Rambles in Dickens' Land

Emmanuel Church; Mr. Wemmick’s Wedding—Dulwich; Mr. Pickwick’s Retirement—Dulwich Church; Marriage of Snodgrass and Emily Wardle—Cobham—“The Leather Bottle;” Tracy Tupman’s Retreat—Mr. Pickwick’s Discovery—Chatham—Railway Street; Rome Lane Elementary School—The Brook; Residence of the Dickens Family—Clover Lane Academy; Rev. William Giles, Schoolmaster—Fort Pitt; Dr. Slammer’s Duelling-Ground; the Recreation Ground of Chatham—Star Hill; Old Rochester Theatre; Mr. Jingle’s Engagement—Rochester; Eastgate House; The Nuns’ House—Mr. Sapsea’s Residence—Restoration House; Residence of Miss Havisham, “Satis House”—[Joe Gargery’s Forge; Parish of Cooling]—The Monk’s Vineyard—Minor Canon Row—Rochester Cathedral; The Crypts—Durdles—The Cathedral Tower—St. Nicholas Church—The College Gate; John Jasper’s Lodging—Watts’s Charity; “The Seven Poor Travellers”—[Watts’s Almshouses]—Miss Adelaide Procter—The Bull Hotel; the Ball-room—The Crown Hotel; “The Crozier”—The Esplanade—Rochester Bridge; Richard Doubledick—Gadshill Place; Residence of Dickens—Gravesend; Embarkation of Mr. Peggotty and friends—Greenwich Park; “Sketches by Boz”—Church of St. Alphege; Bella Wilfer’s Marriage—Quartermaine’s Ship Tavern; “An Innocent Elopement;” The Rokesmith Wedding Dinner.

“We went towards Camberwell Green, and when we were thereabouts, Wemmick said suddenly, ‘Halloa!  Here’s a church!’  There was nothing very surprising in that; but again I was rather surprised when he said, as if he were animated by a brilliant idea, ‘Let’s go in!’  We went in and looked all round.  In the meantime Wemmick was diving into his coat pockets, and getting something out of paper there.  ‘Halloa!’ said he.  ‘Here’s a couple of pairs of gloves!  Let’s put ’em on!’  As the gloves were white kid gloves, I now began to have my strong suspicions.  They were strengthened into certainty, when I beheld the Aged enter at a side door, escorting a lady.  ‘Halloa!’ said Wemmick.  ‘Here’s Miss Skiffins!  Let’s have a wedding!’ . . .  True to his notion of seeming to do it all without preparation, I heard Wemmick say to himself, as he took something out of his waistcoat pocket before the service began, ‘Halloa!  Here’s a ring!’ . . .  ‘Now, Mr. Pip,’ said Wemmick triumphantly, as we came out, ‘let me ask you whether anybody would suppose this to be a wedding party.’”

The route being continued past Herne Hill Station, the train arrives at Dulwich, which we may recollect en passant as being the locality of Mr. Pickwick’s retirement, before the days of railway locomotion.  The house—a white, comfortable-looking residence—stands (left) near the station, as we approach, corresponding in style and position with its Pickwickian description.  Mr. Tupman, too, may have been met with in olden time, walking in the public promenades or loitering in the Dulwich Picture Gallery—“with a youthful and jaunty air”—still in the enjoyment of single blessedness, and the cynosure of the numerous elderly ladies of the neighbourhood.

“Nothing was to be heard but congratulations and commendations.  Everything was so beautiful!  The lawn in front, the garden behind, the miniature conservatory, the dining-room, the drawing-room, the bedrooms, the smoking-room; and, above all, the study—with its pictures and easy chairs, and odd cabinets and queer tables, and nooks out of number, with a large cheerful window opening upon a pleasant lawn, and commanding a pretty landscape, just dotted here and there with little houses, almost hidden by the trees.”

Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Weller and family—retainers in the Pickwickian establishment—also flourished aforetime in these arcadian groves, in faithful attendance on their illustrious patron.

The journey being resumed, we pass onwards (Crystal Palace on the right side of the railway) viâ Penge and Bromley, and several country towns beyond—a pleasant ride of about an hour’s duration—arriving in due course at Sole Street Station (30 miles from London), about a mile south-west from the village of Cobham.  A pleasant walk of twenty minutes on the high road will lead the wayfarer through Owlet to the pretty parish aforesaid; the rural retreat—famous in the annals of Pickwickian history—selected by Mr. Tracy Tupman for his retirement from the world, after his disappointment at the hands of Miss Rachael Wardle.

