The "Sir John Falstaff" Inn, Gad's Hill.The "Sir John Falstaff" Inn, Gad's Hill.
We have but little time to notice the "Falstaff," for our admiring gaze is presently fixed on Gad's Hill Place itself, the house in which Dickens resided happily—albeit troublecame to him as to most men—from the year 1856 till his death in 1870. Everybody knows the story of how, as a little boy, he cherished the idea of one day living in this house, and how that idea was gratified in after-life. It is from theUncommercial Traveller, in the chapter on "Travelling Abroad," and the repetition is never stale. He says:—
"So smooth was the old high road, and so fresh were the horses, and so fast went I, that it was midway between Gravesend and Rochester, and the widening river was bearing the ships, white-sailed or black-smoked, out to sea, when I noticed by the wayside a very queer small boy."'Holloa!' said I to the very queer small boy, 'where do you live?'"'At Chatham,' says he."'What do you do there?' says I."'I go to school,' says he."I took him up in a moment, and we went on. Presently, the very queer small boy says, 'This is Gad's Hill we are coming to, where Falstaff went out to rob those travellers, and ran away.'"'You know something about Falstaff, eh?' said I."'All about him,' said the very queer small boy. 'I am old (I am nine), and I read all sorts of books. Butdolet us stop at the top of the hill, and look at the house there, if you please!'"'You admire that house?' said I."'Bless you, sir,' said the very queer small boy, 'when I was not more than half as old as nine, it used to be a treat for me to be brought to look at it. And now, I am nine, I come by myself to look at it. And ever since I can recollect, my father, seeing me so fond of it, has often said to me, 'If you were to be very persevering, and were to work hard, you might some day come to live in it.' Though that's impossible!' said the very queer small boy, drawing a low breath, and now staring at the house out of window with all his might."I was rather amazed to be told this by the very queer small boy; for that house happens to bemyhouse, and I have reason to believe that what he said was true."
"So smooth was the old high road, and so fresh were the horses, and so fast went I, that it was midway between Gravesend and Rochester, and the widening river was bearing the ships, white-sailed or black-smoked, out to sea, when I noticed by the wayside a very queer small boy.
"'Holloa!' said I to the very queer small boy, 'where do you live?'
"'At Chatham,' says he.
"'What do you do there?' says I.
"'I go to school,' says he.
"I took him up in a moment, and we went on. Presently, the very queer small boy says, 'This is Gad's Hill we are coming to, where Falstaff went out to rob those travellers, and ran away.'
"'You know something about Falstaff, eh?' said I.
"'All about him,' said the very queer small boy. 'I am old (I am nine), and I read all sorts of books. Butdolet us stop at the top of the hill, and look at the house there, if you please!'
"'You admire that house?' said I.
"'Bless you, sir,' said the very queer small boy, 'when I was not more than half as old as nine, it used to be a treat for me to be brought to look at it. And now, I am nine, I come by myself to look at it. And ever since I can recollect, my father, seeing me so fond of it, has often said to me, 'If you were to be very persevering, and were to work hard, you might some day come to live in it.' Though that's impossible!' said the very queer small boy, drawing a low breath, and now staring at the house out of window with all his might.
"I was rather amazed to be told this by the very queer small boy; for that house happens to bemyhouse, and I have reason to believe that what he said was true."
Gadshill PlaceGadshill Place
Mrs. Lynn Linton, the celebrated novelist, who resided at Gad's Hill as a child, has very kindly given us her personal recollections of it sixty years ago, and of the interesting circumstances under which Charles Dickens subsequently purchased the property;—which will be found at the end of this chapter.
Before seeking permission to enter the grounds of Gad's Hill Place, which are surrounded by a high wall, and screened externally by a row of well-topped lime-trees, we retrace our steps for a few minutes, in order to refresh ourselves with a homely luncheon, and what Mr. Richard Swiveller would call a "modest quencher," at the Sir John Falstaff. It may be certain that not much time is consumed in this operation. We then take a good look at the remarkable house opposite, the object of our pilgrimage, which has been made well known by countless photographs and engravings. It is a comfortable, but a not very attractive-looking red-brick house of two stories, with porch at entrance, partly covered with ivy. All the front windows, with the exception of the central ones, are bayed, and there are dormer windows in the roof, which is surmounted by a bell-turret and vane. What a strange fascination it has for admirers of Dickens when seen for the first time! According to Forster, in hisLifeof the novelist, the house was built in 1780 by a well-known local character named James Stevens, who rose to a good position. He was the father-in-law of the late Professor Henslow, the Botanist, of Cambridge. Dickens paid for it the sum of £1,790, and the purchase was completed on Friday, 14th March, 1856. The present owner is Major Austin F. Budden,[11]of the 12th KentArtillery Volunteers, who, we find, in the course of subsequent conversation, had also done good municipal service, having filled the office of Mayor of Rochester for two years,—from 1879 to 1881,—and that he was elected at the early age of twenty-eight.
