book 3, end of chapter 9)—
“O, boofer lady, fascinating boofer lady! If I were but legally executor of Johnny’s will. If I had but the right to pay your legacy and take your receipt! Something to this purpose surely mingled with the blast of the train as it cleared the stations, all knowingly shutting up their green eyes and opening their red ones when they prepared to let the boofer lady pass.”
RAMBLE IX _By Great Eastern Route from London to Yarmouth_
Liverpool Street Station—Epping Forest—Buckhurst Hill—Chigwell Village—Chigwell Churchyard; Resting-Place of Barnaby Rudge and his Mother—“Grip” the Raven—The “King’s Head Inn”—“The Maypole”—Mr. Cattermole’s Frontispiece—The Bar—The Landlord, John Willett—Dolly Varden—The Visit of the Varden Family—The Warren; Residence of Mr. Haredale and his Niece—By Main Line to Ipswich—The Great White Horse Hotel in Tavern Street—The Apartment of the Middle-Aged Lady—Mr. Pickwick’s Misadventure—St. Clement’s Church—Job Trotter—The Green Gate, Residence of G. Nupkins, Esq.—Mary the Pretty Housemaid—Sam Weller’s First Love—Ipswich to Great Yarmouth—Mr. Peggotty’s Boat-house—Home of Little Emily—The Two London Coaches—The “Angel Hotel”—David’s Dinner in the Coffee-Room—The Friendly Waiter—The “Star Hotel”—Headquarters of Copperfield and Steerforth—Miss Mowcher’s First Introduction—Unlocalised Sites—Blundeston—Blunderstone Rookery—Early Childhood of Copperfield—Somerleyton Park.
A pleasant drive from London to Chigwell is described in chapter 19 of “Barnaby Rudge,” and may be still taken about twelve miles by road, starting from Whitechapel Church _viâ_ Mile-End and Bow, thence crossing the River Lea, and proceeding, in the county of Essex, by way of _Stratford_, _Leytonstone_, _Snaresbrook_, and _Wilcox Green_. But time will be saved by adopting a convenient train, leaving Liverpool Street Station (Great Eastern Railway) for _Buckhurst Hill_—on the Ongar Branch Line—in the neighbourhood of Epping Forest, a district formerly preserved by the old monarchs of Merrie England for the enjoyment of field sports and the pleasures of the chase.
From this point a country walk (under two miles), turning eastward, and to the left after crossing the long intervening bridge, will lead in due course to the main road at Chigwell. Coming into the village we pass, at the corner on the right, Chigwell Church, surrounded by its quiet churchyard. This locality will be remembered as having afforded a resting-place to Barnaby and his mother after their visit to Mr. Haredale at _The Warren_ (chapter 25). “In the churchyard they sat down to take their frugal dinner”—Grip, the raven, being one of the party—“walking up and down when he had dined with an air of elderly complacency, which was strongly suggestive of his having his hands under his coat tails, and appearing to read the tombstones with a very critical taste.” On the other side of the main road, a very little way onward (left), stands the old King’s Head Inn, the original “local habitation,” if not “the name,” of the ancient hostelry so intimately associated with the central and domestic interests of the aforesaid historical novel, and known to us therein as The Maypole, “an old building with more gable ends than a lazy man would care to count on a sunny day; its windows, old diamond pane lattices; its floors sunken and uneven; its ceilings blackened by the hand of time, and heavy with massive beams; with its overhanging storeys, drowsy little panes of glass, and front bulging out and projecting over the pathway.”
[Picture: The “King’s Head,” Chigwell]
This description is appropriate to the house as it stands at present, a fine old specimen of the timbered architecture of bygone centuries; but it may be remarked that THE ILLUSTRATION drawn by Cattermole, which forms the frontispiece in the recent editions of “Barnaby Rudge,” is altogether beside the mark; for the designer has furnished therein, an elaborate and ornate picture of the old inn which does not correspond with fact, but rather remains in evidence of the beauty and exuberance of his artistic imagination. Here, then, we may recall the visit of Mr. and Mrs. Varden, accompanied by their daughter, the charming Dolly, “the very pink and pattern of good looks, in a smart little cherry-coloured mantle, with a hood of the same drawn over her head, and, upon the top of that hood, a little straw hat, trimmed with cherry-coloured ribbons, and worn the merest trifle on one side—just enough, in short, to make it the wickedest and most provoking head-dress that ever malicious milliner devised.”
In the same connection The “Bar” of the old “Maypole,” the preparation for dinner, and the kitchen are thus described:—
“All bars are snug places, but the Maypole’s was the very snuggest, cosiest, and completest bar that ever the wit of man devised. Such amazing bottles in old oaken pigeon-holes; such gleaming tankards dangling from pegs at about the same inclination as thirsty men would hold them to their lips; such sturdy little Dutch kegs ranged in rows on shelves; so many lemons hanging in separate nets, and forming the fragrant grove already mentioned in this chronicle, suggestive, with goodly loaves of snowy sugar stowed away hard by, of punch, idealised beyond all mortal knowledge; such closets, such presses, such drawers full of pipes, such places for putting things away in hollow window seats, all crammed to the throat with eatables, drinkables, or savoury condiments; lastly, and to crown all, as typical of the immense resources of the establishment, and its defiances to all visitors to cut and come again, such a stupendous cheese!
“It is a poor heart that never rejoices—it must have been the poorest, weakest, and most watery heart that ever beat which would not have warmed towards the Maypole bar. Mrs. Varden’s did directly. She could no more have reproached John Willet among those household gods, the kegs and bottles, lemons, pipes, and cheese, than she could have stabbed him with his own bright carving-knife. The order for dinner too—it might have soothed a savage. ‘A bit of fish,’ said John to the cook, ‘and some lamb chops (breaded, with plenty of ketchup), and a good salad, and a roast spring chicken, with a dish of sausages and mashed potatoes, or something of that sort.’ Something of that sort! The resources of these inns! To talk carelessly about dishes which in themselves were a first-rate holiday kind of dinner, suitable to one’s wedding-day, as something of that sort, meaning, if you can’t get a spring chicken, any other trifle in the way of poultry will do—such as a peacock, perhaps! The kitchen, too, with its great broad cavernous chimney; the kitchen, where nothing in the way of cookery seemed impossible; where you could believe in anything to eat they chose to tell you of. Mrs. Varden returned from the contemplation of these wonders to the bar again, with a head quite dizzy and bewildered. Her housekeeping capacity was not large enough to comprehend them. She was obliged to go to sleep. Waking was pain, in the midst of such immensity.”
The Warren, residence of Mr. Haredale and his niece, an old red-brick house, standing in its own grounds, was situated about a mile eastward from the Maypole, and was thence accessible by a path across the fields, from the garden exit of the inn, to its position on the border of Hainault Forest. (See final paragraph of chapter 19, “Barnaby Rudge.”) From many suggestions in the book, it occupied, in all probability, the site of _Forest House_, not a great distance from Chigwell Row; but of this no certainty exists.
