Rambles in Dickens' Land
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Title: Rambles in Dickens' Land
Author: Robert Allbut
Author of introduction, etc.: Gerald Brenan
Illustrator: Helen M. James
Release date: January 23, 2012 [eBook #38652]
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/38652
Credits: This ebook was transcribed by Les Bowler
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RAMBLES IN DICKENS' LAND ***
This ebook was transcribed by Les Bowler.
[Picture: Henley on Thames]
RAMBLES IN
DICKENS’ LAND
BY ROBERT ALLBUT
WITH INTRODUCTION BY
GERALD BRENAN
AND ILLUSTRATIONS BY
HELEN M. JAMES
[Picture: Logo]
LONDON
S. T. FREEMANTLE
217 PICCADILLY
1899
NOTICE
_The several Extracts from the Works of Dickens contained in this
Manual_, _are used for the better illustration of the text_, _by kind
permission of Messrs._ CHAPMAN & HALL.
* * * * *
Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON and Co.
At the Ballantyne Press
CONTENTS
PAGE
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS vii
INTRODUCTION ix
AUTHOR’S PREFACE xxv
RAMBLE I
CHARING CROSS TO LINCOLN’S INN FIELDS 1
RAMBLE II
LINCOLN’S INN TO THE MANSION HOUSE 15
RAMBLE III
CHARING CROSS TO THAVIES INN, HOLBORN CIRCUS 31
RAMBLE IV
HOLBORN CIRCUS TO TOTTENHAM COURT ROAD 43
RAMBLE V
BANK OF ENGLAND TO HER MAJESTY’S THEATRE 67
RAMBLE VI
EXCURSION TO CHATHAM, ROCHESTER AND GADSHILL 82
RAMBLE VII
EXCURSION TO CANTERBURY AND DOVER 103
RAMBLE VIII
EXCURSION TO HENLEY-ON-THAMES 116
RAMBLE IX
BY GREAT EASTERN ROUTE FROM LONDON TO YARMOUTH 128
RAMBLE X
LONDON TO DORKING AND PORTSMOUTH 141
APPENDIX 150
INDEX 167
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
HENLEY-ON-THAMES _Frontispiece_
_To face page_
OLD ROMAN BATH 10
THE OLD CURIOSITY SHOP 12
FOUNTAIN COURT, TEMPLE 21
DOORWAY IN STAPLE INN 48
THE CHILDREN’S HOSPITAL 53
TAVISTOCK HOUSE 56
THE DRAWING-ROOM, DEVONSHIRE HOUSE 61
THE “LEATHER BOTTLE,” COBHAM 84
EASTGATE HOUSE, ROCHESTER 89
RESTORATION HOUSE, ROCHESTER 90
GADSHILL PLACE 99
THE HOME OF AGNES 112
THE “KING’S HEAD,” CHIGWELL 129
THE “GREAT WHITE HORSE,” IPSWICH 132
DICKENS’ BIRTHPLACE 145
“THE SPANIARDS,” HAMPSTEAD HEATH 152
INTRODUCTION
It is one of the magic legacies left by the great romancers, that the
scenes and characters which they described should possess for most of us
an air of reality, so convincing as sometimes to put staid history to the
blush. The novelist’s ideals become actual to the popular mind; while
commonplace truth hides itself among its dry-as-dust records, until some
curious antiquary or insistent pedant drags it forth to make a nine days’
wonder. We sigh over “Juliet’s Tomb” in spite of the precisians, sup in
the inn kitchen at Pennaflor with Gil Blas at our elbow, and shudder
through the small hours outside the haunted House of the Black Cat in
Quaker Philadelphia. At Tarascon they show you Tartarin’s oriental
garden; and you must hide the irrepressible smile, for Tartarin is
painfully real to these good cap-shooters. The other day an illustrated
magazine published pictures of Alexander Selkirk’s birthplace, and
labelled them “The Home of Robinson Crusoe.” The editor who chose that
caption was still under the spell of Defoe. To him, as to the vast
majority, Crusoe the imaginary seemed vividly real, while the
flesh-and-blood Selkirk was but a name. And if you have that catholic
sympathy which is the true test of the perfect lover of romance, read
“David Copperfield” once again, and then, by way of experiment, spend an
afternoon in Canterbury. You will find yourself expecting at one moment
to see Mr. Micawber step jauntily out of the Queen’s Head Inn, at another
to catch a glimpse of the red-haired Heep slinking along North Lane to
his “’umble dwelling.” You will probably meet a dozen buxom “eldest Miss
Larkinses,” and obnoxious butcher-boys—perhaps even a sweet Agnes
Wickfield, or a Miss Betsy Trotwood driving in from Dover. And, above
all, you will certainly enjoy yourself, and thank your gods for Charles
Dickens.
Mr. Would-be Wiseman may affect to sneer at our pilgrimages to this and
other places connected with the imaginary names of fiction; but he must
recognise the far-reaching influence for good exercised by symbols and
associations over the human mind. The sight of a loved home after many
years—the flutter of one’s country’s flag in foreign lands—these things
touch keenly our better nature. In a like manner is the thoughtful man
impressed when he treads a pathway hallowed by the writings of some
favourite poet or romancer. The moral lesson which the author intended
to convey, his insight into character or loving eye for Nature’s
beauties, and many exquisite passages from his books appeal to us all the
more, when we recall them in the very rooms where they were written—among
the gloomy streets or breezy hills which he has filled with his
inventions. Says Washington Irving in his essay on Stratford: “I could
not but reflect on the singular gift of the poet; to be able thus to
spread the magic of his mind over the very face of Nature; to give to
things and places a charm and character not their own, and to turn this
‘working-day’ world into a perfect fairyland. He is indeed the true
enchanter, whose spell operates, not upon the senses, but upon the
imagination and the heart. Under the wizard influence of Shakespeare I
had been walking all day in a complete delusion. . . . I had been
surrounded with fancied beings; with mere airy nothings conjured up by
poetic power; yet which, to me, had all the charm of reality. I had
heard Jaques soliloquise beneath his oak; had beheld the fair Rosalind
and her companion adventuring through the woodlands; and, above all, had
been once more present in spirit with fat Jack Falstaff and his
contemporaries, from the august Justice Shallow down to the gentle Master
Slender and the sweet Anne Page. Ten thousand honours and blessings on
the bard who has thus gilded the dull realities of life with innocent
illusions.” Wherefore, in spite of the sneers of Master Would-be
Wiseman, let us continue to make these pleasant pilgrimages; not alone
for our own satisfaction and betterment, but also in memory of those who
have opened before us so many delectable lands of fancy, and given us so
many agreeable companions of the road.
This volume, then, is the pilgrim’s guide to Dickens’ Land—the loving
topography of that fertile and very populous region. No far away foreign
country is Dickens’ Land. It lies at our doors; we may explore it when
we choose, with never a passport to purchase nor a Custom House to fear.
The sojourner in London can scarce look from his windows without
beholding scores of its interesting places. To parody that passage which
describes Mr. Pickwick’s outlook into Goswell Street—Dickens’ Land is at
our feet; Dickens’ Land is on our right hand as far as the eye can reach;
Dickens’ Land extends on our left, and the opposite side of Dickens’ Land
is over the way. Nor do the bounds of this genial territory confine
themselves to London alone. Outlying portions spread north and south,
east and west, over England. There is even, as Sala showed, a Dickens’
quarter in Paris; and we have unexpectedly encountered small colonies of
Dickens’ Land across the wide Atlantic. But the best of it lies close to
the great heart of the world—in London, or in the counties thereabout;
and if “Rambles in Dickens’ Land” succeeds in guiding its readers with
pleasure and profit over this storied ground, it will have faithfully
fulfilled its mission.
Trouble has not been spared to make this topography accurate as well as
entertaining. Mr. Weller the younger, with all his “extensive and
peculiar” knowledge of London—Mr. Weller the elder and his brothers of
the whip, with _their_ knowledge of post-roads and coaching inns, could
hardly have identified the various localities more clearly than the
compiler has done. Wherever doubts and disputes arise—as in regard to
the site of the “Old Curiosity Shop”—all sides of the case are given, and
the reader is asked to sum up the arguments and judge for himself. In
nearly every instance a quotation is offered from the author, by means of
which the pilgrim is enabled to refresh his memory and bring his own
recollections of the book to bear upon the question of the site. These
quotations will be found to act admirably as aids to memory, and to
obviate the necessity of carrying a whole library of Dickens about on
one’s rambles. Take, for example, the excerpts from “David Copperfield”
in connection with the visit to Dover. The facetious answers of the
boatmen to David when, sitting ragged and forlorn in the Dover Market
Place, he inquires for his aunt’s house, bring back at a single touch the
whole sad story of the boy’s tramp from London to the coast. It does not
require much imagination to picture him sitting there “on the step of an
empty shop,” with his weary, pinched face and his “dusty sunburnt,
half-clothed figure,” while the sea-faring folk (lineal forbears of those
who frequent the place to-day) made mock of him with their clumsy japes,
until at length happened by the friendly fly-driver, who showed him how
to reach the residence of the old lady who “carries a bag—bag with a good
deal of room in it—is gruffish, and comes down upon you, sharp.” It is
easy, too, with the help of our guide, to follow the shivering child
along the cliffs to Miss Trotwood’s—nay, to identify the “very neat
little cottage, with cheerful bow-windows,” where that good soul looked
after Mr. Dick, and defended her “immaculate grass-plot” against
marauding donkeys. It is this present writer’s privilege to know a
charming elderly lady who boasts of Dover as her birthplace, and who,
when she has exhausted the other lions of that town, is accustomed to
close her remarks with the statement that she “lived for years within a
stone’s-throw of Miss Betsy Trotwood’s cottage.” Occasionally the
Superior Person (who, alas, is rarely absent nowadays!) points out with a
smile of tolerance that neither Miss Trotwood nor yet her house ever
existed save in the novelist’s brain. Whereupon this charming old lady
shakes her finger testily at the transgressor, and exclaims, “It is quite
evident that you have never lived in Dover. Miss Betsy Trotwood a myth,
indeed! Let me tell you that my own mother knew the dear woman well—yes,
and that delightful Mr. Dick too; and she remembered seeing Mr. Dickens
drive up in a fly from the railway station to visit them. Of course
their names were not ‘Trotwood’ and ‘Dick’ at all; it would never have
done for Mr. Dickens to put them in his book under the real names,
particularly as Mr. Dick was related to many good families in that part
of Kent. I have even a dim recollection of seeing Miss Trotwood being
wheeled about in a bath-chair when I was a very little girl and she a
very old woman. Myth, indeed! Why, there are old men in Dover now who
were warned off the grass-plot by David Copperfield’s aunt when they were
donkey-boys.” The animation of the speaker shows that she believes
everything she says. Perhaps a lady possessing the characteristics of
Miss Betsy did once upon a time inhabit the cottage in Dover. Perhaps
there was a real Mr. Dick. Otherwise these recollections are but another
example of that hypnotism exercised over posterity by the great
romancers, to which allusion has already been made.
Again, the many references and the quotations made from several of
Dickens’ works, illustrative of the Temple and the Lincoln’s Inn
quarter—(pages 2 to 25 in the ensuing “Rambles”)—are certain to be
appreciated by the Rambler. With their assistance he can summon back to
his memory the tender love story of Ruth Pinch, and so dream away a happy
hour in peaceful Fountain Court; follow in fancy Maypole Hugh and the
illustrious Captain Sim Tappertit as they ascended the stairs to Sir John
Chester’s chambers in Paper Buildings; stroll thoughtfully along King’s
Bench Walk with the spirit of Sidney Carton; and, in the purlieus of
Chancery Lane, review the legal abuses of the past—(perhaps even some of
those that survive to-day)—reflect upon “Jarndyce and Jarndyce,” or upon
the banished sponging-houses of this district, and once more admit that
Dickens the great novelist was also Dickens the great reformer.
An important feature of “Rambles in Dickens’ Land” will be found in the
exhaustive references to Dickens’ own haunts and homes, and the haunts
and homes of many of his relatives and friends. Naturally, these are in
numerous cases intimately bound up with the creations of his novels, for
Dickens did not “write out of an inkwell,” but looked for inspiration to
real life and real scenes. At Portsmouth our volume guides you to the
house where he was born, and to the old church register wherein the
christening is entered of—(how strangely the full name sounds!)—“Charles
John Huffham Dickens.” But the same venerable seaport is thronged with
memories of Nicholas Nickleby and his player-friends, Miss Snevellicci,
the Crummles family, poor Smike and the rest. It is interesting to
remember that an American writer once suggested the possibility that
Dickens had obtained Nickleby’s experiences as an actor from personal
adventures with a travelling “troupe” during his youth. This is not
impossible, although Forster makes no mention of such an adventure; the
early years of Dickens are by no means fully accounted for, and it is
certain that the stage had always a great fascination for him.
Back of old Hungerford Stairs, behind what is now Charing Cross Station,
you may visit the spot where the two boys—the real and the
imaginary—Charles Dickens and David Copperfield spent so many hours while
working for a scant pittance in that “crazy old house with a wharf of its
own abutting on the water when the tide was in, and on the mud when it
was out, and literally overrun with rats.” Gadshill, where Dickens lived
and died, is on the very borders of historic Rochester, teeming with
reminders of “Edwin Drood,” not to say of the genial Pickwick and his
companions. Of Furnival’s Inn where “Pickwick” was written, and where
its author spent the first months of his married life, only the site
remains; but these “Rambles” will help you to find all, or nearly all, of
his other homes, even to that last home of all—the grave in Westminster
Abbey, in which he was laid on the 14th of June 1870. His friends’
houses too, and the scores of spots noteworthy by reason of association
with him personally, you will be given an opportunity of visiting if you
follow this careful _cicerone_. At No. 58 Lincoln’s Inn Fields still
stands Forster’s house, where, in 1844, Dickens read “The Chimes” to
Carlyle, Douglas Jerrold, Maclise, and others, and which is also utilised
in “Bleak House” to supply a model for the dwelling-place of Mr.
Tulkinghorn. The office of _Household Words_, founded by Dickens, is now
part of the Gaiety Theatre. The old taverns about Hampstead, whither he
loved to resort for a friendly flagon “and a red-hot chop,” are much as
they were in the novelist’s day, save in one regrettable instance where
the proprietor has preferred, in order to cater to an unappreciative
class, to disfigure his inn into a mere modern public-house of the
conventional type, such that Dickens, who loved the place when it was
old-fashioned and comfortable, would utterly disown now. The ancient
“Spaniards,” however, is much the same as it was in the days of the
Gordon riots, when the then host of the quaint little tavern saved Lord
Mansfield’s country house at Caen Wood by allowing the rioters to
devastate his cellars, while he privily sent for the Guards. The
reckless waste of liquor on that occasion is said to have suggested to
Dickens the scene in “Barnaby Rudge,” where John Willet watches the sack
of his beloved “Maypole” and sees his cellars drained of their best, as
he lies bound and helpless in the bar. That the novelist frequently
visited the “Spaniards,” the old records of the house can show; and in
“Pickwick” he makes it the scene of a memorable tea-party, attended by
Mrs. Bardell, just before those “sharp practitioners,” Dodson and Fogg,
caused the injured lady’s arrest. The “Bull and Bush,” another old
Hampstead inn much frequented of Dickens, also exists unharmed by the
“renovator.” And while we are upon the subject of inns known to our
author, let us not forget the “Maypole” itself, here shown to be the
“King’s Head” at Chigwell. Dickens was in ecstasies over the “King’s
Head” and the surrounding neighbourhood, when a chance visit disclosed to
him their attractions; and the letters which he wrote to his friends at
this period are full of Chigwell and its picturesque hostelry. Little
wonder, therefore, that he afterwards made them famous in “Barnaby
Rudge.” The pilgrim will not be disappointed in the “King’s Head” of
to-day, if he accepts the good advice offered by the compiler of these
“Rambles,” _i.e._ to take his ideal of the place from Dickens’ own
description rather than from the elaborate drawing of Cattermole. He may
perhaps notice that in “Barnaby Rudge” no hint is conveyed of the close
proximity of Chigwell church, which is simply across the road. Doubtless
this is a sign of the novelist’s artistic sense. To have his “Maypole”
windows looking directly into the graveyard would have detracted from
that air of warmth and conviviality with which he wished to endow his
rare old inn. In most other respects the description exactly fits the
“King’s Head” as it must have been in “No Popery” times—as it is with
little alteration to-day. The trim green sward at the rear—once
evidently the bowling-green—is a famous resting-place in summer; and in
one of the small arbours Dickens is said to have written during his stay
here. The village, although showing signs of the approach of that fell
barbarian the Essex builder, is still sufficiently picturesque and
old-world to keep one’s illusions alive. There is a grammar school at
Chigwell, the boys of which are learned in neighbouring Dickens’ lore.
If you are credulous—as it becomes a pilgrim to be—these grammarians will
show you John Willet’s tomb in the churchyard, and Dolly Varden’s path
with the real Warren, on the skirts of Hainault Forest, at the farther
end of it. Both in Chigwell and Chigwell Row some village worthies are
still to be met with who have conversed with Charles Dickens and the
kindred spirits that came hither in his company. At the “King’s Head,”
if Mr. Willet’s successor be agreeable, one may lunch or sup in the
Dickens’ Room, also held to have been the chamber in which Mr. Haredale
and the elder Chester held their memorable interview.
Some other inns to which Dickens is known to have resorted are: the
“Bull” at Rochester, the “Leather Bottle” at Cobham, and the “Great White
Horse” at Ipswich—all with Pickwickian associations; the “Old Cheshire
Cheese” in Fleet Street, and the “George and Dragon” at Canterbury. To
many minor taverns in London he was also a frequent visitor, for he
sought his characters in the market-place rather than in the study. His
signature, with the familiar flourish underneath, is treasured in hotel
registers not a few, and it is esteemed a high honour to be permitted to
slumber in the “Dickens’ Room.”
To all and each of these places “Rambles in Dickens’ Land” leads the way,
if the reader chooses to follow. A notable advantage of these rambles is
the ease with which they may be undertaken. An ordinary healthy man or
woman may set forth without apprehension in the author’s footsteps from
the beginning to the end of any particular journey which he describes,
and even the invalid may saunter through a “Ramble” without fatigue.
Conveyances are only needed to bring the pilgrim to the starting-point of
the voyage, and in several instances even these aids to locomotion may be
dispensed with altogether when the sightseer is one after Dickens’ own
heart—a sturdy pedestrian. By pursuing the routes indicated, there is no
reason why a Grand Tour of Dickens’ Land should not be made by easy
stages and at slight cost. Or the pilgrim may pick out some particular
trip, when leisure and chance carry him in that direction. The volume is
in truth a serviceable guide-book, leading its clients by the best ways,
and even informing them where, when sight-seeing is over, a place may be
found for rest, refreshment, and reflection. And it is happier than most
guide-books in that it is never called upon to describe the stupid and
uninteresting, which have no existence in Dickens’ Land.
Into Dickens’ Land, therefore, my masters, an you will and when you will!
The high-roads thither are always open, the lanes and by-paths are free
for us to tread. He that found out this rare world has made it fully
ours. Let us visit our inheritance, or revisit it, if that be the better
word. Let us make real the scenes we have read of and dreamt of—peopling
them with the folk of Dickens, so that familiar faces shall look upon us
from familiar windows, familiar voices greet us as we pass. Shall we
travel abroad in the fashion of the corresponding committee of the
Pickwick Club? Then here is this book, with a wealth of shrewd
information between its covers, ready to be our own particular Samuel
Weller—to wear our livery, whether of sadness or of joy—to point out to
us the sights and the notabilities, to be garrulous when we look for
gossip, and silent when our mood is for silence—to act, in short, as that
useful individual whom we all “rayther want,” “somebody to look arter us
when we goes out a-wisitin’.”
Where, if you please, shall we “wisit” first? It is hard to choose,
since there is so much to choose from. We may ramble about London town,
where, like Mr. Weller, our guide is “werry much at home.” If so, we are
sure to encounter a host of old cronies. Perhaps we shall see the great
Buzfuz entering court, all in his wig and silk, nodding with lofty
condescension to his struggling brother, Mr. T. Traddles, which latter is
bringing “Sophy and the girls” to set Gray’s Inn a-blooming. Or Tom
Pinch going towards Fountain Court to meet the waiting Ruth. Or David
Copperfield joyously ushering J. Steerforth into his rooms in the
Adelphi. Or Captain Cuttle steering for the sign of the “Wooden
Midshipman,” which he may eventually find (and make a note of) at its new
moorings in the Minories. Or Dick Swiveller, poor soul, loafing to his
dingy lodgings. Or that precious pair, Bob Sawyer and Benjamin Allen,
startling the sullen repose of Lant Street with bacchanalian revelry.
And, if the London Dickens’ Land palls, doth not this most inviting
country stretch to all points of the compass? Northward goes yonder
well-appointed coach, whereof the driver has just been escorted from a
certain public-house in Portugal Street by a mottle-faced man, in company
with two or three other persons of stout and weather-beaten aspect—the
driver himself being stouter and more weather-beaten than all. Let us
take the box-seat by his side, and lead him on to talk of “shepherds in
wolves’ clothing,” until presently he tools us into Ipswich, pulling up
under the sign of that “rapacious animal” the Great White Horse. In
Ipswich we may catch a glimpse of a mulberry-coloured livery slinking by
St. Clement’s Church, and guess therefrom that one Alfred Jingle is here
at his old game of laying siege to the hearts of susceptible females with
money. Here, too, behind that green gate in Angel Lane, resides the
pretty housemaid soon to become Mrs. Sam Weller. But we must not linger
in Ipswich. Yarmouth lies before us, with its phantom boat-house still
upturned on the waste places towards the sea, with Little Em’ly, and the
Peggottys, and with Mr. Barkis waiting in the Market Place to jog us out
to sleepy “Blunderstone.”
Back again in London, there is another coach-of-fancy prepared to take us
into Kent, from the yard of the Golden Cross. Four gentlemen—one a
beaming, spectacled person in drab shorts—are outside passengers for
Rochester. And see, here is the ubiquitous Jingle again, clambering to
the roof with all his worldly goods wrapped up in a brown paper parcel.
