The smallest Theatre in the World!TAVISTOCK HOUSE.——————————————————————————————Lessee and Manager— — —Mr. Crummles.——————————————————————————————On Tuesday evening, June 19th, 1855, will be presented, at exactlyeight o'clock,An entirely New and OriginalDomestic Melo-drama, in Two Acts, by Mr. Wilkie Collins,now first performed, calledTHE LIGHTHOUSE.The Scenery painted by Mr. Stanfield, R.A.
Aaron Gurnock, the head Light-keeperMr. Crummles.Martin Gurnock, his son; the second Light-keeperMr. Wilkie Collins.Jacob Dale, the third Light-keeperMr. Mark Lemon.Samuel Furley, a PilotMr. Augustus Egg, A.R.A.The Relief of Light-keepers, byMr. Charles Dickens, Junior,Mr. Edward Hogarth,Mr. Alfred Ainger, andMr. William Webster.The Shipwrecked LadyMiss Hogarth.PhœbeMiss Dickens,
Who will sing a new Ballad, the music by Mr. Linley, the wordsby Mr. Crummles, entitledTHE SONG OF THE WRECK.I.
"The wind blew high, the waters raved,A Ship drove on the land,A hundred human creatures saved,Kneeled down upon the sand.Three-score were drowned, three-score were thrownUpon the black rocks wild;And thus among them left alone,They found one helpless child.
II.
A Seaman rough, to shipwreck bred,Stood out from all the rest,And gently laid the lonely headUpon his honest breast.And trav'ling o'er the Desert wide,It was a solemn joy,To see them, ever side by side,The sailor and the boy.
III.
In famine, sickness, hunger, thirst,The two were still but one,Until the strong man drooped the first,And felt his labours done.Then to a trusty friend he spake:'Across this Desert wide,O take the poor boy for my sake!'And kissed the child, and died.
IV.
Toiling along in weary plight,Through heavy jungle-mire,These two came later every nightTo warm them at the fire,Until the Captain said one day:'O seaman good and kind,To save thyself now come awayAnd leave the boy behind!'
V.
The child was slumb'ring near the blaze:'O Captain let him restUntil it sinks, whenGod'sown waysShall teach us what is best!'They watched the whiten'd ashey heap,They touched the child in vain,They did not leave him there asleep,He never woke again."
——————————————————————————————Half an hour for Refreshment.——————————————————————————————To conclude withThe Guild Amateur Company's Farce, in one act, by Mr. Crummlesand Mr. Mark Lemon;Mr. NIGHTINGALE'S DIARY.
Mr. NightingaleMr. Frank Stone, A.R.A.Mr. Gabblewig, of the Middle TempleLarge BracketCharley Bit, a BootsMr. Poulter, a Pedestrian and cold water drinkerMr. Crummles.Captain Blower, an invalidA Respectable FemaleA Deaf SextonTip, Mr. Gabblewig's Tigersmall BracketMr Augustus Egg, A.R.A.Christopher, a Charity BoySlap, Professionally Mr. Flormiville, a country actorsMedium BracketMr. Tickle, Inventor of the Celebrated CompoundsMr. Mark Lemon.A Virtuous Young Person in the confidence of MariaLithers, Landlord of the Water-lilyMr. Wilkie Collins.Rosina, Mr. Nightingale's nieceMiss Kate Dickens.Susan her MaidMiss Hogarth.
————————————————Composer and Director of the music,Mr. Francesco Berger, whowill preside at the pianoforte.Costume makers,Messrs. Nathanof Titchbourne Street, Haymarket.Perruquier,Mr. Wilson, of the Strand.Machinery and Properties byMr. Ireland, of the Theatre Royal,Adelphi.Doors open at half-past seven. Carriages may be ordered at a quarterpast eleven.
It was from Tavistock House that Dickens received this startling message from a confidential servant:—
"The gas-fitter says, sir, that he can't alter the fitting of your gas in your bedroom without taking up almost the ole of your bedroom floor, and pulling your room to pieces. He says of course you can have it done if you wish, and he'll do it for you and make a good job of it, but he would have to destroy your room first, and go entirely under the jistes."
The same female, in allusion to Dickens's wardrobe, also said, "Well, sir, your clothes is all shabby, and your boots is all burst."
No. 141, Bayham Street, Camden Town, where the Dickens Family lived in 1823.No. 141, Bayham Street, Camden Town,where the Dickens Family lived in 1823.
Among the important works of Charles Dickens which were wholly or partly written at Tavistock House are:—Bleak House,A Child's History of England,Hard Times,Little Dorrit,A Tale of Two Cities,The Uncommercial Traveller, andGreat Expectations.All the Year Roundwas also determinedupon while he lived here, and the first number was dated 30th April, 1859.