* * * * *
CHIGWELL TO IPSWICH. It will be best to return from _Buckhurst Hill_ by rail to Stratford or Liverpool Street, in order to travel by fast main line train, to the good old town of Ipswich, our next destination. The journey—_viâ_ Chelmsford and Colchester—will occupy about two hours, during which we may recall the memorable occasion of Mr. Pickwick’s excursion per coach from the “Bull Inn,” Whitechapel, to this ancient capital of Suffolk, attended by the faithful Sam, Mr. Weller, senior, driving, and beguiling the tediousness of the way with conversation of considerable interest—“possessing the inestimable charm of blending amusement with instruction.” Full details will be found on reference to the “Pickwick Papers,” chapter 22, together with the account of Mr. P.’s introduction to his fellow-traveller, Mr. Peter Magnus, “a red-haired man, with an inquisitive nose and blue spectacles.” On arrival at the station at Ipswich, the wayfarer, crossing by bridge over the _Gipping_ river, may proceed straight onwards through _Princes Street_ (five minutes) to _Tavern Street_. Turning to the right, along this thoroughfare, he will soon see the Great White Horse Hotel, on the left side of Tavern Street. Tramcars from the station pass the hotel; also omnibus meets all trains. Telegraphic address—Pickwick, Ipswich. In the chapter before referred to is contained the following description:—
“In the main street of Ipswich, on the left-hand side of the way, a short distance after you have passed through the open space fronting the Town Hall, stands an inn, known far and wide by the appellation of the Great White Horse, rendered the more conspicuous by a stone statue of some rapacious animal with flowing mane and tail, distinctly resembling an insane cart-horse, which is elevated above the principal door. The Great White Horse is famous in the neighbourhood in the same degree as a prize ox, or county paper-chronicled turnip, or unwieldy pig—for its enormous size. Never were such labyrinths of uncarpeted passages, such clusters of mouldy, ill-lighted rooms, such huge numbers of small dens for eating or sleeping in beneath one roof, as are collected together within the four walls of the Great White Horse at Ipswich.”
[Picture: The “Great White Horse,” Ipswich]
The Dickensian Rambler will well remember this hotel as the scene of Mr. Pickwick’s “romantic adventure with a middle-aged lady in yellow curl-papers,” related _in extenso_ in the same chapter as above. Information as to the exact bedroom allotted to Mr. Pickwick on the occasion of his visit to this place is, unfortunately, not afforded by local tradition; but the apartment occupied by “Miss Witherfield,” whose privacy Mr. P. inadvertently, but so unhappily, invaded, is indicated to visitors on the second floor—No. 36, according to recent rearrangement of enumeration, formerly known as No. 6.
Poor Mr. Pickwick, on his escape from his awkward predicament, was unable to find his own room, but was at last rescued from his dilemma by his faithful servitor—
“After groping his way a few paces down the passage, and, to his infinite alarm, stumbling over several pairs of boots in so doing, Mr. Pickwick crouched into a little recess in the wall, to wait for morning as philosophically as he might.
“He was not destined, however, to undergo this additional trial of patience; for he had not been long ensconced in his present concealment when, to his unspeakable horror, a man, bearing a light, appeared at the end of the passage. His horror was suddenly converted into joy, however, when he recognised the form of his faithful attendant. It was indeed Mr. Samuel Weller, who after sitting up thus late, in conversation with the Boots, who was sitting up for the mail, was now about to retire to rest.
“‘Sam,’ said Mr. Pickwick, suddenly appearing before him, ‘where’s my bedroom?’
“Mr. Weller stared at his master with the most emphatic surprise; and it was not until the question had been repeated three several times, that he turned round, and led the way to the long-sought apartment.
“‘Sam,’ said Mr. Pickwick, as he got into bed. ‘I have made one of the most extraordinary mistakes to-night that were ever heard of.’
“‘Wery likely, sir,’ said Mr. Weller drily.
“‘But of this I am determined, Sam,’ said Mr. Pickwick, ‘that if I were to stop in this house for six months, I would never trust myself about it alone again.’
“‘That’s the wery prudentest resolution as you could come to, sir,’ replied Mr. Weller. ‘You rayther want somebody to look arter you, sir, wen your judgment goes out a wisitin’.’”
By way of _Upper Brook Street_, _Tacket Street_, and _Orwell Place_, we come to _Fore Street_, _St. Clement’s_ (a thoroughfare in which still remain several old houses of the sixteenth century), and soon reach the whereabouts of St. Clement’s Church, towards which, on the morning following the disasters of the night of their arrival, Mr. Samuel Weller bent his steps, and
“endeavoured to dissipate his melancholy by strolling among its ancient precincts. He had loitered about for some time, when he found himself in a retired spot—a kind of courtyard of venerable appearance—which he discovered had no other outlet than the turning by which he had entered. He was about retracing his steps, when he was suddenly transfixed to the spot by a sudden appearance; and the mode and manner of this appearance we now proceed to relate.
“Mr. Samuel Weller had been staring up at the old brick houses now and then, in his deep abstraction, bestowing a wink upon some healthy-looking servant girl as she drew up a blind, or threw open a bedroom window, when the green gate at the bottom of the yard opened, and a man having emerged therefrom, closed the green gate very carefully after him, and walked briskly towards the very spot where Mr. Weller was standing.”
This personage proved to be none other than Mr. Job Trotter, whose black hair and mulberry suit were at once recognised by Sam, though their owner did his best to evade detection:—
“As the green gate was closed behind him, and there was no other outlet but the one in front, however, he was not long in perceiving that he must pass Mr. Samuel Weller to get away. He therefore resumed his brisk pace, and advanced, staring straight before him. The most extraordinary thing about the man was, that he was contorting his face into the most fearful and astonishing grimaces that ever were beheld. Nature’s handiwork never was disguised with such extraordinary artificial carving, as the man had overlaid his countenance with in one moment.”
The Green Gate thus alluded to may yet be seen in a passage or court at the bottom of _Angel Lane_ (leading to Back Street). It is the last garden gate in the churchyard, a short distance from Church Street. The same courtyard and gate will be remembered as the official entrance to the Residence of George Nupkins, Esq., the Worshipful Mayor of Ipswich, before whom the Pickwickian party were arraigned, in charge of the redoubtable chief constable of the town. We read in chapter 25 as follows:—
“Mr. Weller’s anger quickly gave way to curiosity when the procession turned down the identical courtyard in which he had met with the runaway Job Trotter; and curiosity was exchanged for a feeling of the most gleeful astonishment, when the all-important Mr. Grummer, commanding the sedan-bearers to halt, advanced with dignified and portentous steps to the very green gate from which Job Trotter had emerged, and gave a mighty pull at the bell-handle which hung at the side thereof. The ring was answered by a very smart and pretty-faced servant-girl, who, after holding up her hands in astonishment at the rebellious appearance of the prisoners, and the impassioned language of Mr. Pickwick, summoned Mr. Muzzle. Mr. Muzzle opened one-half of the carriage gate to admit the sedan, the captured ones, and the specials, and immediately slammed it in the faces of the mob. . . .
“At the foot of a flight of steps, leading to the house door, which was guarded on either side by an American aloe in a green tub, the sedan-chair stopped. Mr. Pickwick and his friends were conducted into the hall, whence, having been previously announced by Muzzle, and ordered in by Mr. Nupkins, they were ushered into the worshipful presence of that public-spirited officer.”
And we all recollect the resulting _exposé_ of the designs of Mr. Alfred Jingle (_alias_ Captain Fitzmarshall), and the return by Mr. Weller of “Job Trotter’s shuttlecock as heavily as it came.”
It should also be not forgotten that it was at this house Mr. Weller met with his lady-elect, Mary, the Pretty Housemaid (afterwards maid to Mrs. Winkle), and that here the first passage of first love occurred between them. For the pleasant narration of the episode, reference should be made to the conclusion of the foregoing chapter:—
“Now, there was nobody in the kitchen but the pretty housemaid; and as Sam’s hat was mislaid, he had to look for it, and the pretty housemaid lighted him. They had to look all over the place for the hat. The pretty housemaid, in her anxiety to find it, went down on her knees, and turned over all the things that were heaped together in a little corner by the door. It was an awkward corner. You couldn’t get at it without shutting the door first.
“‘Here it is,’ said the pretty housemaid. ‘This is it, ain’t it?’
“‘Let me look,’ said Sam.