We ring the bell at the gate which shuts the house out from view, and are promptly answered by a pleasant-speaking housemaid, who takes our cards on a salver, and ushers us into the library. We are requested to enter our names in the visitors' book, and this is done with alacrity. We are under the impression that we shall only be allowed to see the hall and study, a privilege allowed to any visitor on presentation of a card; but fortunately for us the courteous owner appears, and says that, as he has half an hour to spare, he will show us entirely over the house. He is better than his word, and we, delighted with the prospect, commence our inspection of the late home of the great novelist with feelings of singular pleasure, which are altogether a new sensation. Do any readers remember, when perusing the Waverley novels in their youth, a certain longing (as the height of their ambition, possibly gratified in after-life) to see Abbotsford, the home of the "Wizard of the North"?Thatis a feeling akin to the one which possesses us on the present occasion, a feeling of veneration almost amounting to awe as we recall,and seem to realize, not only the presence of Charles Dickens himself, but of the many eminent literary, artistic, and histrionic characters—his contemporaries—who assembled here, and shared the hospitality of the distinguished owner. "Dickens penetrates here—where does not his genial sunshine penetrate?"
Turning over the leaves of the visitors' book, Major Budden calls our attention to the signatures of Americans, who constitute by far the majority of visitors. Among the more recent appears the name of that accomplished actress, Miss Mary Anderson—herself a great admirer of Charles Dickens—who came accompanied by a party of friends. We also found her name, with the same party, in the visitors' book at Richard Watts's Charity in Rochester. Major Budden spoke also of the great enthusiasm always exhibited by our American friends in regard to Dickens, some of whom had told him more than once that it was the custom to instruct their children in a knowledge of his works: they read them, in fact, in the schools.
The library, or study, is a very cosy little room, made famous by Mr. Luke Fildes's picture of "The Empty Chair." It is situated on the west side of the porch, looking to the front, with the shrubbery in the distance; and among the most conspicuous objects contained in it are the curious counterfeit book-backs devised by Dickens and his friends, and arranged as shelves to fit the door of the room. They number nearly eighty, and a selection is given below of a few of the quaintest titles, viz.:—
The Quarrelly Review. 4 vols.
King Henry the Eighth's Evidences of Christianity. 5 vols.
Noah's Arkitecture. 2 vols.
PG from the Drawing of S. L. Fildes "The empty chair" Gad's Hill Ninth of June 1870.
Chickweed.
Groundsel (by the Author of Chickweed).
Cockatoo on Perch.
History of a Short Chancery Suit. 21 vols.
Cats' Lives. 9 vols.
Hansard's Guide to Refreshing Sleep (many volumes).
The Wisdom of our Ancestors—I. Ignorance. II. Superstition. III. The Block. IV. The Stake. V. The Rack. VI. Dirt. VII. Disease.
Several of the titles were used for a similar purpose at Tavistock House, London—Dickens's former residence.
We cannot help, as we sit down quietly for a few minutes, wondering how much ofLittle Dorrit,Hunted Down,A Tale of Two Cities,Great Expectations,The Uncommercial Traveller,Our Mutual Friend, andThe Mystery of Edwin Drood(which were all issued between 1856 and 1870) was written in this famous room, to say nothing of those heaps of exquisite letters which so helped, cheered, interested, or amused many a correspondent, and have delighted the public since.
In the hall, which has the famous parquet floor laid down by Dickens, is still hanging the framed illumination, artistically executed by Owen Jones, and placed there immediately after Dickens became the "Kentish freeholder on his native heath" as he called it. It is as follows:—
This House,Gad's Hill Place,stands on the summit of Shakespeare's Gad's Hill,ever memorable for its association withSir John Falstaff, in his noble fancy.
Counterfeit Book-backs on Study Door.Counterfeit Book-backs on Study Door.