Tavistock House is the nearest point to Camden Town, interesting as being the place where, in 1823, at No. 16 (now No. 141) Bayham Street, the Dickens family resided for a short time[2]on leaving Chatham. There is an exquisite sketch of the humble little house by Mr. Kitton in hisCharles Dickens by Pen and Pencil, and it is spoken of as being "in one of the then poorest parts of the London suburbs." We therefore proceed along Gordon Square, and reach Gower Street. At No. 147, Gower Street, formerly No. 4, Gower Street North, on the west side, was once the elder Mr. Dickens's establishment. The house, now occupied by Mr. Müller, an artificial human eye-maker ("human eyes warious," says Mr. Venus), has six rooms, with kitchens in basement. The rooms are rather small, each front room having two windows, which in the case of the first floor reach from floor to ceiling. It seems to be a comfortable house, but has no garden. There is an old-fashioned brass knocker on the front door, probably the original one, and there is a dancing academy next door. (Query, Mr. Turveydrop's?) The family of the novelist, which had removed from Bayham Street, were at this time (1823) in such indifferent circumstances that poor Mrs. Dickens had toexert herself in adding to the finances by trying to teach, and a school was opened for young children at this house, which was decorated with a brass-plate on the door, letteredMrs. Dickens's Establishment, a faint description of which occurs in the fourth chapter ofOur Mutual Friend, and of its abrupt removal "for the interests of all parties." These facts, and also that of young Charles Dickens's own efforts to obtain pupils for his mother, are alluded to in a letter written by Dickens to Forster in later life:—
"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 ever 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."
This period, subsequently most graphically described inDavid Copperfieldas the "blacking bottle period," was the darkest in young Charles's existence; but happier times and brighter prospects soon came to drown the recollections of that bitter experience.
No. 1, Devonshire Terrace, Regent's Park.—Dickens's Residence 1839-50.No. 1, Devonshire Terrace, Regent's Park.—Dickens's Residence 1839-50.
Walking up Euston Road from Gower Street, we see St. Pancras Church (not the old church of "Saint Pancridge" in the Fields, by the bye, situated in the St. Pancras Road, where Mr. Jerry Cruncher and two friends went "fishing" on a memorable night, as recorded inA Tale of Two Cities, when their proceedings, and especially those of his "honoured parent," were watched by young Jerry), and proceed westward along the Marylebone Road, called the New Road in Dickens's time, past Park Crescent, Regent's Park, and do not stop until wereach No. 1, Devonshire Terrace. This commodious double-fronted house, in which Dickens resided from 1839 to 1850, is entered at the side, and the front looks into the Marylebone Road. Maclise's beautiful sketch of the house (made in 1840), as given in Forster'sLife, shows the windows of the lower and first floor rooms as largely bowed, while over the top flat of one of the former is a protective iron-work covering, thus allowing the children to come out of their nursery on the third floor freely to enjoy the air and watch the passers-by. In the sketch Maclise has characteristically put in a shuttlecock just over the wall, as though the little ones were playing in the garden. Forster calls it "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;" and Dickens himself admitted it to be "a house of great promise (and great premium), undeniable situation, and excessive splendour." That he loved it well is shown by the passage in a letter which he addressed to Forster, "in full view of Genoa's perfect bay," when about to commenceThe Chimes(1844); he says:—"Never did I stagger so upon a threshold before. I seem as if I had plucked myself out of my proper soil when I left Devonshire Terrace, and could take root no more until I return to it. . . . Did I tell you how many fountains we have here? No matter. If they played nectar, they wouldn't please me half so well as the West Middlesex water-works at Devonshire Terrace."
Mr. Jonathan Clark, who resides here, kindly shows us over the house, which contains thirteen rooms. The polished mahogany doors in the hall, and the chaste Italian marble mantel-pieces in the principal rooms, are said to have been put up by the novelist. On the ground floor, the smallerroom to the eastward of the house, with window facing north and looking into the pleasant garden where the plane trees and turf are beautifully green, is pointed out as having been his study.
Mr. Benjamin Lillie, of 70, High Street, Marylebone, plumber and painter, remembers Mr. Dickens coming to Devonshire Terrace. He did a good deal of work for him while he lived there, and afterwards, when he removed to Tavistock House, including the fitting up of the library shelves and the curious counterfeit book-backs, made to conceal the backs of the doors. He also removed the furniture to Tavistock House, and subsequently to Gad's Hill Place. He spoke of the interest which Mr. Dickens used to take in the work generally, and said he would stand for hours with his back to the fire looking at the workmen. In the summer time he used to lie on the lawn with his pocket-handkerchief over his face, and when thoughts occurred to him, he would go into his study, and after making notes, would resume his position on the lawn. On the next page we give an illustration of the courteous and precise manner—not without a touch of humour—in which he issued his orders.
Here it was that Dickens's favourite ravens were kept, in a stable on the south side of the garden, one of which died in 1841, it was supposed from the effects of paint, or owing to "a malicious butcher," who had been heard to say that he "would do for him." His death is described by Dickens in a long passage which thus concludes:—
"On the clock striking twelve he appeared slightly agitated, but he soon recovered, walked twice or thrice along the coach-house, stopped to bark, staggered, exclaimed, 'Holloa, old girl!' (his favourite expression), and died."
"On the clock striking twelve he appeared slightly agitated, but he soon recovered, walked twice or thrice along the coach-house, stopped to bark, staggered, exclaimed, 'Holloa, old girl!' (his favourite expression), and died."