“Heads—heads—take care of your heads,” he cries, as we rumble under the
old archway; and then, hey! for hopfields and cherry orchards, for
“mouldy old cathedrals” in “Cloisterham” or Canterbury, for jolly Kentish
yeomen and bright-eyed maids of Kent. . . . Who was that wan-faced,
coatless urchin we passed just now in a whirl of chalky dust? His name
is Copperfield, and he is on his way to Dover. And is not that Mr.
Wardle driving his laughing women-folk to the review? And again, yonder
on the brown common, by the Punch and Judy show, there is a grey old man,
pillowing in his loving arms a little blue-eyed girl. These, too, we
know; and our hearts go out to them, for who of us is there that has not—
“. . . with Nell, in Kentish meadows,
Wandered, and lost his way”?
Of introduction there is no more to be said. The book itself lies open
before you; and at your own sweet will you may ramble with it, high and
low, through all the land of Dickens.
G. B.
PREFACE
The great majority of English readers—on both sides of the Atlantic—claim
personal acquaintance with “Samivel” Weller, Mark Tapley, Oliver Twist,
and many more besides: the old companions of our schoolboy days. We
cherish pleasant remembrance of the familiar “green leaves” of Dombey,
David Copperfield, and the rest, as they first afforded us their monthly
quota of interest and enjoyment; and have always maintained intimate
relations with Captain Cuttle, Tom Pinch, Mr. Peggotty, and the more
recent _dramatis personæ_ of the works of Dickens. We sympathise with
Florence, Agnes, and Esther as with sisters, and keep corners of our
hearts sacred to the memory of Little Nell, Paul Dombey, and the
child-wife Dora.
The creations of “bonnie Prince Charlie” have thus become veritable
“household words”; part and parcel of our home associations, instinct
with personality and life. We never think of them as the airy nothings
of imaginative fiction, but regard them as familiar friends, having “a
local habitation and a name” amongst us; with whose cheerful acquaintance
we could ill afford to part, and who bear us kindly company on the hot
and dusty highway of our daily lives.
Charles Dickens was essentially a Londoner, always having a fond regard
for the highways and by-ways of this great Metropolis, and confessedly
deriving his inspiration from the varied phases of Town life and Society.
We accordingly find that the main incidents and characters of his novels
have here their _mise en scène_.
In homage to the genius of his favourite Author, the writer of the
following pages has endeavoured to localise many of the more familiar
associations of the great Novelist with as much exactitude as may be
possible; but it must be remembered that London has undergone
considerable alteration and reconstruction, during the last fifty years.
Thus far reads the original Preface to this Work, as written thirteen
years since; the first (and smaller) edition of which was published in
1886, under the title of _Rambles in London with Charles Dickens_. The
author now begs to thankfully acknowledge its favourable reception,
generously accorded by the Press in particular, and the reading-world in
general.
The present arrangement of the book includes some important additions as
well as considerable revision, the latter being rendered necessary by the
_disappearance_ of many houses and buildings in the course of intervening
years, and the steady progress of Metropolitan improvements. Thus it
comes to pass that only the memory of what has been remains, in regard to
many of these Dickensian localities and landmarks; and it has been the
object of the author (1899) to indicate the former whereabouts of these
old places, as heretofore existent. Especially in the Strand and
neighbourhood (Ramble I.), as well as in Chancery Lane and Holborn
(Rambles II. and IV.), many alterations have taken place, and another
London is springing up around a younger generation, not known to Dickens.
Our Author says (in _Martin Chuzzlewit_), “Change begets change; nothing
propagates so fast”: and the London of to-day, and the activities of our
Metropolitan County Council, at the close of this nineteenth century,
afford striking testimony to the truth of the aphorism, “The old order
changeth, giving place to new.”
The _Pall Mall Magazine_, July 1896, contains a contribution by Mr. C.
Dickens, junr.—“Notes on Some Dickens’ Places and People”—in which he
deprecates the endeavours of those inquirers who have attempted any
localisation of these places. “It is true,” says he, “that many of the
places described in Charles Dickens’s books were suggested by real
localities or buildings, but the more the question comes to be examined,
the more clear it is that all that was done with the prototype, was to
use it as a painter or a sculptor uses a sketch, and that, under the hand
of the writer and in the natural process of evolution, it has grown, in
almost every case, into a finished picture, with few, if any, very
salient points about it to render its origin unmistakable.” He also
quotes, with emphatic approval, from a review of Mr. P. Fitzgerald’s
_Bozland_, then recently published: “Dickens, like Turner in the sister
art of painting—like all real artists indeed—used nature, no doubt, but
used it as being his slave and in no wise his master. He was not content
simply to reproduce the places, persons, things that he had seen and
known. He passed them through the crucible of his imagination, fused
them, re-combined their elements, changed them into something richer and
rarer, gave them forth as products of his art. Are we not doing him some
disservice when we try to reverse the process?” “With these words I most
cordially agree.—CHARLES DICKENS THE YOUNGER.”
The author of this book would submit that the attempt to preserve the
memory of these localities in association with their original use by “the
Master,” does _not_ “reverse the process”; but, rightly considered, may
help the reader to a better comprehension of the genius and method of
Dickens. The dictum of the Rev. W. J. Dawson, given a few years since in
_The Young Woman_ (referring to a previous edition of this Work), is
worth consideration: “The book casts a new light upon Dickens’s methods
of work, and shows us how little he left to invention, and how much he
owed to exact observation.” And in this connection there may be quoted
the opinion of Sir Walter Besant, who published an appreciative article
in _The Queen_, 9th May 1896, anent these selfsame “Rambles,” which thus
concludes: “With this information in your hand, you can go down the
Strand and view its streets from north to south with increased
intelligence and interest. I am not certain whether peopling a street
with creations of the imagination is not more useful—it is certainly more
interesting—than with the real figures of the stony-hearted past.”
The writer, therefore, still believes that such a Dickensian Directory as
is now prepared will be found a valuable practical guide for those who
may desire to visit the haunts and homes of these old friends, whose
memory we cannot “willingly let die;” and to recall the many interests
connected with them by the way.
Though not professing to be infallible, he begs to assure those whom it
may concern that his information—gleaned from many sources—has been
collected _con amore_ with carefulness and caution; and he ventures to
hope that his book may be of service to many Metropolitan visitors, as
indicating (previous to the coming time when the New Zealander shall
meditate over the ruins of London) some few pleasant “Rambles in Dickens’
Land.”
R. A.
LONDON, _September_ 20, 1899.
RAMBLE I
_Charing Cross to Lincoln’s Inn Fields_
The Golden Cross; Associations with Pickwick and Copperfield—Craven
Street; Residence of Mr. Brownlow—Charing Cross Terminus—Hungerford
Stairs and Market; Lamert’s Blacking Manufactory; Micawber’s Lodgings;
Mr. Dick’s Bedroom—No. 3 Chandos Street; Blacking Warehouse—Bedfordbury;
“Tom All-Alone’s”—Buckingham Street; Copperfield’s Chambers—The Adelphi
Arches—The Adelphi Hotel; Snodgrass and Emily Wardle—“The
Fox-under-the-Hill”; Martin Chuzzlewit and Mark Tapley—The Residence of
Miss La Creevy—Offices of _Household Words_ and _All the Year
Round_—Covent Garden Market; Hummums and Tavistock Hotels, associated
with “Great Expectations,” etc.—Bow Street—Old Bow Street Police Court;
“The Artful Dodger”—Covent Garden Theatre—Broad Court; Mr.
Snevellicci—St. Martin’s Hall; Dickens’s First London Readings—Russell
Court; Nemo’s Burial Place—Clare Court; Copperfield’s Dining-Rooms—Old
Roman Bath; Mrs. Lirriper’s Lodgings—St. Clement Danes—Portsmouth Street;
“The Old Curiosity Shop”—The Old George the Fourth; “The Magpie and
Stump”—Portugal Street; “The Horse and Groom”; Mr. Tony Weller and his
Legal Adviser—Lincoln’s Inn Fields; Mr. John Forster’s House; Residence
of Mr. Tulkinghorn.
Starting from CHARING CROSS POST OFFICE as a convenient centre, and
taking an eastward course up the Strand, we immediately reach, on the
left-hand (north) side—a few doors from the Post Office—The Golden Cross
Hotel. Sixty years since this establishment was one of the principal
Coaching Houses of the Metropolis. It was the starting-point of the
Rochester Coach, by which, on May 13, 1827, _Mr. Pickwick_ and his
friends commenced their travels. Driving by cab from the vicinity of
that gentleman’s residence in Goswell Street, here it was that the
pugnacious cabman, having mistaken the purpose of Mr. P.’s note-book,
committed assault and battery upon the four Pickwickians, “sparring away
like clockwork,” from which unexpected attack they were rescued by the
redoubtable _Mr. Alfred Jingle_. In those days there was an arched
entrance leading from the Strand beneath the front of the hotel to the
coach-yard behind. Hence Mr. Jingle’s warning to his new
acquaintances—“Heads, heads; take care of your heads!” which
recommendation was followed by the first recorded anecdote as given by
that loquacious pretender—
“Terrible place—dangerous work—other day—five children—mother—tall
lady, eating sandwiches—forgot the arch—crash—knock—children look
round—mother’s head off—sandwich in her hand—no mouth to put it
in—head of a family off—shocking—shocking.”
This coach-yard and its entrance existed until the days of _Copperfield_,
who came to THE GOLDEN CROSS in the nineteenth chapter of his history,
having just finished his education at Dr. Strong’s. He arrived “outside
the Canterbury Coach,” and here met _Steerforth_, his former schoolboy
patron, who speedily arranged for his transference from No. 44, “a little
loft over a stable,” to No. 72, a comfortable bedroom next his own.
Here, says David, “I fell asleep in blissful condition . . . until the
early morning coaches rumbling out of _the archway underneath_ made me
dream of thunder and the gods.” This entrance was abolished in 1851,
giving place to a more convenient exterior arrangement and doorway; again
remodelled, 1897.
THE GOLDEN CROSS is again referred to in the Copperfield experience
(chapter 40) as the place where David conferred with _Mr. Peggotty_, one
snowy night, after their unexpected meeting opposite St. Martin’s Church
(close at hand on the north, at the corner of St. Martin’s Lane), when
_Martha_ listened at the door.
“In those days there was a side entrance” (Duncannon Street, now
appropriated by the London and North-Western Railway Company) “nearly
opposite to where we stood. I pointed out the gateway, put my arm
through his, and we went across. Two or three public rooms opened
out of the stable-yard; and looking into one of them, and finding it
empty, and a good fire burning, I took him in there.”
Opposite the principal entrance of THE GOLDEN CROSS is Craven Street,
leading to the Thames Embankment. It now mainly consists of private
hotels and boarding-houses, at which visitors to London may be
conveniently accommodated on reasonable terms. In the days of _Oliver
Twist_ these were, for the most part, private houses; and here was MR.
BROWNLOW’S RESIDENCE—taken after his removal from Pentonville—in which
was the back parlour where full confession was extorted from _Monks_,
_alias Edward Leeford_. The house, No. 39 (now _Barnett’s Private
Hotel_), centrally situated on the east side, is stated to have been
assigned as the residence aforesaid.
On the south side of the Strand we immediately reach the Charing Cross
Terminus of the South-Eastern Railway, built on the site of old
Hungerford Market. At No. 30 Hungerford Stairs, at the back of this
locality, Charles Dickens, when a lad, did duty at the Blacking
Manufactory of a relative, by name James Lamert, at a salary of six or
seven shillings a week, as his first employment in life. It was the last
house on the left-hand side of the way, a crazy, tumble-down old place
abutting on the river. Here his work was to cover and label the pots of
paste-blacking. To this episode of his youthful experience he refers in
the history of “David Copperfield,” chapter 11, David becoming “a
labouring hind” in the service of _Messrs. Murdstone and Grinby_. In old
Hungerford Market, too, was THE CHANDLER’S SHOP over which _Mr. Peggotty_
slept on the night of his first arrival in London; the bedroom being
afterwards appropriated by Mr. Dick.
“There was a low wooden colonnade before the door, which pleased Mr.
Dick mightily. The glory of lodging over this structure would have
compensated him for many inconveniences. . . . He was perfectly
charmed with his accommodation. Mrs. Crupp had indignantly assured
him that there wasn’t room to swing a cat there; but, as Mr. Dick
justly observed, ‘You know, Trotwood, I don’t want to swing a cat. I
never do swing a cat. Therefore, what does that signify to me!’”—See
“Copperfield,” chapters 32 and 35.
HUNGERFORD is also mentioned in the same book (chapter 57) as the place
where, previous to their departure for Australia, the MICAWBER FAMILY had
lodgings “in a little, dirty, tumble-down public-house, which in those
days was close to the stairs, and whose protruding wooden rooms overhung
the river.”
By a parallel street near at hand (next turning on the left of the
Strand—Agar Street) we come into Chandos Street, where are situated the
large stores of the Civil Service Supply Association, which, during
recent years, have been enlarged, extending westward in Chandos Street.
This extension occupies the former site of No. 3, whilom a chemist’s
shop, kept by a Mr. Wellspring. Here, in the days that are gone, was
established a second warehouse of Lamert’s blacking trade, the business
being removed in course of time to this address; and here Dickens, with
other lads, was often busily employed near the window. They acquired
such dexterity in finishing off the pots, that many persons would stand
outside, looking on with interest at the performance.
On the opposite side of Chandos Street is _Bedfordbury_—a northward
thoroughfare leading to New Street, Covent Garden—on the right of which
stands a range of five large five-storied blocks known as _Peabody’s
Buildings_. These afford respectable accommodation for artizans. This
was the locality of Tom All-Alone’s, that wretched rookery of evil repute
in the days of _Poor Joe_, as described in chapter 16 of “Bleak House.”
But, in these degenerate times, the black, dilapidated streets and
tumbling tenements have given place to wholesome dwellings, and the
neighbourhood is associated with the name of a great American
philanthropist.
Returning to the south side of the Strand, we next come to Buckingham
Street (turning on right, by No. 37), at the end house of which, on the
right, facing the river, was the top set of chambers in the Adelphi,
consisting of
“A little half-blind entry, where you could hardly see anything, a
little stone-blind pantry, where you could see nothing at all, a
sitting-room and a bedroom.”
Here _David Copperfield_ for some time resided under the housekeeping
supervision of Mrs. Crupp, and the residence was afterwards shared by
_Miss Betsy Trotwood_. At the next turning in the Strand—by No. 64, same
side of the way—we arrive at Durham Street, which leads to the no
thoroughfare of The Adelphi Arches, about and through which the lad
Charles Dickens loved in his leisure time to roam. David Copperfield
says—
“I was fond of wandering about the Adelphi, because it was a
mysterious place, with those dark arches. I see myself emerging one
evening from one of these arches, on a little public-house, close to
the river, with an open space before it, where some coal-heavers were
dancing.”
Of this place more anon.
Continuing our onward journey, we come to Adam Street (right-hand turning
by No. 72), looking down which may be seen, at the corner of John Street,
THE ADELPHI HOTEL. This hotel was known in the days of Pickwick as
Osborn’s Hotel, Adelphi. To this establishment, it will be remembered,
came _Mr. Wardle_, visiting London with his daughter Emily, after Mr.
Pickwick’s release from the Fleet Prison, also accompanied by his trusty
retainer, _the fat boy_, _Joe_. The last plate but one in the book
illustrates the plan adopted by _Mary_ when inducing that intelligent
youth to observe a discreet silence as to the visit of Mr. Snodgrass to
his young mistress at this hotel; and we may recollect the _contretemps_
which afterwards took place here at dinner-time, involving the detention
of the clandestine lover, and resulting in a very satisfactory
_dénouement_.—See “Pickwick,” chapter 54.
Passing the next block onwards, we arrive at the handsome frontage of the
HOTEL CECIL. In former days, at western corner of same, close to No. 75,
there existed a narrow and precipitous passage which was formerly the
approach to the halfpenny boats. It led to a little public-house, “The
Fox-under-the-Hill,” for a long time shut up and in ruinous
condition—once situated on the water-side, the site of which is now
covered by the west wing of the Hotel Cecil.
This place is spoken of in Mr. Forster’s Biography as being one of our
author’s _favourite localities_, and referred to in “Copperfield,” as
before mentioned, in connection with the Adelphi Arches. This, then, was
doubtless the tavern at which _Martin Chuzzlewit_, _junr._, was
accommodated, on his arrival in London, “in the humbler regions of the
Adelphi;” and where he was unexpectedly visited by _Mark Tapley_, who
then and there became his “nat’ral born servant, hired by fate,” and his
very faithful friend.—See “Martin Chuzzlewit,” chapter 13.
Farther onwards, on the same side, towards the centre of the Strand,
there stood near Savoy Street the house which in all probability was the
Residence of Miss La Creevy. It will be recollected that Ralph Nickleby,
visiting his relations at this address in the Strand, is described as
stopping
“At a private door, about halfway down that crowded thoroughfare.”
No. 111 was an old-fashioned house in just such a position, with a
private door—a somewhat unusual convenience in the Strand. A
photographer’s case had, for many years, displaced the “large gilt frame
screwed upon the street door,” in which Miss La Creevy aforetime
displayed her painted miniatures. The place has been pulled down,
together with the adjoining house. Handsome modern business premises are
erected on the double site.—See “Nicholas Nickleby,” chapter 2.
We now cross to the north side of the Strand, and take the next turning
on the left, _Wellington Street North_. Passing the Lyceum Theatre, we
may note, on the opposite side, the offices of the Gaiety Theatre, No.
16. For many years this was the Office of “Household Words”; this
well-known miscellany being started under the conductorship of Charles
Dickens, March 30, 1850.
It was afterwards removed to No. 26, higher up, on the same side of the
way, at which address the later issue of _All the Year Round_ was
published, as conducted by Charles Dickens, the son.
Proceeding a short distance onwards, and turning to the left, we come
into the precincts of Covent Garden Market. At the south corner of
_Russell Street_ we may note the position of the old HUMMUMS HOTEL,
mentioned in “Great Expectations” as the place where Pip slept, in
accordance with the warning received from Mr. Wemmick—“Don’t go home.”
The present establishment was erected on the site of the former hotel (as
it stood in the days of Mr. Pip’s sojourn), 1892; on completion of the
new Flower Market, THE TAVISTOCK HOTEL, Piazzas, on the north side of the
market, was the house at which were held the fortnightly meetings of “The
Finches of the Grove,” Herbert Pocket and Mr. Pip being members of the
Club known by this appellation in the book above mentioned. The end and
aim of this institution seemed to be “that the members should dine
expensively once a fortnight, to quarrel among themselves as much as
possible after dinner, and to cause six waiters to get drunk on the
stairs.”
A general description of _Covent Garden_ will be found in “Little Dorrit”
(chapter 14), and a graphic reference to “the seamy side” of this
locality is contained in the pages of “Our Mutual Friend” (chapter 9,
Book 4).
Returning by Russell Street, we soon reach _Bow Street_, and on the left
may observe an open space contiguous to the _Foreign Fruit Market_. On
this space there stood No. 4, in recent times occupied by Mr.
Stinchcombe, costumier. Some years since this was the situation of Bow
Street Police Court, now removed to the handsome new building facing
Covent Garden Theatre. This, therefore, was the place at which the
_Artful Dodger_, when committed for trial by the presiding magistrate,
thus reserved his defence:—
“This ain’t the shop for justice; besides which my attorney is
a-breakfasting this morning with the Vice-President of the House of
Commons; but I shall have something to say elsevere, and so will he,
and so will a wery numerous and respectable circle of acquaintances,
as’ll make them beaks wish they’d never been born.”—See “Oliver
Twist,” chapter 43.
At a short distance onwards, we may note Covent Garden Theatre, selected
by David Copperfield as his first place of entertainment in London, after
dinner at the Golden Cross Hotel—
“Being then in a pleasant frame of mind . . . I resolved to go to the
play. It was Covent Garden Theatre that I chose; and there, from the
back of a centre box, I saw “Julius Cæsar” and the new pantomime. To
have all those noble Romans alive before me, and walking in and out
for my entertainment, instead of being the stern taskmasters they had
been at school, was a most novel and delightful effect.”
This theatre, as attended by David, was destroyed by fire March 4, 1856,
six years after his autobiography was published, and afterwards rebuilt.
Exactly opposite the façade of the theatre is Broad Court, past the new
magisterial building above referred to. This was the location given by
_Mr. Snevellicci_ (at Portsmouth), on a convivial occasion, described in
“Nicholas Nickleby” (chapter 30), as his London address:—
“I am not ashamed of myself; Snevellicci is my name. I’m to be found
in Broad Court, Bow Street, when I’m in town. If I’m not at home,
let any man ask for me at the stage-door.”
There is also historical reference to _Bow Street_ in “Barnaby Rudge,” as
the place where “another boy was hanged,” after the suppression of the
Gordon riots.
Exactly facing the north end of Bow Street, which gives into Long Acre,
is a large building, now a stationer’s warehouse, recently used as the
Clergy Co-operative Stores. Thirty-five years since this site was
occupied by St. Martin’s Hall, in which Dickens gave his first series of
paid readings in London (sixteen nights), under the management of Mr.
Arthur Smith, 1858. The hall was a short time afterwards burnt down, and
the Queen’s Theatre was here erected in its stead by Mr. Wigan; which
theatre was since converted to the commercial uses of the Clergy as
aforesaid.
Proceeding up _Long Acre_ to _Drury Lane_, we turn to the right, and in
five minutes pass the back of Drury Lane Theatre. The second turning on
the same side is RUSSELL COURT, a narrow passage leading to Catherine
Street. The entire area between the two streets, for some distance, is
cleared for building improvements, so that the indications immediately
following refer to the past, and not practically to the present. These
things have been, but are not.