“The pretty housemaid had stood the candle on the floor; as it gave a very dim light, Sam was obliged to go down on his knees before he could see whether it really was his own hat or not. It was a remarkably small corner, and so—it was nobody’s fault but the man’s who built the house—Sam and the pretty housemaid were necessarily very close together.
“‘Yes, this is it,’ said Sam. ‘Good-bye!’
“‘Good-bye!’ said the pretty housemaid.
“‘Good-bye!’ said Sam; and as he said it, he dropped the hat that had cost so much trouble in looking for.
“‘How awkward you are,’ said the pretty housemaid. ‘You’ll lose it again, if you don’t take care.’
“So, just to prevent his losing it again, she put it on for him.
“Whether it was that the pretty housemaid’s face looked prettier still, when it was raised towards Sam’s, or whether it was the accidental consequence of their being so near to each other, is matter of uncertainty to this day; but Sam kissed her.
“‘You don’t mean to say that you did that on purpose,’ said the pretty housemaid, blushing.
“‘No, I didn’t then,’ said Sam; ‘but I will now.’
“So he kissed her again.
“‘Sam!’ said Mr. Pickwick, calling over the banisters.
“‘Coming, sir,’ replied Sam, running upstairs.
“‘How long you have been!’ said Mr. Pickwick.
“‘There was something behind the door, sir, which perwented our getting it open, for ever so long, sir,’ replied Sam.”
* * * * *
Resuming the journey onwards by rail from Ipswich, the route is continued _viâ Saxmundham Junction_, _Halesworth_, and _Beccles_, to the South Town Station at Great Yarmouth, a well-known and favourite seaside resort, of much interest to the Dickensian Rambler, as being intimately associated with the personal history and experience of David Copperfield. Visitors are recommended, for reasons hereafter to be seen, to select as their place of sojourn either the “_Star Hotel_” on the Hall Quay, or the “_Angel_,” near the market-place. Any thoroughfare leading eastward from either of these will conduct to the _Marine Parade_, in full view of the German Ocean.
Towards the southern end of this sea frontage of the town, there may be localised the spot where once stood the Home of Little Emily, “a black barge or some other kind of superannuated boat, high and dry on the ground, with an iron funnel sticking out of it for a chimney. There was a delightful door cut in the side; it was roofed in, and there were little windows in it.”
The position of this old boat-house, as belonging to Dan’l Peggotty, was at the upper extremity of the _South Denes_, a flat and grassy expanse—beyond the _Wellington Pier_ and _South Battery_—in the neighbourhood of the _Nelson Column_, facing the sea.
In chapter 22 we find a reference to the South Town ferry, crossing the Yare, “to a flat between the river and the sea, Mr. Peggotty’s house being on that waste place, and not a hundred yards out of the track.”
[There is a small wooden erection, more than a mile and a half distant, on the sea-front near _Gorleston Pier_—between two well-built houses—assuming the name of _Peggotty’s Hut_; but this is an evident absurdity and misnomer.]
Here, then, we may recall the many interests and incidents connected with the experiences of the Peggotty family, and the sorrowful history of Little Emily, notably the fateful occasion of STEERFORTH’S FIRST VISIT, concerning which David records in chapter 21 of his autobiography, to the following effect:—
“Em’ly, indeed, said little all the evening; but she looked, and listened, and her face got animated, and she was charming. Steerforth told a story of a dismal shipwreck (which arose out of his talk with Mr. Peggotty), as if he saw it all before him—and little Em’ly’s eyes were fastened on him all the time, as if she saw it too. He told us a merry adventure of his own, as a relief to that, with as much gaiety as if the narrative were as fresh to him as it was to us—and little Em’ly laughed until the boat rang with the musical sounds, and we all laughed (Steerforth too), in irresistible sympathy with what was so pleasant and lighthearted. He got Mr. Peggotty to sing, or rather to roar, ‘When the stormy winds do blow, do blow, do blow;’ and he sang a sailor’s song himself, so pathetically and beautifully, that I could have almost fancied that the real wind creeping sorrowfully round the house, and murmuring low through our unbroken silence, was there to listen.”
Thus commenced the sad story of the poor girl’s fascination and subsequent flight with Steerforth, never more to return to the old home. In this connection we may recall the graphic and powerful description of the great Storm at Yarmouth, as contained in chapter 55, when Ham met his fate in the gallant attempt to rescue the last survivor of a wrecked and perishing crew, Steerforth himself:—
“They drew him to my very feet—insensible—dead. He was carried to the nearest house; and, no one preventing me now, I remained near him, busy, while every means of restoration was tried; but he had been beaten to death by the great wave, and his generous heart was stilled for ever.
“As I sat beside the bed, when hope was abandoned and all was done, a fisherman, who had known me when Emily and I were children, and ever since, whispered my name at the door.
“Sir,’ said he, with tears starting to his weather-beaten face, which, with his trembling lips, was ashy pale, ‘will you come over yonder?’
“The old remembrance that had been recalled to me was in his look. I asked him, terror-stricken, leaning on the arm he held out to support me—
“‘Has a body come ashore?’
“He said, ‘Yes.’
“‘Do I know it?’ I asked then.
“He answered nothing.
“But he led me to the shore. And on that part of it where she and I had looked for shells, two children—on that part of it where some lighter fragments of the old boat, blown down last night, had been scattered by the wind—among the ruins of the home he had wronged—I saw him lying with his head upon his arm, as I had often seen him lie at school.”
In the days of Copperfield, Two Coaches ran between Great Yarmouth and London—“The Blue” and “The Royal Mail.” On the occasion of David’s first journey to his school at Blackheath, he travelled by the former of these, from The Angel Hotel, in the Market Place. We may here recall his dinner of chops in the coffee-room, at which the “friendly waiter” assisted, helping himself to the lion’s share.
In chapter 5 of his History, David relates the attendant circumstances of this, his second visit to Yarmouth; and how, starting as above from the hotel, his dinner—ordered and paid for in advance—was mainly consumed by proxy, ale included. We read that the waiter, “a twinkling-eyed, pimple-faced man, with his hair standing upright all over his head,” invited himself to the meal:—
“He took a chop by the bone in one hand, and a potato in the other, and ate away with a very good appetite, to my extreme satisfaction. He afterwards took another chop, and another potato; and after that another chop and another potato. When we had done, he brought me a pudding, and having set it before me, seemed to ruminate, and to become absent in his mind for some moments.
“‘How’s the pie?’ he said, rousing himself.
“‘It’s a pudding,’ I made answer.
“‘Pudding!’ he exclaimed. ‘Why, bless me, so it is! What!’ looking at it nearer. ‘You don’t mean to say it’s a batter-pudding?’
“‘Yes, it is indeed.’
“‘Why, a batter-pudding,’ he said, taking up a table-spoon, ‘is my favourite pudding. Ain’t that lucky? Come on, little ’un, and let’s see who’ll get most.’
“The waiter certainly got most. He entreated me more than once to come in and win, but what with his table-spoon to my tea-spoon, his despatch to my despatch, and his appetite to my appetite, I was left far behind at the first mouthful, and had no chance with him. I never saw any one enjoy a pudding so much, I think; and he laughed, when it was all gone, as if his enjoyment of it lasted still.”
On his return journey from London, we find him coming down by “The Mail,” which stopped at The Star Hotel, on the Hall Quay, where the bedchamber, “The Dolphin,” was assigned for his accommodation. He and his friend Steerforth, in after visits, frequently adopted this “Royal Mail” conveyance, making headquarters at the “Star Hotel.”
The “volatile” _Miss Mowcher_ is first introduced to us at this establishment.