Resting here awhile, we may recall the “immortal discovery” made by Mr. Pickwick, “which has been the pride and boast of his friends and the envy of every antiquarian in this or any other country”—that famous stone found by the chairman of the Pickwick Club himself; “partially buried in the ground in front of a cottage door,” in this same village of Cobham, on which “the following fragment of an inscription was clearly to be deciphered”:—

The journey being resumed from Sole Street, we travel viâ Strood, ten miles, to the important station of

CHATHAM.

Mr. Pickwick’s description (taken from his note-book sixty years since) is a fairly correct view of the general appearance of Chatham at present:—

“The principal productions of these towns appear to be soldiers, sailors, Jews, chalk, shrimps, officers, and dockyardmen.  The commodities chiefly exposed for sale in the public streets are marine stores, hard-bake, apples, flat-fish, and oysters.  The streets present a lively and animated appearance, occasioned chiefly by the conviviality of the military.”

In this city five years of Dickens’s boyhood were passed.  Mr. Dickens, senior, was appointed in 1816 to a clerkship at the Naval Pay Office, in connection with the Royal Dockyard, and the Dickens family here resided till little Charles was nine years of age.

On arrival at the Chatham Station, we may enter the town on the right from the railway exit (north side of the line), shortly passing under an archway into Railway Street—formerly Rome Lane—in which was once situated the elementary school where the boy first attended, with his sister Fanny.  Revisiting Chatham in after years, Dickens found that it had been pulled down

“Ages before, but out of the distance of the ages, arose, nevertheless, a not dim impression that it had been over a dyer’s shop; that he went up steps to it; that he had frequently grazed his knees in doing so; and that in trying to scrape the mud off a very unsteady little shoe, he generally got his leg over the scraper.”

Regaining the High Street by Fair Row, and turning to the left for a short distance onwards, we reach, on the right hand of the street, past the Mitre Hotel, Clover Street, on the south side of which (at the corner of Richard Street) the Academy, with its playground behind, may still be seen.  Forster says:—

“Charles had himself a not ungrateful sense in after years, that this first of his masters, in his little-cared-for childhood, had pronounced him to be a boy of capacity; and when, about half-way through the publication of Pickwick, his old teacher sent a silver snuff-box with admiring inscription to ‘the inimitable Boz,’ it reminded him of praise far more precious obtained by him at his first year’s examination in the Clover Lane Academy.”

Returning to the New Road, the Rambler, passing St. Bartholomew’s Hospital (founded in the eleventh century) on the right, may proceed by Star Hill, in the outskirts of Rochester.  On the south side (left) of the descent there may be noted en passant the new building of the Rochester Conservative Club, which stands on the site of The Old Theatre.  Here the versatile Mr. Jingle and his melancholic friend, “elegantly designated Dismal Jemmy,” were engaged to perform “in the piece that the Officers of the Fifty-second” got up, when Mr. Pickwick commenced his travels, May 1827.

The theatre was demolished December 1884.

Continuing the route, we soon arrive at the central street of the old City of

ROCHESTER.

This place will be interesting to readers of Dickens for its several associations with his books, including “Pickwick,” “Great Expectations,” “The Seven Poor Travellers,” and “The Mystery of Edwin Drood,” his latest and uncompleted work.  In chapter 3 of this last-mentioned tale is the following description:—

“Mr. Sapsea ‘dresses at’ the Dean; has been bowed to for the Dean, in mistake; has even been spoken to in the street as My Lord, under the impression that he was the Bishop come down unexpectedly, without his chaplain.  Mr. Sapsea is very proud of this, and of his voice, and of his style.  He has even (in selling landed property) tried the experiment of slightly intoning in his pulpit, to make himself more like what he takes to be the genuine ecclesiastical article.  So, in ending a Sale by Public Auction, Mr. Sapsea finishes off with an air of bestowing a benediction on the assembled brokers, which leaves the real Dean—a modest and worthy gentleman—far behind.”