Letter to Mr. Lillie. Friday Tenth May 1861
In an interesting letter addressed to Mr. Angus Fletcher, recently in the possession of Mr. Arthur Hailstone of Manchester, Dickens further describes the event:—"Suspectful of a butcher who had been heard to threaten, I had the body opened. There were no traces of poison, and it appeared hedied of influenza. He has left considerable property, chiefly in cheese and halfpence, buried in different parts of the garden. The new raven (I have a new one, but he is comparatively of weak intellect) administered to his effects, and turns up something every day. The last piece ofbijouteriewas a hammer of considerable size, supposed to have been stolen from a vindictive carpenter, who had been heard to speak darkly of vengeance down the mews."
Maclise on hearing the news sent to Forster a letter, and a pen-and-ink sketch, being the famous "Apotheosis." The second raven died in 1845, probably from "having indulged the same illicit taste for putty and paint, which had been fatal to his predecessor." Dickens says:—
"Voracity killed him, as it did Scott's; he died unexpectedly by the kitchen fire. He kept his eye to the last upon the meat as it roasted, and suddenly turned over on his back with a sepulchral cry of 'Cuckoo!'"
"Voracity killed him, as it did Scott's; he died unexpectedly by the kitchen fire. He kept his eye to the last upon the meat as it roasted, and suddenly turned over on his back with a sepulchral cry of 'Cuckoo!'"
These ravens were of course the two "great originals" of which Grip inBarnaby Rudgewas the "compound." There was a third raven at Gad's Hill, but he "gave no evidence of ever cultivating his mind." The novelist's remarkable partiality for ravens called forth at the time the preposterous rumour that "Dickens had gone raving (raven) mad."
Here Longfellow visited Dickens in 1841, and thus referred to his visit:—"I write this from Dickens's study, the focus from which so many luminous things have radiated. The raven croaks in the garden, and the ceaseless roar of London fills my ears."
Apotheosis of "Grip" the Raven. Drawn by D. Maclise, R.A.Apotheosis of "Grip" the Raven. Drawn by D. Maclise, R.A.
Dickens lived longer at Devonshire Terrace than he did at any other of his London homes, and a great deal of hisbest work was done here, includingMaster Humphrey's Clock(I.The Old Curiosity Shop, II.Barnaby Rudge),American Notes,Martin Chuzzlewit,A Christmas Carol,The Cricket on the Hearth,Dombey and Son,The Haunted Man, andDavid Copperfield.The Battle of Lifewas written at Geneva in 1846. All these were published from his twenty-eighth to his thirty-eighth year; andHousehold Words, hisfamous weekly popular serial of varied high-class literature, was determined upon here, the first number being issued on 30th March, 1850.
From Devonshire Terrace we pass along High Street, and turn into Devonshire Street, which leads into Harley Street, minutely described inLittle Dorritas the street wherein resided the great financier and "master-spirit" Mr. Merdle, who entertained "Bar, Bishop, and the Barnacle family" at the "Patriotic conference" recorded in the same work, in his noble mansion there, and he subsequently perishes "in the warm baths, in the neighbouring street"—as one may say—in the luxuriant style in which he had always lived.
Harley Street leads us into Oxford Street, and a pleasant ride outside an omnibus—which, as everybody knows, is the best way of seeing London—takes us to Hyde Park Place, a row of tall stately houses facing Hyde Park. Here at No. 5, (formerly Mr. Milner Gibson's town residence) Charles Dickens temporarily resided during the winter months of 1869, and occasionally until May 1870, during his readings at St. James's Hall, and while he was engaged onEdwin Drood, part of which was written here; this being illustrative of Dickens's power of concentrating his thoughts even near the rattle of a public thoroughfare. In a letter addressed to Mr. James T. Fields from this house, under date of 14th January, 1870, he says:—"We live here (opposite the Marble Arch) in a charming house until the 1st of June, and then return to Gad's. . . . I have a large room here with three fine windows over-looking the park—unsurpassable for airiness and cheerfulness."
A similar public conveyance takes us back to Morley's by way of Regent Street, about the middle of which, on the westside, is New Burlington Street, containing, at No. 8, the well-known publishing office of Messrs. Richard Bentley and Son, whose once celebrated magazine,Bentley's Miscellany, Dickens edited for a period of two years and two months, terminating, 1838, on his resignation of the editorship to Mr. W. Harrison Ainsworth; and we also pass lower down, at the bottom of Waterloo Place, that most select of clubs, "The Athenæum," at the corner of Pall Mall, of which Dickens was elected a member in 1838, and from which, on the 20th May, 1870, he wrote his last letter to his son, Mr. Alfred Tennyson Dickens, in Australia; and a tenderly loving letter it is, indicating the harmonious relations between father and son. It expresses the hope that the two (Alfred and "Plorn") "may become proprietors," and "aspire to the first positions in the colony without casting off the old connection," and thus concludes:—"From Mr. Bear I had the best accounts of you. I told him that they did not surprise me, for I had unbounded faith in you. For which take my love and blessing." Sad to say, a note to this (the last in the series of published letters) states:—"This letter did not reach Australia until after these two sons of Charles Dickens had heard, by telegraph, the news of their father's death."[3]
At Morley's we refresh ourselves with Mr. Sam Weller's idea of a nice little dinner, consisting of "pair of fowls and a weal cutlet; French beans, taturs, tart and tidiness;" and then depart for Victoria Station, to take train by the London, Chatham and Dover Railway to Rochester.