In chapter 22 we have the full account of David’s visit to Yarmouth in company with Steerforth. They “stayed for more than a fortnight in that part of the country,” during which time Littimer, being in attendance one evening at this hotel during dinner, informed them that Miss Mowcher was making one of her professional visits to the town, and desired an opportunity of waiting on his master. David says:—
“I remained, therefore, in a state of considerable expectation until the cloth had been removed some half-an-hour, and we were sitting over our decanter of wine before the fire, when the door opened, and Littimer, with his habitual serenity quite undisturbed, announced:
“‘Miss Mowcher!’
“I looked at the doorway and saw nothing. I was still looking at the doorway, thinking that Miss Mowcher was a long while making her appearance, when, to my infinite astonishment, there came waddling round a sofa which stood between me and it, a pursy dwarf, of about forty or forty-five, with a very large head and face, a pair of roguish grey eyes, and such extremely little arms, that, to enable herself to lay a finger archly against her snub nose as she ogled Steerforth, she was obliged to meet the finger half-way, and lay her nose against it. Her chin, which was what is called a double-chin, was so fat that it entirely swallowed up the strings of her bonnet, bow and all. Throat she had none; waist she had none; legs she had none, worth mentioning; for though she was more than full-sized down to where her waist would have been, if she had had any, and though she terminated, as human beings generally do, in a pair of feet, she was so short that she stood at a common-sized chair as at a table, resting a bag she carried on the seat.”
Sites Unlocalised. At this distance of time it is impossible to indicate the locality of “_The Willing Mind_”—patronised by Mr. Peggotty—the residence of _Mr. and Mrs. Barkis_, or the establishment of _Messrs Omer and Joram_. The last is described as being “in a narrow street,” and should be doubtless looked for in the older part of the town.
Blundeston, the birthplace of Copperfield, may be visited from _Somerleyton Station_, on the line between Yarmouth and Lowestoft. The village, with its round-towered church, is situated about four miles eastward from the railway. The house indicated in the novel as _Blunderstone Rookery_ stands next the church. The excursion could include, _en route_, a visit to Somerleyton Park, open to the public on Wednesdays.
RAMBLE X _London to Dorking and Portsmouth_
Nicholas Nickleby and Smike on their travels—Excursion by Coach, “The Perseverance”—Route to Dorking—Residence of Mr. and Mrs. Tony Weller—The “Marquis of Granby”—The Rev. Mr. Stiggins and his “pertickler vanity”—The downfall of Stiggins—The old Horse-trough—Dorking to Portsmouth—Parentage of Dickens—Registration of Charles John Huffham Dickens—Birthplace of Dickens—The Theatre-Royal—The Old Theatre—Unlocalised Localities—Portsmouth to London—Westminster Abbey—Tomb of Dickens—His Funeral as reported by the _Daily News_, June 1870—Poetical Tribute—The future Outlook.
In the early days of the present century, Nicholas Nickleby leaving London with Smike, bound for Portsmouth, took the high road _viâ_ Kingston and Godalming (with a view, _en passant_, of the Devil’s Punch-bowl); walking steadily onward until arrival, on their second day’s march, at a roadside inn—probably in the neighbourhood of _Horndean_. Here they met with Mr. Vincent Crummles, of histrionic fame, and ended their more immediate perplexities by an engagement with that gentleman. There was no railway communication in those times, and coach fare was expensive; but now-a-days we have adopted a cheaper and more speedy means of transit, and may reach Portsmouth from London quickly, by two lines of railroad.
As, in the following excursion, it is proposed to make an intermediate visit _en route_ to the residence (once on a time) of Mr. and Mrs. Tony Weller, a journey by coach is recommended to Dorking, as affording a suitable compliment to Mr. Weller’s memory and profession. A delightful journey may thus be made by “The Perseverance” coach, which starts every week-day during the season, from Northumberland Avenue, at 10.45 A.M., and travels four-in-hand, _viâ_ Roehampton, Kingston, Surbiton, Epsom, Leatherhead, Mickleham, and Boxhill, and arrives at Dorking, in time for luncheon at the “White Horse Hotel,” at which the coach stops.
The interest of this country town centres, for Pickwickian readers, in the “_Marquis of Granby_,” once an inn. It exists no longer as such, having been long since converted into a grocer’s establishment. It will be found in the High Street, opposite the Post Office, at the side of _Chequers’ Court_, which runs between it and the _London and County Bank_. The old sign-board, the cosy bar, with its store of choice wines and pine-apple rum (Mr. Stiggins’s “pertickler vanity”), and the horse-trough in which the reverend gentleman was half drowned by the irate Weller, senior, are now among the things that are not; but the old house still remains _in situ_, altered to the uses of its present occupancy.
In chapter 27 of the Pickwick records we read of Sam’s first pilgrimage to Dorking, on which occasion he paid his filial respects to his mother-in-law, the rather stout lady of comfortable appearance, who conducted the business of the house; and made his acquaintance with the Rev. Mr. Stiggins of saintly memory. The description of the establishment is given as follows:—
“The ‘Marquis of Granby’ in Mrs. Weller’s time was quite a model of a roadside public-house of the better class—just large enough to be convenient, and small enough to be snug. On the opposite side of the road was a large sign-board on a high post, representing the head and shoulders of a gentleman with an apoplectic countenance, in a red coat with deep-blue facings, and a touch of the same blue over his three-cornered hat, for a sky. Over that again were a pair of flags; beneath the last button of his coat were a couple of cannon; and the whole formed an expressive and undoubted likeness of the Marquis of Granby of glorious memory.
“The bar window displayed a choice collection of geranium plants, and a well-dusted row of spirit phials. The open shutters bore a variety of golden inscriptions, eulogistic of good beds and neat wines; and the choice group of countrymen and hostlers lounging about the stable-door and horse-trough, afforded presumptive proof of the excellent quality of the ale and spirits which were sold within. Sam Weller paused, when he dismounted from the coach, to note all these little indications of a thriving business, with the eye of an experienced traveller; and having done so, stepped in at once, highly satisfied with everything he had observed.”
Mr. Stiggins, the clerical friend and spiritual adviser of the worthy hostess, having fully ingratiated himself in her good graces, was in the habit of making himself very much at home at “The Marquis”; greatly appreciating the creature comforts there obtainable, and the good liquors kept in stock. In point of fact, knowing when he was well off, he lived well—if not wisely—on Mrs. Weller’s hospitable bounty, and made headquarters at this Dorking inn. On the occasion of Sam’s first visit before referred to—in chapter 27, as above—this estimable character is thus introduced to the notice of Pickwickian students:—
“He was a prim-faced, red-nosed man, with a long, thin countenance, and a semi-rattlesnake sort of eye—rather sharp, but decidedly bad. He wore very short trousers, and black-cotton stockings, which, like the rest of his apparel, were particularly rusty. His looks were starched, but his white neckerchief was not, and its long limp ends straggled over his closely-buttoned waistcoat in a very uncouth and unpicturesque fashion.”
“The fire was blazing brightly under the influence of the bellows, and the kettle was singing gaily under the influence of both. A small tray of tea things was arranged on the table, a plate of hot buttered toast was gently simmering before the fire, and the red-nosed man himself was busily engaged in converting a large slice of bread into the same agreeable edible, through the instrumentality of a long brass toasting-fork. Beside him stood a glass of reeking hot pine-apple rum and water, with a slice of lemon in it; and every time the red-nosed man stopped to bring the round of toast to his eye, with the view of ascertaining how it got on, he imbibed a drop or two of the hot pine-apple rum and water, and smiled upon the rather stout lady, as she blew the fire.”