Much of the humorous element of the tale is connected with this character.  According to local tradition, Mr. S. is supposed to be a combination of two well-known townsmen, formerly resident in Rochester; a councilman who lived at the above address, and an auctioneer, once mayor of the city, over whose door the pulpit spoken of in “Edwin Drood” could have been seen—

“Over the doorway is a wooden effigy, about half life-size, representing Mr. Sapsea’s father, in a curly wig and toga, in the act of selling.  The chastity of the idea, and the natural appearance of the little figure, hammer, and pulpit, have been much admired.”

Both the aforesaid local prototypes have departed this life some time since, and the premises have been occupied by others (equally competent, but less pretentious) of that ilk.

“I set off on the four-mile walk to our forge, pondering, as I went along, on all I had seen, and deeply revolving that I was a common labouring-boy: that my hands were coarse; that my boots were thick; that I had fallen into a despicable habit of calling knaves Jacks; that I was much more ignorant than I had considered myself last night, and generally that I was in a low-lived bad way.”

[Joe Gargery’s Forge and wooden house were in the little village of Cooling, six miles north of Rochester.  The greater part of the parish is marsh-land, extending to the Thames.  Mr. Forster recalls, in his biography, the occasion when he and his friend stood on the spot; Dickens saying that “he meant to make it the scene of the opening of his story—Cooling Castle ruins, and the desolate church lying out among the marshes, seven miles from Gadshill.”  Here it was that Pip met the convict Magwitch—by secret appointment—and supplied him with “wittles” and a file, thus materially influencing his own future fortunes.]

Turning to the left, we reach the Promenade and Recreation Ground, called “The Vines,” an open space of more than three acres, formerly the vinery of the ancient Priory.  It is referred to in “Edwin Drood,” chapter 14, as the Monk’s Vineyard, in which, near a wicket-gate in a corner, Edwin met the old woman from the opium-smoking den in the East end of London, from whom he received warning of a threatened danger.  This is the last occasion that we read of Edwin Drood previous to his mysterious disappearance—

“The woman’s words are in the rising wind, in the angry sky, in the troubled water, in the flickering lights.  There is some solemn echo of them even in the Cathedral chime, which strikes a sudden surprise to his heart as he turns in under the archway of the Gate house.  And so he goes up the postern stair.”

“Minor Canon Corner was a quiet place in the shadow of the Cathedral, which the cawing of the rooks, the echoing footsteps of rare passers, the sound of the Cathedral bell, or the roll of the Cathedral organ, seemed to render more quiet than absolute silence. . . .  Red-brick walls harmoniously toned down in colour by time, strong-rooted ivy, latticed windows, panelled rooms, big oaken beams in little places, and stone-walled gardens where annual fruit yet ripened upon monkish trees, were the principal surroundings of pretty old Mrs. Crisparkle and the Reverend Septimus as they sat at breakfast.”

Immediately north of this position stands the old Cathedral of Rochester, with its “well-known massive grey square tower,” in which, we may remember, the respected Mr. John Jasper was engaged as Lay Precentor; with the reputation of being devoted to his art, and “having done such wonders with the choir.”  In the interior, on the wall of the south-west transept, is a quaint monument to the memory of Richard Watts, a prominent townsman to whom further reference will be made.  Underneath this is placed a brass memorial-tablet, inscribed—

“Charles Dickens.—Born at Portsmouth, seventh of February 1812.  Died at Gadshill Place, by Rochester, ninth of June 1870.  Buried in Westminster Abbey.  To connect his memory with the scenes in which his earliest and his latest years were passed, and with the associations of Rochester Cathedral and its neighbourhood, which extended over all his life, this tablet, with the sanction of the Dean and Chapter, is placed by his executors.”

The author’s latest suggestive sketch, in association with this ancient fane, may be here suitably recalled:—

The Crypts below contain the “buried magnates of ancient time and high degree,” with whom Durdles, the stonemason, was on terms of intimate familiarity—

“In the demolition of impedimental fragments of wall, buttress, and pavement he has seen strange sights. . . .  Thus he will say, ‘Durdles come upon the old chap, by striking right into the coffin with his pick.  The old chap gave Durdles a look with his open eyes, as much as to say, Is your name Durdles?  Why, my man, I’ve been waiting for you a Devil of a time!’ And then he turned to powder.  With a two-foot rule always in his pocket, and a mason’s hammer all but always in his hand, Durdles goes continually sounding, and tapping all about and about the Cathedral; and whenever he says to Tope, ‘Tope, here’s another old ’un in here,’ Tope announces it to the Dean as an established discovery.”