The weather forecast issued by that most valuable institution, the Meteorological Office (established since Mr. Pickwick's days, in which doubtless as a scientist and traveller he would have taken great interest), was verified to the letter, and we had "thunder locally." On our way down Parliament Street, we pass Inigo Jones's once splendid Whitehall—now looking very insignificant as compared with its grand neighbours the Government Offices opposite—remembering Mr. Jingle's joke about Whitehall, which seems to have been Dickens's first thought of "King Charles's head":—"Looking at Whitehall, Sir—fine place—little window—somebody else's head off there, eh, Sir?—he didn't keep a sharp look out enough either—eh, Sir, eh?"
We also pass "The Red Lion," No. 48, Parliament Street, "at the corner of the very short street leading into Cannon Row," where David Copperfield ordered a glass of the very best ale—"The Genuine Stunning with a good head to it"—at twopence half-penny the glass, but the landlord hesitated to draw it, and gave him a glass of some which he suspected wasnotthe "genuine stunning"; and the landlady coming into the bar returned his money, and gave him a "kiss that was half-admiring and half-compassionate, but all womanly and good [he says], I'm sure."
"My magnificent order at the Public House" (vide "David Copperfield")."My magnificent order at the Public House" (vide "David Copperfield").
The Horse-Guards' clock is the last noteworthy object, and reminds us that Mark Tapley noticed the time there, on the occasion of his last meeting with Mary Graham in St. James's Park, before starting for America. It also reminds us of Mr. Micawber's maxim, "Procrastination is the thief of time—collar him;"—a few minutes afterwards we are comfortably seated in the train, and can defy the storm, which overtakes us precisely in the manner described inThe Old Curiosity Shop:—
"It had been gradually getting overcast, and now the sky was dark and lowering, save where the glory of the departing sun piled up masses of gold and burning fire, decaying embers of which gleamed here and there through the black veil, and shone redly down upon the earth. The wind began to moan in hollow murmurs, as the sun went down, carrying glad day elsewhere; and a train ofdull clouds coming up against it menaced thunder and lightning. Large drops of rain soon began to fall, and, as the storm clouds came sailing onward, others supplied the void they left behind, and spread over all the sky. Then was heard the low rumbling of distant thunder, then the lightning quivered, and then the darkness of an hour seemed to have gathered in an instant."
"It had been gradually getting overcast, and now the sky was dark and lowering, save where the glory of the departing sun piled up masses of gold and burning fire, decaying embers of which gleamed here and there through the black veil, and shone redly down upon the earth. The wind began to moan in hollow murmurs, as the sun went down, carrying glad day elsewhere; and a train ofdull clouds coming up against it menaced thunder and lightning. Large drops of rain soon began to fall, and, as the storm clouds came sailing onward, others supplied the void they left behind, and spread over all the sky. Then was heard the low rumbling of distant thunder, then the lightning quivered, and then the darkness of an hour seemed to have gathered in an instant."
We pass Dulwich,—where Mr. Snodgrass and Emily Wardle were married,—a fact that recalls kindly recollections of Mr. Pickwick and his retirement there, as recorded in the closing pages of thePickwick Papers, where he is described as "employing his leisure hours in arranging the memoranda which he afterwards presented to the secretary of the once famous club, or in hearing Sam Weller read aloud, with such remarks as suggested themselves to his mind, which never failed to afford Mr. Pickwick great amusement." He is subsequently described as "somewhat infirm now, but he retains all his former juvenility of spirit, and may still be frequently seen contemplating the pictures in the Dulwich Gallery, or enjoying a walk about the pleasant neighbourhood on a fine day."
Although it is but a short distance—under thirty miles—to Rochester, the journey seems tedious, as the "iron-horse" does not keep pace with the pleasurable feelings of eager expectation afloat in our minds on this our first visit to "Dickens-Land"; it is therefore with joyful steps that we leave the train, and, the storm having passed away, find ourselves in the cool of the summer evening on the platform of Strood and Rochester Bridge Station.
"The silent High Street of Rochester is full of gables, with old beams and timbers carved into strange faces. It is oddly garnished with a queer old clock that projects over the pavement out of a grave red brick building, as if Time carried on business there, and hung out his sign."—The Seven Poor Travellers.
"The town was glad with morning light."—The Old Curiosity Shop.