The downfall of Stiggins. The season of his prosperity came to a sad ending after the demise of his patroness; and in chapter 52 we read of his reverse of fortune, and the final _congé_ given to the reverend gentleman by the irate Mr. Weller, senior, who dismissed him from his household chaplaincy, in a manner more peremptory than pleasant:—
“He walked softly into the bar, and presently returning with the tumbler half full of pine-apple rum, advanced to the kettle which was singing gaily on the hob, mixed his grog, stirred it, sipped it, sat down, and taking a long and hearty pull at the rum and water, stopped for breath.
“The elder Mr. Weller, who still continued to make various strange and uncouth attempts to appear asleep, offered not a single word during these proceedings; but when Stiggins stopped for breath, he darted upon him, and snatching the tumbler from his hand, threw the remainder of the rum and water in his face, and the glass itself into the grate. Then, seizing the reverend gentleman firmly by the collar, he suddenly fell to kicking him most furiously, accompanying every application of his top-boots to Mr. Stiggins’s person, with sundry violent and incoherent anathemas upon his limbs, eyes, and body.
“‘Sammy,’ said Mr. Weller, ‘put my hat on tight for me.’
“Sam dutifully adjusted the hat with the long hatband more firmly on his father’s head, and the old gentleman, resuming his kicking with greater agility than before, tumbled with Mr. Stiggins through the bar, and through the passage, out at the front door, and so into the street; the kicking continuing the whole way, and increasing in vehemence, rather than diminishing, every time the top-boot was lifted.
“It was a beautiful and exhilarating sight to see the red-nosed man writhing in Mr. Weller’s grasp, and his whole frame quivering with anguish as kick followed kick in rapid succession; it was a still more exciting spectacle to behold Mr. Weller, after a powerful struggle, immersing Mr. Stiggins’s head in a horse-trough full of water, and holding it there until he was half-suffocated.”
The old horse-trough, as depicted by “Phiz” in the original illustrated title-page of the book, has long since given place to local alteration and improvement; but “hereabouts it stood.”
There are many pleasant and humorous associations connected with this old place of country entertainment, as duly set forth in the Pickwick annals; but it should be remembered that many years have passed since their publication (1837), and that men and manners have greatly changed and bettered. It is satisfactory to reflect that Mr. Stiggins and his brethren have altogether become obsolete in English middle-class society, and that the protest so embodied sixty years since is no longer necessary. In these happier days, earnestness and ability have, in the main, superseded laziness and cant.
* * * * *
DORKING TO PORTSMOUTH. The journey being resumed by railway, we travel southward and westward through the pleasant fields and pasture lands of Sussex, _viâ_ Horsham and Chichester, to the old town of Portsmouth, where, in Landport, Portsea, Charles Dickens was born, on Friday, the 7th of February 1812. He was the second son (in a family of eight, six surviving infancy) of Mr. John Dickens, a clerk in the Navy Pay Office at the Dockyard. The name of his mother, previous to her marriage, was Elizabeth Barrow. The baptismal record at Portsea registers him as CHARLES JOHN HUFFHAM DICKENS, but he very seldom used any other signature than the one with which we are all familiar. On arrival at the Portsmouth town station, we leave the railway, turning to the right, and proceed onwards, in the main thoroughfare of Commercial Road. Thus we shortly reach, in due course, The Birthplace of Dickens. The house (No. 387 Commercial Road, Landport) stands about half a mile northward (to the right) from the railway station, with a neat forecourt. It bears a tablet recording date of the event, as above.
[Picture: Dickens’ Birthplace]
South of the station (leftward), beyond the Town Hall, will be found, on the right, The Theatre Royal; but it should be noted that this is _not_ the establishment referred to in “Nicholas Nickleby.”
That old theatre, at which Nicholas—adopting the professional _alias_ of “Johnson”—made his histrionic _début_ under the managerial auspices of Mr. Vincent Crummles, occupied, some eighty years since, the present site of The Cambridge Barracks, in the _High Street_, farther onwards.
We read in the same book that the _Crummles_ family resided at the house of one Bulph, a pilot; that _Miss Snevellicci_ had lodgings in Lombard Street, at the house of a tailor, where also _Mr. and Mrs. Lillyvick_ found temporary accommodation; and that _Nicholas_ and _Smike_ lived in two small rooms, up three pair of stairs, at a tobacconist’s shop, on the Common Hard. But it is not possible to particularise these places; indeed, it is altogether doubtful whether they had any special assignment in the mind of the author himself.
* * * * *
Leaving Portsmouth, at convenience, by the _Brighton and South Coast Railway_, we may take the return journey to London in about three hours, arriving at the West End Terminus of the line, _Victoria Station_. From this point we may revisit, _viâ Victoria Street_, about half a mile in distance, Westminster Abbey, containing the TOMB OF DICKENS, which will be found in the classic shade of the _Poets’ Corner_. At the time of his death the _Times_ “took the lead in suggesting that the only fit resting-place for the remains of a man so dear to England was the Abbey, in which most illustrious Englishmen are laid;” and accordingly, on the 14th of June, the funeral took place, with a strict observance of privacy. In Dean Stanley’s “WESTMINSTER ABBEY” the following statement is given:—
“Close under the bust of Thackeray lies Charles Dickens, not, it may be, his equal in humour, but more than his equal in his hold on the popular mind, as was shown in the intense and general enthusiasm shown at his grave. The funeral, according to Dickens’s urgent and express desire in his will, was strictly private. It took place at an early hour in the summer morning, the grave having been dug in secret the night before; and the vast solitary space of the Abbey was occupied only by the small band of mourners, and the Abbey clergy, who, without any music except the occasional peal of the organ, read the funeral service. For days the spot was visited by thousands; many were the flowers strewn upon it by unknown hands; many were the tears shed by the poorer visitors. He rests beside Sheridan, Garrick, and Henderson.”
The plain stone covering the tomb is inscribed
CHARLES DICKENS,
Born February 7th, 1812. Died June 9th, 1870.
Report of the Funeral, as published in the _Daily News_, June 15th, 1870:—“Charles Dickens lies, without one of his injunctions respecting his funeral having been violated, surrounded by poets and men of genius. Shakespeare’s marble effigy looked yesterday into his open grave; at his feet are Dr. Johnson and David Garrick; his head is by Addison and Handel; while Oliver Goldsmith, Rowe, Southey, Campbell, Thomson, Sheridan, Macaulay, and Thackeray, or their memorials, encircle him; and ‘Poets’ Corner,’ the most familiar spot in the whole Abbey, has thus received an illustrious addition to its peculiar glory. . . . Dickens’s obsequies were as simple as he desired. The news that a special train left Rochester at an early hour yesterday morning, and that it carried his remains, was soon telegraphed to London; but every arrangement had been completed beforehand, and there was no one in the Abbey; no one to follow the three simple mourning coaches and the hearse; no one to obtrude upon the mourners. The waiting-room at Charing Cross Station was set apart for the latter for the quarter of an hour they remained there; the Abbey doors were closed directly they reached it; and even the mourning coaches were not permitted to wait. A couple of street cabs and a single brougham took the funeral party away when the last solemn rites were over, so that passers-by were unaware that any ceremony was being conducted; and it was not until a good hour after that the south transept began to fill. There were no cloaks, no weepers, no bands, no scarfs, no feathers, none of the dismal frippery of the undertaker. We yesterday bade the reader turn to that portion of ‘Great Expectations,’ in which the funeral of Joe Gargery’s wife is described; he will there find full details of the miserable things omitted. In the same part of the same volume he will find reverent allusion to the time when ‘those noble passages are read which remind humanity how it brought nothing into the world and can take nothing out, and how it fleeth like a shadow, and never continueth long in one stay;’ and will think of the solemn scene in Westminster Abbey, with the Dean reading our solemn burial service, the organ chiming in, subdued and low, and the vast place empty, save for the little group of heart-stricken people by an open grave; a plain oak coffin, with a brass plate bearing the inscription:—
‘CHARLES DICKENS,
Born February 7th, 1812,
Died June 9th, 1870’;
a coffin strewed with wreaths and flowers by the female mourners; and then dust to dust and ashes to ashes! Such was the funeral of the great man who has gone. In coming to the Abbey, in the first coach were the late Mr. Dickens’s children—Mr. Charles Dickens, jun., Mr. Harry Dickens, Miss Dickens, Mrs. Charles Collins. In the second coach were Mrs. Austin, his sister; Mrs. Charles Dickens, jun.; Miss Hogarth, his sister-in-law; Mr. John Forster. In the third coach Mr. Frank Beard, his medical attendant; Mr. Charles Collins, his son-in-law; Mr. Dewey, his solicitor; Mr. Wilkie Collins; Mr. Edmund Dickens, his nephew.