In this court, about halfway on the right, was to be found (until 1897)
the entrance to what was once the pauper Burial Ground where Captain
Hawdon—known as _Nemo_ in the pages of “Bleak House”—was interred, and
where Lady Dedlock was afterwards found dead at the gateway, she having
fled from her husband, Sir Leicester, in despair, dreading the _exposé_
threatened by Mr. Tulkinghorn. It is also associated with _Poor Jo_, the
crossing-sweeper.—See “Bleak House,” chapters 11 and 59.
“With houses looking on, on every side, save where a reeking little
tunnel of a court gives access to the iron gate—with every villainy
of life in action close on death, and every poisonous element of
death in action close on life—here, they lower our dear brother down
a foot or two: here, sow him in corruption, to be raised in
incorruption: an avenging ghost at many a sick bedside: a shameful
testimony to future ages, how civilisation and barbarism walked this
boastful island together.”
This intermural graveyard was attached to the Church of St.
Mary-le-Strand, and has been closed for many years. The enclosure was
converted into a recreation ground, and formally opened as such by Lady
George Hamilton, May 19, 1886, on behalf of the Metropolitan Public
Garden Association. But the entire locality is changed, the “avenging
ghost” has ceased to walk, and the “shameful testimony” has ended.
At a short distance in Drury Lane, towards the Strand, we turn (left) by
No. 106, into Clare Court, referred to in Forster’s Biography as
follows—(C.D. _loq._):—
“Once, I remember tucking my own bread (which I had brought from home
in the morning) under my arm, wrapped up in a piece of paper like a
book, and going into the best dining-room in Johnson’s _a la mode_
beef-house in Clare Court, Drury Lane, and magnificently ordering a
small plate of _a la mode_ beef to eat with it. What the waiter
thought of such a strange little apparition, coming in all alone, I
don’t know, but I can see him now, staring at me as I ate my dinner,
and bringing up the other waiter to look. I gave him a halfpenny,
and I wish now that he hadn’t taken it.”
This episode of the author’s experience as a poor boy in London was
reproduced in “David Copperfield,” chapter 11. The dining-house
mentioned then existed (1824) at No. 13 in the court, in a prominent
corner position. It has been unknown to fame for the last thirty years.
Returning by Drury Court to the Strand, and passing on the south side of
the church above mentioned, we turn by No. 162A into _Strand Lane_, where
may be visited, at No. 5, The Old Roman Bath referred to by David
Copperfield, who says, “In which I have had many a cold plunge.” (See
chapter 35.) The bath itself is lined with white marble, and dates from
the sixteenth century. It is supplied from an old Roman reservoir
adjoining, about 2000 years old.
[Picture: The Old Roman Bath]
Passing Surrey Street, just beyond, we come (next on the right) to
_Norfolk Street_, in which there may be noted the former whereabouts of
MRS. LIRRIPER’S LODGINGS; and we may here recall the pleasant
associations connected with the Christmas numbers of _All the Year
Round_, 1863 and 1864. The houses in this street are not enumerated
beyond forty-five, all told. The figures 81, as given in the tale
referred to, should be _reversed_; but sad to relate, No. 18—long
standing as an old-fashioned boarding-house on the western side, below
Howard Street—has disappeared, and certain modern buildings, offices,
etc., recently erected, now occupy the old site. At a short distance
farther on, in a central position in the Strand, stands the church of St.
Clement Danes. It is of interest in this connection as the scene of Mrs.
Lirriper’s wedding, some forty years previous to the narration of her
business experience; and where she still retained “a sitting in a very
pleasant pew, with genteel company, and her own hassock, being partial to
evening service, not too crowded.”
Retracing our steps, three minutes, to the Church of St. Mary-le-Strand,
again leaving the Strand by _Newcastle_ and _Houghton Streets_, and
turning left and right (leaving Clare Market on the left), we shortly
arrive at _Portsmouth Street_, _Lincoln’s Inn Fields_. At No. 14 will be
found (for a short time only) a small old-fashioned house, on the front
of which is painted an inscription, “The Old Curiosity Shop,
_Immortalised by Charles Dickens_,” now occupied by Mr. H. Poole, dealer
in wastepaper. This is said to be the house assigned by the novelist for
the residence of Little Nell and her grandfather, with whose pathetic
history we are all familiar—
“One of those receptacles for old and curious things, which seem to
crouch in odd corners of this town, and to hide their musty treasures
from the public eye in jealousy and distrust.”
It cannot, however, be regarded as absolutely certain that this
particular house was the author’s intended “local habitation” for one of
the best-known and loved of his creations. The tale itself concludes
with a reference to _Kit’s_ uncertainty as to the whereabouts of the
place:—
“The old house had long ago been pulled down, and a fine broad road
was in its place. At first he would draw with his stick a square
upon the ground to show them where it used to stand. But he soon
became uncertain of the spot, and could only say it was thereabouts,
he thought, and that these alterations were confusing.”
[A lady, personally acquainted with the great novelist, has informed the
author that she was once taken by Mr. Dickens to No. 10 Green Street
(approaching Leicester Square from the east)—at the corner of Green and
Castle Streets, behind the National Gallery—the business of
curiosity-dealing being then and there carried on. Mr. Dickens himself
localised this house as the home of little Nell, pointing out an inner
room—divided from the shop by a glass partition—as her bedroom. The
premises are now rebuilt.]
[Picture: The Old Curiosity Shop]
At a short distance from this locality, and at an opposite angle of the
street, there existed (until 1898) one of the old-fashioned taverns of
the metropolis. The house was noteworthy, with its overhanging front
resting on rough wooden pillars, and was named _Old George IVth_.
It is now replaced by a newly-built house of the same name, in modern
style of plate glass, mahogany, and glitter.
It is highly probable that the old tavern represented the location and
character of “The Magpie and Stump,” the rendezvous of _Mr. Lowten_
(Perker’s clerk) and other choice spirits in the days of Pickwick. It is
described in the Pickwickian history as being near Clare Market, at the
back of New Inn, and to this position the “Old George IVth” will
correspond. Joe Miller, of jocular celebrity, was, aforetime, a
frequenter of this establishment, when his quips “were wont to set the
table in a roar.” His seat was still shown in the bar of the old house.
Dickens and Thackeray were also well remembered as visitors to this
ancient hostelry. There is now a “Magpie and Stump” in Fetter Lane, at
some distance hence; but it is evident that Dickens transferred the name
to a tavern in this neighbourhood. It will be remembered that here Mr.
Pickwick enjoyed an hour’s entertainment, listening to the legends of
“those curious old nooks,” the Inns of London, as related by Jack
Bamber—see “Pickwick,” chapter 21—also containing a description of the
advertisements of the tavern, as then displayed therein.
“In the lower windows, which were decorated with curtains of a
saffron hue, dangled two or three printed cards, bearing reference to
Devonshire cyder and Dantzic spruce, while a large black board,
announcing in white letters to an enlightened public, that there were
500,000 barrels of double stout in the cellars of the establishment,
left the mind in a state of not unpleasing doubt and uncertainty as
to the precise direction in the bowels of the earth, in which this
mighty cavern might be supposed to extend.”
_Dick Swiveller_ would doubtless occasionally patronise this
establishment. He lodged hereabouts “in the neighbourhood of Drury
Lane;” but it is difficult to indicate any particular house which Dickens
may have selected for his accommodation.
Stretching eastward from this point is _Portugal Street_, famed in the
same book as containing the Old Public House patronised by Mr. Tony
Weller and his _confrères_ of the coach-driving persuasion. This
house—opposite the Insolvent Debtors’ Court—existed until a few years
since, by name, “The Horse and Groom.” It and many more besides, have
now given place to a range of new offices and buildings in Elizabethan
style, on the south side of the street (forming the north boundary of New
Court), and the Insolvent Court has been recently appropriated to the
uses of the Bankruptcy Court. It will be remembered that it was here
_Mr. Samuel Weller_ got into difficulties, and was hence consigned to the
Fleet Prison at the instance of his father; the professional services of
the suave _Mr. Solomon Pell_ being retained on that occasion. Here also
a select committee of friends assembled to assist at an oyster lunch and
the proving of Mrs. Weller’s will, when Mr. Pell again conducted the
business to the satisfaction of all concerned.—See “Pickwick,” chapters
43 and 55.
Returning through Portsmouth Street, we come into _Lincoln’s Inn Fields_;
and, keeping on its western side—passing Sardinia Street, with its old
archway, on the left—we may note Mr. John Forster’s House, No. 58. At
this house resided the friend and biographer of Dickens, and here our
author was, of course, a frequent visitor. On December the 2nd, 1844,
Charles Dickens here first read his new Christmas book, “The Chimes,” to
a select and critical audience, including Messrs. Forster, Maclise,
Douglas Jerrold, Carlyle, Laman Blanchard, Fox, Stanfield, Harness, and
Dyce. The house is itself described in the pages of “Bleak House”
(chapter 10) as the
RESIDENCE OF MR. TULKINGHORN.
“In a large house, formerly a house of state, lives Mr. Tulkinghorn.
It is let off in sets of chambers now; and in those shrunken
fragments of its greatness, lawyers lie, like maggots in nuts. But
its roomy staircases, passages, and antechambers still remain; and
even its painted ceiling, where Allegory in Roman helmet and
celestial linen sprawls among balustrades and pillars, flowers,
clouds, and big-legged boys, and makes the head ache, as would seem
to be Allegory’s object always, more or less.”
As in the time spoken of, the house is still in legal possession, being
let out as solicitors’ offices; but the old Allegory has disappeared
beneath modern whitewash. Within two minutes’ distance northward, the
weary rambler may reach the central thoroughfare of HOLBORN, where
(turning to the left), close at hand, will be found the _Holborn
Restaurant_, at which Sam Weller’s advice on the subject of a “little
dinner” (or luncheon) may be worth practical consideration:—
“Pair of fowls and a weal cutlet; French beans, ’taturs, tart, and
tidiness.”
Certain it is that everything at this establishment will be found “werry
clean and comfortable,” on reasonable terms.
RAMBLE II
_Lincoln’s Inn to the Mansion House_
Lincoln’s Inn Hall; “Jarndyce and Jarndyce”—Old Square; Offices of Kenge
and Carboy; Chambers of Sergeant Snubbin—Bishop’s Court; Miss Flite’s
Lodging at Krook’s Rag and Bottle Warehouse; Nemo; Tony Weevle—The Old
Ship Tavern; “The Sol’s Arms”—Coavinses’ Castle—Mr. Snagsby’s Residence,
Took’s Court, Cursitor Street—Bell Yard; Lodgings of Neckett and
Gridley—Tellson’s Bank, Fleet Street—The Temple; Fountain Court (Ruth
Pinch and John Westlock); Garden Court (Pip’s Chambers); Pump Court
(Chambers of the elder Martin Chuzzlewit); Paper Buildings (Sir John
Chester and Mr. Stryver, K.C.)—Offices of Messrs. Lightwood and
Wrayburn—Bradley Headstone’s Look-out—Clifford’s Inn; John Rokesmith and
Mr. Boffin—St. Dunstan’s Pump and Maypole Hugh—St. Dunstan’s Church; “The
Chimes”—Bradbury and Evans, Bouverie Street—Office of the _Daily
News_—Hanging Sword Alley; Mr. Cruncher’s Rooms,–“Ye old Cheshire
Cheese”—Farringdon, formerly Fleet, Market—Fleet Prison; Mr. Pickwick and
Sam Weller’s Imprisonment—Belle Sauvage Yard—London Coffee House; Arthur
Clennam’s arrival—St. Paul’s Churchyard—Dean’s Court—Doctors’ Commons;
Messrs. Spenlow and Jorkins—“Bell Tavern”—Wood Street; Coach Office at
which Pip first arrived—The London Stereoscopic Company; “Grip,” the
Raven—Bow Church—The Guildhall; Bardell _v._ Pickwick—Grocers’ Hall
Court—The Mansion House; References in “Barnaby Rudge,” “Christmas
Carol,” and “Martin Chuzzlewit”—“Dombey and Son.”
The Rambler now crosses Lincoln’s Inn Fields, and, on its eastern side,
enters the precincts of _Lincoln’s Inn_, through an arched gateway, from
Serle Street. Passing the imposing building of the Dining-Hall and
Library on the left, with New Square on the right, we shortly arrive at
old Lincoln’s Inn Hall, THE LORD HIGH CHANCELLOR’S COURT, with its
central turret and lantern, bearing the initials of the reigning
Treasurer, 1818, where Chancery suits were tried thirty years since.
Here that _cause célèbre_, JARNDYCE and JARNDYCE, dragged “its slow
length along” through the weary years, involving
“Bills, cross-bills, answers, rejoinders, injunctions, affidavits,
issues, references to masters, masters’ reports—mountains of costly
nonsense.”
Here, on a seat at the side of the hall, stood little _Miss Flite_, in
her squeezed bonnet, carrying “her documents,” and
“Always expecting some incomprehensible judgment in her favour.”—See
“Bleak House,” chapter 1.
The business of Chancery procedure is now transferred to the New Law
Courts. Hard by, on the north, passing through the cloisters of the
Chapel of Lincoln’s Inn, we come into the enclosure of Old Square,
LINCOLN’S INN, where the _Offices of Messrs. Kenge and Carboy_ were
situated. Esther Summerson says:—
“We passed into sudden quietude, under an old gateway, and drove on
through a silent square, until we came to an odd nook in a corner,
where there was an entrance up a steep broad flight of stairs, like
an entrance to a church.”
The houses in this square have been all rebuilt; but Kenge and Co.’s
offices used to flourish in the north-west corner, where still the rising
of the ground necessitates an exterior flight of steps. The chambers of
_Sergeant Snubbin_, counsel for the defence in “Bardell _v._ Pickwick,”
were also located in this square, probably on the opposite side.
Returning to Lincoln’s Inn, we may follow Esther Summerson’s directions,
and visit the apartments of _Miss Flite_—
“Slipping us out of a little side gate, the old lady stopped most
unexpectedly in a narrow back street, part of some courts and lanes
immediately outside the wall of the inn, and said, ‘This is my
lodging. Pray walk up!’”
Thus, passing at the back of the Inn, and taking the next turning on the
left, we arrive at Bishop’s Court, near at hand, a narrow, dark, and old
passage leading to Chancery Lane. On the left hand, nearest the Inn, was
_Krook’s Rag and Bottle Warehouse_, probably No. 3. But during recent
years, all the old houses of the court have been substituted by modern
buildings, offices, and shops; so that the location only remains of the
“Lord Chancellor,” and his place of business, yclept by the neighbours
the “Court of Chancery.” The old shop, at one time, possessed the
private door and stairway leading to _Miss Flite’s lodging_.
“She lived at the top of the house, in a pretty large room, from
which she had a glimpse of the roof of Lincoln’s Inn Hall.”
Here, too, Captain Hawdon, otherwise _Nemo_, the law-writer, lived and
died in a bare room on the second floor. A notice may have been observed
in the old shop window, “Engrossing and Copying.” It will be remembered
that this room was afterwards occupied by _Mr. Tony Weevle_, during whose
tenancy it was decorated with a choice collection of magnificent
portraits, being—
“Copper-plate impressions from that truly national work, the
Divinities of Albion, or Galaxy Gallery of British Beauty;
representing ladies of title and fashion, in every variety of smirk,
that art, combined with capital, is capable of producing.”
Returning to the top of the court, and passing a short distance along
Star Yard, we reach, at the corner of _Chichester Rents_, a modern
warehouse (No. 7), recently erected on the site of “The Old Ship Tavern,”
now _non est_, named in the pages of “Bleak House” _The Sol’s Arms_, it
being the house at which _the Inquest was held_, following the death of
_Nemo_, as described in chapter 11; on which occasion the proffered
evidence of Poor Jo was virtuously rejected by the presiding coroner.
“Can’t exactly say; won’t do, you know. We can’t take that in a
Court of Justice, gentlemen. It’s terrible depravity. Put the boy
aside.”
The old tavern has given place to the exigencies of modern commerce
(1897). The ghost of _Little Swills_ may still linger in the
neighbourhood, but the musical evenings of the past are silent, being now
superseded by the prosaics of ordinary business.
The real SOL’S ARMS still exists, _No._ 65 _Hampstead Road_, _N.W._, at
the corner of Charles Street, once known as Sol’s Row. Its name was
derived from the “Sol’s Society,” whose meetings, held therein, were of a
Masonic character. It has been suggested that Dickens transferred the
style and name of this house to the neighbourhood of Chancery Lane, as
above.
Coming now into Chancery Lane, we may observe, nearly opposite the old
gateway of Lincoln’s Inn, Cursitor Street, a thoroughfare leading
eastward from the Lane. It will be noticed that the houses in this
street are comparatively of recent erection, and we may now look in vain
for COAVINSES’ CASTLE, which has been swept away by the besom of modern
destruction and improvement. This old sponging-house flourished (in the
days of Harold Skimpole) on the left of the street, on the site now
occupied by _Lincoln’s Inn Chambers_, No. 1.
At a short distance in Cursitor Street (No. 9) we come to a turning on
the left to _Took’s Court_, referred to in “Bleak House” as _Cook’s
Court_, in which was Mr. Snagsby’s Residence AND LAW STATIONER’S SHOP.
The court is not a long one, and consists mainly of offices connected
with the legal profession. The location of Mr. Snagsby’s shop was at the
central corner on the left, the site being now occupied by modern offices
and stores. “The little drawing-room upstairs” is described as
commanding
“A view of Cook’s Court at one end (not to mention a squint into
Cursitor Street) and of Coavins’s, the Sheriff’s Officer’s, backyard
on the other.”
The memorable, but now non-existent room, as prepared for the reception
of the _Rev. Mr. Chadband_ (Chaplain-in-Ordinary to Mrs. Snagsby), who
was “endowed with the gift of holding forth for four hours at a stretch.”
On that occasion, it will be remembered that Poor Jo—brought to Cook’s
Court by a police constable—was eloquently addressed by the reverend
gentleman, but was not greatly edified by his admonitions.
“At this threatening stage of the discourse, Jo, who seems to have
been gradually going out of his mind, smears his right arm over his
face, and gives a terrible yawn. Mrs. Snagsby indignantly expresses
her belief that he is a limb of the arch-fiend.”
Returning by Chancery Lane, on the left hand, we may note _Bream’s
Buildings_, as being the northern boundary of the former site of Symond’s
Inn, which hence extended onward to No. 22.
“A little, pale, wall-eyed, woebegone inn, like a large dust-bin of
two compartments and a sifter. It looks as if Symond were a sparing
man in his day, and constructed his inn of old building materials,
which took kindly to the dry rot, and to dirt, and all things
decaying and dismal, and perpetuated Symond’s memory with congenial
shabbiness.”
This inn has ceased to exist for many years past, its position being now
occupied by a large printer’s establishment and other offices. Readers
of “Bleak House” will remember that the professional chambers of _Mr.
Vholes_ were here situated, and that _Richard Carstone_ and his young
wife _Ada_ resided in the next house, in order that Richard might have
his legal adviser close at hand. Here occurred the early death of poor
Richard; and we all cherish the remembrance of dear Ada’s wifely
devotion, to which _Esther Summerson_ thus refers:—
“The days when I frequented that miserable corner which my dear girl
brightened can never fade in my remembrance. I never see it, and I
never wish to see it now; I have been there only once since; but in
my memory there is a mournful glory shining on the place, which will
shine for ever.”
Leaving Chancery Lane, and turning (right) by Carey Street, we reach Bell
Yard, leading to Fleet Street. This place has been mentioned by Dickens
as containing a “chandler’s shop, left-hand side,” where lodged
_Gridley_, “the man from Shropshire,” and _Neckett_, the faithful
servitor of Coavinses. The name—Bell Yard—forms the heading of chapter
15, “Bleak House,” which affords information of the Neckett
family—_Charlie_, _Tom_, and the limp-bonneted _baby_. For full details,
reference should be made to this very touching and beautifully-written
chapter as above. Great alterations have been made, and are still being
made, in this narrow lane, since the erection of the New Law Courts in
the immediate vicinity; but some of the older houses still remain on the
left-hand side of the way. Of these, No. 9 is a small, tall,
squeezed-looking house, about half-way down the alley, and may be safely
assigned (thirty years since) to the tenancy of the good-natured Mrs.
Blinder.
Passing through Bell Yard, we reach _Fleet Street_, at the point where
once TEMPLE BAR gave ancient entrance to the City. Its position is
marked by a bronze griffin, surmounting a memorial pedestal beneath.
Exactly on the opposite side of the street is the handsome modern
erection of _Child’s Bank_. This new building dates from 1878, when the
structure of old _Temple Bar_ was removed. It replaces one of the very
old-fashioned houses of London, in which for many years Messrs. Child
carried on their important banking business. This house is spoken of by
Dickens, in his “Tale of Two Cities,” as Tellson’s Bank, on the outside
of which the mysterious _Mr. Cruncher_ was usually in attendance as
“odd-job man, and occasional porter and messenger.”
“Tellson’s Bank, by Temple Bar, was an old-fashioned place even in
the year 1780. It was very small, very dark, very ugly, very
incommodious. Any one of the partners would have disinherited his
son on the question of rebuilding Tellson’s. Thus it had come to
pass that Tellson’s was the triumphant perfection of inconvenience.
After bursting open a door of idiotic obstinacy with a weak rattle in
its throat, you fell into Tellson’s, down two steps, and came to your
senses in a miserable little shop, with two little counters; where
the oldest of men made your cheque shake as if the wind rustled it,
while they examined the signature by the dingiest of windows, which
were always under a shower-bath of mud from Fleet Street, and which
were made the dingier by their own iron bars proper and the shadow of
Temple Bar.”
[Picture: Fountain Court, Temple]
Passing Newton’s (optician) we arrive at the outer Gate of the Temple, by
which we enter _Middle Temple Lane_, following which a short distance and
turning to the right, by _Middle Temple Hall_, we reach Fountain Court.
The fountain standing here, conspicuously in a central position, is
associated with the history of _Ruth Pinch_. Here it was that Tom and
his sister made appointments for meeting—
“Because, of course, when she had to wait a minute or two, it would
have been very awkward for her to have had to wait in any but a quiet
spot; and that was as quiet a spot, everything considered, as they
could choose.”