Mudfog, Our Town, Dullborough, the Market Town, and Cloisterham were the varied names that Charles Dickens bestowed upon the "ancient city" of Rochester. Every reader of his works knows how well he loved it in early youth, and how he returned to it with increased affection during the years of his ripened wisdom. Among the first pages of the first chapter of Forster'sLifewe find references to it:—"That childhood exaggerates what it sees, too, has he not tenderly told? How he thought that the Rochester High-street must be at least as wide as Regent Street which he afterwards discovered to be little better than a lane; how the public clock in it, supposed to be the finest clock in the world, turned out to be as moon-faced and weak a clock as a man's eyes ever saw; and how in its Town Hall, which had appeared to him once so glorious a structure that he had set it up in his mind asthe model from which the genie of the Lamp built the palace for Aladdin, he had painfully to recognize a mere mean little heap of bricks, like a chapel gone demented. Yet, not so painfully either when second thoughts wisely came. 'Ah! who was I, [he says] that I should quarrel with the town for being changed to me, when I myself had come back, so changed, to it? All my early readings and early imaginations dated from this place, and I took them away so full of innocent construction and guileless belief, and I brought them back so worn and torn, so much the wiser and so much the worse!'"
It would occupy too much space in this narrative to adequately give even a brief historical sketch of the City of Rochester, which is twenty-nine miles from London, situated on the river Medway, and stands on the chalk on the margin of the London basin; but we think lovers of Dickens will not object to a recapitulation of a few of the most noteworthy circumstances which have happened here, and which are not touched upon in the chapters relating to the Castle and Cathedral.
According to the eminent local antiquary, Mr. Roach Smith, F.S.A., the name of the city has been thus evolved:—"The ceastre or chester is a Saxon affix to the Romano-British (DU)RO. The first two letters being dropped in sound, it became Duro or Dro, and then ROchester, and it was the Roman station Durobrovis." The ancient Britons called it "Dur-brif," and the Saxons "Hrofe-ceastre"—Horf's castle, of which appellation some people think Rochester is a corruption.
Rochester is a place of great antiquity, and so far back asa.d.600 it seems to have been a walled city. Remains ofthe mediæval Wall exist in very perfect condition, at the back of the Eagle Inn in High Street, and in other parts of the city. In 676 Rochester was plundered by Ethelred, King of Mercia; and in 884 the Danes sailed up the Medway and besieged it, but were effectually repulsed by King Alfred. About 930, when three Mints were established there by Athelstan, it had grown to be one of the principal ports of the kingdom. William the Conqueror gave the town to his half-brother Odo, Bishop of Bayeux. Fires in 1130 and 1137 nearly destroyed it.
Not a few royal and distinguished personages have visited Rochester on various occasions, among others Henry VIII., who came there in 1522, accompanied by the Emperor Charles V. Queen Elizabeth came in 1573, when she stayed five days, and attended the Cathedral service on Sunday. She came again in 1583, with the Duke of Anjou, and showed him her "mighty ships of war lying at Chatham." King James I. also visited the city in 1604 and 1606. On the latter occasion His Majesty, who was accompanied by Christian IV., King of Denmark, attended the Cathedral, and afterwards inspected the Navy. Charles II. paid it a visit just before the restoration in 1660, and again subsequently. It is believed that on both occasions he stayed at Restoration House (the "Satis House" ofGreat Expectations) hereafter referred to. Mr. Richard Head presented His Majesty with a silver ewer and basin on the occasion of the restoration. James II. came down to the quiet old city December 19th, 1688, and sojourned with Sir Richard Head for a week at a house (now No. 46 High Street), from whence he ignominiously escaped to France by a smack moored off Sheerness. Mr. Stephen T. Aveling mentioned to us that "it is curiousthat Charles the Second 'came to his own' in Rochester, and that James the Second 'skedaddled' from the same city."[4]Her Majesty when Princess Victoria stayed at the Bull Inn in 1836 for a night with her mother, the Duchess of Kent, on their way from Dover to London. It was a very tempestuous night, some of the balustrades of Rochester Bridge having been blown into the river, and the Royal Princess was advised not to attempt to cross the bridge.
"On the last day of June 1667 (says Mr. W. Brenchley Rye in his pleasantVisits to Rochester), Mr. Samuel Pepys, after examining the defences at Chatham shortly after the disastrous expedition by the Dutch up the Medway, walked into Rochester Cathedral, but he had no mind to stay to the service, . . . 'afterwards strolled into the fields, a fine walk, and there saw Sir F. Clarke's house (Restoration House), which is a pretty seat, and into the Cherry Garden, and here met with a young, plain, silly shopkeeper and his wife, a pretty young woman, and I did kiss her!'" David Garrick was living at Rochester in 1737, for the purpose of receiving instruction in mathematics, etc., from Mr. Colson. In 1742, Hogarth visited the city, in that celebrated peregrination with his four friends, and played hop-scotch in the courtyard of the Guildhall. Dr. Johnson came here in 1783, and "returned to London by water in a common boat, landing at Billingsgate."
The city formerly possessed many ancient charters andprivileges granted to the citizens, but these were superseded by the Municipal Corporations Act of 1835.