It is believed that the prototype of this character was an old German working stonemason, who lived at Rochester many years since.  He employed himself by carving various grotesque figures out of odd fragments of soft stone found in the Cathedral crypt, which he begged for the purpose; and it is recollected that he was accustomed to carry these articles of vertu about the town, tied up in a coloured handkerchief; also that, whenever he succeeded in effecting a sale, he immediately celebrated the transaction by getting very tipsy.  He lodged at a public-house named “The Fortune of War,” now known as “The Lifeboat.”

Chapter 12, headed “A Night with Durdles,” contains a description of the ascent of the Cathedral Tower, to the following effect:—

Before leaving the Cathedral precincts, on the north side we soon pass St. Nicholas Church, and may note its pleasant little graveyard—“where daisies blossom on the verdant sod”—lying near the old walls of the Castle and its contiguous gardens.  It is said that this is the spot which Dickens himself would have preferred as his last resting-place.

We now approach the High Street by The College Gate (facing Pump Lane), an old gatehouse with archway, having two exterior doors, standing angle-wise in the street, with a small postern at the back of the gate.  The house, now occupied by the assistant verger, is a gabled wooden structure of two storeys, built over the stone gateway beneath.  Students of Dickens will remember that this was the residence of Mr. Tope, “chief verger and showman” of the Cathedral, with whom lodged Mr. John Jasper, the uncle of Edwin Drood.  It is first referred to in the 2nd chapter of the book: “an old stone gatehouse crossing the Close, with an arched thoroughfare passing beneath it,” decorated by “pendant masses of ivy and creeper covering the building’s front.”  Here Mr. Jasper entertained his nephew and his nephew’s friend; and we also read of Mr. Grewgious climbing “the postern stair.”  On this latter occasion the old lawyer called on Mr. Jasper, visiting Cloisterham in preparation for their formal release as trustees on Edwin’s attaining his majority.

Watts’s Charity, the Travellers’ Rest aforesaid, is associated with the Christmas Number of Household Words (1854), entitled “The Seven Poor Travellers;” in which the inscription over the quaint old door is reproduced as follows:—

RICHARD WATTS, ESQ.,
by his will dated 22 August 1579,
founded this charity
for six poor travellers,
Who not being Rogues, or Proctors
may receive gratis for one night,
Lodging, Entertainment,
and four-pence each.

The entertainment herein specified comprises for each traveller, a supper of half a pound of freshly-cooked meat, one pound of bread, and a half-pint of beer, which is given in addition to the stated fourpence payable in the morning.

We are doubtless familiar with the Christmas Eve entertainment here provided by the narrator of “The Seven Poor Travellers,” as above:—

“It was settled that at nine o’clock that night a Turkey and a piece of Roast Beef should smoke upon the board, and that I, faint and unworthy minister for once of Master Richard Watts, should preside as the Christmas-supper host of the six Poor Travellers.”

And we must all have a vivid recollection of the processional order of supply on that festive opportunity:—

After hearty discussion of the orthodox plum-pudding and mince-pies which crowned the feast, the company drew round the fire, and the “brown beauty” of the host—the pitcher, carried first in the procession—was elevated to the table.  It proved to be “a glorious jorum” of hot Wassail, prepared from the chairman’s special and private receipt, the materials of which, “together with their proportions and combinations,” he declines to impart.  Glasses being filled therefrom, the toast of the evening was duly and reverently honoured: “Christmas!  Christmas Eve, my friends; when the Shepherds, who were poor travellers too, in their way, heard the angels sing, ‘On earth peace.  Goodwill toward men!’”

Another Dickensian association with this Rochester Charity may be quoted in connection with Miss Adelaide Procter.  During ’54 this lady had been a valued contributor to Household Words, under the assumed name of “Berwick,” and some speculation arose in the editorial department as to the real personality of the writer.  The nom de plume being, in course of time, relinquished, and the secret told, Mr. Dickens sent a letter of congratulation and appreciation to the young authoress—dated December 17th, 1854—which thus concluded: “Pray accept the blessing and forgiveness of Richard Watts, though I am afraid you come under both his conditions of exclusion.”