“By the orders of the Dean of Westminster, the officials were instructed to keep the grave open until six o’clock last evening, and all who came had the melancholy satisfaction of seeing not only the grave itself, but the polished oak coffin which contained the remains of the lamented deceased. A raised platform was placed around the grave, and two of the vergers of the Abbey were in attendance to prevent crowding and preserve order, an almost unnecessary precaution, for all who came, comprising persons of various classes, conducted themselves in the most exemplary manner. In the afternoon, when the fact of the interment became generally known, and that the coffin was to be seen, the crowds arriving at the Abbey became very great, and between twelve and six o’clock many thousands of persons had been present. Large numbers paid a simple tribute to the memory of the deceased by throwing the flowers they wore in their coat or dress on to the coffin, until, towards the close of the afternoon, it was completely covered with these simplest offerings of public affection.”
* * * * *
The following Poetical Tribute, _in Memoriam_, was, at that sad time, contributed to the public Press, and is worthy of remembrance:—
“The Artist sleeps, yet friends are here he gave The fair dream-children that his fancy drew; A phantom crowd still gathers at his grave, And in each character he lives anew.
“Soft winds of summer breathe along the fane, The honoured sepulchre where Dickens lies; An Emigravit write we in our pain— He is not dead—the artist never dies.
“The statesman wins the mantle of a peer, The warrior boasts all titles of renown; We leave one laurel only on his bier, And England’s love is greater than a crown.”
“S. C.”
* * * * *
So long as the art of printing remains in Society, and the powers of affection, appreciation, and sympathy survive in the hearts of Anglo-Saxons—of the Old World or the New—the name and fame of CHARLES DICKENS will be ever held fresh and green amongst us. And, through the coming summer-dawn of time—amidst the destined agencies slowly evolving the brighter omens of the future—his genius shall remain co-operant. For, let us rest assured that “the thoughts of men are widened with the process of the suns”; that the wheel of time is rolling, surely for an end; and that all worthy labour in the cause of human progress shall become Immortal, as it helps to make the world purer, gentler, and more Christian; and hastens onwards the fulfilment of its nobler destiny.
APPENDIX
“The Pickwick Papers”; Mrs. Bardell’s House—The Spaniards’ Inn [Wellington Academy]. “Oliver Twist”; Mr. Brownlow’s Residence—Fagin and Bill Sykes. “Nicholas Nickleby”; The London Tavern—Mrs. Nickleby and Kate in Thames Street—Mortimer Knag’s Library—General Agency Office—Messrs. Cheeryble Brothers—Residence of Mrs. Wititterly. “Barnaby Rudge”; The Golden Key—Cellar of Mr. Stagg—The Black Lion Tavern. “Martin Chuzzlewit”; Anthony Chuzzlewit and Son—Montague Tigg, Esq., Pall Mall—Tom Pinch and Ruth at Islington. “Dombey & Son”; Polly Toodles at Staggs Gardens—Miss Tox and Major Bagstock, Princess Place—Mrs. MacStinger and Captain Cuttle, No. 9 Brig Place. “David Copperfield”; Mr. Creakle’s Establishment, Salem House—The Micawber family—Residence of Mrs. Steerforth—Doctor and Mrs. Strong—Mr. and Mrs. D. Copperfield—Mr. Traddles’s lodgings. “Bleak House”; Addresses of Mr. Guppy and his Mother—Apartments of Mr. Jarndyce—Mr. and Mrs. Smallweed, Mount Pleasant—George’s Shooting Gallery—Mr. and Mrs. Bagnet—Harold Skimpole and family. “Little Dorrit”; The House of Mrs. Clennam—Residence of Mr. Tite Barnacle—The Patriarchal Casby. “Tale of Two Cities”; Old Church of St. Pancras in the Fields. “Great Expectations”; Private Residence of Mr. Jaggers—Wemmick’s Castle, Walworth—Mr. Barley, _alias_ old Gruff-and-Glum. “Our Mutual Friend”; Gaffer Hexam’s House—The Six Jolly Fellowship Porters—Rogue Riderhood and his Daughter—Mr. Twemlow’s Lodgings—The Veneerings and the Podsnaps—Boffin’s Bower.—Mr. R. Wilfer’s Residence—Establishment of Mr. Venus. “Mystery of Edwin Drood”; The Opium Smokers’ Den.
The various localities referred to in the foregoing RAMBLES comprise all the more interesting and better-known points which the Reader of Dickens would most naturally desire to visit. In addition to these, however, there are several places mentioned in the many works of “The inimitable Boz” which may be enumerated, but cannot for the following reasons be included in such specified routes:—
(1) Neighbourhoods have, in course of years, altogether changed, making it extremely difficult (in many cases impossible) to specify with exactitude the former situation of old houses, which have long become part and parcel of the forgotten past, “lost to sight” and now only “to memory dear.”
(2) The indications given in the various tales have, in some cases, been purposely rendered vague and uncertain; it being the evident aim of the author to avoid precision, and to afford no definite clue to the position of many places named.
(3) Some of the localities specified are situated at a considerable distance from any main line of route, and can be visited only by separate excursion specially undertaken for the purpose.
In the following addendum these uncertain or distant addresses are given under the headings of those books in which they respectively occur; in order that Ramblers, if so disposed, may—in the words of Mr. Peggotty—“fisherate” for themselves.
THE PICKWICK PAPERS.
Mrs. Bardell’s House was located in _Goswell Street_, certainly in a central position; for we read that, as Mr. Pickwick looked from his chamber-window on the world beneath,
“Goswell Street was at his feet, Goswell Street was on his right hand, as far as the eye could reach, Goswell Street extended on his left, and the opposite side of Goswell Street was over the way.”
The “Spaniards’ Inn” at _Hampstead_ may be remembered as the scene of the tea-party at which _Mrs. Bardell_ and a few select friends enjoyed themselves, previous to her unexpected arrest and removal to the Fleet Prison, at the suit of _Messrs. Dodson and Fogg_. There still exists the “Spaniards” at Heath End, Hampstead Heath.
[Visitors to Hampstead may be disposed to visit the site once occupied by Mr. Jones’s School, called the “Wellington Academy,” at which Dickens received some two years’ technical education; being a little over fourteen years old when he left. The house is now in possession of the INLAND REVENUE OFFICE, at the corner of Granby Street, 247 Hampstead Road; part of the premises abutting on the London and North-Western Railway, the formation of which demolished the old schoolroom and playground.]
[Picture: The “Spaniards,” Hampstead Heath]
OLIVER TWIST.
Mr. Brownlow’s Residence, in “a quiet shady street near Pentonville,” cannot he fairly localised. In the days of “Oliver Twist,” Mr. George Cruikshank, the illustrator of the book, lived at _Myddelton Terrace_, Pentonville; and possibly Dickens bethought himself of this vicinity in consequence.