The Guildhall, "marked by a gilt ship aloft,"—"where the mayor and corporation assemble together in solemn council for the public weal,"—is "a substantial and very suitable structure of brick, supported by stone columns in the Doric order," and was erected in 1687. It has several fine portraits by Sir Godfrey Kneller and other eminent painters, including those of King William III., Queen Anne, Sir Cloudesley Shovell, Richard Watts, M.P., and others. The Corporation also possess many interesting and valuable city regalia, namely, a large silver-gilt mace (1661), silver loving-cup (1719), silver oar and silver-gilt ornaments (typical of the Admiralty jurisdiction of the Corporation) (1748), two small maces of silver (1767), sword (1871—the Mayor being Constable of the Castle), and chain and badges of gold and enamel (1875), the last-mentioned commemorating many historical incidents connected with the city.
Emerging from the railway station of the London, Chatham and Dover Company at Strood, a drive of a few minutes (over the bridge) brings us to the first object of our pilgrimage, the "Bull Inn,"—we beg pardon, the "Royal Victoria and Bull Hotel,"—in High Street, Rochester, which was visited by Mr. Pickwick, Mr. Tupman, Mr. Snodgrass, Mr. Winkle, and their newly-made friend, Mr. Jingle, on the 13th May, 1827. Our cabman is so satisfied with his fare ("only a bob's worth"), that he does not, as one of his predecessors did, on a very remarkable occasion, "fling the money on the pavement, and request in figurative terms to be allowed the pleasure of fighting us for the amount," which circumstance we take to be an improving sign of the times.
Changed in name, but not in condition, it seems scarcely possible that we stand under the gateway of the charming old inn that we have known from our boyhood, when first we read ourPickwick, what time the two green leaves ofMartin Chuzzlewitwere putting forth monthly, and when the name of Charles Dickens, although familiar, had not become the "household word" to us, and to the world, that it is now.
Bull Inn Rochester Good house Nice beds. vide Pickwick.
We look round for evidence—"Good house, nice beds"—"(videPickwick)" appear on the two sign-boards fixed on either side of the entrance-gate. Only then are we quite sure our driver has not made a mistake and taken us to "Wright's next door," which every reader ofPickwickknows, on the authority of Mr. Jingle, "was dear—very dear—half a crown in the bill if you look at the waiter—chargeyou more if you dine out at a friend's than they would if you dined in the coffee-room—rum fellows—very."
Haunches of venison, saddles of mutton, ribs of beef, York hams, fowls and ducks, hang over our heads in the capacious covered gateway; cold viands are seen in a glass cupboard opposite, and silently promise that some good fare, like that which regaled Mr. Pickwick and his friends, is still to be found at the Bull. In the distance is seen the large old-fashioned coach-yard, surrounded by odd buildings, which on market days (Tuesdays) is crowded with all sorts of vehicles ancient and modern. On our right is the kitchen, "brilliant with glowing coals and rows of shining copper lying well open to view."
By the kindness of Mr. Richard Prall, the town-clerk, beds have been secured for us, and the landlord meets us at the door with a hearty welcome. We are conducted to our rooms on the second floor looking front, on reaching which a strange feeling takes possession of us. Surely we have been here before? Not a bit of it! But the bedrooms are nevertheless familiar to us; we see it all in a minute—the writer's apartment is Mr. Tupman's, and his friend's is Mr. Winkle's!
"Winkle's bedroom is inside mine," said Mr. Tupman, after that delightful dinner of "soles, broiled fowl, and mushrooms," in the private sitting-room at the Bull, when all the other Pickwickians had, "after the cosy couple of hours succeeding dinner, more or less succumbed to the somniferous influence which the wine had exerted over them," and he and Mr. Jingle alone remained wakeful, and were discussing the idea of attending the forthcoming ball in the evening.
It is an unexpected and pleasant coincidence that we are located in these two rooms, and altogether a good omen forour tramp generally. They are numbered 13 and 19, and the reason why the numbers are not consecutive is because 19 (Mr. Winkle's room) is also approached by a back staircase. Mr. Pickwick's room, as befitted his years and his dignity as G.C.M.P.C., is a larger room, and is number 17. They are all comfortable chambers, with "nice beds."
Staircase at "The Bull"
The principal staircase of the Bull, which is almost wide enough to drive a carriage and four up it, remains exactly as it was in Mr. Pickwick's days, as described by Dickens and delineated by Seymour. We could almost fancy we witnessed the memorable scene depicted in the illustration, where the irascible Dr. Slammer confronts the imperturbable Jingle. The staircase has on its walls a large number of pictures andengravings, some curious and valuable, a few of which are of purely local interest. A series of oil paintings represent the costumes of all nations. There is a copy of "The Empty Chair," from the drawing of Mr. Luke Fildes, R.A., and also one of the scarce proof lithographs of "Dickens as Captain Bobadil," after the painting by C. R. Leslie, R.A.
Mr. Lawrence informed us that some years ago "The Owl Club" held its meetings at the Bull—a social club, reminding us strongly of one of the early papers inBentley's Miscellany, illustrated by George Cruikshank, entitled the "Harmonious Owls," which has recently been reprinted in the collection calledOld Miscellany Days, in which paper, by the bye, are several names from Dickens.