"But, my lads, my lads, to-morrow morning by four o'clock early at Gad's Hill. There are pilgrims going to Canterbury with rich offerings, and traders riding to London with fat purses; I have vizards for you all; you have horses for yourselves."[12]
From the hall we enter the dining-room, a cheerful apartment looking on to the beautiful lawn at the back, which has at the end the arched conservatory of lilac-tinted glass at top, in which the novelist took so much interest, and where he hung some Chinese lanterns, sent down from London the day before his death. We are informed that in this building he signed the last cheque which he drew, to pay his subscription to the Higham Cricket Club. The door of the dining-room is faced with looking-glass, so that it may reflect the contents of the conservatory. Among these are two or three New Zealand tree-ferns which Dickens himself purchased. In the dining-room Major Budden pointed out the exact spot where the fatal seizure from effusion on the brain took place, on the afternoon of Wednesday, 8th June, 1870, and where Dickenslay: first on the floor to the right of the door on entering, and afterwards to the left, when the couch was brought down (by order of Mr. Steele, the surgeon of Strood, as we subsequently learned), upon which he breathed his last.
The drawing-room faces the front, and, like the dining-room, has been lengthened, and opens into the conservatory. In fact, Dickens was always improving Gad's Hill Place. There is a memorable reference to the conservatory by Forster in the third vol. of theLife. He says:—
"This last addition had long been an object of desire with him, though he would hardly, even now, have given himself the indulgence but for the golden shower from America. He saw it first in a completed state on the Sunday before his death, when his youngest daughter was on a visit to him.
"'Well, Katey,' he said to her, 'now you seepositivelythe last improvement at Gad's Hill,' and every one laughed at the joke against himself. The success of the new conservatory was unquestionable. It was the remark of all around him, that he was certainly, from this last of his improvements, drawing more enjoyment than from any of its predecessors, when the scene for ever closed!"
This room is a long one, and, in common with all the others, gives us, under the auspices of the brilliantly fine day, some idea of the late owner's love of light, air, and cheerfulness. That the situation is also a healthy and bracing one is confirmed by the fact, that in a letter written on board theRussia, bound for Liverpool, on the 26th April, 1868, after his second American tour, he speaks of having made a "Gad's Hill breakfast."
Our most considerate cicerone next takes us into several of the bedrooms, these being of large size, and having a littledressing-room marked off with a partition, head-high, so that no cubic space is lost to the main chamber. As illustrative of Charles Dickens's care for the comfort of his friends, it is said that in the visitors' bedrooms there was always hot water and a little tea-table set out, so that each one could at any time make for himself a cup of the beverage "that cheers but not inebriates." The views from these rooms are very charming. Mr. W. T. Wildish afterwards told us, that during the novelist's life-time, Mr. Trood, the landlord of the Sir John Falstaff, once took him over Gad's Hill Place, and he was surprised to find Dickens's own bath-room covered with cuttings fromPunchand other comic papers. I have since learned that this was a screen of engravings which had originally been given him.
The gardens, both flower and vegetable, are then pointed out—the approach thereto from the back lawn being by means of a flight of steps—as also the rosary, which occupies a portion of the front lawn to the westward. The roses are of course past their best, but the trees look very healthy.
In the flower garden we are especially reminded of Dickens's love for flowers, the China-asters, single dahlias, and zinnias being of exceptional brightness. As to the violets, which are here in abundance, both the Neapolitan and Russian varieties, the Major shows us a method of cultivating them, first in frames, and then in single rows, so that he can get them in bloom for nearly nine months in the year!
Adjoining the lawn and vegetable garden is "the much-coveted meadow," which the master of Gad's Hill obtained by exchange of some land with the trustees of Sir Joseph Williamson's Mathematical School at Rochester, and inwhich he planted "a number of limes and chestnuts, and other quick-growing trees." Four grass walks meet in the centre of the vegetable garden, where there is a fine old mulberry tree.
It is stated in Forster'sLifeof the novelist (Vol. iii. p. 188) that Dickens obtained the meadow by exchange of some land "with the Trustees of Watts's Charity." But this is not right. The distinguished historian of the Commonwealth, and the faithful friend of the novelist all through his life, is so habitually accurate, that it is an exceptional circumstance for any one to be able to correct him. However, I am indebted to Mr. A. A. Arnold, of Rochester, for the following authentic account of the transaction.
Dickens was always anxious to obtain this meadow (which consists of about fourteen acres), and, believing that the Trustees of Sir Joseph Williamson's Mathematical School at Rochester were not empowered to sell their land, he purchased a field at the back of his own shrubbery from Mr. Brooker, of Higham, with a view—as appears from the following characteristically courteous and business-like letter—to effect an exchange.
"Gad's Hill Place,Higham by Rochester, Kent.Monday, Thirtieth June, 1862."Gentlemen,"Reverting to a proposal already made in general terms by my solicitor, Mr. Ouvry, of Lincoln's Inn Fields, to Messrs. Essel and Co., I beg to submit my application to you in detail."It is that you will have the kindness to consider the feasibility of exchanging the field at the back of my propertyhere (marked 404 in the accompanying plan), for the plot of land marked 384 in the said plan.