Retracing the High Street route, we again pass the Gate-house of the Cathedral Close, and come, immediately on the left, to the noted Bull Hotel, a commodious establishment of ancient and respectable repute, and the principal posting-house of the town.  This is the celebrated hostelry at which the Pickwickians sojourned on the occasion of their first visit to Rochester, per “Commodore” coach from London.  In the large assembly-room upstairs—“a long room, with crimson-covered benches, and wax candles in glass chandeliers, with the musicians securely confined in an elevated den”—the memorable Ball took place, on the evening of their arrival, which was attended by Mr. Tupman and his seductive friend Jingle; the latter affording some information as to the exclusive character of Rochester society:—

“‘Wait a minute,’ said the stranger, ‘fun presently—nobs not come yet—queer place.  Dockyard people of upper rank don’t know Dockyard people of lower rank.  Dockyard people of lower rank don’t know small gentry—small gentry don’t know tradespeople—Commissioner don’t know anybody.’”

The hotel has a frontage of about 90 feet, with wide pillared gateway, and extensive stabling at the back.  Proceeding past the Guildhall on the right, towards the end of the street, facing Rochester Bridge, we arrive at The Crown Hotel, pleasantly situated at the corner of the Esplanade and High Street, one side of the house facing the Medway; a white-brick edifice lately rebuilt.  It is referred to in chapter 18 of “Edwin Drood” as “The Crozier,” the orthodox hotel at which Mr. Datchery took up his temporary abode, previous to settling in Cloisterham as “a single buffer—an idle dog who lived upon his means.”  Other visitors to Rochester may advantageously imitate Mr. Datchery’s example, the position and conduct of the house being alike excellent.

Round the corner to the left, commences The Esplanade, extending under the castle walls, and along the bank of the river for a considerable distance.  This promenade is mentioned in the 13th chapter of “Edwin Drood,” being the scene of the last interview between Edwin and Rosa, when they mutually agreed to cancel the irksome bond between them—

“They walked on by the river.  They began to speak of their separate plans.  He would quicken his departure from England, and she would remain where she was, at least as long as Helena remained.  The poor dear girls should have their disappointment broken to them gently, and, as the first preliminary, Miss Twinkleton should be confided in by Rosa, even in advance of the reappearance of Mr. Grewgious.  It should be made clear in all quarters that she and Edwin were the best of friends.  There had never been so serene an understanding between them since they were first affianced.”

“Into the Land of the Great Departed,
Into the Silent Land.”

An interval being allowed for refreshments at the Falstaff Inn, à discrétion, we may resume the road onwards to the nearest station of Higham—about a mile distant—whence the South-Eastern Railway may be taken for the homeward journey.  At five miles’ distance we reach Gravesend, which is situated at the foot of the hills, extending for some two miles on the south side of the Thames.  This town is the boundary of the port of London, at which many outward and homeward bound vessels on foreign service receive or discharge their passengers and freight.  As we pass this station we may remember that in chapter 57 of “David Copperfield,” Gravesend is referred to as the starting-point of Mr. Peggotty and his niece, emigrating to Australia, and accompanied by Martha, Mrs. Gummidge, and the Micawber family.  The parting with his friends David describes as follows:—

Continuing the homeward journey by South-Eastern Railway, the Rambler will arrive in due course at the station of Greenwich, eighteen miles from Gravesend.  Here alighting, a short walk eastward, on the south side of the line—through London Street, turning right by end of Church Street—will lead us to the entrance of Greenwich Park.  This well-known place of popular resort was referred to by Dickens in his first contributions to the Evening Chronicle, 1835, which were afterwards collected under the name of “Sketches by Boz.”  The sketch is entitled “Greenwich Fair,” and gives descriptions of the doings in the park at that festival, as holden aforetime in this locality—

“The principal amusement is to drag young ladies up the steep hill which leads to the Observatory, and then drag them down again at the very top of their speed, greatly to the derangement of their curls and bonnet-caps, and much to the edification of lookers-on from below.”

From the Park entrance we may now proceed towards the river by Church Street, on the left hand of which, past London Street, stands the Church of St. Alphege, a handsome edifice in classic style.  The happy wedding of Bella Wilfer and John Rokesmith, otherwise Harmon, here took place, in the presence of a “gruff and glum old pensioner” from the neighbouring hospital, with two wooden legs.  We may also recall the circumstance of Mr. and Mrs. Boffin’s attendance, that worthy couple being hid away near the church organ.

Leaving Greenwich, a short ride of twenty minutes (six miles), following the course of the river, will bring us to the Charing Cross Terminus, in central London.