In one of the cheerful private sitting-rooms, of which there are many, we find a portrait of Dickens that is new to us. Never have we seen one that so vividly reproduced the novelist as one of us saw him, and heard him read, in the Town Hall at Birmingham, on the 10th of May, 1866. It is a vignette photograph by Watkins, coloured by Mr. J. Hopper, a local artist, representing the face of the novelist in full, wearing afternoon dress—black coat, and white shirt-front, with gold studs—the attitude being perfectly natural and unconstrained, and a pleasant calm upon the otherwise firm features. The high forehead is surmounted by the well-remembered single curl of brown hair, the sole survival of those profuse locks which grace Maclise's beautiful portrait. The bright blue eyes, with the light reflected on the pupils like diamonds, seem to follow one in every direction. The lines, of course, are marked, but not too strongly; and the faint hectic flush which was apparent in later years—notably when we saw him again in Birmingham in 1869—shows signs of development.The beard hides the neck, and the white collar is conspicuous. Altogether it is one of the most successful portraits we remember to have seen. As witness of its popularity locally, we may mention that we saw copies of it at Major Budden's at Gad's Hill, at the Mitre Hotel, Chatham, and at the Leather Bottle Inn, Cobham. We are also informed that Mr. Henry Irving gave a good sum for a copy, in the spring of last year. Mr. Lawrence, our host, by good fortune, happening to possess a duplicate, kindly allows us the opportunity of purchasing it ("portable property" as Mr. Wemmick remarks), as an addition to our Dickens collection which it adorns. "Beautiful!" "Splendid!" "Dickens to the life!" are the comments of friends to whom we show it, who personally knew, or remembered, the original.
Here is the ball-room, entered from the first-floor landing of the principal staircase, and the card-room adjoining, precisely as it was in Mr. Pickwick's days:—
"It was a long room with crimson-covered benches, and wax candles in glass chandeliers. The musicians were confined in an elevated den, and quadrilles were being systematically got through by two or three sets of dancers. Two card-tables were made up in the adjoining card-room, and two pair of old ladies, and a corresponding number of old gentlemen, were executing whist therein."
"It was a long room with crimson-covered benches, and wax candles in glass chandeliers. The musicians were confined in an elevated den, and quadrilles were being systematically got through by two or three sets of dancers. Two card-tables were made up in the adjoining card-room, and two pair of old ladies, and a corresponding number of old gentlemen, were executing whist therein."
A very little stretch of the imagination carries us back sixty years, and,presto!the ball-room stands before us, with the wax candles lighted, and the room filled with theéliteof Chatham and Rochester society, who, acting on the principle of "that general benevolence which was one of the leading features of the Pickwickian theory," had given their support to that "ball for the benefit of a charity," then being held there, and which was attended by Mr. Tracy Tupman, in his newdress-coat with the P. C. button and bust of Mr. Pickwick in the centre, and by Mr. Jingle, in the borrowed garments of the same nature belonging to Mr. Winkle.
"P. C.," said the stranger.—"Queer set out—old fellow's likeness and 'P. C.'—What does 'P. C.' stand for? 'Peculiar Coat,' eh?" Imagine the "rising indignation" and impatience of Mr. Tupman, as with "great importance" he explains the mystic device!
The "Elevated Den" in the Ball Room: ("Bull" Inn)
Everybody remembers how, declining the usual introduction, the two entered the ball-roomincog., as "Gentlemen from London—distinguished foreigners—anything;" how Mr. Jingle said in reply to Mr. Tupman's remark, "Wait a minute—fun presently—nobs not come yet—queer place—Dock-yard people of upper rank don't know Dock-yard peopleof lower rank—Dock-yard people of lower rank don't know small gentry—small gentry don't know tradespeople—Commissioner don't know anybody."
The "man at the door,"—the local M.C.,—announces the arrivals.
"Sir Thomas Clubber, Lady Clubber, and the Miss Clubbers!" "Commissioner—head of the yard—great man—remarkably great man," whispers the stranger in Mr. Tupman's ear.
"Colonel Bulder, Mrs. Colonel Bulder, and Miss Bulder," are announced. "Head of the garrison," says Mr. Jingle. "They exchanged snuff-boxes [how old-fashioned it appears to us who don't take snuff], and looked very much like a pair of Alexander Selkirks—Monarchs of all they surveyed."
More arrivals are announced, and dancing begins in earnest; but the most interesting one to us is Dr. Slammer—"a little fat man, with a ring of upright black hair round his head, and an extensive bald plain on the top of it—Dr. Slammer, surgeon to the 97th, who is agreeable to everybody, especially to the Widow Budger.—'Lots of money—old girl—pompous doctor—not a bad idea—good fun,' says the stranger. 'I'll dance with her—cut out the doctor—here goes.'" Then comes the flirtation, the dancing, the negus and biscuits, the coquetting, the leading of Mrs. Budger to her carriage. The volcano bursts with terrific energy. . . .
"'You—you're a shuffler, sir,' gasps the furious doctor, 'a poltroon—a coward—a liar—a—a—will nothing induce you to give me your card, sir?'" and in the morning comes the challenge to the duel. It all passes before our delighted mental vision, as we picture the circumstances recorded in the belovedPickwickof our youth upwards.