"Gad's Hill Place,Higham by Rochester, Kent.Monday, Thirtieth June, 1862.
"Gentlemen,
"Reverting to a proposal already made in general terms by my solicitor, Mr. Ouvry, of Lincoln's Inn Fields, to Messrs. Essel and Co., I beg to submit my application to you in detail.
"It is that you will have the kindness to consider the feasibility of exchanging the field at the back of my propertyhere (marked 404 in the accompanying plan), for the plot of land marked 384 in the said plan.
Gad's Hill Place from the rear.Gad's Hill Place from the rear.
"I believe it will appear to you, on inquiry, that the land I offer in exchange for the meadow is very advantageously situated, and is of greater extent than the meadow, and would be of greater value to the Institution, whose interests you represent. On the other hand, the acquisition of the meadow as a freehold would render my little property more compact and complete."I have the honor to be, Gentlemen,Your faithful and obedient Servant,Charles Dickens."To the Governors ofSir Joseph Williamson's Free School,Rochester."
"I believe it will appear to you, on inquiry, that the land I offer in exchange for the meadow is very advantageously situated, and is of greater extent than the meadow, and would be of greater value to the Institution, whose interests you represent. On the other hand, the acquisition of the meadow as a freehold would render my little property more compact and complete.
"I have the honor to be, Gentlemen,
Your faithful and obedient Servant,Charles Dickens.
"To the Governors ofSir Joseph Williamson's Free School,Rochester."
The offer fell through at the time; but it was renewed in 1868 in a different form, and eventually the field was sold (by permission of the Charity Commissioners) to Charles Dickens at an "accommodation" price—£2,500—which really exceeded its actual market value.
The Grave of Dick
But to resume our inspection. The whole of the back of the house, looking southward, is covered by a Virginia creeper (Ampelopsis quinquefolia) of profuse growth, which must be an object of singular beauty in the autumn when the crimson tints appear. As it now stands it is beautifully green, and there is scarcely more than a leaf or two here and there marking autumnal decay. The two famous hawthorn trees were blown down in a gale some years ago.
In a quiet corner under a rose-tree (Gloire de Dijon), flanked by aYuccain bloom, the bed underneath consistingof deep blue lobelia, is a touching little memorial to a favourite canary. This consists of a narrow little board, made like a head-stone, and set aslant, on which is painted in neat letters the following epitaph:—
This isthe grave ofDICK,the best of birds,bornat Broadstairs,Midsummer, 1851,diedat Gad's Hill Place,4th October, 1866.
No one can doubt who was the author of these simple lines. "Dick," it should be said, "was very dear both to Dickens and his eldest daughter," and he has been immortalized in Forster'sLife. There is a very humorous account given of the attacks which the cats in the neighbourhood made upon him, and which were frustrated by an organized defence. The following is the passage:—
"Soon after the arrival of Dickens and his family at Gad's Hill Place, a household war broke out, in which the commander-in-chief was his man French, the bulk of the forces engaged being his children, and the invaders two cats." Writing to Forster, Dickens says:—"'The only thing new in this garden is that war is raging against two particularly tigerish and fearful cats (from the mill, I suppose), which are always glaring in dark corners after our wonderful little Dick. Keeping the house open at all points, it is impossibleto shut them out, and they hide themselves in the most terrific manner: hanging themselves up behind draperies, like bats, and tumbling out in the dead of night with frightful caterwaulings. Hereupon French borrows Beaucourt's gun, loads the same to the muzzle, discharges it twice in vain, and throws himself over with the recoil, exactly like a clown. . . . About four pounds of powder and half a ton of shot have been fired off at the cat (and the public in general) during the week. The funniest thing is, that immediately after I have heard the noble sportsman blazing away at her in the garden in front, I look out of my room door into the drawing-room, and am pretty sure to see her coming in after the birds, in the calmest manner possible, by the back window.'"
Passing on our way the large and well-lighted servants' hall, over which is the bachelors' room,—whence in days gone by that rare literary serial,The Gad's Hill Gazette,[13]issued from a little printing press, presented by a friend to the sixth son of the novelist, who encouraged his boy's literary tastes,—we next see the stables, as usual, like everything else, in excellent order. A small statue of Fame blowing her golden trumpet surmounts the bachelors' room, and looks down upon us encouragingly.
Our attention is then turned to the well, which is stated to be two hundred and seventeen feet deep, in the shed, or pumping-room, over which is the Major's mare, "Tell-tale," cheerfully doing her daily twenty minutes' task of drawing water, which is pumped up to the cistern on the roof for the supply of the house. There is said to be never less than twenty feet of water in the well.