Route by London, Chatham and Dover Railway, viâ Sittingbourne and Faversham to Canterbury; The Queen’s Head Inn, “the little hotel” patronised by the Micawbers—By Mercery Lane and Christ Church Gate to Cathedral Close for King’s School, the Establishment at which David Copperfield was educated—Dr. Strong’s House—The Fleur de Lys Hotel; Mr. Dick’s stopping-place at Canterbury—The George and Dragon Inn; the old London Coach Office—Palace Street and Church of St. Alphege; the scene of Dr. Strong’s marriage to Miss Annie Markleham—No. 65 North Lane, the “’umble dwelling” of Uriah Heep, afterwards the residence of the Micawber Family—71 St. Dunstan Street; Mr. Wickfield’s house, and Home of Agnes—Canterbury to Dover—Corner of Church and Castle Streets, Market Place; David’s resting-place—Priory Hill, Stanley Mount; Miss Betsy Trotwood’s Residence—“The King’s Head”; Mr. Lorry, Lucie Manette, and Miss Pross—The Staplehurst Disaster—Postscript to “Our Mutual Friend.”

The excursion proposed in Ramble VI. to Chatham, Rochester, Gadshill, etc. (see page 82), could be advantageously extended to include Canterbury and Dover, for visiting the localities in these towns associated with the history of David Copperfield.

Beyond Chatham the journey is continued on the London, Chatham and Dover Railway, by three minor stations to Sittingbourne, formerly a favourite resting-place for pilgrims (as its name would seem to indicate) en route for Canterbury; but the modern mode of travel only now necessitates a halt of twenty minutes.  Passing Teynsham and Faversham, the train proceeds by the intermediate station of Selling, to the fair old city of

CANTERBURY,

Proceeding from the station towards the Cathedral, by Castle Street, we reach the old Roman road of Watling Street (extending from Chester to Dover), at the south corner of which (right), and facing St. Margaret Street, stands the “Queen’s Head Inn.”  This is “the little hotel” patronised by Mr. and Mrs. Micawber on the occasion of their first visit to Canterbury, as related in chapter 17 of “David Copperfield”—“Somebody turns up.”

“It was a little inn where Mr. Micawber put up, and he occupied a little room in it, partitioned off from the commercial room, and strongly flavoured with tobacco smoke.  I think it was over the kitchen, because a warm greasy smell appeared to come up through the chinks in the floor, and there was a flabby perspiration on the walls.  I know it was near the bar, on account of the smell of spirits and jingling of glasses.  Here, recumbent on a small sofa, underneath a picture of a race-horse, with her head close to the fire, and her feet pushing the mustard off the dumb-waiter at the other end of the room, was Mrs. Micawber, to whom Mr. Micawber entered first, saying, ‘My dear, allow me to introduce to you a pupil of Dr. Strong’s.’”

It will be remembered that the amiable lady thus referred to, here confidentially explained to David the reason of their visit to this part of the country—

“‘Mr. Micawber was induced to think, on inquiry, that there might be an opening for a man of his talent in the Medway Coal Trade.  Then, as Mr. Micawber very properly said, the first step to be taken clearly was to come and see the Medway; which we came and saw.  I say ‘we,’ Master Copperfield, ‘for I never will,’ said Mrs. Micawber with emotion, ‘I never will desert Mr. Micawber. . . .  Being so near here, Mr. Micawber was of opinion that it would be rash not to come on and see the Cathedral—firstly, on account of its being so well worth seeing, and our never having seen it; and, secondly, on account of the great probability of something turning up in a cathedral town.’”

“We had a beautiful little dinner.  Quite an elegant dish of fish; the kidney-end of a loin of veal, roasted; fried sausage-meat; a partridge, and a pudding.  There was wine, and there was strong ale; and after dinner Mrs. Micawber made us a bowl of hot punch with her own hands.  Mr. Micawber was uncommonly convivial.  I never saw him such good company.  He made his face shine with the punch, so that it looked as if it had been varnished all over.  He got cheerfully sentimental about the town, and proposed success to it, observing that Mrs. Micawber and himself had been made extremely snug and comfortable there, and that he never should forget the agreeable hours they had passed in Canterbury.”