On further reference to the pages of “Martin Chuzzlewit,” we may recall
the auspicious occasion when Ruth was under the special escort of _John
Westlock_—
“Brilliantly the Temple fountain sparkled in the sun, and merrily the
idle drops of water danced and danced; and, peeping out in sport
among the trees, plunged lightly down to hide themselves, as little
Ruth and her companion came towards it.”
See chapter 53. In Garden Court beyond, _Mr. Pip_ and his friend,
_Herbert Pocket_, had residence. In “Great Expectations,” he says—
“Our Chambers were in Garden Court, down by the river. We lived at
the top of the last house.”
Here Pip’s patron and benefactor, the convict _Magwitch_, _alias Provis_,
disclosed himself one memorable night, much to his “dear boy’s”
discomfiture; and it will be remembered that temporary accommodation was
found for him at
“A lodging-house in Essex Street, the back of which looked into the
Temple, and was almost within hail of ‘Pip’s’ windows.”
The houses in this court have been rebuilt, and we may look in vain for
the actual chambers specified. Returning to _Middle Temple Lane_, the
visitor may walk directly across it to _Elm Court_, and proceed through
the same and a narrow passage beyond, turning to the left, through _The
Cloisters_, which (left again) give into the central location of Pump
Court, an oblong old-fashioned court of offices, four storeys high.
Here, in all probability, were situated THE CHAMBERS where _Tom Pinch_
was mysteriously installed as librarian to an unknown employer, by the
eccentric _Mr. Fips_.
“He led the way through sundry lanes and courts, into one more quiet
and gloomy than the rest; and, singling out a certain house, ascended
a common staircase . . . stopping before a door upon an upper storey.
. . . There were two rooms on that floor; and in the first, or outer
one, a narrow staircase leading to two more above.”
Here, also, old _Martin Chuzzlewit_ revealed himself to the astonished
Tom in his true character, and surprised the virtuous _Mr. Pecksniff_ by
a “warm reception,” when “the tables were turned completely upside
down.”—See “Chuzzlewit,” chapters 39 and 52.
Proceeding past _Lamb Buildings_, on the east side of the Cloisters, and
by a passage six steps downwards, leading beneath the _Inner Temple
Dining-Hall_, we may note across the road (right) a short range of
substantial houses, known as Paper Buildings, facing _King’s Bench Walk_,
where it will be remembered that _Sir John Chester_ had his residential
chambers, no doubt selecting a central position—say, at No. 3. Here at
various times Mr. Edward Chester, Hugh, Sim Tappertit, and Gabriel Varden
had audience with Sir John; for full particulars of which “overhaul the
wollume”—“Barnaby Rudge.”
In this neighbourhood also were situated the chambers of _Mr. Stryver_,
_K.C._, where _Sydney Carton_ served as “jackal” to that “fellow of
delicacy;” as we read in “The Tale of Two Cities,” how Sydney
“Having revived himself by twice pacing the pavements of King’s Bench
Walk and Paper Buildings, turned into the Stryver Chambers.”
Returning to Fleet Street by Lamb Buildings, and passing in front of the
Old Temple Church, we come to Goldsmith’s Buildings (right), which
overlook the old burial-ground and the tomb of the doctor. This surely
is the “dismal churchyard” referred to in “Our Mutual Friend” as being
closely contiguous to the offices of Messrs. Lightwood and Wrayburn.
“Whosoever . . . had looked up at the dismal windows commanding that
churchyard, until at the most dismal window of them all, he saw a
dismal boy, would in him have beheld . . . the clerk of Mr. Mortimer
Lightwood.”
_N.B._—Note the last window on the left (second floor), nearest the west
wing, lately rebuilt.
Coming again into Fleet Street, by the arched gateway of Inner Temple
Lane, the wayfarer may recall the circumstance of Bradley Headstone’s
nightly watchings opposite this point for the outgoings of _Mr. Eugene
Wrayburn_, and the many fruitless journeys which were hence commenced, as
Eugene enjoyed “the pleasures of the chase” at the expense of his
unfortunate rival.
Nearly facing us, on the north side of Fleet Street, is Clifford’s Inn
Passage, into whose retirement _Mr. Rokesmith_, the hero of “Our Mutual
Friend,” withdrew from the noise of Fleet Street, with _Mr. Boffin_, when
offering that gentleman his services as secretary.
Close at hand stands St. Dunstan’s Church, near to which the pump was,
but is not, from whose refreshing streams “_Hugh_” (from the Maypole,
Chigwell) sobered himself by a drenching on one occasion previous to
visiting Sir John Chester at Paper Buildings. (_Vide_ “Barnaby Rudge,”
chapter 40.) The old pump has been replaced by a drinking-fountain.
_Toby Veck_ surely must have known that pump; for though there is no
precise location given by Dickens in “The Chimes” for the church near to
which Toby waited for jobs, there is an etching by Stanfield in the
original edition of that book (page 88), which is unmistakably the
counterfeit presentment of St. Dunstan’s Tower.
Continuing the route, we pass _Bouverie Street_ (Bradbury and Evans—now
Bradbury, Agnew, and Co.—in this street were the publishers of several of
the works of Dickens, “The Chimes” included) on the right, next arriving
at _Whitefriars’ Street_ on the same side.
At the corner of the street, No. 67, is the public Office of “The Daily
News.” This influential newspaper was started January 21, 1846, under
the supervision of Charles Dickens, and in the earlier numbers of the
journal were published instalments of his “Pictures from Italy.” Dickens
shortly relinquished the editorship, being succeeded by his friends
Jerrold and Forster. The fact is, Charles never greatly cared for the
study of general or party politics; but he always identified himself with
“the People—spelt with a large P, who are governed,” rather than “the
people—spelt with a small p, who govern.”
A short distance down Whitefriars’ Street is a passage (left) from which,
at a right angle riverwards, we may look into Hanging Sword Alley, where
Mr. Jeremiah Cruncher, messenger at Tellson’s, had his two apartments.
These “were very decently kept” by his wife, whose “flopping”
proclivities gave so much umbrage to Jerry.
On the opposite side of Fleet Street—No. 146—just beyond, we turn (left)
into _Wine Office Court_, and, on the right, we arrive at “Ye Olde
Cheshire Cheese.” In “The Tale of Two Cities,” Book 2, chapter 4, we
read that _Charles Darnay_, being acquitted of the charge of high
treason, on his trial at the Old Bailey, was persuaded by the young
lawyer, _Sydney Carton_, to dine in his company thereafter:—
“Drawing his arm through his own, he took him down Ludgate Hill to
Fleet Street, and so up a covered way into a tavern.”
This, of course, was the tavern intended; it having been a noted resort
with literary and legal men for more than a century past. Here Doctor
Johnson and Oliver Goldsmith frequently dined together in days gone by,
gravely discoursing over their punch afterwards; and, in more recent
years, Thackeray, Dickens, Jerrold, Sala, and others have been reckoned
among the customary guests of the establishment. Mr. George Augustus
Sala, in a pleasant description of the place, writes as follows:—
“Let it be noted in candour that Law finds its way to the ‘Cheese’ as
well as Literature; but the Law is, as a rule, of the non-combatant,
and, consequently, harmless order. Literary men who have been called
to the Bar, but do not practise; briefless young barristers, who do
not object to mingling with newspaper men; with a sprinkling of
retired solicitors (amazing dogs these for old port wine; the
landlord has some of the same bin which served as Hippocrene to Judge
Blackstone when he wrote his ‘Commentaries’)—these make up the legal
element of the ‘Cheese.’”
The journey being resumed through Fleet Street, the visitor attains
_Ludgate Circus_, from which _Farringdon Street_ leads northward on the
left. A short detour along this thoroughfare, facing the handsome bridge
of the Holborn Viaduct, will afford a sight of _Farringdon Market_ on the
left side. Its position will recall the description given in “Barnaby
Rudge,” in whose days it was known as Fleet Market,
“At that time a long irregular row of wooden sheds and penthouses
occupying the centre of what is now called Farringdon Street. . . .
It was indispensable to most public conveniences in those days that
they should be public nuisances likewise, and Fleet Market maintained
the principle to admiration.”
Here the rioters assembled—as narrated in the book before mentioned—and
passed a merry night in the midst of congenial surroundings. Retracing
our steps, we may note, on the east side of Farringdon Street, the site
of the old Fleet Prison, on a part of which now stands the CONGREGATIONAL
MEMORIAL HALL. The prison—fifty years since—stretched eastward in the
rear as far as the present premises of Messrs. Cassell and Co., Belle
Sauvage Yard. Its last remaining walls were removed in 1872, when the
foundation-stone of the “Memorial Hall” aforesaid was laid. Here was
imprisoned our amiable friend _Mr. Pickwick_, attended by his faithful
Sam, until the time when the costs of Messrs. Dodson and Fogg in _re_
Bardell _versus_ Pickwick were by him fully paid and satisfied.
Proceeding up _Ludgate Hill_, we may soon note the Belle Sauvage Yard
(turning by No. 68, on the left). The old inn, with its central
metropolitan coach-yard, sixty years since occupied this site, where now
the extensive printing and publishing offices of Cassell and Co. hold
benignant sway. The place is referred to in an anecdote of _Sam
Weller’s_ anent the preparation of his father’s marriage licence, as
arranged at Doctors’ Commons, the place being evidently regarded by that
respected coachman as his parochial headquarters in London—
“‘What is your name, sir?’ says the lawyer. ‘Tony Weller,’ says my
father. ‘Parish?’ says the lawyer. ‘Belle Savage,’ says my father;
for he stopped there when he drove up, and he know’d nothing about
parishes, _he_ didn’t.”
The plan of the inn-yard is considerably changed from its olden style.
In Mr. Weller’s time it comprised two courts, the outer one being
approached from Ludgate Hill by the present entrance, and the Belle
Sauvage Inn forming a second quadrangle, with an archway about half-way
up from the main entrance. In this interior court was the coach-yard,
surrounded by covered wooden galleries, in accordance with the fashion of
the times.
Passing onwards on the same side, past _Old Bailey_, we arrive at the
site of the London Coffee Tavern, No. 46 Ludgate Hill, now occupied by
the corner shop of Messrs. Hope Brothers, the well-known outfitters. The
old house was pulled down in 1872. Here _Mr. Arthur Clennam_ rested
awhile on his arrival “from Marseilles by way of Dover, and by Dover
coach, ‘the Blue-Eyed Maid,’” one dismal Sunday evening, as narrated in
chapter 3 of “Little Dorrit.” We now soon come to St. Paul’s Churchyard,
facing the dial by which _Ralph Nickleby_ corrected his watch on his way
to the London Tavern, no doubt “stepping aside” into No.
1—Dakin’s—“doorway” to do it; and we may probably be disposed to endorse
_John Browdie’s_ verdict with reference to St. Paul’s Cathedral itself.
“See there, lass, there be Paul’s Church. Ecod, he be a soizable one, he
be.” This locality is also mentioned in “Barnaby Rudge” as being in the
line of road taken by _Lord George Gordon_ when entering London with his
friends _en route_ for his residence in Welbeck Street. On the right,
within a short distance, we come to Dean’s Court, formerly DOCTORS’
COMMONS. This place is referred to by _Sam Weller_ as being in
“St. Paul’s Churchyard—low archway on the carriage side, bookseller’s
at one corner, hot-el on the other, and two porters in the middle, as
touts for licences.”
He further relates to Mr. Pickwick the circumstance of his father’s
having been here persuaded to take a marriage licence, directing the
lady’s name to be filled in on speculation.
We hear more of Doctors’ Commons in the chronicles of “David
Copperfield.”
The Offices of Spenlow and Jorkins were situated in this locality; but
the site is now occupied by the Post Office Savings’ Bank in _Knightrider
Street_. Passing through the Archway and by the Deanery of St. Paul’s
(right), we cross _Carter Lane_, and proceed by a narrow court, _Bell
Yard_, to the street above mentioned. At the corner of Carter Lane and
Bell Yard is the “_Bell Tavern_,” which it may be interesting to note, as
a house where Mr. Dickens frequently rested, making his notes in
preparation for David’s “choice of a profession.” For full particulars
the Rambler is referred to chapter 23 of David’s autobiography.
It may also be remembered that the worthy _Mr. Boffin_ (see “Our Mutual
Friend”), when instructing his attorney, seemed to be somewhat mixed in
his ideas relative to this institution. In conversation with Mr.
Lightwood, he once referred to the same as a legal personality—“_Doctor
Scommons_!”
This locality has, of late years, altogether changed both its name and
aspect. The old archway has disappeared. As previously stated, it is
now known as Dean’s Court. In connection with its old associations,
there exists _The Bishop of London’s Registry and Marriage Licence
Office_, at the east corner of the court; and there are some Proctors’
offices doing business, as in the days of Copperfield, in the
neighbourhood.
On the east side of the Cathedral, the visitor turns into Cheapside, soon
arriving, on the left-hand side of the way (No. 122), at Wood Street.
Associated with “Great Expectations,” as containing “Cross Keys Inn”
(“_The Castle_,” No. 25), at which house Mr. Pip arrived when first
visiting London, in accordance with instructions received per _Mr.
Jaggers_.
Crossing Cheapside, and onwards by the south side, we reach the
well-known establishment of the London Stereoscopic Company, No. 54. It
may be interesting to know that this firm possesses the stuffed original
of “_Grip_,” the Raven, the fortunate bird that received a double
passport to fame, Dickens having narrated the particulars of its decease,
and Maclise having sketched its apotheosis. This relic, so intimately
associated with the tale of “Barnaby Rudge,” was purchased at the public
sale of Mr. Dickens’s effects for £110, and its photographic portrait may
be now obtained at this address.
A few steps farther on the same side stands the old Church of St.
Mary-le-Bow, whose bells recalled Dick Whittington to fame and fortune.
These same bells are mentioned in the history of “Dombey and Son,”
chapter 4, as being within hearing at the offices of that important firm.
Passing on, and crossing to the north side of the thoroughfare, we arrive
at King Street (turning by No. 92), at the top of which is The Guildhall.
In the City Court attached thereto, that memorable case for breach of
promise of marriage, “Bardell _v._ Pickwick,” was contested, on which
occasion _Mr. Weller_, _senr._, emphatically insisted (from the body of
the Court) on Sam’s spelling his name with a “we,” and afterwards much
deplored the absence of certain technical defence on Mr. Pickwick’s
behalf—“Oh, Sammy, Sammy, vy vorn’t there a alleybi?” Are not all these
and other particulars written in the chronicles of the “Pickwick
Papers”?—See chapter 34.
Resuming the promenade of Cheapside (still in the reverse direction of
the progress of Lord George Gordon and his escort), we come into the
Poultry, at the farther end, passing a turning on the left therefrom,
known as GROCERS’ HALL COURT. It will be remembered that on one occasion
when Mr. Pickwick desired a quiet glass of brandy and water, Sam Weller,
whose “knowledge of London was extensive and peculiar,” led the way from
the Mansion House, proceeding by the second court on the right, to the
last house but one on the same side of the way, where he directed his
master to
“Take the box as stands in the first fireplace, ’cos there a’n’t no
leg in the middle of the table.”
In pursuance of these explicit instructions, we shall find that this
house is now in possession of Mr. Sheppard, gasfitter, but it is
recollected that it was, aforetime, a restaurant of the old-fashioned
sort. Mr. Weller, the elder, was here introduced to his son’s patron,
and thereupon arranged for Mr. Pickwick’s journey to Ipswich. At the end
of the Poultry we next approach, on the right, The Mansion House,
mentioned in “Barnaby Rudge” as the residence of the Mayor of London. We
read of this civic potentate in the pages of “The Christmas Carol,” when,
one Christmas Eve,
“The Lord Mayor, in the stronghold of the mighty Mansion House, gave
orders to his fifty cooks and butlers to keep Christmas as a Lord
Mayor’s household should.”
_Mark Tapley_ also—in America—once made jocose reference to this
location. When speaking of Queen Victoria, he informed certain members
of the Watertoast Association to the following effect:—
“She has lodgings, in virtue of her office, with the Lord Mayor at
the Mansion House, but don’t often occupy them, in consequence of the
parlour chimney smoking.”
Messrs. Dombey and Son had their offices in the City, within the sound of
Bow Bells, and not far from the Mansion House. Their position was
probably in proximity to _The Royal Exchange_, but the address cannot be
definitely indicated. Here Mr. Carker, the manager, reigned supreme, and
schemed for his own aggrandisement, regardless of the prosperity of the
house.
The name of the firm is still perpetuated in the City, and the thriving
establishment of the well-known merchant tailors—DOMBEY & SON—will be
found at No. 120 _Cheapside_, at which a large and well-conducted
business is carried on.
From this point we may conveniently visit “His Lordship’s Larder” (at
three minutes’ distance), Cheapside, where we may advantageously refresh,
“rest, and be thankful.”
RAMBLE III
_Charing Cross to Thavies Inn_, _Holborn Circus_
South-Eastern Terminus—Spa Road Station—Jacob’s Island; Sykes’s last
Refuge—Butler’s Wharf, formerly Quilp’s Wharf—Quilp’s House, Tower
Hill—Trinity House and Garden; Bella Wilfer’s Waiting-place—Southwark
Bridge; Little Dorrit’s Promenade—The General Post Office—Falcon Hotel,
Falcon Square; John Jasper’s patronage—Little Britain; Office of Mr.
Jaggers—Smithfield—Newgate Prison; Pip’s description in “Great
Expectations”—The Old Bailey Criminal Court, as per “Tale of Two
Cities”—The Saracen’s Head; Associations with Nicholas
Nickleby—Clerkenwell Green; Oliver Twist and his Companions—Scene of the
Robbery—Line of Route taken by Oliver and “The Artful Dodger” from the
Angel to Saffron Hill—Hatton Garden Police Court; Administration of Mr.
Fang—Great Saffron Hill and Field Lane—Fagin’s House and the “Three
Cripples”—Bleeding Hart Yard; Factory of Doyce and Clennam; the Plornish
Family—Ely Place—Thavies Inn; Mrs. Jellyby’s Residence.
From the SOUTH-EASTERN TERMINUS at Charing Cross there are frequent
trains by which the Rambler can travel to _Spa Road Station_,
_Bermondsey_ (about twenty minutes’ ride), from which point the situation
of what was once Jacob’s Island may be conveniently visited. This place
was associated with the adventures of _Oliver Twist_, being the last
refuge to which _Sykes_, the murderer of _Nancy_, betook himself on his
return to London, and where he met a righteous retribution when
attempting his escape. It is described by Dickens—nearly sixty years
since—as being
“Near to that part of the Thames on which the church at Rotherhithe
abuts, where the buildings on the banks are dirtiest, and the vessels
on the river blackest, with the dust of colliers and the smoke of
close-built, low-roofed houses. In such a neighbourhood, beyond
Dockhead, in the borough of Southwark, stands Jacob’s Island,
surrounded by a muddy ditch, six or eight feet deep, and fifteen or
twenty wide when the tide is in, once called Mill Pond, but known in
the days of this story as Folly Ditch.”
Arriving at _Spa Road_, the explorer turns left and right by the short
routes of _West Street South_, _Fream Street_, and _Rouel Road_, into
_Jamaica Road_ (five minutes from station); passing from the opposite
side of which, through _Parker’s Row_ to the thoroughfare of _Dockhead_,
he will find himself face to face with a tavern on the north side, named
“The Swan and Sugar Loaf.” A short cut on the right of this house leads
immediately to LONDON STREET, its northern side forming the south
boundary of the old site of Jacob’s Island. _Folly Ditch_, flowing from
the Thames through Mill Street, took its course through London Street (it
has been filled in since 1851); and in these streets wooden bridges
crossed to the Island, and “crazy wooden galleries, common to the backs
of half-a-dozen houses”—referred to by the novelist—used to “ornament the
banks of Folly Ditch.” To the right we pass into _George Row_, enclosing
Jacob’s Island (east), and may note _en passant_ the blocks of workmen’s
dwellings, erected 1883, named “Wolseley’s Buildings,” which occupy the
site of the old Island on its eastern side. From George Row we turn
(right) into _Jacob Street_, north of the Island, by which we come into
_Mill Street_ (west); again returning to _London Street_, and so
completing the circumnavigation of this interesting locality. Some of
the old wooden erections still exist in _Farthing Alley_, _Halfpenny
Alley_, and _Edward Street_, which intersect the area. In his preface to
the first cheap edition of “Oliver Twist,” the author makes a further
reference, as follows:—
“In the year one thousand eight hundred and fifty, it was publicly
declared in London by an amazing alderman, that Jacob’s Island did
not exist, and never had existed. Jacob’s Island continues to exist
(like an ill-bred place as it is) in the year one thousand eight
hundred and sixty-seven, though improved and much changed.”
Starting westward from “The Swan and Sugar Loaf,” we now proceed through
_Thornton Street_, and turn to the right, by one block in the street
beyond, into _Queen Street_, which leads directly north to the riverside.
At the end of this street is the locality of Quilp’s Wharf and place of
business, aforetime described in the pages of “The Old Curiosity Shop”:—
“A small, rat-infested, dreary yard, in which were a little wooden
counting-house, burrowing all awry in the dust as if it had fallen
from the clouds, and ploughed into the ground; a few fragments of
rusty anchors, several large iron rings, some piles of rotten wood,
and two or three heaps of old sheet copper—crumpled, cracked, and
battered.”
The place has been altogether altered and improved during the last forty
years, and is now known as “Butler’s Wharf,” but the original prototype
of Quilp is still remembered by some of the older residents of the
neighbourhood.
The westward route being continued by the side of the river, we walk
through _Shad Thames_ and _Pickle Herring Street_ (underneath an archway)
to _Vine Street_, where is the southern entrance of the _Tower Subway_,
by which we may cross below the river to the other side. Emerging near
the Tower, Quilp’s House, on Tower Hill, is near at hand. No. 6 Tower
Dock, facing the public entrance to the Tower, is said to have comprised
the lodging assigned by Dickens for the accommodation of Mr. and Mrs.