The Well at Gad's Hill Place
It may be interesting to mention that Gad's Hill Place ("the title of my estate, sir, my place down in Kent"), which is in the parish of Higham, and about twenty-six miles from London, stands on an elevation two hundred and fifty feet above mean sea-level. The house itself is built on a bed of the Thanet sands. The well is bored right through these sands, which Mr. W. H. Whitaker, F.R.S., of H. M. Geological Survey (who has kindly given me some valuable information on the subject), states "may be about forty feet thick, and the water is drawn up from the bed of chalkbeneath. This bed is of great thickness, probably six hundred or seven hundred feet, and the well simply reaches the level at which the chalk is charged with water,i. e.something a little higher than the level of the neighbouring river." The chalk is exposed on the lower bases of Gad's Hill, such as the Railway Station at Higham, the village of Chalk, the town of Strood, etc.
There are humorous extracts from letters by Dickens in Forster'sLiferespecting the well, which may appropriately be introduced. He says:—
"We are still (6th of July) boring for water here, at the rate of two pounds per day for wages. The men seem to like it very much, and to be perfectly comfortable.". . . And again, "Here are six men perpetually going up and down the well (I know that somebody will be killed), in the course of fitting a pump; which is quite a railway terminus—it is so iron, and so big. The process is much more like putting Oxford Street endwise, and laying gas along it, than anything else. By the time it is finished, the cost of this water will be something absolutely frightful. But of course it proportionately increases the value of the property, and that's my only comfort. . . . Five men have been looking attentively at the pump for a week, and (I should hope) may begin to fit it in the course of October." The depression caused by the prospect of the "absolutely frightful" cost of the water seems to have continued to the end of the letter, for it thus concludes:—"The horse has gone lame from a sprain, the big dog has run a tenpenny nail into one of his hind feet, the bolts have all flown out of the basket carriage, and the gardener says all the fruit trees want replacing with new ones."
The Porch, Gad's Hill Place.The Porch, Gad's Hill Place.
Two of the Major's dogs are chained in the places formerly occupied by Dickens's dogs, "Linda" and "Turk." The chains are very long, and allow the animals plenty of room for exercise. The space between the two permitted a person to walk past without their being able to come nearhim; and, as an instance of Dickens's thoughtful kindliness even to the lower animals, two holes were made in the wall so that the dogs could get through in hot weather, and lie in the shade of the trees on the other side. On the back gate entering into the lane at the side of the house was painted, "Beware of the dogs!" This caution appears to have been very necessary, for we heard more than once the story of an intrusive tramp who trespassed, and going too near the dogs, got sadly mauled. Dickens, with characteristic goodness, sent him at once to Chatham Hospital, and otherwise healed his wounds.
We are next conducted round the grounds, and have an opportunity of examining the front of the house more in detail. The porch is flanked by two cosy seats, the pretty little spade-shaped shields, and lateral angular ornamental supports on the back of which, we are informed, were constructed of pieces of wood from Shakespeare's furniture given to Dickens by a friend. A large variegated holly grows on either side of the porch, and a semi-circular gravel walk leads to the door. There is a closely-cut lawn in front, and opposite the hollies are two fine specimens ofAucuba Japonica—the so-called variegated laurel.
The Cedars, Gad's Hill.The Cedars, Gad's Hill.
It will be remembered that the master of Gad's Hill had a tunnel excavated under the Dover Road (which runs through the property), so as to approach the "shrubbery" previously referred to, without having to cross the open public road. We did not learn who constructed the tunnel, but it was designed either by his brother, Mr. Alfred L. Dickens, who died at Manchester in 1860, or by his brother-in-law, Mr. Henry Austin. The entrance to the tunnel is by a flight of about twenty steps, flanked by two beautifully-grown specimens ofCedrus deodara, the "deodar," or god-tree of the Himalayas. The tunnel itself is cut through the sands, and, being only a little longer than the width of the road, it is not at all dark, but very pleasant and cool on a hot day. A corresponding flight of steps leads us into the shrubbery, which is shut off from the main road by iron railings only. Both ends of the tunnel are covered with ivy, which has the effect of partially concealing the openings. Readers of Forster'sLifewill recollect that the Swiss châlet presented to Dickens by his friend Fechter the actor, and in which he spent his last afternoon, formerly stood in the shrubbery. The châlet now stands in the terrace-garden of Cobham Hall.