Later on there is recorded in the Copperfield autobiography (chapter 42) how David, accompanied by his aunt and friends—Messrs. Dick and Traddles—sojourned for the night at this same hotel.  They had arrived at Canterbury by the Dover Mail, as desired by Mr. Micawber, in readiness to assist the next day at the memorable “Explosion” which resulted in the final discomfiture of Uriah Heep, “the Forger and the Cheat”—

“At the hotel where Mr. Micawber had requested us to await him, which we got into, with some trouble, in the middle of the night, I found a letter, importing that he would appear in the morning punctually at half-past nine.  After which, we went shivering at that uncomfortable hour to our respective beds, through various close passages, which smelt as if they had been steeped for ages in a solution of soup and stables.”

Following the course of St. Margaret Street northward, and passing (left) the old Church of St. Margaret—recently restored by Sir Gilbert Scott—we soon arrive at the central main thoroughfare, which here divides the town, extending from St. Dunstan’s Church (west) to the New Dover Road, leaving Canterbury on the east.

Turning to the right within the Close, and passing the secluded residences of several “grave and reverend seigniors,” we may find, on the farther side, King’s School, an educational establishment of good repute and old foundation, pleasantly and quietly situated.  The school is supervised by certain “worthy and approved good masters,” successors to the amiable Doctor Strong and assistants, under whose careful tutorship David Copper-field was educated after his adoption by Miss Betsy Trotwood.  In the commencement of chapter 16 of his autobiography, David thus describes the place:—

“Next morning, after breakfast, I entered on school life again.  I went, accompanied by Mr. Wickfield, to the scene of my future studies—a grave building in a courtyard, with a learned air about it that seemed very well suited to the stray rooks and jackdaws who came down from the Cathedral towers to walk with a clerkly bearing on the grass-plot—and was introduced to my new master, Doctor Strong.”

Doctor Strong’s Private Residence—at which “some of the higher scholars boarded”—is an antiquated house, situated at the corner of Lady’s Green (No. 1), at a short distance eastward.  Here David was a frequent visitor, learning particulars of the Doctor’s history, and becoming intimate with the various personages therewith connected.  Pleasant reminiscences of the doings and sayings of Mrs. Markleham—“the Old Soldier” (so called by the boys “on account of her generalship, and the skill with which she marshalled great forces of relations against the Doctor”)—the tender associations which cluster round the story of Annie, the good doctor’s true-hearted wife; with a casual recollection of the family cousin—Mr. Jack Maldon—(no better than he should be)—may combine to enhance the interest of a visit to this old-fashioned but comfortable home.

“I worship the eldest Miss Larkins.  The eldest Miss Larkins is not a little girl.  She is a tall, dark, black-eyed, fine figure of a woman.  The eldest Miss Larkins is not a chicken, for the youngest Miss Larkins is not that, and the eldest must be three or four years older.  Perhaps the eldest Miss Larkins may be about thirty.  My passion for her is beyond all bounds. . . .  Everything that belongs to her, or is connected with her, is precious to me.  Mr. Larkins (a gruff old gentleman with a double chin, and one of his eyes immovable in his head) is fraught with interest to me. . . .  I regularly take walks outside Mr. Larkins’s house in the evening, though it cuts me to the heart to see the officers go in, or to hear them up in the drawing-room, where the eldest Miss Larkins plays the harp.  I even walk, on two or three occasions, in a sickly spooney manner, round and round the house after the family are gone to bed, wondering which is the eldest Miss Larkins’s chamber (and pitching, I dare say now, on Mr. Larkins’s instead), wishing that a fire would burst out; that the assembled crowd would stand appalled; that I, dashing through them with a ladder, might rear it against her window, save her in my arms, go back for something she had left behind, and perish in the flames.”

The Drawing-Room here mentioned is situated above the old Monastery Gate, between the two towers which stand on either side.  We may recollect it was here that David, having received an invitation to a private ball given at the Larkins’s, enjoyed his first dance with “his dear divinity;” afterwards being introduced to Mr. Chestle, a hop-grower from the neighbourhood of Ashford, “a friend of the family,” and—alas for David!—the future husband of the eldest Miss Larkins—

Proceeding westward, we pass along the opposite roadway which faces the house above referred to, by Church Street St. Paul, and Burgate Street, to the Old Cathedral entrance.