Daniel Quilp and Mrs. Jiniwin. We may here recall the matrons’
tea-meeting, as described in chapter 4 of “The Old Curiosity Shop,” when
Quilp’s conduct as a husband was freely discussed, and much good advice
tendered to Mrs. Quilp for the true assertion of her rights and dignity.
Also the notable occasion when, the master of the house being missing and
thought to be drowned, _Mr. Sampson Brass_ was in consultation, and the
party were unpleasantly surprised, as they were preparing a descriptive
advertisement, by the sudden appearance of the Dwarf, as lively and
sarcastic as ever.
“A question now arises with regard to his nose. ‘Flat,’ said Mrs.
Jiniwin. ‘Aquiline!’ cried Quilp, thrusting in his head, and
striking the feature with his fist. ‘Aquiline, you hag. Do you see
it? Do you call this flat? Do you? Eh?’”
Hard by this locality stands Trinity House, Tower Hill, with its garden
in front, and it may be remembered that _Mr. Wilfer_ suggested this
neighbourhood as a waiting-place for Bella, on the occasion of their
“innocent elopement” to Greenwich, while he should array himself in new
garments at her expense, to do honour to the expedition. We now turn
westward by _Tower Street_, and may save time by taking train at _Mark
Lane Station_ for the Mansion House, about ten minutes’ ride. On arrival
at the Mansion House Station we shall find _Queen Street_ close at hand,
leading riverwards to Southwark Bridge, referred to in “Little Dorrit” as
the Iron Bridge. This was Amy Dorrit’s favourite promenade, it being
quieter than many of the neighbouring thoroughfares; and we may recall
the scene when young _John Chivery_ was obliged to take no for an answer,
when he attempted the proffer of his hand and heart.
Proceeding onwards through _Cannon Street_, we turn to the right through
_St. Paul’s Churchyard_, crossing Cheapside to the stately edifice of the
General Post Office, _St. Martin’s-le-Grand_. This building, in the
times of “Nicholas Nickleby,” occasioned honest John Browdie some
surprise:—
“Wa-at dost thee tak’ yon place to be, noo, that ’un ower the wa’?
Ye’d never coom near it, gin ye thried for twolve moonths. It’s na
but a Poast-office. Ho, ho! they need to charge for double latthers.
A Poast-office! What dost thee think of that? Ecod, if that’s on’y
a Poast-office, loike to see where the Lord Mayor o’ Lunnon lives!”
_Aldersgate Street_ leads northward from St. Martin’s-le-Grand; passing
the first block in which, _Falcon Street_ turns on the right (No. 16)
towards _Falcon Square_, a small city piazza, where may be found (No. 8)
The Falcon Hotel. This is the place at which John Jasper sojourned when
visiting London. In “The Mystery of Edwin Drood” we read the following
commendation of the house in question:—
“It is hotel, boarding-house, or lodging-house at its visitor’s
option. It announces itself, in the new Railway advertisers, as a
novel enterprise, timidly beginning to spring up. It bashfully,
almost apologetically, gives the traveller to understand that it does
not expect him, on the good old constitutional hotel plan, to order a
pint of sweet blacking for his drinking, and throw it away; but
insinuates that he may have his boots blacked instead of his stomach,
and may also have bed, breakfast, attendance, and a porter up all
night, for a certain fixed charge.”
Returning to Aldersgate Street, we shall find that the opposite turning,
leading to Smithfield, is _Little Britain_. In “Great Expectations” we
learn that the Offices of Mr. Jaggers, the Old Bailey lawyer, were here
situated, in near proximity to Bartholomew Close; but the house cannot be
precisely indicated. Here _Mr. Wemmick_ assisted his Principal in the
details of his professional business. He may be remembered as having a
decided preference for “portable property.”
Proceeding onward by _Duke Street_, the visitor will shortly come into
Smithfield, a locality which is considerably changed since the days when
Pip first arrived in London. He says—
“When I told the clerk that I would take a turn in the air while I
waited, he advised me to go round the corner and I should come into
Smithfield. So I came into Smithfield; and the shameful place, being
all asmear with filth, and fat, and blood, and foam, seemed to stick
to me. So, I rubbed it off with all possible speed by turning into a
street where I saw the great black dome of Saint Paul’s bulging at me
from behind a grim stone building which a bystander said was Newgate
Prison.”
Adopting the same line of route, the Rambler may pass the south front of
the Metropolitan Meat Market, turning to the left by St. Bartholomew’s
Hospital into _Giltspur Street_, which leads to Newgate Street, and faces
on the opposite corner of Old Bailey Newgate Prison. In “Great
Expectations,” Pip describes his visit to the interior, at the invitation
and in the company of Mr. Wemmick:—
“We passed through the Lodge, where some fetters were hanging up, on
the bare walls among the prison rules, into the interior of the jail.
At that time jails were much neglected, and the period of exaggerated
reaction consequent on all public wrong-doing—and which is always its
longest and heaviest punishment—was still far off. So, felons were
not lodged and fed better than soldiers (to say nothing of paupers),
and seldom set fire to their prisons with the excusable object of
improving the flavour of their soup. It was visiting-time when
Wemmick took me in, and a potman was going his rounds with beer, and
the prisoners behind bars in yards were buying beer and talking to
friends; and a frowsy, ugly, disorderly, depressing scene it was.”
Again, it may be remarked that things have much improved since the good
old days. _Inter alia_, the principles and rules of prison management
and discipline have greatly changed for the better.
In the tale of “Barnaby Rudge” is the narrative of the burning of Newgate
and the liberation of the prisoners by the rioters (1780), on which
occasion it will be remembered that our old friend Gabriel Varden was
somewhat roughly handled. For full particulars, see chapter 64.
Immediately south of Newgate is the adjacent Central Criminal Court of
The Old Bailey, the scene of Charles Darnay’s trial in “The Tale of Two
Cities.” At the time there described (1775)—
“The Old Bailey was famous as a kind of deadly Inn yard, from which
pale travellers set out continually, in carts and coaches, on a
violent passage to the other world, traversing some two miles and a
half of public street and road, and shaming few good citizens, if
any. So powerful is use, and so desirable to be good use in the
beginning. It was famous, too, for the pillory, a wise old
institution, that inflicted a punishment of which no one could
foresee the extent; also for the whipping-post, another dear old
institution, very humanising and softening to behold in action; also
for extensive transactions in blood-money, another fragment of
ancestral wisdom.”
Facing eastward from Newgate Street is the _Holborn Viaduct_, which has
for many years superseded the old ascending and descending road of
Holborn Hill.
The Saracen’s Head, the old coaching-house on Snow Hill, with which we
have been familiar from the days of “Nicholas Nickleby,” as the
headquarters of Mr. Squeers, has disappeared since 1868, having been
pulled down long ago, with many other buildings of this neighbourhood,
giving room to the great improvements which have taken place in this part
of London. Hereabouts it stood, on a lower level, not far from St.
Sepulchre’s Church—
“Just on that particular part of Snow Hill where omnibus horses going
eastward seriously think of falling down on purpose, and horses in
hackney cabriolets going westward not unfrequently fall by accident.”
The present _Police Station_, Snow Hill, stands on part of the site
formerly occupied by this old hostelry.
This modern thoroughfare of Snow Hill commences at the first turning on
the right, in which has been erected a commodious hotel of the same name
(No. 10), where, by the aid of a little refreshment and a slight exercise
of imagination, we may recall the departure of Nicholas for Dotheboy’s
Hall, Greta Bridge, by the Yorkshire coach, with Mr. Squeers and the
pupils; also the later arrival in London of Mr. and Mrs. Browdie,
accompanied by the lovely Fanny as bridesmaid, and the first meeting of
Nicholas with Frank Cheeryble, newly returned from Continental travel.
Snow Hill leads to the lower level of _Farringdon Road_, at a point
immediately north of the Holborn Viaduct spanning the thoroughfare, in
which, turning to the right, we walk onwards to the intersection of
_Clerkenwell Road_ (eight minutes’ work). On the right hand, across the
railway, is Clerkenwell Green, referred to in “Oliver Twist” as
“That open square in Clerkenwell which is yet called by some strange
perversion of terms The Green.”
It was near this place that little Oliver became enlightened as to the
business of Charley Bates and the Artful Dodger. We read that the boys,
traversing a narrow court in this neighbourhood, came out opposite a
bookstall, where Mr. Brownlow was reading, abstracted from all other
mundane considerations, so affording “a prime plant” for the operations
of these light-fingered gentlemen. This court leads from the road
opposite the Sessions House into _Pear Tree Court_, giving into the main
road at some distance beyond, at which the scene above referred to was
enacted.
Walking onwards by the _King’s Cross Road_ we soon come to the point
where _Exmouth Street_ joins it from the east, facing the south-east
angle of the House of Correction. Here we strike into the route taken by
Oliver Twist when he first came from Barnet to London, under the escort
of _Mr. John Dawkins_. The text of the story is as follows:—
“They crossed from the ‘Angel’ into St. John’s Road, struck down the
small street which terminates at Sadler’s Wells Theatre, through
Exmouth Street and Coppice Row, down the little court by the side of
the Workhouse, across the classic ground which once bore the name of
Hockley-in-the-Hole, thence into Little Saffron Hill, and so into
Saffron Hill the Great.”
Following the line thus indicated from Exmouth Street, we come on the
south side of the Workhouse, nearly opposite Little Saffron Hill, which
leads into _Great Saffron Hill_ as above. Crossing _Clerkenwell Road_,
and proceeding for a short distance down Great Saffron Hill, we arrive at
the cross street of _Hatton Wall_, in which, past two doors to the left
on the south side, will be found—between the _Hat and Tun Inn_ and No. 17
beyond—the entrance of HATTON YARD, a long narrow lane or mews (leading
to _Kirby Street_), occupied by carmen and stabling. In this eligible
position was situated, some fifty years since, “the very notorious
Metropolitan Police Court” to which Oliver Twist was taken on the charge
of theft; and we may here recall the administration of the presiding
magistrate, the notable Mr. Fang, as shown in the examination of the
prisoner.
The premises (No. 9, on the left) once formed part and parcel of the
police court referred to; but the arrangements of the neighbourhood have
been subjected to much alteration during the last half century. Mr.
Forster states that Dickens “had himself a satisfaction in admitting the
identity of Mr. Fang, in ‘Oliver Twist,’ with Mr. Laing of Hatton
Garden.” In a letter (now in possession of Mr. S. R. Goodman, of
Brighton) written to Mr. Haines, Reporter, June 3rd, 1838, Dickens writes
as follows:—
“In my next number of ‘Oliver Twist’ I must have a magistrate; and,
casting about for a magistrate whose harshness and insolence would
render him a fit subject to be _shown up_, I have as a necessary
consequence stumbled upon Mr. Laing of Hatton Garden celebrity. I
know the man’s character perfectly well; but as it would be necessary
to describe his personal appearance also, I ought to have seen him,
which (fortunately or unfortunately as the case may be) I have never
done. In this dilemma it occurred to me that perhaps I might under
your auspices be smuggled into the Hatton Garden office for a few
moments some morning. If you can further my object I shall be really
very greatly obliged to you.”
“The opportunity was found; the magistrate was brought up before the
novelist; and shortly after, on some fresh outbreak of intolerable
temper, the Home Secretary found it an easy and popular step to remove
Mr. Laing from the Bench.”
Returning to GREAT SAFFRON HILL, we may recall its description as given
in the days of “Oliver Twist”—
“The street was very narrow and muddy, and the air was impregnated
with filthy odours. The sole places that seemed to prosper amid the
general blight of the place were the public-houses, and in them the
lowest orders of the Irish were wrangling with might and main.
Covered ways and yards, which here and there diverged from the main
street, disclosed little knots of houses where drunken men and women
were positively wallowing in filth.”
Field Lane, in the immediate vicinity, _was_
“Near to that spot on which Snow Hill and Holborn Hill meet . . a
narrow dismal alley leading to Saffron Hill. In its filthy shops are
exposed for sale huge bunches of second-hand silk handkerchiefs of
all sizes and patterns, for here reside the traders who purchase them
from the pickpockets.”
This place has been effaced by the Holborn Valley improvements, and we
may now look in vain for the precise locality of the house of _Fagin_ the
Jew. In this neighbourhood also was situated “The Three Cripples,” a
public-house of evil repute patronised by Sykes, Fagin, and Monks. We
may recall the circumstance of _Mr. Morris Bolter’s_ (_alias_ Noah
Claypole’s) arrival at this house, when he and _Charlotte_ first came to
London, and of his subsequent interview with the wily Jew.
It is pleasant to remark that Saffron Hill has greatly improved in its
character since the above-quoted description was correct. It now affords
accommodation for the headquarters of the _Central Shoeblacks’ Society_
(as established under the auspices of the late Earl of Shaftesbury), and
about midway in the street where thieves “did once inhabit,” a large
_Board School_ is doing good educational service for the elevation of the
humbler classes.
Turning from Great Saffron Hill westward by the _One Tun_ public-house,
we come into _Charles Street_, on the south side of which, towards Hatton
Garden, is Bleeding Hart Yard (entrance by the Bleeding Hart Tavern, No.
19). This locality is associated with the tale of “Little Dorrit.” It
will be remembered that here the factory of _Messrs. Doyce and Clennam_
was situated, and here also resided _Mr. and Mrs. Plornish_, the humble
friends of the Dorrit family. In these degenerate days the place has
much altered, and the amiable _Mr. Casby_ would certainly find it more
difficult than ever to collect his weekly dues, even by the agency of his
energetic assistant, Mr. Pancks.
Passing from this unpretending locality, we come (at No. 8) into _Hatton
Garden_, which leads southward to _Holborn Circus_.
In Hatton Garden, on the east side, can be observed (No. 20) the
old-established warehouse of Messrs. Rowland and Son. In this connection
there may be remembered the mad old gentleman “in small clothes,” who
lived next door to the _Nicklebys_, at Bow. On the only occasion of his
visiting the family indoors, he incidentally referred to “Mrs. Rowland,
who, every morning, bathes in Kalydor for nothing.”—See “Nicholas
Nickleby,” chapter 49.
Mr. Waterbrook’s establishment, situated in _Ely Place_, _Holborn_, is
entitled to passing mention as the place where David and his friend
Traddles met each other for the first time after their schoolboy days, on
the occasion of a dinner-party, at which also _Agnes Wickfield_ and
_Uriah Heep_ attended. Ely Place is situated on the north side of
HOLBORN CIRCUS, and once comprised the rose garden of the Bishop of Ely,
afterwards leased to Sir Christopher Hatton.
On the opposite side of the Circus, and near to St. Andrew’s Church, is
situated Thavies Inn, in which _Mrs. Jellyby_ and family resided, in the
days when her daughter _Caddy_ acted as amanuensis _in re_ the affairs of
Borrioboola-Gha.
It is described in “Bleak House” as being
“A narrow street of high houses like an oblong cistern to hold the
fog.”
The house No. 13, on the right, has been indicated as once the disorderly
residence of the Jellyby family. We may recollect it as the place where
_Esther Summerson_ and _Ada_ were accommodated for their first night in
London, on which occasion little unfortunate _Peepy_ was found with his
head between the area railings, and the house generally turned upside
down; while Mrs. Jellyby serenely dictated her correspondence in the
family sitting-room, altogether oblivious of such minor domestic
accidents.
Esther thus narrates her first impressions:—
“Mrs. Jellyby had very good hair, but was too much occupied with her
African duties to brush it. The shawl in which she had been loosely
muffled dropped on to her chair, when she advanced towards us; and,
as she turned to resume her seat, we could not help noticing that her
dress didn’t nearly meet up the back, and that the open space was
railed across with a lattice work of staylace—like a summer house. .
. . ‘You find me, my dears,’ said Mrs. Jellyby, ‘as usual, very
busy; but that you will excuse. The African project at present
employs my whole time. . . . We hope by this time next year to have
from a hundred and fifty to two hundred healthy families cultivating
coffee and educating the natives of Borrioboola-Gha, on the left bank
of the Niger.”—See “Bleak House,” chapter 4.
_The Buffet of Messrs. Spiers and Pond_ will be found a short distance
eastward from Holborn Circus, on the right, next the terminus of the
London, Chatham, and Dover railway. A visit to its welcome “contiguity
of shade” is confidently recommended to those who may be disposed for
necessary rest and refreshment.
RAMBLE IV
_Holborn Circus to Tottenham Court Road_
Langdale’s Distillery—Barnard’s Inn; Pip’s Chambers—Furnival’s Inn;
Dickens’s and John Westlock’s Apartments—Staple Inn; Mr. Grewgious’s
Chambers, P.J.T.; Rooms of Neville Landless and Mr. Tartar; “The Magic
Bean-Stalk Country”—Gray’s Inn; Mr. and Mrs. Traddles and “the girls;”
Offices of Mr. Perker—The Bull Inn; Scene of Lewsome’s Illness—Kingsgate
Street; Poll Sweedlepipe’s Shop; Sairey Gamp’s Apartments—Mrs.
Billickin’s Lodgings in Southampton Street; Miss Twinkleton and Rosa
Budd—Bloomsbury Square; Lord Mansfield’s Residence—Queen Square—The
Children’s Hospital; Johnny’s Will—Foundling Hospital; “No Thoroughfare;”
Walter Wilding—“The Boot Tavern”—No. 48 Doughty Street—Tavistock House,
Tavistock Square—Mrs. Dickens’s Establishment, No. 4 Gower Street, North;
Mrs. Wilfer’s Doorplate—No. 1 Devonshire Terrace—Mr. Merdle’s House,
Harley Street—Mr. Dombey’s House—Madame Mantalini’s, Wigmore
Street—Wimpole Street; Mr. Boffin’s West-end Residence—Welbeck Street;
Lord George Gordon’s Residence—Brook Street, Claridge’s Hotel; Mr.
Dorrit’s Return—Devonshire House; Guild of Literature and Art—Hatchett’s
Hotel; White Horse Cellars; Mr. Guppy in attendance—193 Piccadilly;
Messrs. Chapman and Hall—Golden Square; Ralph Nickleby’s
Office—Apartments of the Kenwigs family—The Crown Inn—“Martha’s”
Lodgings—Newman Street; Mr. Turveydrop’s Academy—Carlisle House; Doctor
Manette and Lucie.
From HOLBORN CIRCUS the Rambler now proceeds westward by the main
thoroughfare of _Holborn_, passing _Fetter Lane_ on the left, and arrives
at (No. 26) the old premises, now partially rebuilt, formerly Langdale’s
Distillery. Half of the same remains (at the moment), but will shortly
be superseded by a modern building. The eastern portion is occupied by
Messrs. Buchanan, whisky merchants, who have recently purchased the
premises. This establishment was sacked (1780) by the Gordon rioters.
Mr. Langdale being a Catholic, was obnoxious to the No-Popery mob; and
the stores of liquor at this distillery afforded an additional temptation
for the attack. The terrible scenes enacted on the occasion are
powerfully described in “Barnaby Rudge,” chapters 67 and 68—
“At this place a large detachment of soldiery were posted, who fired,
now up Fleet Market, now up Holborn, now up Snow Hill—constantly
raking the streets in each direction. At this place too, several
large fires were burning, so that all the terrors of that terrible
night seemed to be concentrated in one spot.
“Full twenty times, the rioters, headed by one man who wielded an axe
in his right hand, and bestrode a brewer’s horse of great size and
strength, caparisoned with fetters taken out of Newgate, which
clanked and jingled as he went, made an attempt to force a passage at
this point, and fire the vintner’s house. Full twenty times they
were repulsed with loss of life, and still came back again; and
though the fellow at their head was marked and singled out by all,
and was a conspicuous object as the only rioter on horseback, not a
man could hit him. . . .
“The vintner’s house, with half-a-dozen others near at hand, was one
great, glowing blaze. All night, no one had essayed to quench the
flames, or stop their progress; but now a body of soldiers were
actively engaged in pulling down two old wooden houses, which were
every moment in danger of taking fire, and which could scarcely fail,
if they were left to burn, to extend the conflagration immensely.
“. . . The gutters of the street, and every crack and fissure in the
stones, ran with scorching spirit, which being dammed up by busy
hands, overflowed the road and pavement, and formed a great pool,
into which the people dropped down dead by dozens. They lay in heaps
all round this fearful pond, husbands and wives, fathers and sons,
mothers and daughters, women with children in their arms and babies
at their breasts, and drank until they died. While some stooped with
their lips to the brink and never raised their heads again, others
sprang up from their fiery draught, and danced, half in a mad
triumph, and half in the agony of suffocation, until they fell, and
steeped their corpses in the liquor that had killed them. . . .
“On this last night of the great riots—for the last night it was—the
wretched victims of a senseless outcry, became themselves the dust
and ashes of the flames they had kindled, and strewed the public
streets of London.”
It will be remembered that Mr. Langdale and Mr. Haredale, being in the
house that night, were rescued by Edward Chester and Joe Willett, all
four finding their way to safety by a back entrance.
“The narrow lane in the rear was quite free of people. So, when they
had crawled through the passage indicated by the vintner (which was a
mere shelving-trap for the admission of casks), and had managed with
some difficulty to unchain and raise the door at the upper end, they
emerged into the street without being observed or interrupted. Joe
still holding Mr. Haredale tight, and Edward taking the same care of
the vintner, they hurried through the streets at a rapid pace.”
This door gives into Fetter Lane (No. 79), and still exists for the
inspection of the curious. The old house in Holborn has, for more than a
century, replaced the premises so destroyed. Close at hand (by No. 23)
is the entrance to Barnard’s Inn—
“The dingiest collection of shabby buildings ever squeezed together
in a rank corner as a club for tom-cats.”
The locality is referred to in these complimentary terms by Mr. Pip (in
the pages of “Great Expectations”), who lived here with his friend
Herbert Pocket for a short time when he first came to London. Mr. Joe
Gargery’s verdict is worth remembrance:—
“The present may be a wery good inn, and I believe its character do
stand i; but I wouldn’t keep a pig in it myself, not in the case that
I wished him to fatten wholesome, and to eat with a meller flavour on
him.”