Before we reach the exact place we have an opportunity of examining the two stately cedar trees (Cedrus Libani) which are the arboreal gems of the place. Major Budden informs us that they are about one hundred and twenty-eight years old, and were planted in their present position when they had attained about twenty years' growth. Some idea of their luxuriance may be formed when it is mentioned that the girth of each tree exceeds sixteen feet, and the longest branch of one of them measures eighty-four feet in length. In consequence of the habit of these trees "fastigiating" at the base, a very numerous series of lateral ramifying branches is the result. These branches spread out in terraces, and the rich green foliage, covered with exudations of resin, seems as though powdered silver had been lightly dusted over it. Each tree extends over a circular area of about eighty feet of ground in diameter. Under one of the cedars is the grave of "the big and beautiful Linda," Dickens's favourite St. Bernard dog. One of the trees has been injured, a largebranch over-weighted with snow having broken off some years ago.
Two or three noble ash trees also grace this spot, running straight up in a column some thirty-five feet before shooting out a canopy of branches and leaves. There are also a few Scotch firs, the trunks well covered with ivy, and a pretty specimen of the variegated sycamore. The undergrowth of laurel, laurustinus, briar, privet, holly, etc., is very luxuriant here, and the vacant ground is closely covered with the wood anemone (Anemone nemorosa), which must form a continuous mass of pearly white flowers in spring-time.
The ground formerly occupied by the châlet is pointed out to us, its site being marked by a bed of rich scarlet nasturtiums. It will be recollected that Dickens describes the interior of the building in a letter to an American friend, which is thus recorded in Forster'sLife:—
"Divers birds sing here all day, and the nightingales all night. The place is lovely and in perfect order. . . . I have put five mirrors in the châlet where I write, and they reflect and refract, in all kinds of ways, the leaves that are quivering at the windows, and the great fields of waving corn, and the sail-dotted river. My room is up among the branches of the trees; and the birds and the butterflies fly in and out, and the green branches shoot in at the open windows, and the lights and shadows of the clouds come and go with the rest of the company. The scent of the flowers, and indeed of everything that is growing for miles and miles, is most delicious."
But the glory of Gad's Hill Place is reserved for us until the close of our visit, when Major Budden very kindly takes us up to the roof, which is approached by a commodious flightof steps; and here, on this exceptionally fine day, we are privileged to behold a prospect of surpassing beauty. Right away to the westward is the great Metropolis, its presence being marked by the usual pall of greyish smoke. Opening from the town, and becoming wider and wider as the noble river approaches its estuary, is the Thames, now conspicuous by numerous vessels, showing masts and white and brown sails, and here and there by the smoky track of a steamer.
We remember how often the city and the river have been the scene of many and many an exploit in Dickens's novels. Northward are the dreary marshes, the famous "meshes" ofGreat Expectations, hereafter to be noticed. Then far to the eastward runs the valley of the Medway, the picturesque city of Rochester thereon being crowned by those conspicuous landmarks, its magnificent Castle and ancient Cathedral. In the background is the busy town of Chatham, its heights being capped by an enormous square and lofty building erected by the sect called "Jezreelites," whatever that may be. We were informed that the so-called "immortal" leader had just died, and it has since been reported that the gloomy building is likely to be converted into a huge jam factory. Beyond, and nearly seven miles off, is the high land called "Blue Bell," about three hundred feet above mean sea-level, and all along to the south the undulating grounds and beautiful woodland scenery of Cobham Park complete the picture.
View from the Roof of Dickens's House at Gad's Hill
As Major Budden points out in detail these many natural beauties of the district, we can quite understand and sympathize with Dickens's love for this exquisite spot; and weheartily congratulate the present owner of Gad's Hill Place on the charming historical property which he possesses, and which, so far as we can perceive (all honour to him), is kept in the same excellent condition that characterized it during the novelist's lifetime. What is particularly striking about it is at once its compactness, completeness, and unpretentiousness.
Descending to the library, whence we started nearly three hours previously, we refresh ourselves with a glass of water from the celebrated deep well—a draught deliciously cool and clear—which the hospitable Major presses us to "dilute" (as Professor Huxley has somewhere said) in any way we please, but which we prefer to drink, as Dickens himself drank it—pure. Before we rise to leave the spot we have so long wished to see, and which we have now gone over to our hearts' content, we sadly recall to memory for a moment the "last scene of all that ends this strange, eventful history,"—that tragic incident which occurred on Thursday, 9th June, 1870, when there was an "empty chair" at Gad's Hill Place, and all intelligent English-speaking nations experienced a personal sorrow.