Fagin’s House in _Whitechapel_ and the residence of _Bill Sykes_ cannot, with any fairness, be accurately indicated. The latter is spoken of as being in “one of a maze of mean and dirty streets, which abound in the close and densely populated quarter of Bethnal Green.”
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
The London Tavern, at which was held the Meeting in promotion of “The United Metropolitan Improved Hot Muffin and Crumpet Baking and Punctual Delivery Company,” once (many years since) occupied the site of the ROYAL BANK OF SCOTLAND, 123 _Bishopsgate Street Within_, on the left hand entering the street from Cornhill.
Mrs. Nickleby and her daughter Kate lived, per favour of their amiable relative, in _Thames Street_. This business thoroughfare has undergone considerable reconstruction since the days of their tenancy, and the particular dwelling intended cannot be identified. The place is described as a “large, old dingy house, the doors and windows of which were so bespattered with mud that it would have appeared to have been uninhabited for years.”
Mr. Mortimer Knag kept a small circulating library “in a by-street off Tottenham Court Road,” where also lived his sister, _Miss Knag_, the presiding genius of Madame Mantalini’s establishment; and we may remember the evening when Mrs. Nickleby and Kate were graciously invited to supper at this abode of literary genius.
The General Agency Office, at which Nicholas Nickleby obtained the address of _Mr. Gregsbury_, _M.P._, Manchester Buildings, Westminster (also one of the lost localities of London), and where he first met _Madeline Bray_, has no specified direction in the book. There have been few such agencies existent in a central position in London.
Messrs. Cheeryble Brothers had their place of business in a small City square. “Passing along Threadneedle Street, and through some lanes and passages on the right,” we read that Nicholas was conducted by _Mr. Charles Cheeryble_ to the place in occupation of the firm—
“The City square has no enclosure, save the lamp-post in the middle, and no grass but the weeds which spring up around its base. It is a quiet, little-frequented, retired spot, favourable to melancholy and contemplation, and appointments of long waiting. . . . In winter-time the snow will linger there long after it has melted from the busy streets and highways. The summer’s sun holds it in some respect, and while he darts his cheerful rays sparingly into the square, keeps his fiery heat and glare for noisier and less imposing precincts. It is so quiet, that you can almost hear the ticking of your own watch, when you stop to cool in its refreshing atmosphere. There is a distant hum—of coaches, not of insects—but no other sound disturbs the stillness of the square.”
The Residence of Mrs. Wititterly is referred to as having been pleasantly situated in Cadogan Place, Sloane Street—
“Cadogan Place is the one slight bond which joins two extremities; it is the connecting link between the aristocratic pavements of Belgrave Square and the barbarism of Chelsea. It is in Sloane Street, but not of it. The people of Cadogan Place look down upon Sloane Street, and think Brompton low. They affect fashion, too, and wonder where the New Road is. Not that they claim to be on precisely the same footing as the high folks of Belgrave Square and Grosvenor Place, but that they stand, in reference to them, rather in the light of those illegitimate children of the great, who are content to boast of their connexions, although their connexions disavow them.”
BARNABY RUDGE.
“The Golden Key”—the house of honest _Gabriel Varden_, the locksmith—was in Clerkenwell, situated in a quiet street not far from the Charter House—
“A modest building, not very straight, not large, not tall, not bold-faced, with great staring windows, but a shy, blinking house, with a conical roof going up into a peak over its garret window of four small panes of glass, like a cocked hat on the head of an elderly gentleman with one eye. It was not built of brick, or lofty stone, but of wood and plaster; it was not planned with a dull and wearisome regard to regularity, for no one window matched the other, or seemed to have the slightest reference to anything beside itself.”
This was its description one hundred years ago, and its exact whereabouts cannot now be ascertained. There are some old plaster-fronted houses, evidently belonging to the last century, still to be found in _Albemarle Street_, near _St. John’s Square_, but none of these fairly correspond with the description of “The Golden Key.”
The Cellar of Mr. Stagg was situated in _Barbican_. We read that its position was “in one of the narrowest of the narrow streets which diverge from that centre, in a blind court or yard, profoundly dark, unpaved, and reeking with stagnant odours.”
“The Black Lion” Tavern can only be identified as being situated in Whitechapel. It was a favourite resort of _Mr. John Willett_, landlord of the “MAYPOLE INN” at _Chigwell_, when he came to town; and we may remember it as the scene of _Dolly Varden’s_ satisfactory interview with her lover Joe, after his return from “the Salwanners.”
MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.
Anthony Chuzzlewit and Son had their place of business near _Aldersgate Street_. Their dreary residence was the bridal home of Mercy Pecksniff—married by Jonas Chuzzlewit—and we may recollect her reception at this establishment by the worthy _Sairey Gamp_. To this house Jonas returned after the murder of Montague Tigg, and was here arrested by his relative _Chevy Slyme_, in the presence of his uncle and Mark Tapley. Its situation is described as being in
“A very narrow street, somewhere behind the Post Office, where every house was in the brightest summer morning very gloomy; and where light porters watered the pavement, each before his own employer’s premises, in fantastic patterns in the dog-days; and where spruce gentlemen, with their hands in the pockets of symmetrical trousers, were always to be seen in warm weather contemplating their undeniable boots in dusty warehouse doorways, which appeared to be the hardest work they did, except now and then carrying pens behind their ears.”
Montague Tigg, Esq., the Chairman of the _Anglo-Bengalee Insurance Company_, lived in luxurious chambers in _Pall Mall_; and we may remember the morning when Jonas Chuzzlewit called at the residence of his chief, and was disagreeably surprised to find his friend in full possession of his secret history—with _Mr. Nadgett_ in attendance.
Tom Pinch and his sister _Ruth_ lodged at “Merry Islington,” “in a singular little old-fashioned house, up a blind street,” where they were accommodated with two small bedrooms and a triangular parlour, the householder being the inscrutable _Mr. Nadgett_. In “Martin Chuzzlewit” are contained many pleasant episodes associated with these modest apartments; where, as we all know, little Ruth made her first culinary experiment, and was pleasantly surprised the next morning to find the merry present of a cookery-book awaiting her in the parlour (sent by John Westlock), with the beefsteak pudding leaf turned down and blotted out.
DOMBEY AND SON.
Polly Toodles (otherwise Richards) lived with her husband and her “apple-faced” family, at _Stagg’s Gardens_, _Camden Town_, at the time when the London and North-Western Railway was in course of construction—
“As yet the neighbourhood was shy to own the railroad. One or two bold speculators had projected streets, and one had built a little, but had stopped among the mud and ashes to consider further of it. A bran new tavern, redolent of fresh mortar and size, and fronting nothing at all, had taken for its sign the ‘Railway Arms;’ but that might be rash enterprise—and then it hoped to sell drink to the workmen. So the Excavators’ house of Call had sprung up from a beer-shop, and the old-established Ham and Beef Shop had become the Railway Eating House, with a roast leg of pork daily, through interested motives of a similar immediate and popular description.”
In a later chapter of “Dombey” we read of Stagg’s Gardens having vanished from the earth—
“Where the old rotten summer-houses once had stood, palaces now reared their heads, and granite columns of gigantic girth opened a vista to the railway world beyond. The miserable waste ground, where the refuse matter had been heaped of yore, was swallowed up and gone, and in its frowzy stead were tiers of warehouses, crammed with rich goods and costly merchandise. The old bye-streets now swarmed with passengers and vehicles of every kind: the new streets that had stopped disheartened in the mud and waggon-ruts, formed towns within themselves, originating wholesome comforts and conveniences belonging to themselves, and never tried nor thought of until they sprung into existence.”