Pip further describes as follows:—
“We entered this haven through a wicket-gate, and were disgorged by
an introductory passage into a melancholy little square that looked
to me like a flat burying-ground. I thought it had the most dismal
trees in it, and the most dismal sparrows, and the most dismal cats,
and the most dismal houses (in number half-a-dozen or so), that I had
ever seen. . . . A frowzy mourning of soot and smoke attired this
forlorn creation of Barnard, and it had strewed ashes on its head,
and was undergoing penance and humiliation as a mere dust-hole. Thus
for my sense of sight; while dry rot, and wet rot, and all the silent
rots that rot in neglected root and cellar—rot of rat, and mouse, and
bug, and coaching stables near at hand besides—addressed themselves
faintly to my sense of smell, and moaned, ‘Try Barnard’s Mixture.’”
Great alterations are now (1899) being carried out; the old buildings—as
above referred to by Mr. Pip—have been demolished, and a new and better
arrangement of the locality is in active progress for the improvement of
the neighbourhood.
On the opposite side of Holborn are the handsome and extensive offices of
THE PRUDENTIAL ASSURANCE COMPANY. These premises, with their frontage,
occupy the site of FURNIVAL’S INN, which has recently disappeared, having
been pulled down to make room for the extension of the Assurance offices
above referred to—_Sic transit memoria mundi_.
Furnival’s Inn was an interesting locality, as associated with the
earlier experience of Mr. Dickens himself. Here the young author resided
in 1835, the year previous to the production of the “Pickwick Papers,”
the first number of that work being published April 1, 1836. On the day
following that notable date, Mr. Dickens married Miss Catherine Hogarth;
and for some time the young couple resided on the third floor apartments
at _No._ 15 _Furnival’s Inn_—on the right side of the square. A personal
reminiscence of these early days is no doubt intended in chapter 59 of
“David Copperfield;” a pleasant description being there given of the
residential chambers of Mr. and Mrs. Traddles, as located in Gray’s Inn
just beyond.
_Mr. John Westlock_ had his bachelor apartments in this same place at
Furnival’s Inn (_vide_ “Martin Chuzzlewit”), and here he received the
unexpected visit of Tom Pinch on his first arrival in London. We may
remember the incidents of that cordial welcome, when
“John was constantly running backwards and forwards to and from the
closet, bringing out all sorts of things in pots, scooping
extraordinary quantities of tea out of the caddy, dropping French
rolls into his boots, pouring hot water over the butter, and making a
variety of similar mistakes, without disconcerting himself in the
least.”
In the centre of the interior square, standing within the precincts of
Furnival’s Inn during the past seventy-five years, and flourishing in
recent days—a quiet oasis of retirement and good cheer amidst the bustle
and noise of central London—there existed (until 1895) Woods’ Hotel.
This hotel was associated with “The Mystery of Edwin Drood,” being the
house at which Mr. Grewgious found accommodation for the charming Rosa
Budd (on the occasion of her flight from the importunities of Jasper at
Cloisterham), including an “unlimited head chambermaid” for her special
behoof and benefit.
“Rosa’s room was airy, clean, comfortable, almost gay. The Unlimited
had laid in everything omitted from the very little bag (that is to
say, everything she could possibly need), and Rosa tripped down the
great many stairs again, to thank her guardian for his thoughtful and
affectionate care of her.
“‘Not at all, my dear,’ said Mr. Grewgious, infinitely gratified; ‘it
is I who thank you for your charming confidence and for your charming
company. Your breakfast will be provided for you in a neat, compact,
and graceful little sitting-room (appropriate to your figure), and I
will come to you at ten o’clock in the morning. I hope you don’t
feel very strange indeed, in this strange place.’
“‘Oh no, I feel so safe!’
“‘Yes, you may be sure that the stairs are fire-proof,’ said Mr.
Grewgious, ‘and that any outbreak of the devouring element would be
perceived and suppressed by the watchmen.’
“‘I did not mean that,’ Rosa replied. ‘I mean, I feel so safe from
him.’
“‘There is a stout gate of iron bars to keep him out,’ said Mr.
Grewgious smiling; ‘and Furnival’s is fire-proof, and specially
watched and lighted, and _I_ live over the way!’ In the stoutness of
his knight-errantry, he seemed to think the last-named protection
all-sufficient. In the same spirit he said to the gate-porter as he
went out, ‘If some one staying in the hotel should wish to send
across the road to me in the night, a crown will be ready for the
messenger.’ In the same spirit, he walked up and down outside the
iron gate for the best part of an hour, with some solicitude;
occasionally looking in between the bars, as if he had laid a dove in
a high roost in a cage of lions, and had it on his mind that she
might tumble out.”
The Hotel was originally built 1818–19, and was enlarged as recently as
1884. Woods was the proprietor for fifty years.
Crossing to the other side of the street, at a short distance onwards,
opposite Gray’s Inn Road, the Rambler reaches (by No. 334 High Holborn)
the gateway of Staple Inn; a little nook, composed of two irregular
quadrangles behind the most ancient part of Holborn, where certain gabled
houses, some centuries of age, still stand looking on the public way.
Staple Inn was the favourite summer promenade of the meditative _Mr.
Snagsby_ (see “Bleak House”); and in this Inn _Mr. Grewgious_ occupied a
set of chambers. The house is No. 10, in the inner quadrangle,
“presenting in black and white, over its ugly portal, the mysterious
inscription, ‘P. J. T., 1747.’ Perhaps John Thomas, or Perhaps Joe
Tyler.” And, under certain social conditions, “for a certainty, P. J. T.
was Pretty Jolly Too.” _Neville Landless_ also had rooms in this
locality; the top set in the corner (on the right), overlooking the
garden “where a few smoky sparrows twitter in the smoky trees, as though
they had called to each other, ‘let us play at country.’” Close to these
lived _Mr. Tartar_, in “the neatest, the cleanest, and the best-ordered
chambers ever seen under the sun, moon, and stars.” And we may recall
the writer’s delicate treatment of this, the blushing “beanstalk country”
of dear little Rosa Budd. For the several associations herewith
connected, reference should be made to our author’s last book, “The
Mystery of Edwin Drood.”—See concluding paragraphs of chapter 21:—
“Rosa wondered what the girls would say if they could see her
crossing the wide street on the sailor’s arm. And she fancied that
the passers-by must think her very little and very helpless,
contrasted with the strong figure that could have caught her up and
carried her out of any danger, miles and miles without resting.
“She was thinking further, that his far-seeing blue eyes looked as if
they had been used to watch danger afar off, and to watch it without
flinching, drawing nearer and nearer: when, happening to raise her
own eyes, she found that he seemed to be thinking something about
_them_.
“This a little confused Rosebud, and may account for her never
afterwards quite knowing how she ascended (with his help) to his
garden in the air, and seemed to get into a marvellous country that
came into sudden bloom like the country on the summit of the magic
bean-stalk. May it flourish for ever!”
[Picture: Doorway in Staple Inn]
In this connection, the reader may be interested in chapter 22; the first
part of which deals most tenderly and beautifully with “love’s awaking,”
in the heart of the innocent heroine.
Recrossing to the other side of High Holborn, past _Gray’s Inn Road_ (on
the north), at No. 22, we reach the gateway of GRAY’S INN. At No. 2
South Square (formerly Holborn Court) we may find the upper chambers
formerly occupied by _Mr. Traddles_ and his wife _Sophy_, whose domestic
arrangements included accommodation for “the beauty” and the other
Devonshire sisters. Copperfield says, in the chapter before referred
to:—
“If I had beheld a thousand roses blowing in a top set of chambers,
in that withered Gray’s Inn, they could not have brightened it half
so much. The idea of those Devonshire girls, among the dry
law-stationers, and the attorneys’ offices; and of the tea and toast,
and children’s songs, in that grim atmosphere of pounce and
parchment, red-tape, dusty wafers, ink-jars, brief and draft paper,
law reports, writs, declarations, and bills of costs, seemed almost
as pleasantly fanciful as if I had dreamed that the Sultan’s famous
family had been admitted on the roll of attorneys, and had brought
the talking-bird, the singing-tree, and the Golden water into Gray’s
Inn Hall.”
The offices of _Mr. Perker_, the legal adviser of Mr. Pickwick, were also
located in Gray’s Inn. We read that the “outer door” of these chambers
was to be found “after climbing two pairs of steep and dirty stairs;” but
no indication is given of their exact situation.
Proceeding westward from Gray’s Inn, and passing the stately, elegant,
and commodious _First Avenue Hotel_, between Warwick Court and Brownlow
Street, and a half-a-dozen side streets beyond, we come, on the north
side, at No. 92, to the Bull and Anchor Tavern. This is the house known
in the pages of “Martin Chuzzlewit” as “_The Bull Inn_,” then a more
important hostelry than at present. It will be remembered as the inn at
which Mr. Lewsome, during his illness, was professionally attended by
_Sairey Gamp_ and _Betsy Prig_, “turn and turn about.”
Passing on to the next turning but one, we reach Kingsgate Street, where
_Poll Sweedlepipes_—barber and bird-fancier—once had his business
location, “next door but one to the celebrated mutton-pie shop, and
directly opposite the original cat’s-meat warehouse.” At this place the
immortal _Mrs. Gamp_ had lodgings on the first floor, where she
“Was easily assailed at night by pebbles, walking-sticks, and
fragments of tobacco pipes, all much more efficacious than the
street-door knocker, which was so constructed as to wake the street
with ease, and even spread alarms of fire in Holborn, without making
the smallest impression on the premises to which it was addressed.”
It is recollected in the neighbourhood that, fifty years since, a barber
by the name of Patterson (who was also a bird-dealer) lived in this
street, at the second house on the left. The shop has been pulled down,
is now absorbed by the corner premises in Holborn, and can be only
identified by its position. Here, then, did _Mr. Pecksniff_ arrive on
his doleful mission, in accordance with the recommendation of _Mr.
Mould_, the undertaker, with regard to the death of old _Anthony
Chuzzlewit_; and here did that memorable teapot cause a lasting
difference between two friends, as narrated in chapter 49 of “Martin
Chuzzlewit.” “This world-famous personage, Mrs. Gamp, has passed into
and become one with the language” whose vernacular she has adorned with
her own flowers of speech. As Mr. Forster remarks, “she will remain
among the everlasting triumphs of fiction, a superb masterpiece of
English humour.” “Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale, her infinite
variety.” At the Holborn corner of Kingsgate Street we may remember _Mr.
Bailey_, _junior_, on the occasion when, at this exact spot, he collided
with Poll Sweedlepipes, afterwards going “round and round in circles on
the pavement,” the better to exhibit to Poll’s admiring gaze his
fashionable livery as Tiger in the service of _Mr. Montague Tigg_,
“rather to the inconvenience of the passengers generally, who were not in
an equal state of spirits with himself.”
The next turning but one, westward, on the right, by the West Central
Post Office (No. 126), is Southampton Street, leading to Bloomsbury
Square.
Here it will be remembered that lodgings were taken by Mr. Grewgious for
_Miss Twinkleton_ and Rosa, of the redoubtable _Mrs. Billickin_, “the
person of the ’ouse,” who, from prudential motives, suppressed her
Christian name.
“Mr. Grewgious had his agreement-lines and his earnest-money ready.
‘I have signed it for the ladies, ma’am,’ he said, ‘and you’ll have
the goodness to sign it for yourself, Christian and Surname, there,
if you please.’
“‘Mr. Grewgious,’ said Mrs. Billickin in a new burst of candour, ‘no,
sir! You must excuse the Christian name.’
“Mr. Grewgious stared at her.
“‘The door-plate is used as a protection,’ said Mrs. Billickin, ‘and
acts as such, and go from it I will not.’
“Mr. Grewgious stared at Rosa.
“‘No, Mr. Grewgious, you must excuse me. So long as this ’ouse is
known indefinite as Billickin’s, and so long as it is a doubt with
the riff-raff where Billickin may be hidin’, near the street-door or
down the airy, and what his weight and size, so long I feel safe.
But commit myself to a solitary female statement, no, Miss! Nor
would you for a moment wish,’ said Mrs. Billickin, with a strong
sense of injury, ‘to take that advantage of your sex, if you were not
brought to it by inconsiderate example.’
“Rosa reddening as if she had made some most disgraceful attempt to
overreach the good lady, besought Mr. Grewgious to rest content with
any signature. And accordingly, in a baronial way, the sign-manual
BILLICKIN got appended to the document.”
And we may here recall the incidental passage of arms between the worthy
landlady and Miss Twinkleton, Mrs. B. being always in direct antagonism
with the schoolmistress, against whom she “openly pitted herself as one
whom she fully ascertained to be her natural enemy.” Witness “the B.
enveloped in the shawl of State,” as she remarked to Miss Twinkleton that
“‘A rush from scanty feeding to generous feeding, from what you may
call messing to what you may call method, do require a power of
constitution, which is not often found in youth, particular when
undermined by boarding-school. . . . I was put in youth to a very
genteel boarding-school, the mistress being no less a lady than
yourself, of about your own age, or it may be some years younger, and
a poorness of blood flowed from the table, which has run through my
life.’
* * * * *
“‘If you refer to the poverty of your circulation,’ began Miss
Twinkleton, when again the Billickin neatly stopped her.
“‘I have used no such expressions.’
“‘If you refer, then, to the poorness of your blood—’
“‘Brought upon me,’ stipulated the Billickin, expressly, ‘at a
boarding-school—’
“‘Then,’ resumed Miss Twinkleton, ‘all I can say is, that I am bound
to believe, on your asseveration, that it is very poor indeed. I
cannot forbear adding, that if that unfortunate circumstance
influences your conversation, it is much to be lamented, and it is
eminently desirable that your blood were richer.’”
Southampton Street is not a long one, and is now chiefly occupied by
solicitors and architects; but there is reason to believe that the
Billickins’ residence was, aforetime, to be found at No. 18, which is
situated next door but one to an archway. As Mrs. B. herself candidly
pointed out,
“The arching leads to a mews; mewses must exist.”
The mews aforesaid is now superseded by a factory. Mrs. Billickin has
long since relinquished the cares of housekeeping and retired from public
life. The present amiable landlady conducts the business on different
principles, and will be at all times disposed to give her patrons
satisfaction, whether they be of the scholastic persuasion or otherwise.
Southampton Street leads immediately northward into Bloomsbury Square.
This place is mentioned in “Barnaby Rudge” as the locality in which _Lord
Mansfield’s_ residence was situated at the period of the Gordon Riots.
In chapter 66 its destruction by the rioters is thus described:—
“They began to demolish the house with great fury; and setting fire
to it in several places, involved in a common ruin the whole of the
costly furniture, the plate and jewels, a beautiful gallery of
pictures, the rarest collection of manuscripts ever possessed by any
one private person in the world, and, worst of all, because nothing
could replace the loss, the great Law Library, on almost every page
of which were notes, in the judge’s own hand, of inestimable value;
being the results of the study and experience of his whole life.”
[Picture: The Children’s Hospital]
The house occupied the site of No. 29, on the east side of the square.
We subsequently read in the same book that two of the
rioters—cripples—were hanged in this square, the execution being
momentarily delayed, as they were placed facing the house they had
assisted to despoil. Leaving the square at its north-east angle (right)
by _Bloomsbury Place_, the Rambler shortly comes into _Southampton Row_,
turning left, and proceeding for a short distance upwards to _Cosmo
Place_ on the right, a short cut which leads directly to the contiguous
shades of Queen Square just beyond. It will be remembered that in this
neighbourhood Richard Carstone had furnished apartments at the time when
he was pursuing the experimental study of the Law under the auspices of
Messrs. Kenge and Carboy (see “Bleak House,” chapter 18). There is
reason to believe that the “quiet old” house intended was No. 28
_Devonshire Street_, leading from the south-east angle of the square.
Leaving Queen Square by _Great Ormond Street_ (eastward), we immediately
arrive, on the north side (No. 50), at The Children’s Hospital, adjacent
to the Catholic Church and Convent of St. John. In 1858, February 9th, a
public dinner was arranged, by way of charitable appeal, for funds
necessary to carry on and develop the work. It was happily resolved to
invite Charles Dickens to preside on that occasion, and he “threw himself
into the service heart and soul.” His earnest, pathetic, but powerful
appeal—“majestic in its own simplicity”—that night added more than £3000
to the treasury, which amount was, two months afterwards, substantially
increased by the proceeds of a public reading of his “Christmas Carol.”
It is pleasant to record that this institution has ever since flourished
amain, thus fulfilling the prediction of Dickens when, suggesting that
the enterprise could not be possibly maintained unless the Hospital were
made better known, he continued as follows:—
“I limit myself to saying—better known, because I will not believe
that, in a Christian community of fathers and mothers, and brothers
and sisters, it can fail, being better known, to be well and richly
endowed.”
We may here recall the scene narrated in chapter 9 of “Our Mutual
Friend,” when _Johnny_ makes his will and arranges his affairs, leaving
“a kiss for the boofer lady”—
“The family whom God had brought together were not all asleep, but
were all quiet. From bed to bed, a light womanly tread and a
pleasant fresh face passed in the silence of the night. A little
head would lift itself into the softened light here and there, to be
kissed as the face went by—for these little patients are very
loving—and would then submit itself to be composed to rest again. . .
. Over most of the beds, the toys were yet grouped as the children
had left them when they last laid themselves down, and in their
innocent grotesqueness and incongruity they might have stood for the
children’s dreams.”
Proceeding eastward by _Great Ormond Street_ and turning (left) through
_Lamb’s Conduit Street_, to its northern end, we face the entrance of the
Foundling Hospital. This beneficent institution was established by
Captain Thomas Coram, about the middle of the last century, and is
associated with “No Thoroughfare,” the Christmas number (and last in the
series) of “All the Year Round,” 1867. Visitors attending the morning
service of the _Foundling Church_ on Sundays are admitted to the
children’s _Dining-Hall_ thereafter, and so may have an opportunity of
realising the scene portrayed by Dickens, when the “veiled lady” induced
a female attendant to point out Walter Wilding:—
“The bright autumnal sun strikes freshly into the wards; and the
heavy-framed windows through which it shines, and the panelled walls
on which it shines, are such windows, and such walls as pervade
Hogarth’s pictures. Neat attendants silently glide about the orderly
and silent tables, the lookers-on move or stop as the fancy takes
them; comments in whispers on face such a number, from such a window,
are not unfrequent—many of the faces are of a character to fix
attention. Some of the visitors from the outside public are
accustomed visitors. They have established a speaking acquaintance
with the occupants of particular seats at the table, and halt at
those points to say a word or two.”
In “Little Dorrit,” too, reference is made to this institution, _in re_
the adoption of Tattycoram by good Papa and Mamma Meagles. In the times
of Barnaby Rudge, the London streets were not greatly extended northward
beyond this (now central) neighbourhood. We may remember that the
headquarters of the “Captain,” Sim Tappertit, Hugh, and Dennis were at
The “Boot” Tavern, which is described as
“A lone place of public entertainment, situated in the fields at the
back of the Foundling Hospital; a very solitary spot at that period,
and quite deserted after dark. The Tavern stood at some distance
from any high road, and was only approachable by a dark and narrow
lane.”
Proceeding onwards through _Guilford Street_, we reach _Doughty Street_,
_Mecklenburgh Square_, running transversely north and south. On the east
side we may note No. 48 Doughty Street, as the house to which Dickens
removed from _Furnival’s Inn_, in the early spring of 1837, and in which
he lived two years and a half, previous to his longer residence at _No._
1 _Devonshire Terrace_. In it “Oliver Twist” and “Nicholas Nickleby”
were written; and here, too, the early friendship, which had been for
some time steadily developing between Dickens and Forster, became
cemented for life. His biographer says:—
“Nor had many weeks passed before he addressed to me from Doughty
Street, words which it is my sorrowful pride to remember have had
literal fulfilment. ‘I look back with unmingled pleasure to every
link which each ensuing week has added to the chain of our
attachment. It shall go hard, I hope, ere anything but death impairs
the toughness of a bond now so firmly riveted.’”
The route being retraced to the Foundling Hospital, and thence continued
through Guilford Street to _Russell __Square_, we turn (right) by _Woburn
Place_ to TAVISTOCK SQUARE, on the south side of which (TAVISTOCK VILLAS)
is situated Tavistock House. To this residence Dickens removed (from
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE) in October 1851, retaining its possession for nearly
ten years. During this time “Bleak House” was completed, and “Hard
Times,” “Little Dorrit,” and the “Tale of Two Cities” were given to the
world. TAVISTOCK HOUSE is now transformed into a Jewish College. _Hans
Christian Andersen_, visiting his friend in London, gives the following
description:—
“In Tavistock Square stands Tavistock House. This and the strip of
garden in front of it are shut out from the thoroughfare by an iron
railing. A large garden, with a grass plat and high trees, stretches
behind the house, and gives it a countrified look in the midst of
this coal and gas steaming London. In the passage from street to
garden hung pictures and engravings. Here stood a marble bust of
Dickens, so like him, so youthful and handsome; and over a bedroom
door were inserted the bas-reliefs of Night and Day, after
Thorwaldsen. On the first floor was a rich library, with a fireplace
and a writing-table, looking out on the garden; and here it was that
in winter Dickens and his friends acted plays to the satisfaction of
all parties. The kitchen was underground, and at the top of the
house were the bedrooms.”
[Picture: Tavistock House]
Leaving this locality at the north-west angle, passing _Gordon Square_,
we turn (right) into _Gordon Street_, and (left) through _Gower Place_,
to GOWER STREET, on the west side of which—opposite—is the house once
bearing a large brass plate on the door, announcing Mrs. Dickens’s
Establishment, being the place at which Mrs. Dickens (mother of Charles)
endeavoured to set up a school during the difficult times of 1822. The
family lived here for a short time, previous to the Marshalsea
imprisonment of Dickens senior; Charles being then a boy ten years of
age. In the first chapter of Forster’s Biography is the following:—
“A house was soon found at number four, Gower Street North; a large
brass plate on the door announced Mrs. Dickens’s establishment; and
the result I can give in the exact words of the then small actor in
the comedy, whose hopes it had raised so high: ‘I left at a great
many other doors a great many circulars, calling attention to the
merits of the establishment. Yet nobody ever came to school, nor do
I recollect that anybody ever proposed to come, or that the least
preparation was made to receive anybody. But, I know that we got on
very badly with the butcher and baker; that very often we had not too
much for dinner; and that at last my father was arrested.’ . . .