Here also is the bar, just opposite the coffee-room, where the "Tickets for the Ball" were purchased by Mr. Tupman for himself and Mr. Jingle at "half a guinea each" (Mr. Jingle having won the toss), and where Dr. Slammer's friend subsequently made inquiry for "the owner of the coat, who arrived here, with three gentlemen, yesterday afternoon." We find it to be a very cosy and comfortable bar-room too, wherein we subsequently enjoy many a social pipe and pleasant chat with its friendly frequenters, reminding us of the old tavern-life as described in Dr. Johnson's days.
The coffee-room of the Bull, in which we take our supper, remains unaltered since the days of the Pickwickians. It is on the left-hand side as we enter the hotel from the covered gateway—not very large, but warm and comfortable, with three windows looking into the High Street. Many scenes in the novels have taken place in this memorable apartment—in fact, it is quite historical, from a Dickensian point of view.
Here it was that the challenge to the duel from Dr. Slammer to Mr. Winkle was delivered; and, when Mr. Winkle appeared, in response to the call of the boots, that "a gentleman in the coffee-room" wanted to see him, and would not detain him a moment, but would take no denial, "an old woman and a couple of waiters were cleaning the coffee-room, and an officer in undress uniform was looking out of the window." Here also the Pickwickians assembled on that eventful morning when the party set out, three in a chaise and one on horseback, for Dingley Dell, and encountered such dire mishaps. "Mr. Pickwick had made his preliminary arrangements, and was looking over the coffee-room blinds at the passengers in the High Street, when thewaiter entered, and announced that the chaise was ready—an announcement which the vehicle itself confirmed, by forthwith appearing before the coffee-room blinds aforesaid." Subsequently, as they prepare to start, "'Wo-o!' cried Mr. Pickwick, as the tall quadruped evinced a decided inclination to back into the coffee-room window."
It is highly probable that the descriptions of "the little town of Great Winglebury," and "the Winglebury Arms," in "The Great Winglebury Duel" of theSketches by Boz, one of the earliest works of the novelist, refer to the city of Rochester and the Bull Inn, for they fit in very well in many respects, although itisstated therein that "the little town of Great Winglebury is exactly forty-two miles and three-quarters from Hyde Park Corner."
The Blue Boar mentioned inGreat Expectations—one of the most original, touching, and dramatic of Dickens's novels—is indubitably the Bull Hotel. Although there is an inn in High Street, Rochester, called the Blue Boar, its description does not at all correspond with the text. We find several instances like this, where, probably for purposes of concealment, the real identity of places and persons is masked.
Our first introduction to the Blue Boar is on the occasion of Pip's being bound apprentice to Joe Gargery, the premium for whom was paid out of the twenty-five guineas given to Pip by Miss Havisham. Pip's sister "became so excited by the twenty-five guineas, that nothing would serve but we must have a dinner out of that windfall at the Blue Boar, and that Pumblechook must go over in his chaise cart, and bring the Hubbles and Mr. Wopsle." The dinner is duly disposed of, and although poor Pip was frequently enjoined to "enjoyhimself," he certainly failed to do so on this occasion. "Among the festivities indulged in rather late in the evening," says Pip, "Mr. Wopsle gave usCollins's Ode, and 'threw his blood-stain'd sword in thunder down,' with such effect, that a waiter came in and said 'The Commercials underneath sent up their compliments, and it wasn't the Tumblers' Arms!'" from which we gather that the said dinner took place in a private sitting-room (No. 3) over the commercial room, on the opposite side of the gateway to the coffee-room.
It will be remembered that on Pip's attaining "the second stage of his expectations," Pumblechook had grown very obsequious and fawning to him—pressed him to take refreshment, as who should say, "But, my dear young friend, you must be hungry, you must be exhausted. Be seated. Here is a chicken had round from the Boar, here is a tongue had round from the Boar, here's one or two little things had round from the Boar that I hope you may not despise. 'But do I,' said Mr. Pumblechook, getting up again the moment after he had sat down, 'see afore me him as I ever sported with in his times of happy infancy? And may I—mayI—?' This 'May I?' meant might he shake hands? I consented, and he was fervent, and then sat down again."
Returning to the coffee-room, we discover it was the identical apartment in which the unexpected and very peculiar meeting took place between Pip and "the spider," Bentley Drummle, "the sulky and red-looking young man, of a heavy order of architecture," both "Finches of the Grove," and rivals for the hand of Estella. Each stands shoulder to shoulder against the fire-place, and, but for Pip's forbearance, an explosion must have taken place.
Through the same coffee-room windows, poor Pip looksunder the reverses of his great expectations in consequence of the discovery and subsequent death of his patron. The "servile Pumblechook," who appears here uninvited, again changes his manner and conduct, becoming ostentatiously compassionate and forgiving, as he had been meanly servile in the time of Pip's new prosperity, thus:—"'Young man, I am sorry to see you brought low, but what else could be expected! what else could be expected! . . . This is him . . . as I have rode in my shay-cart; this is him as I have seen brought up by hand; this is him untoe the sister of which I was uncle by marriage, as her name was Georgiana M'ria from her own mother, let him deny it if he can.' . . ."
Dickens takes leave of the Blue Boar, in the last chapter of the work, in these words:—