proclivities for

cricket, upon which he is very eloquent. It appears that in the year

1887 the cricketers of Town Malling won eleven matches out of twelve;

but during this year they have not been so successful. He directed us to

the cricket-ground, which we visit, and find to be but a few minutes'

walk from the centre of the town, bearing to the westward. It is a very

fine field, nearly seven acres in extent, in splendid order, as level as

a die, and as green as an emerald. It lies well open, and is flanked by

the western range of hills of the Medway valley.

[Illustration: CRICKET GROUND--TOWN MALLING.]

The marquee into which Mr. Pickwick and his friends were invited, first

by "one very stout gentleman, whose body and legs looked like half a

gigantic roll of flannel, elevated on a couple of inflated

pillow-cases," and then by the irrepressible Jingle with--"This

way--this way--capital fun--lots of beer--hogsheads; rounds of

beef--bullocks; mustard--cart-loads; glorious day--down with you--make

yourself at home--glad to see you--very," has been replaced by a

handsome pavilion.

There is no cricket-playing going on at the time, but there are several

cricketers in the field, and from them we learn confirmatory evidence of

the long existence of the ground in its present condition, and the

enthusiasm of the inhabitants for the old English game.

Another proof of the long-established love of the people of Town Malling

for cricket we subsequently find in the fact that the parlour of the

Swan Hotel, which is an old cricketing house, and probably represents

the "Blue Lion of Muggleton," has in it many very fine lithographic

portraits of all the great cricketers of the middle of the nineteenth

century, including:--Pilch, Lillywhite, Box, Cobbett, Hillyer (a native

of Town Malling), A. Mynn, Taylor, Langdon, Kynaston, Felix (_Felix on

the Bat_), Ward, Kingscote, and others. Several of these names will be

recognized as those of eminent Kentish cricketers. About a quarter of a

century ago--my friend and colleague Mr. E. Orford Smith (himself a

Kentish man and a cricketer) informs me that--the Kentish eleven stood

against all England, and retained their position for some years.

As we stand on the warm day in the centre of the ground, and admire the

lights and shadows passing over the surrounding scenery, we can almost

conjure up the scene of the famous contest, when, on the occasion of the

first innings of the All-Muggleton Club, "Mr. Dumkins and Mr. Podder,

two of the most renowned members of that most distinguished club,

walked, bat in hand, to their respective wickets. Mr. Luffey, the

highest ornament of Dingley Dell, was pitched to bowl against the

redoubtable Dumkins, and Mr. Struggles was selected to do the same kind

office for the hitherto unconquered Podder."

Everybody remembers how the game proceeded under circumstances of

the greatest excitement, in which batters, bowlers, scouts, and

umpires, all did their best under the encouraging shouts of the

members:--"Run--run--another.--Now, then, throw her up--up with

her--stop there--another--no--yes--no--throw her up! throw her up!" Mr.

Jingle himself being as usual very profuse in his remarks, as--"'Ah,

ah!--stupid'--'Now, butter-fingers'--'Muff'--'Humbug'--and so forth."

"In short, when Dumkins was caught out, and Podder stumped out,

All-Muggleton had notched some fifty-four, while the score of the

Dingley Dellers was as blank as their faces." So "Dingley Dell gave in,

and allowed the superior prowess of All-Muggleton," Mr. Jingle again

expressing his views of the winners:--"'Capital game--well played--some

strokes admirable,' as both sides crowded into the tent at the

conclusion of the game."

Yes! We are convinced that Muggleton and Town Malling (except for the

mayor and corporation) are one. At any rate we feel quite safe in

assuming that Town Malling was the type from which Muggleton was taken;

and we confidently recommend all admirers of _Pickwick_ to include that

pleasant Kentish country-town in their pilgrimage.

Having exhausted, so far as our examination is concerned, the

cricket-ground, by the kindness of our young friend who acts as guide,

we see a little more of the town. It consists of a long wide street,

with a few lateral approaches. The houses are well built, and the

church, which is partly Norman, and, like most of the village churches

in Kent, is but a little way from the village, stands on an eminence

from whence a good view may be obtained. We observe, as indicative of

the fine air and mild climate of the place, many beautiful specimens of

magnolia, and wistaria (in second flower) in front of the better class

of houses. One of these is named "Boley House," and as we are told that

Sir Joseph Hawley resided near, our memories immediately revert to the

cognomen of a well-known character in _The Chimes_. Other names in the

place are suggestive of Dickens's worthies, _e.g._ Rudge, Styles,

Briggs, Saunders, Brooker, and John Harman. The last-mentioned is the

second instance in which Dickens has varied a local name by the

alteration of a single letter. There is also the not uncommon name of

"Brown," who, it will be remembered, was the maker of the shoes of the

spinster aunt when she eloped with the faithless Jingle; "in a po-chay

from the 'Blue Lion' at Muggleton," as one of Mr. Wardle's men said; and

the discovery of the said shoes led to the identification of the errant

pair at the "White Hart" in the Borough. After Sam Weller had described

nearly all the visitors staying in the hotel from an examination of

their boots:--

"'Stop a bit,' replied Sam, suddenly recollecting

himself. 'Yes; there's a pair of Vellingtons a

good deal vorn, and a pair o' lady's shoes, in

number five.' 'Country make.'

"'Any maker's name?'

"'Brown.'

"'Where of?'