Almost everything by degrees was pawned or sold, little Charles being
the principal agent in these sorrowful transactions . . . until at
last, even of the furniture of Gower Street, number four, there was
nothing left except a few chairs, a kitchen table, and some beds.
Then they encamped, as it were, in the two parlours of the emptied
house, and lived there night and day.”
Gower Street has been rearranged since that time (there is now no Gower
Street North), and the houses are renumbered. No. 145, near _Gower
Street Chapel_, and other houses adjoining, are now in the occupation of
Messrs. Maple & Co.; and this No. 145 was the house then enumerated as
No. 4 Gower Street North. Mrs. Dickens’s experience, it will be
remembered, has been pleasantly referred to in the pages of “Our Mutual
Friend;” the stately _Mrs. Wilfer_ therein making a similar experiment,
with the same result. In chapter 4 we read of _Rumpty’s_ return home
from business: when
“Something had gone wrong with the house door, for R. Wilfer stopped
on the steps, staring at it, and cried ‘Hal-loa?’ ‘Yes,’ said Mrs.
Wilfer, ‘the man came himself with a pair of pincers and took it off,
and took it away. He said that as he had no expectation of ever
being paid for it, and as he had an order for another _Ladies’
School_ door-plate, it was better (burnished up) for the interests of
all parties.’”
On the opposite corner of the street is the _Gower Street Station_ of the
Metropolitan Railway, at which train may be taken to _Baker Street_. On
arrival, we turn to the right, by _Marylebone Road_, to Devonshire
Terrace, consisting of three houses at the northern end of _High
Street_,_ Marylebone_. No. 1, now occupied by a legal firm, was for
twelve years the residence of Charles Dickens (when in town). It is
described by Forster as
“A handsome house with a garden of considerable size, shut out from
the New Road by a brick wall, facing the York Gate into Regent’s
Park.”
To quote the ironical dictum of its future tenant when the choice was
made, it was “a house of great promise (and great premium), undeniable
situation, and excessive splendour.” During the period of the author’s
residence here several of his best-known books were given to the
world—“Master Humphrey’s Clock,” CHRISTMAS BOOKS, and “David Copperfield”
included. Proceeding forwards and eastward past _Devonshire Place_, we
may take our way, turning on the right down Harley Street, of which we
read in “Little Dorrit” that,
“Like unexceptionable society, the opposing rows of houses in Harley
Street were very grim with one another. Indeed, the mansions and
their inhabitants were so much alike in that respect that the people
were often to be found drawn up on opposite sides of dinner tables,
in the shade of their own loftiness, staring at the other side of the
way with the dulness of the houses. Everybody knows how like the
street the two dinner-rows of people who take their stand by the
street will be. The expressionless uniform twenty houses, all to be
knocked at and rung at in the same form, all approachable by the same
dull steps, all fended off by the same pattern of railing, all with
the same impracticable fire-escapes, the same inconvenient fixtures
in their heads, and everything, without exception, to be taken at a
high valuation—who has not dined with these?”
In this street lived that great financier and swindler _Mr. Merdle_, who
had his residence in one of the handsomest of these handsome houses; but
it would be, perhaps, invidious to point out any particular location for
the same, Dickens himself having purposely omitted an exact address.
Following the course of Harley Street, we come in due time to QUEEN ANNE
STREET, running east and west. Adopting the leftward turning (east), we
may find at the next corner—_Mansfield Street_—on the north side, Mr.
Dombey’s House, as described in chapter 3 of “Dombey and Son”—
“Mr. Dombey’s house was a large one, on the shady side of a tall,
dark, dreadfully genteel street in the region between Portland Place
and Bryanston Square. It was a corner house, with great wide areas
containing cellars, frowned upon by barred windows, and leered at by
crooked-eyed doors leading to dust-bins. It was a house of dismal
state, with a circular back to it, containing a whole suite of
drawing-rooms looking upon a gravelled yard.”
It will be observed that the position and character of this mansion
exactly correspond to the above description, being in its general style
noteworthy and unique. This, then, was the private establishment and
“home department” of the Dombey family, where died the gentle Paul; the
lonely house in which the neglected Florence grew to lovely womanhood;
what time the second wife—the stately Edith—held temporary sway.
Hence a short distance southward leads to _Cavendish Square_. In this
neighbourhood we read that Madame Mantalini’s fashionable dressmaking
establishment was situated, at which Kate Nickleby was for some few weeks
engaged, on the recommendation of her uncle. The house intended was
probably in _Wigmore Street_, No. 11. In the days of the Mantalini
_régime_ the business was advertised
“To the nobility and gentry by the casual exhibition, near the
handsomely-curtained windows, of two or three elegant bonnets of the
newest fashion, and some costly garments in the most approved taste.”
By the next turning (right) on the north side we come into WIMPOLE
STREET; on the east of which, at the corner of the third block, stands
The West End Residence—No. 43—aforetime occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Boffin;
which became, later on, the property of Mr. John Harmon and his wife. It
is described as “a corner house, not far from Cavendish Square.” Near
this house _Silas Wegg_—assuming some knowledge of its affairs—kept his
street-stall. He was accustomed to refer to it as “Our House,” its
(imaginary) inmates being Miss Elizabeth, Master George, Aunt Jane, and
Uncle Parker.
Returning to Wigmore Street, we arrive by the next block at Welbeck
Street, running transversely thereto. In this street was the London
residence of _Lord George Gordon_, as referred to in the pages of
“Barnaby Rudge.” The house is No. 64, the second from Wigmore Street on
the left side. It is within the recollection of the present landlord
that the old balcony—from which Lord George was wont to harangue the
public—was many years since superseded by the present continuous railing.
We now come south into the West-end artery of _Oxford Street_, crossing
same to _Davies Street_, by which we may soon reach BROOK STREET,
GROSVENOR SQUARE, running east and west. On the south-eastern angle of
its intersection stands Claridge’s Hotel. It will be remembered that on
_Mr. Dorrit’s_ return from the Continent, after the marriage of his
daughter Fanny, “the Courier had not approved of his staying at the house
of a friend, and had preferred to take him to an hotel in Brook Street,
Grosvenor Square.” This was doubtless the establishment favoured by the
Courier’s preference on that occasion; and where Mr. Merdle paid a state
visit to Mr. Dorrit at breakfast-time the next morning; taking him
afterwards in his carriage to the City.
Readers of “Dombey and Son” may be reminded that the Feenix Town House
was situated in this same BROOK STREET; but no clue is afforded of its
exact whereabouts. It is described as an aristocratic mansion of a dull
and gloomy sort; and was borrowed by the _Honourable Mrs. Skewton_ from a
stately relative, on the occasion of her daughter’s marriage. Here also,
in aftertime, the final interview between _Florence_ and _Edith_ took
place.
[Picture: The Drawing-Room, Devonshire House]
Keeping on through _Davies Street_ across _Berkeley Square_, we come
through _Berkeley Street_ to Piccadilly, in the close vicinity of
Devonshire House, a mansion of fashionable and political repute,
belonging to the _Duke of Devonshire_. Here, on the 27th of May 1851, in
the great drawing-room and library, Dickens and his _confrères_ of “The
Guild of Literature and Art” performed, for the first time, Sir Bulwer
Lytton’s comedy (written for the occasion) “Not so Bad as We Seem,” in
the presence of the Queen, Prince Albert and a brilliant audience. The
Duke not only afforded the necessary accommodation, but (as Mr. Forster
writes), in his princely way, discharged all attendant expenses. Many
distinguished authors and artists assisted at this performance, including
Douglas Jerrold, Maclise, and John Leech.
Near at hand, on the eastern corner of the next turning down Piccadilly
(_Dover Street_), is HATCHETT’S HOTEL, adjoining The White Horse Cellars,
once a well-known coaching establishment. On the opposite side of the
way stood in days of yore the old “White Horse Cellars,” of which Hazlitt
writes:—
“The finest sight in the Metropolis is the setting out of the
mail-coaches from Piccadilly. The horses paw the ground and are
impatient to be gone, as if conscious of the precious burden they
convey. There is a peculiar secrecy and despatch, significant and
full of meaning, in all the proceedings concerning them. Even the
outside passengers have an erect and supercilious air, as if proof
against the accidents of the journey; in fact, it seems indifferent
whether they are to encounter the summer’s heat or the winter’s cold,
since they are borne through the air on a winged chariot.”
From this well-known Booking Office, _Mr. Pickwick_ and his
friends—accompanied by the fierce _Dowler_ and his fascinating
wife—started for Bath, one “muggy, damp, and drizzly morning, by the mail
coach; on the door of which was displayed, in gilt letters of a goodly
size, the magic name of ‘Pickwick’; a circumstance which seems to have
occasioned some confusion of ideas in the mind of the faithful Sam, as
evidenced by his indignant inquiry—‘An’t nobody to be whopped for takin’
this here liberty?’”
Readers of “Bleak House” will remember this locality as the destination
of the Reading Coach; so indicated by _Messrs. Kenge and Carboy_ in their
first communication to _Esther Summerson_. Here she was met, one foggy
November afternoon, on her arrival in London, by the susceptible _Mr.
Guppy_, and by him conducted to Old Square, Lincoln’s Inn. The incident
was afterwards feelingly referred to by that young gentleman, on the
occasion of his offer of heart, hand, and income to Esther:—
“I think you must have seen that I was struck with those charms on
the day when I waited at the Whytorseller. I think you must have
remarked that I could not forbear a tribute to those charms when I
put up the steps of the ’ackney coach.”
For the full narrative, see “Bleak House,” chapter 9.
The Rambler can now take an eastward course up PICCADILLY, and may
casually observe, on the left, past Burlington House, THE ALBANY, where
_Mr. Fledgby_ had chambers. The next turning on the same side is
SACKVILLE STREET, in which it may be recollected that _Mr. and Mrs.
Lammles_ resided during the short term of their social prosperity.
Mention of these localities in such connection will be found in the pages
of “Our Mutual Friend.” Passing onwards on the same side, we arrive at
No. 28, St. James’s Hall. It was at this well-known place of assembly
that several of those popular Readings were given by Charles Dickens,
which always commanded the attention and sympathetic interest of his
audience. On these occasions he invariably adopted the extreme of
fashionable evening attire, being dressed in irreproachable style, with,
perhaps, more of shirt-front than waistcoat; and so “got up” as to
present a staginess and juvenility of appearance, possibly somewhat out
of keeping with his time of life. Some of his hearers may have desired a
more natural and less conventional mode; but they knew that beneath the
big shirt and fashionable coat, there throbbed the genial heart of the
man they loved, as he read of the sorrows of “Little Emily,” or stood
with them in spirit at the bedside of “Paul Dombey.” On the occasion of
his final Reading, given here in March 1870, he tendered his last public
farewell to his London audience in the following words:
“It would be worse than idle, it would be hypocritical and unfeeling,
if I were to disguise that I close this episode of my life with
feelings of very considerable pain. For some fifteen years, in this
hall and many kindred places, I have had the honour of presenting my
own cherished ideas before you for your recognition; and, in closely
observing your reception of them, have enjoyed an amount of artistic
delight and enjoyment, which perhaps it is given few men to know. In
this task and every other, I have ever undertaken as a faithful
servant of the public—always imbued with a sense of duty to them, and
always striving to do his best—I have been uniformly cheered by the
readiest response, the most generous sympathy and the most
stimulating support. Nevertheless, I have thought it well, at the
full flood-tide of your favour, to retire upon those older
associations between us, which date from much further back than
these; and henceforth to devote myself exclusively to the art that
first brought us together. Ladies and gentlemen, in but two short
weeks from this time, I hope that you may enter, in your own homes,
on a new series of Readings, at which my assistance will be
indispensable; but from these garish lights I vanish now for ever,
with one heartfelt, grateful, respectful, and affectionate farewell.”
On the right-hand side of Piccadilly, adjacent to the _Prince’s Hall and
Institute of Painters_, there may be noted, _en passant_, the premises
No. 193, now occupied by the Boys’ Messenger Co. This, for many years,
was the address of Messrs. Chapman and Hall, the publishers of the works
of Dickens. Previous to 1850, the earlier books—“Pickwick” to “Martin
Chuzzlewit” inclusive—together with the first issue of their cheaper
edition, were published by this well-known house at 186 _Strand_, the
site now occupied by the premises of W. H. Smith and Son. The firm have,
for many years past, removed their offices to _No._ 11 _Henrietta
Street_, _Covent Garden_.
Passing on to _Piccadilly Circus_, and crossing northward from the same,
we turn (left) into _Sherwood Street_, which leads, by a short walk, to
_Brewer Street_, in the neighbourhood of GOLDEN SQUARE. Continuing by
_Lower James Street_, opposite, we reach the square itself, in which was
formerly situated the Office of Ralph Nickleby. Readers of Dickens will
remember that it was a large house, with an attic storey, in which Ralph
committed suicide. The house No. 6, on the east side, was probably the
one assigned by the author as the usurer’s residence. It is now let off
in various suites of offices, professional and otherwise. The
neighbourhood has somewhat changed since the time when the “Adventures of
Nicholas Nickleby” was first issued, and the following description, given
by Dickens, became public property:—
“It is one of the squares that have been—a quarter of the town that
has gone down in the world, and taken to letting lodgings. Many of
its first and second floors are let, furnished, to single gentlemen,
and it takes boarders besides. It is a great resort of foreigners.
The dark-complexioned men who wear large rings and heavy
watch-guards, and bushy whiskers, and who congregate under the Opera
Colonnade, and about the box-office in the season between four and
five in the afternoon, when they give away the orders—all live in
Golden Square, or within a street of it. Two or three violins and a
wind instrument from the opera-band reside within its precincts.”
We read in the same book of the whereabouts of _Mr. Kenwigs_ as being in
this neighbourhood—
“A bygone, faded, tumble-down street, with two irregular rows of tall
meagre houses, which seem to have stared each other out of
countenance years ago; the very chimneys appear to have grown dismal
and melancholy from having had nothing better to look at than the
chimneys over the way.”
There are many streets in the district of Soho, in this vicinity, which
will in some respects correspond with the description given; but much
alteration has taken place during the last sixty years. Recollecting
that _Newman Noggs_ lodged in the upper part of the same house, it must
have been conveniently near Golden Square. In Carnaby Street
(immediately north of the Square) there may be remarked a white-fronted,
old-fashioned house (No. 48), which, being in proximity to Ralph
Nickleby’s Office, may be assigned as aforetime comprising the apartments
of the Kenwigs Family.
At the corner of _Beak Street_ and _Upper James Street_ is still existent
“The Crown Inn,” well known to Newman Noggs; though, since his time, it
must have undergone considerable alteration. In his first letter to
Nicholas Nickleby, Newman writes:—
“If you ever want a shelter in London, . . . they know where I live at
the sign of the Crown, Golden Square. It is at the corner of Silver
Street” [now Beak Street] “and James Street, with a bar door both ways.”
In this neighbourhood, also, Martha’s Lodgings were situated, in the days
of David Copperfield, who says:—
“She laid her hand on my arm, and hurried me on to one of the sombre
streets of which there are several in that part, where the houses
were once fair dwellings, in the occupation of single families, but
have, and had, long degenerated into poor lodgings let off in rooms.”
Such a house may be found in _Marshall Street_, No. 53, close at hand.
But at this distance of time it is difficult to assign the exact locality
intended by Dickens. We are all familiar with the welcome episode in
David’s history when Martha rescued _Little Emily_, bringing her to these
lodgings, and _Mr. Peggotty’s_ dream came true.—See chapter 50.
Proceeding half-way up _Marshall Street_, we turn (right) through _Broad
Street_, to (left) _Poland Street_, by which we again attain the main
thoroughfare of Oxford Street. Turning eastward, on the north side, we
come at a short distance (by No. 90) to Newman Street, in which was
situated _Mr. Turveydrop’s Dancing Academy_, “established in a
sufficiently dingy house, at the corner of an archway” (Newman Passage),
with Mr. Turveydrop’s great room built out into a mews at the back. The
house intended is No. 26, on the east side of the street. Here _Caddy
Jellyby_ resided with her husband, _Prince Turveydrop_, in the upper
rooms of the establishment, leaving the better part of the house at the
disposal of Mr. Turveydrop, senior; that “perfect model” of parental and
social “deportment.” Returning to Oxford Street and passing onwards on
the south side, we shortly arrive at _Dean Street_, leading southward.
At a short distance, running east and west, is Carlisle Street, at the
further end of which, to the right, is an old house (by name Carlisle
House) which stands facing the observer. It is now occupied by _Messrs.
Edwards and Roberts_, dealers in antique furniture. Readers of “The Tale
of Two Cities” will recollect the lodgings of Doctor Manette and daughter
Lucie, as described in the 6th chapter (Book the Second) of the Tale,
being situated in a quiet street-corner, not far from Soho Square:—
“A quainter corner than the corner where the Doctor lived was not to
be found in London. There was no way through it, and the front
windows of the Doctor’s lodgings commanded a pleasant little vista of
street that had a congenial air of retirement on it. There were few
buildings then, north of the Oxford Road, and forest-trees
flourished, and wild flowers grew, and the hawthorn blossomed, in the
now vanished fields.”
The garden behind the house, referred to in the above-mentioned book, has
been converted to the uses of a warehouse, a glass roof having been long
ago built over the same. A paved court now exists at the side for the
convenience of foot-passengers, giving egress at the end of Carlisle
Street, so that the “wonderful echoes” which once resounded in this
“curious corner” are now no longer to be heard.
It may be interesting to note that a thoroughfare leading from _No._ 119
_Charing Cross Road_ to _No._ 6 _Greek Street_, _Soho_, is now named
_Manette Street_; in remembrance of the worthy Doctor, whose London
residence in Carlisle Street, as indicated, was near at hand.
We may return to Oxford Street through Soho Square, conveniently
terminating the ramble at Tottenham Court Road, just beyond. From this
central point there is omnibus communication to all parts of London; and
a commodious resting-place may be here recommended to those disposed for
dinner, at THE HORSESHOE RESTAURANT; which stands in a prominent position
near at hand, on the east side of the street.
RAMBLE V
_Bank of England to Her Majesty’s Theatre_
The Bank; Dombey and Son, Tom Pinch—George and Vulture Inn; Mr.
Pickwick’s Hotel—“The Green Dragon,” _alias_ “The Blue Boar,” Leadenhall
Market; Tony Weller’s Headquarters—Newman’s Court (_alias_ Freeman’s
Court), Cornhill; The Offices of Messrs. Dodson and Fogg—House of Sol
Gills, Leadenhall Street; The Wooden Midshipman—St. Mary Axe; Pubsey and
Co.—House of Sampson Brass in Bevis Marks—“The Red Lion;” Mr. Dick
Swiveller’s recommendation—Bull Inn, Aldgate; Starting-place of the
Ipswich Coach—The Minories—Aldgate Pump; Mr. Toots’s Excursions—Mincing
Lane; Messrs. Chicksey, Veneering, and Stobbles—Boarding House of Mrs.
Todgers, King’s Head Court—London Bridge; Meeting-place of Rose Maylie
and Nancy—“The White Hart Inn”; its Pickwickian Associations—The
Marshalsea Prison; The Dorrit Family—St. George’s Church; Little Dorrit’s
Night Refuge and Marriage—Lant Street; Dickens and Bob Sawyer’s
Lodging—King’s Bench Prison—Horsemonger Lane Gaol—Mr. Chivery’s Shop—St.
George’s Obelisk; “the long-legged young man”—The Surrey Theatre; Fanny
Dorrit and Uncle—Bethlehem Hospital; “Uncommercial Traveller”—Astley’s
Theatre; visit of the Nubbles Family—Millbank; Poor “Martha”—Church
Street, Smith Square; the Dolls’ Dressmaker—Julius Handford—Westminster
Abbey—The Red Lion, Parliament Street; the “Genuine Stunning”—The Horse
Guards’ Clock—St. James’s Park; Meeting between Martin and Mary—Her
Majesty’s Theatre.
Our starting-point is now the BANK OF ENGLAND, Dombey and Son’s
“Magnificent neighbour; with its vaults of gold and silver, ‘all
among the dead men, underground.’”
_Tom Pinch_, diffident of requesting information in London, resolved
that, in the event of finding himself near the Bank of England,
“He would step in, and ask a civil question or two, confiding in the
perfect respectability of the concern.”
Adopting the route _viâ Lombard Street_, we come, on the left (No. 56),
to GEORGE YARD, traversing which, there will be found, at the corner of
Castle Court (No. 3), the George and Vulture Inn, at which Mr. Pickwick
resided when in London, subsequent to his removal from Goswell Street;
and which has honourable mention in the history of the Pickwickians.
Through _Lombard Street_, and turning left into _Gracechurch Street_, we
shortly arrive, on the right, at _Bull’s Head Passage_ (turning by the
Branch Post Office, No. 82), in which, at No. 4, is the GREEN DRAGON
TAVERN, in close proximity to Leadenhall Market. This is, in all
probability, the house mentioned in “Pickwick” as “The Blue Boar,”
_Leadenhall Market_, a favourite house of call with the elder Weller, and
the place where Sam indited his “Valentine” to _Mary_, the pretty
housemaid, afterwards Mrs. Sam. But the neighbourhood of the Market has
undergone considerable renovation since the old coaching-days, and it is
difficult to fix the _locale_ of the tavern with certainty.