And so with many grateful acknowledgments to our kind and courteous host, who gives us some nice flowers and cuttings as a parting souvenir, we take our leave, having derived from our bright sunny visit to Gad's Hill Place that "wave of pleasure" which Mr. Herbert Spencer describes as "raising the rate of respiration,—raised respiration being an index of raised vital activities in general." In fine, the impression left on our minds is such as to induce us to feel that we understand and appreciate more of Dickens'sold home than any illustration or written description of it, however excellent, had hitherto adequately conveyed to us. We have seen it for ourselves.
* * * * * *
The reminiscences which follow are from Mrs. Lynn Linton and three of Charles Dickens's nearest neighbours.
GAD'S HILL SIXTY YEARS AGO.
The early love which Charles Dickens felt for Gad's Hill House, and his boyish ambition to be one day its owner, had been already anticipated by my father. As a boy and young man, my father's heart was set on this place; and when my grandfather's death put him in sufficient funds he bought it. Being a beneficed clergyman, both of whose livings were in the extreme north of England, he could not live in the house; but he kept it empty for many years, always hoping to get leave of absence from the Bishop for a term long enough to justify the removal of his large family from Keswick to Rochester. In 1831 a five years' leave of absence was granted; and we all came up by coach to this Mecca of my father's love. We were three days and three nights on the road; and I remember quite distinctly the square courtyard and outside balcony of the old Belle Sauvage Inn, where we put up on our arrival in London. I remember, too, the powerful scent of the Portugal laurel and the bay-tree which grew on the right-hand side of Gad's Hill House as we entered—brought out by the warm damp of the late autumn afternoon. In our time all the outhouses hadleaden figures on the top. There was a cupola with an alarm bell, which one night was rung lustily, to the terror of the whole neighbourhood, and the ashamed discovery among ourselves that rats were not burglars. In the shrubbery were two large leaden figures of Pomona and Vertumnus, standing on each side of the walk leading up to the arbour. We had then two arbours—one opposite the house at the end of the green walk, and another in a dilapidated state further in the shrubbery. They were built of big flint stones, many of which had holes in them, where small birds made their nests. I remember in one was a tomtit which was quite tame, and used to fly in and out while we were watching it. The two cedars, which I believe are still there, were a little choked and overshadowed by a large oak-tree, which my father cut down. Between seventy and eighty coaches, "vans," and mail-carts passed our house during the day, besides private carriages, specially those of travellers posting to or from Dover. Regiments, too, often passed on their way to Gravesend, where they embarked for India; and ships' companies, paid off, rowdy and half-tipsy, made the road really dangerous for the time being. We used to lock the two gates when we heard them coming, shouting and singing up the hill; and we had to stand many a mimic siege from the blue-jackets trying to force their way in. Sweet-water grapes grew and ripened in the open air over the wash-house; and the back of the house was covered with a singularly fine and luscious jargonelle pear. The garden was rich in apples. We had many kinds, from the sweet and pulpy nonsuch, to the small tight little pearmain and lemon pippin. We had nonpareils, golden pippins, brownand golden russets, Ribstone pippins, and what we called a port-wine apple—the flesh red, like that of the "blood-oranges." The small orchard to the right was as rich in cherry-trees, filberts, and cobnuts. In the garden we had a fig-tree, and the mulberry-tree, which is still there, was in full bearing in our time. The garden altogether was wonderfully prolific in flowers as well as fruits—roses as well as strawberries and apples; and the green-house was full of grapes. Nightingales sang in the trees near the house, and the shrubbery was full of song birds. We had a grand view from the leads, where we used sometimes to go, and whence I remember seeing a farmyard fire over at Higham—which fire they said had been caused by an incendiary. There was a Low Church clergyman in the neighbourhood who might have been Chadband or Stiggins. He was fond of some girls we knew, and called them his "lambs." He used to put his arm round their waists, and they sat on his knees quite naturally. I myself heard him preach at Shorne against the institution of pancakes on Shrove Tuesday. He said it was not only superstitious but irreligious; as pancakes meant "pan Kakon," all evil. This I, then a girl of thirteen or so, heard and remember. When my father died his property had to be sold, as he did not make an eldest son. Mr. W. H. Wills, the trusty friend of Charles Dickens, and editor ofHousehold WordsandAll The Year Round, was also a friend of mine. We met at a dinner, and he spoke to me about Gad's Hill, but as if he wanted to buy it for himself. He was afraid to mention Charles Dickens's name, lest we should ask too much. So he told me afterwards. I had been left executrix under my father's will, being thenthe only unmarried daughter; and I took the news to our solicitor and co-executor, Mr. Loaden. He wrote to Mr. Wills, and the sale was effected. We scored a little triumph over the "ornamental timber." Mr. Dickens objected to our price; the case was submitted to an arbitrator, and we got more than we originally asked. But there was never one moment of pique on either side, nor a drop of bad blood as the consequence. It was always a matter for a laugh and a joke between Mr. Wills and myself. When we first went to Gad's Hill there was a fish-pond at the back; but my father had it filled up, lest one of his adventurous little ones should tumble in. Officers used to come up from Chatham to the Falstaff, and have pigeon matches in our big field; and one of the sights which used to delight our young eyes, was the gallant bearing and gay uniforms of the Commandant at Chatham, when he and his staff rode by. We were great walkers in those days, and used to ramble over Cobham Park, and round by Shorne, and down to the dreary marshes beyond Higham. But this was not a favourite walk with us, and we girls never went there alone. The banks on the Rochester road—past Davies's Straits—were full of sweet violets, white and purple; and the fungi, lichens, flowers, and ferns about Shorne and Cobham yet linger in my memory as things of rarest beauty. We always thought that the coachman, "Old Chumley," as he was called, was old Weller. He was a fine, cheery, trustworthy man; and once when my father was in London, he had one of my sisters and myself—girls then about fifteen and thirteen—put under his charge to be delivered to him at the end of the journey. The dear old fellow took as much care of us as if he had been our fatherhimself. I remember my brothers gave him a new whip, and he was very fond of us all.