As the Rambler returns, again traversing Mercery Lane, there may be noted on the left—No. 14—a respectable Butcher’s Shop, now in the keeping of Mr. Cornes.  It is evident from its position, near Christ Church Gate, that this was the establishment where flourished, in days of yore, that obnoxious “young butcher” who was “the terror of the youth of Canterbury,” and the especial enemy of the pupils at King’s School.  In chapter 18—“A Retrospect”—Copperfield writes as follows:—

But a few years afterwards David—ætat. 17—becomes a better match for his opponent; and we read in the same chapter how—after his youthful disappointment in re “the eldest Miss Larkins”—having received new provocation from the butcher, he goes out to battle a second time, and gloriously defeats him.

Turning again on the right into the main central thoroughfare, we may find, on the south side, the Fleur de Lys Hotel—34 High Street.  A well-appointed and respectable establishment, at which, in the time of Copperfield’s school-days, Mr. Dick was in the habit of stopping every alternate Wednesday, arriving from Dover by the stage-coach on his special fortnightly visits to David.  We read that

“These Wednesdays were the happiest days of Mr. Dick’s life; they were far from being the least happy of mine.  He soon became known to every boy in the school, and though he never took an active part in any game but kite-flying, was as deeply interested in all our sports as any one among us.”

On the opposite (north) side of the road stands the old-fashioned George and Dragon Inn—No. 18 High Street.  In the days of Copperfield, the London and Dover Coach, passing en route through Canterbury, stopped here for change of horses.  At this inn, therefore, was the “Coach Office,” referred to in chapter 17 as being the place of arrival and departure of Mr. Dick, as aforesaid.  This London Coach is also mentioned in the closing paragraph of the same chapter, David being on his way to offer Micawber a soothing word of comfort in reply to a dismal letter just received from that “Beggared Outcast”—

Turning on the right (northward) from High Street, by a short intermediate road, the Rambler approaches Palace Street, on the east side of which, near the western end of the Cathedral, stands the Church of St. Alphege.  This edifice was casually referred to by the “Old Soldier,” Mrs. Markleham, as the church where the marriage of her daughter Annie with the worthy Dr. Strong was solemnised.  The reference occurs, by way of interruption on the part of Mrs. M., during a very touching conference between the doctor and his wife, as related in “Copperfield,” chapter 45—“Mr. Dick fulfils my aunt’s predictions.”

Passing onwards through St. Peter’s Street to Westgate Street, crossing the western branch of the river, we come by a turning on the right to North Lane, in which is situated the former Residence of Uriah Heep.  It is a small two-storeyed house with plastered front, on the right side, near the entrance of the lane—No. 65; the “’umble dwelling” to which David was introduced as described in chapter 17 of his history—

“We entered a low, old-fashioned room, walked straight into from the street, and found there Mrs. Heep, who was the dead image of Uriah, only short. . . .  It was a perfectly decent room, half parlour and half kitchen, but not at all a snug room.  The tea things were set upon the table, and the kettle was boiling on the hob.  There was a chest of drawers with an escritoire top, for Uriah to read or write at of an evening; there was Uriah’s blue bag lying down and vomiting papers; there was a company of Uriah’s books commanded by Mr. Tidd; there was a corner cupboard, and there were the usual articles of furniture.  I don’t remember that any individual object had a bare, pinched, spare look, but I do remember that the whole place had.”

“At length we stopped before a very old house, bulging out over the road; a house with long low lattice windows bulging out still farther, and beams with carved heads on the ends, bulging out too, so that I fancied the whole house was leaning forward, trying to see who was passing on the narrow pavement below.  It was quite spotless in its cleanliness.  The old-fashioned brass knocker on the low arched door, ornamented with carved garlands of fruit and flowers, twinkled like a star; the two stone steps descending to the door were as white as if they had been covered with fair linen; and all the angles and corners and carvings and mouldings, and quaint little panes of glass, and quainter little windows, though as old as the hills, were as pure as any snow that ever fell upon the hills.”

This house does not answer in every respect to the full description as contained in the book.  The “little round tower that formed one side of the house”—containing Uriah Heep’s circular office—being wanting to complete; but we may readily imagine that this existed, some sixty years’ since, at the western side, in the space now occupied by some gates and a roof of more modern erection.  This residence must certainly be located in the main London road, as David—referring, at the close of chapter 15, as above, to his recent pedestrian journey from the Metropolis to Dover—speaks of his “coming through that old city and passing that very house he lived in, without knowing it.”