Proceeding onwards through _Gracechurch Street_, we come into the
thoroughfare of CORNHILL; and at No. 73, on the opposite side, arrive at
Newman’s Court. It will be remembered that in “Pickwick” the offices of
_Messrs. Dodson and Fogg_ (Mrs. Bardell’s attorneys) are located in
Freeman’s Court, Cornhill. There is no such place in Cornhill; Freeman’s
Court being in Cheapside. It is evident, therefore, that Dickens, for
reasons of his own, emulated the special contributor to the _Eatanswill
Gazette_, and so “combined his information.” Taking Cornhill to be the
locality intended, we shall find Dodson and Fogg’s Office at the furthest
end of the Court, No. 4, still associated with legal business, being in
possession of Messrs. Witherby and Co., law stationers.
Passing onwards in Cornhill, past Bishopsgate Street, we come into
Leadenhall Street, and may be interested to note, at No. 157 (now an
outfitting establishment), the original position of the HOUSE OF SOL
GILLS, ships’ instrument maker, at whose door was displayed the figure of
“The Wooden Midshipman; eternally taking observations of the hackney
coaches.”
Here our eccentric friend _Captain Cuttle_ remained in charge during the
absence of old Sol Gills and his nephew; here _Florence_, accompanied by
the faithful Diogenes, found asylum; and here _Walter Gay_ returned after
shipwreck, to make everybody happy and marry the gentle heroine of the
story. (See “Dombey and Son” for information _in extenso._) Until
recent years, these premises were in occupation of Messrs. Norie and
Wilson, ships’ instrument makers and chart publishers. They have removed
to the Minories, No. 156, where the quaint effigy of _the Wooden
Midshipman_, with his cocked hat and quadrant complete, may now be seen,
as bright and brisk as in old days. “When found, make a note of.”
Farther on, on the same side of Leadenhall Street, we reach St. Mary Axe,
turning northward at No. 117, which we notice _en passant_ as the
thoroughfare in which _Pubsey and Co._ had their place of business; “a
yellow overhanging plaster-fronted house”—reconstructed, with many
others, some years since—at the top of which _Riah_ (the manager)
arranged his town garden; where the Dolls’ Dressmaker invited
_Fascination Fledgby_ to “come up and be dead.” All of which is duly set
forth in the pages of “Our Mutual Friend.” The position of the house
cannot now be localised.
Proceeding to the other end of St. Mary Axe, we may turn (right) into
_Bevis Marks_, where there once existed the House of Mr. Sampson Brass,
No. 10, but this and others have long since been rebuilt and
re-enumerated. Here lived that honourable attorney and his sister the
fair Sally; aided in their professional duties by a young gentleman of
eccentric habits and “prodigious talent of quotation.” Here the
_Marchioness_ lived, or rather starved, in attendance as
maid-of-all-work, and first made the acquaintance of Dick Swiveller, her
future husband; being by him initiated into the mysteries of cribbage and
the peculiarities of purl. Here lodged the “single gentleman,” who
evinced such exceptional interest in the national drama, and so
discovered a clue to the retreat of Little Nell and her grandfather.
On the north side of the street there still flourishes the old RED LION
INN, an establishment patronised in his time by Mr. Richard, and once
eulogised by that gentleman on the occasion of his specifying “the
contingent advantages” of the neighbourhood. “There is mild porter in
the immediate vicinity.”
For these and the other associations of this spot the tourist is referred
to the pages of the “Old Curiosity Shop.”
Following downwards through Bevis Marks and Duke Street beyond, we come
into _Aldgate_, keeping still on the left-hand side of the way to
_Aldgate High Street_, where at a short distance we pass the Station of
the Metropolitan Railway. At No. 24, just ahead, is the Bull Inn Yard,
once the City Terminus of Coaches travelling north-east. From this point
Mr. Pickwick started per coach for Ipswich, accompanied by the red-haired
Mr. Peter Magnus; Mr. Tony Weller officiating as driver. On which
occasion we read that Mr. Weller’s conversation, “possessing the
inestimable charm of blending amusement with instruction,” beguiled “the
tediousness of the journey during the greater part of the day.”
Returning westward on the other side of the way, the Rambler may turn, at
No. 81, into the _Minories_; and, at the second house on the right, may
observe the figure of _the Wooden Midshipman_, previously referred to as
removed from its original position in Leadenhall Street. The route being
continued (same side) from the Minories, we can note, as we pass into
_Fenchurch Street_, Aldgate Pump, standing at the top of Leadenhall
Street. There is a reference to this old pump in “Dombey,” as being a
stated object of _Mr. Toots’s_ special evening excursions from “The
Wooden Midshipman,” when that gentleman desired some temporary relief
from the hopeless contemplation of Walter Gay’s happiness.
The tourist will now soon arrive at (No. 42) Mincing Lane, leading to
Great Tower Street. This short street is entirely occupied by wholesale
merchants and brokers, and it will be remembered that _Messrs. Chicksey_,
_Veneering_, _and Stobbles_, wholesale druggists, flourished in this
locality in the days of the “Golden Dustman.” The fourth house on the
left from Fenchurch Street, next to _Dunster Court_, has been indicated
as the probable whereabouts of the firm. We may remember that R.
Wilfer’s office was on the ground-floor, next the gateway.
Here, then, in this prosaic neighbourhood, _John Rokesmith_, following
_Bella Wilfer_, came to the warehouse where Little _Rumty_ was sitting at
the open window at his tea, and much surprised that gentleman by a
declaration of love for his daughter; what time “The Feast of the Three
Hobgoblins” was so agreeably celebrated. This place is also associated
with other pleasant episodes connected with the history of the Wilfer
family, the details of which are fully furnished in the pages of “Our
Mutual Friend.”
Proceeding through Mincing Lane, we turn to the right through
_Eastcheap_, which leads westward to the top of FISH STREET HILL. The
tourist now proceeds southward, passing the _Monument_ on the left. At a
short distance beyond (No. 34) we arrive at _King’s Head Court_, “a small
paved yard,” in which are certain city warehouses and a dairy. On the
south side of the court, now occupied by the warehouses aforesaid, once
stood the Commercial Boarding-House of Mrs. Todgers—an old-fashioned
abode even in the days of Mr. Pecksniff—which has long since given place
to other commercial considerations. In the 9th chapter of “Martin
Chuzzlewit” full, true, and particular account is given of this
establishment as it used to be. We may here call to remembrance the
characters of _Bailey junior_, _Mr. Jinkins_, _Augustus Moddle_, and
others in connection with the domestic economy of Mrs. Todgers and the
several Pecksniffian associations of the place; notably, the festive
occasion of that Sunday’s dinner when Cherry and Merry were first
introduced to London society; the moral Mr. Pecksniff thereafter
exhibiting alarming symptoms of a chronic complaint. (See chapter 9.)
And we may indulge in a kindly reminiscence of good-hearted Mrs. Todgers
herself, worried with the anxieties of “gravy” and the eccentricities of
commercial gentlemen. “Perhaps the Good Samaritan was lean and lank, and
found it hard to live.” We now come to London Bridge, the scene of
Nancy’s interview with Mr. Brownlow and Rose Maylie (see “Oliver Twist”),
which took place on the steps near St. Saviour’s Church, on the Surrey
side of the river—
“These stairs are a part of the bridge; they consist of three
flights. Just below the end of the second, going down, the stone
wall on the left terminates in an ornamental pilaster, facing towards
the Thames.”
And it will be remembered that _Noah Claypole_ here ensconced himself as
an unseen listener.
As we come to the Surrey side of the Thames, a passing thought may be
given to _Mrs. Rudge_ and her son Barnaby, who lived near at hand “in a
by-street in Southwark, not far from London Bridge”; and we may recall
the incident of _Edward Chester_ being brought hither by _Gabriel
Varden_, having been found wounded by a highwayman on the other side of
the river. But it is altogether impossible to locate the house, the
neighbourhood having so entirely changed during the present century.
Onwards by the main thoroughfare of the Borough, we shall find, on the
left-hand side of the way (No. 61), the (former) location of “The White
Hart,” described in “Pickwick” as
“An old inn, which has preserved its external features unchanged, and
which has escaped alike the rage for public improvement and the
encroachments of private speculation. A great, rambling, queer old
place, with galleries and passages and staircases, wide enough and
antiquated enough to furnish materials for a hundred ghost stories.”
The old inn has been pulled down some years since; the original gateway
only remains, leading to White Hart Yard. A tavern and luncheon-bar of
modern erection now occupy one side of the old coach-yard in which
_Messrs. Pickwick_, _Wardle_, and _Perker_ made their first acquaintance
with _Mr. Samuel Weller_, on that memorable occasion when _Mr. Jingle_
had eloped from _Dingley Dell_ with _Miss Rachael Wardle_, and had
brought the lady to this establishment. Farther on, towards the end of
the Borough, we arrive at Angel Place, a narrow passage near to St.
George’s Church. It leads into _Marshalsea Place_, of which Dickens
writes as follows in his preface to “Little Dorrit”:—
“Whoever goes into Marshalsea Place, turning out of Angel Court,
leading to Bermondsey, will find his feet on the very paving-stones
of the extinct Marshalsea jail; will see its narrow yard to the
right, and to the left, very little altered if at all, except that
the walls were lowered when the place got free; will look upon the
rooms in which the debtors lived; and will stand among the crowding
ghosts of many miserable years.”
This, then, was The Marshalsea Prison, in which, during Dickens’s
youthful days, his father was imprisoned for debt; and the place is
intimately associated with the story of _Little Dorrit_ and her family.
We must be all familiar with the Father of the Marshalsea, his brother
Frederick, Maggie, and the several others of the _dramatis personæ_ of
that charming tale.
St. George’s Church, close at hand, will be remembered in connection with
the above, as once affording refuge in its vestry for Little Dorrit, when
the sexton accommodated her with a bed formed of the pew-cushions, the
book of registers doing service as a pillow. She was afterwards married
to Arthur Clennam in this church. Full particulars of the ceremony will
be found in the last chapter of the tale. At a short distance from this
point, down Blackman Street, on the right, is (No. 90) Lant Street. In
Forster’s Biography it is narrated that Dickens, when a boy, lodged in
this street what time his father was imprisoned in the Marshalsea. The
house stood on part of the site now occupied by the Board School
adjoining No. 46—
“A back attic was found for me at the house of an insolvent-court
agent, who lived in Lant Street, in the Borough, where _Bob Sawyer_
lodged many years afterwards. A bed and bedding were sent over for
me, and made up on the floor. The little window had a pleasant
prospect of a timber-yard; and when I took possession of my new
abode, I thought it was a Paradise.”
This opinion of his boyhood seems to have been somewhat modified fifteen
years later, when the “Pickwick Papers” were written, and Mr. Robert
Sawyer had taken residence in the locality. We read—
“There is an air of repose about Lant Street, in the Borough, which sheds
a gentle melancholy upon the soul. A house in Lant Street would not come
within the denomination of a first-rate residence, in the strict
acceptation of the term; but it is a most desirable spot, nevertheless.
If a man wished to extract himself from the world, to remove himself from
within the reach of temptation, to place himself beyond the possibility
of any inducement to look out of the window, he should by all means go to
Lant Street.”
Walking onwards from “this happy valley” past Suffolk Street, to the
westward, turning off _Borough Road_, we may note on the north corner the
site of the old King’s Bench Prison, in which _Mr. Micawber_ was
detained—in the top storey but one—pending the settlement of his
pecuniary liabilities. Later on in the Copperfield history, Micawber
appointed a meeting for David and Tom Traddles as follows:—
“Among other havens of domestic tranquillity and peace of mind, my
feet will naturally tend towards the King’s Bench Prison. In stating
that I shall be (D.V.) on the outside of the south wall of that place
of incarceration on civil process, the day after to-morrow, at seven
in the evening, precisely, my object in this epistolary communication
is accomplished.”
See chapter 49 for particulars of the subsequent interview. This “_dead
wall_” of the prison is also mentioned in the same book as the place
where young David requested “the long-legged young man”—who had charge of
his box for conveyance to the Dover coach-office—to stop for a minute
while he (David) tied on the address. It will be remembered that poor
David lost his box and his money on this occasion, when he started for
Dover,
“Taking very little more out of the world, towards the retreat of his
aunt, Miss Betsy, than he had brought into it on the night when his
arrival gave her so much umbrage;”
the total sum of his remaining cash amounting to three half-pence.—See
chapter 12.
The first reference of our author to King’s Bench Prison will be found in
“Nicholas Nickleby” (chapter 46), on the occasion of the hero’s first
visit to _Madeline Bray_, who resided with her father in one
“Of a row of mean and not over cleanly houses, situated within ‘the
rules’ of the King’s Bench Prison; . . . comprising some dozen
streets in which debtors who could raise money to pay large fees—from
which their creditors did not derive any benefit—were permitted to
reside.”
We learn from Allen’s “History of Surrey” that these rules comprehended
all St. George’s Fields, one side of Blackman Street, and part of the
Borough High Street, forming an area of about three miles in
circumference. They could be purchased by the prisoners at the rate of
five guineas for small debts, eight guineas for the first hundred pounds
of debt, and about half that sum for every subsequent hundred.
The site of the prison is now occupied by workmen’s model dwellings named
“Queen’s Buildings,” divided, north and south, by Scovell’s Road.
At the opposite side (east) of _Newington Causeway_, which here
commences, is _Union Road_, late _Horsemonger __Lane_; a short distance
down which, on its south side, is “THE PUBLIC PLAYGROUND FOR CHILDREN,”
formerly the site of Horsemonger Lane Gaol, erected at the back of the
Surrey Sessions House. Here the execution of the Mannings took place,
November 13th, 1849, on which occasion Charles Dickens was present. The
same day he sent a notable letter to the _Times_, directing general
attention to the demoralising effect of such public exhibitions; thus
setting on foot an agitation which shortly resulted in the adoption of
our present private mode of carrying out the last penalty of the law.
After giving a forcible and graphic picture of the night scenes enacted
by the disorderly crowd in waiting, the letter was thus continued:—
“When the sun rose brightly—as it did—it gilded thousands upon
thousands of upturned faces, so inexpressibly odious in their brutal
mirth or callousness, that a man had cause to shrink from himself as
fashioned in the image of the devil. When the two miserable
creatures who attracted all this ghastly sight about them, were
turned quivering into the air, there was no more emotion, no more
pity, no more thought that two immortal souls had gone to judgment,
no more restraint in any of the previous obscenities, than if the
name of Christ had never been heard in this world, and there was no
belief among men but that they perished like the beasts. I have
seen, habitually, some of the worst sources of general contamination
and corruption in this country, and I think there are not many phases
of London life that could surprise me. I am solemnly convinced that
nothing that ingenuity could devise to be done in this city, in the
same compass of time, could work such ruin as one public execution;
and I stand astounded and appalled by the wickedness it exhibits.”
Mr. Chivery resided with his family in _Horsemonger Lane_, in close
proximity to the old prison, and kept a tobacconist’s shop for the supply
of his Marshalsea customers and the general public of the neighbourhood—
“A rural establishment one storey high, which had the benefit of the
air from the yards of Horsemonger Lane Jail, and the advantage of a
retired walk under the wall of that pleasant establishment. The
business was of too modest a character to support a life-size
Highlander, but it maintained a little one on a bracket on the
door-post, who looked like a fallen cherub that had found it
necessary to take to a kilt.”
In the little back-yard of the premises, “Young John”—disappointed in
love—was accustomed to sit and meditate; taking cold among the “tuneless
groves” of the newly-washed family linen, and composing suitable epitaphs
to his own memory, in melancholy anticipation of an early decease.
Proceeding along the Borough Road, we arrive in due course at St.
George’s Obelisk, which stands at the meeting-point of six roads. In the
twelfth chapter of “David Copperfield” we read of the Obelisk as the
place near to which the “long-legged young man with a very little empty
donkey-cart” was standing, whom David engaged to take his box to the
Dover coach-office for sixpence. And we all remember the sad
_dénouement_ of that engagement, as previously mentioned. Near at hand,
at the top of Blackfriars Road, stands The Surrey Theatre, at which
_Fanny Dorrit_ was engaged as a dancer, while her Uncle Frederick played
the clarionet in the orchestra.
Crossing over to the opposite thoroughfare of _Lambeth Road_, the Rambler
will find, at a short distance on the left, the entrance to Bethlehem
Hospital, familiarly known as Bedlam. A reference to this asylum will be
found in the pages of “The Uncommercial Traveller,” where our author
implies the idea that the sane and insane are, at all events, equal in
their dreams—
“Are not all of us outside this Hospital, who dream more or less, in
the condition of those inside it, every night of our lives?”
The question may afford us matter for speculation as the route is
continued through Lambeth Road, at the end of which we turn to the right,
in the direction of the river. At the angle of the roads, past the
Lambeth Police Office, we reach Christchurch, conspicuous for style and
position, at which the Rev. Newman Hall some years since officiated. We
may here recall the criticism given by Dickens with reference to this
popular preacher in the book above referred to. See “_Two Views of a
Cheap Theatre_,” as contained in “The Uncommercial Traveller.”
We now come onwards by _Westminster Bridge Road_, passing beneath the
span of the London and South-Western Railway. Near Westminster Bridge,
on the left, is the old site of Astley’s Theatre (non-existent since
1896). This establishment had cause to bless itself once a quarter, in
days gone by, when Christopher Nubbles, Barbara, and friends patronised
the performance. We may here remember the occasion when Kit knocked a
man over the head with his bundle of oranges for “scroudging his parent
with unnecessary violence;” also the happy evening that followed, when
little Jacob first saw a play and learnt what oysters meant (_vide_ the
“Old Curiosity Shop”). On the site formerly occupied by this favourite
place of entertainment, there now stand five handsome houses and shops,
Nos. 225 to 233 Westminster Bridge Road.
Past a few doors beyond these, above, on the same side, we reach Lambeth
Palace Road, turning by which we may walk (or ride by tramcar) a short
distance southward. Leaving on the right the seven handsome buildings of
ST. THOMAS’S HOSPITAL, we pass—on the left—farther on, LAMBETH EPISCOPAL
PALACE, and cross the Thames by LAMBETH SUSPENSION BRIDGE.
On the Middlesex shore we come into _Millbank Street_, and bestow a brief
thought on Poor “Martha,” following her in imagination as she took her
melancholy way southward in this same street, towards the waste riverside
locality, “near the great blank prison” of Millbank, long since replaced
by _Tate’s Gallery_.
Here it will be remembered that _David Copperfield_ and his trusty friend
_Mr. Peggotty_ saved the despairing girl from a self-sought and miserable
death.
At a few minutes’ distance northward from the bridge, _Church Street_
will be found, leading (left) to _Smith Square_. In this street lived
The Dolls’ Dressmaker, little _Jenny Wren_. The whimsical description of
the central church—ST. JOHN THE EVANGELIST’S—as given in the pages of
“Our Mutual Friend,” may be worth comparison with the original—
“In this region are a certain little street called Church Street, and
a certain little blind square called Smith Square, in the centre of
which last retreat is a very hideous church, with four towers at the
four corners, generally resembling some petrified monster, frightful
and gigantic, on its back with its legs in the air.”
The house in which Jenny and her father lived is stated to have been one
of the modest little houses which stand at the point where the street
gives into Smith Square. The Rambler will observe four houses answering
this description on the north side of Church Street; No. 9 has been
indicated as the humble home in question, where “_the person of the
house_” and her “_bad boy_” resided. Here, also, _Lizzie Hexam_ lodged
for some time after the death of her father, during the days when her
uncertain lover, _Eugene Wrayburn_, was yet a bachelor.
We may now return to the main road and continue the northward route by
_Abingdon Street_, crossing _Old Palace Yard_. A passing thought may
here be given to Mr. John Harmon, the _Julius Handford_ of “Our Mutual
Friend,” who furnished the Police authorities with his address—The
Exchequer Coffee House, Palace Yard, Westminster. Such a house of resort
no longer exists in this vicinity.
On the west side the Rambler passes the precincts of Westminster Abbey,
beneath whose “high embowed roof” repose the sacred ashes of the
illustrious dead. To this venerable fane—the especial resting-place of
English literary genius—we will return after our concluding ramble to the
birthplace of our greatest English novelist.
The onward road takes us past the HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT, on the right, to
PARLIAMENT STREET, leading to Whitehall and Charing Cross. At a short
distance up this thoroughfare is Derby Street—the first turning on the
right; on the north corner of which there stood—until 1899—an old
public-house, “The Red Lion” (No. 48). This place may be specially noted
as the house at which _young David Copperfield_ gave his “magnificent
order” for a glass of the “Genuine Stunning,” and where the landlord’s
wife gave him back the money and a kiss besides. This was an actual
experience in the boyhood of Dickens, and is referred to in Mr. Forster’s
Biography, where the house is indicated as above. It is now being
rebuilt and modernised.
Proceeding by Whitehall, and crossing to the opposite side of the street,
we shortly arrive at The Horse Guards, and may take passing observation
of the OLD CLOCK—famed for its perfection of time-keeping—by whose
warning note _Mark Tapley_ regulated the period of the interview next
referred to. Passing through the arched passage beneath, we now attain
the eastern side of St. James’s Park. This locality will be remembered
as the place of meeting between _Mary Graham_ and _Martin Chuzzlewit_,
previous to his departure for America. As the young lady was escorted by
Mark in the early morning from a City hotel, we may be certain that the
interview must have taken place on this side of the Park, doubtless near
the principal gate of the promenade facing the Horse Guards’ entrance.
Leaving the Park northward, by _Spring Gardens_, we come into _Cockspur
Street_, shortly leading (left) to PALL MALL. At the first corner of the
latter stands Her Majesty’s Theatre. At this establishment, as
reconstructed during the early years of the century, _Mrs. Nickleby_
attended, by special invitation of _Sir Mulberry Hawk_, Messrs. Pyke and
Pluck assisting on that notable occasion, when, by a prearranged
coincidence, Kate and the Wititterlys occupied the adjoining box.—_Vide_
“Nicholas Nickleby,” chapter 27.
This Opera House was burnt down 1789, and rebuilt the following year. It
was remodelled 1818, and again destroyed by fire, December 6, 1867.
Being a second time rebuilt, it was, for some seasons, closed since 1875.
The present theatre is of recent and splendid erection.
At this central position, from which we may readily take departure for
any point in London, the present
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