E. L. L.
* * * * * *
* * * We had at a subsequent visit to Gad's Hill Place, on the invitation of our hospitable friends, Major and Mrs. Budden, the pleasure of a long and interesting conversation with Mr. James Hulkes, J.P., of the Little Hermitage, Frindsbury, a Kentish man, who came to live here more than sixty years ago, and who was thus a very near neighbour of Charles Dickens during the whole of the time that he resided at Gad's Hill Place. We were shown into a delightful room at the back of the house, overlooking the shrubberies of the mansion—in the distance appearing the high ground on which stands the monument to Charles Larkin. The room is a happy combination of part workshop, with a fine lathe and assortment of tools fitted round it—part study, with a nice collection of books, engravings and pictures (some of hunting scenes) on the walls—and part naturalist's den, with cases of stuffed birds and animals, guns and fishing-rods—the fragrant odour of tobacco breathing friendly welcome to a visitor of smoking proclivities. The varied tastes of the owner were sufficiently apparent, and a long chat of over two hours seemed to us but a few minutes.
Mr. Hulkes said he just remembered the road from Strood to Gad's Hill being cut through the sands down to the chalk. It was for some time afterwards called "Davies's Straits," after the Rev. George Davies, the then Chairman of the Turnpike Road Board, and the term indicated the difficulty and expense of the operation. Before the new road was cut,the old highway constituting this part of the Dover Road was very hilly and dangerous.
Reverting to the subject of Charles Dickens, our relator remarked, "I fear I cannot be of much use to you by giving information about Mr. Dickens, as I only knew him as a kind friend, a very genial host, and a most charming companion; to the poor he was always kind—a deserving beggar never went from his house unrelieved." What indeed could be said more! These few simple words, spoken so earnestly after a period of nearly twenty years, sufficed to bring before us the lost neighbour whose memory was so warmly cherished by his surviving friend.
John Forster, in theLife, speaks of Mr. Hulkes as being "one of the two nearest country neighbours with whom the [Dickens] family had become very intimate," and mentions that both Mr. and Mrs. Hulkes were present at the wedding of the novelist's second daughter, Kate, with Mr. Charles Alston Collins. Mr. Hulkes spoke of the pleasant parties at Gad's Hill Place, at which he met Mr. Forster, Mr. Wilkie Collins, Mr. Percy Fitzgerald, Mr. Marcus Stone, Mr. H. F. Chorley, and many others; and observed that, on the occasion of charades and private theatricals there, Charles Dickens was always in fine form. He showed us an original manuscript programme (of which we were allowed to take a copy), written on half-a-sheet of foolscap; and from the fact that "Gads Hill GazettePrinting Office" appears in the corner it would seem that it was printed on the occasion for the guests. It is as follows:—
December 31st, 1863.
"A night's exploit on Gad's Hill."—Shakespeare.Her Majesty's Servantswill have the honour of presentingThree Charades!!!
Each Charade is a word of two syllables, arranged in three Scenes. The first scene is the first syllable; the second is the second syllable; the third scene is the entire word.
Each Charade is a word of two syllables, arranged in three Scenes. The first scene is the first syllable; the second is the second syllable; the third scene is the entire word.
(At the end of each Charade the audience is respectfully invited toname the word.)Charade 1!
Scene I.—The awful end of the Profligate Sailor.
Scene II.—On the way to foreign parts.
Scene III.—Miss Belinda Jane and the faithful policeman (Division Q).