Miss Lucretia Tox had apartments at _Princess Place_, an address not included in the London Directory; and _Major Bagstock_ also had chambers in the immediate vicinity, a genteel but somewhat inconvenient neighbourhood. Miss Tox’s residence is described as
“A dark little house, that had been squeezed at some remote period of English history into a fashionable neighbourhood at the west end of the town, where it stood in the shade, like a poor relation of the great street round the corner, coldly looked down upon by mighty mansions. It was not exactly in a court, and it was not exactly in a yard, but it was in the dullest of No-Thoroughfares, rendered anxious and haggard by double knocks. . . . There is a smack of stabling in the air of Princess Place, and Miss Tox’s bedroom (which was at the back) commanded a vista of mews, where hostlers, at whatever sort of work engaged, were continually accompanying themselves with effervescent noises, and where the most domestic and confidential garments of coachmen and their wives and families usually hung like Macbeth’s banners on the outer walls.”
Mrs. MacStinger presided at _No. 9 Brig Place_, finding accommodation for _Captain Cuttle_ as her first floor lodger, previous to the time of his hurried and secret removal to the quarters of _The Wooden Midshipman_. We read that the house was situated
“On the brink of a little canal near the India Docks, where the air was perfumed with chips, and all other trades were swallowed up in mast, oar, and block making, and boat building. Then the ground grew marshy and unsettled. Then there was nothing to be smelt but rum and sugar. Then Captain Cuttle’s lodgings, at once a first floor and a top storey, in Brig Place, were close before you.”
DAVID COPPERFIELD.
Mr. Creakle’s educational establishment, “_Salem House_,” was, we are told, “down by Blackheath.” A large, dull house, standing away from the main road among some dark trees, and surrounded by a high wall. The character of Mr. Creakle seems to have been drawn from life; being, in fact, a portrait of the proprietor of the “_Wellington Academy_,” Hampstead Road, previously referred to. _Dr. Danson_, an old schoolfellow of Dickens, writing to Mr. Forster, states that this “Mr. Jones was a Welshman, a most ignorant fellow, and a mere tyrant, whose chief employment was to scourge the boys.” Also, Mr. Forster, speaking of the school, says, “it had supplied some of the lighter traits of Salem House for ‘Copperfield.’”
Mr. Micawber lived in Windsor Terrace, City Road, at the time he first received young David Copperfield as a lodger, and previous to the crisis in his pecuniary affairs which removed him to KING’S BENCH PRISON in the Borough.
We also read, later in the book, of the Micawbers as located in a little street near _The Veterinary College_, _Camden Town_, what time _Mr. Traddles_ was their lodger; and we may remember how the astute Mr. Micawber took advantage of the circumstance, by obtaining the friendly signature of his inmate as security, in the matter of two bills “not provided for.”
Mrs. Steerforth resided in “an old brick house at _Highgate_, on the summit of the hill; a genteel, old-fashioned house, very quiet, and very orderly,” from which position a comprehensive view was obtainable of “all London lying in the distance like a great vapour, with here and there some lights twinkling through it.” In connection with this house we may recall the characters of _Rosa Dartle_ and the respectable serving-man _Littimer_.
Doctor and Mrs. Strong also lived in a cottage at Highgate after their removal from Canterbury; and _Mr. and Mrs. David Copperfield_ resided in the same neighbourhood, with _Betsy Trotwood_ established in a convenient cottage near at hand.
Mr. Traddles, in his bachelor days, had lodgings behind the parapet of a house in _Castle Street_, _Holborn_. This thoroughfare has now changed its name, and is known as FURNIVAL STREET. It may be found on the south side of Holborn, and west of Fetter Lane, leading to Cursitor Street.
BLEAK HOUSE.
Mr. Guppy mentioned his address as 87 _Penton Place_, _Pentonville_; but the London Directory does not now include the number specified. The residence of _Mrs. Guppy_, his mother, is stated as having been 302 _Old Street Road_; previous to the time when a house was taken (by mother and son) in _Walcot Square_, _Lambeth_, on the south side of the Thames, and Mr. Guppy started on his independent professional career.
Mr. Jarndyce once sojourned in London, “at a cheerful lodging near _Oxford Street_, over an upholsterer’s shop,” at which also Ada Clare and Esther Summerson were accommodated.
Mr. and Mrs. Smallweed vegetated, with their grandchildren, “in a rather ill-favoured and ill-savoured neighbourhood, though one of its rising grounds bears the name of _Mount Pleasant_.” This beatific neighbourhood will be found north of _Clerkenwell Road_ (approached by _Laystall Street_), in the neighbourhood of the MIDDLESEX HOUSE OF CORRECTION.
George’s Shooting Gallery is memorable as the place where _Gridley_—“the man from Shropshire”—died; where also _Poor Jo_, clinging to the spars of the Lord’s Prayer, drifted out upon the unknown sea. It is described as “a great brick building, composed of bare walls, floors, roof-rafters, and skylights; on the front of which was painted ‘George’s Shooting Gallery.’” Its location is given as being up a court and a long whitewashed passage, in
“That curious region lying about the Haymarket and Leicester Square, which is a centre of attraction to indifferent foreign hotels and indifferent foreigners, racket courts, fighting men, swordsmen, foot-guards, old china, gambling-houses, exhibitions, and a large medley of shabbiness and shrinking out of sight.”
Mr. Bagnet and his “old girl” kept house and home on the Surrey side of the river; but no more precise indication of their whereabouts is given than is contained in the following reference:—
“By Blackfriars’ Bridge, and Blackfriars’ Road, Mr. George sedately marches to a street of little shops lying somewhere in that ganglion of roads from Kent and Surrey, and of streets from the bridges of London, centreing in the far-famed Elephant who has lost his castle.”
The Town House of Sir Leicester and Lady Dedlock was situated in a dull aristocratic street in the western district of London,
“Where the two long rows of houses stare at each other with that severity, that half-a-dozen of its greatest mansions seem to have been slowly stared into stone, rather than originally built in that material. It is a street of such dismal grandeur, so determined not to condescend to liveliness, that the doors and windows hold a gloomy state of their own in black paint and dust, and the echoing mews behind have a dry and massive appearance, as if they were reserved to stable the stone chargers of noble statues.”
Harold Skimpole and family had their residence in the _Polygon_, near to the EUSTON TERMINUS (on the east side), in the centre of _Clarendon Square_, _Somers Town_. The house is described as being sadly in want of repair—
“Two or three of the area railings were gone; the water-butt was broken; the knocker was loose; the bell-handle had been pulled off a long time, to judge from the rusty state of the wire; and dirty footprints on the steps were the only signs of its being inhabited.”
LITTLE DORRIT.
The House of Mrs. Clennam was situated not far from the river, in the neighbourhood of _Upper Thames Street_. We read that Arthur Clennam, on his arrival in London,
“Crossed by Saint Paul’s and went down, at a long angle, almost to the water’s edge, through some of the crooked and descending streets which lie (and lay more crookedly and closely then) between the river and Cheapside . . . passing silent warehouses and wharves, and here and there a narrow alley leading to the river, where a wretched little bill, ‘Found Drowned,’ was weeping on the wet wall; he came at last to the house he sought. An old brick house, so dingy as to be all but black, standing by itself within a gateway.”
Mr. Tite Barnacle had his residence in _Mews Street_, _Grosvenor Square_—
“It was a hideous little street of dead wall, stables, and dunghills, with lofts over coach-houses inhabited by coachmen’s families, who had a passion for drying clothes, and decorating their window-sills with miniature turnpike-gates. The principal chimney-sweep of that fashionable quarter lived at the blind end of Mews Street. . . . Yet there were two or three small airless houses at the entrance end of Mews Street, which went at enormous rents on account of their being abject hangers-on to a fashionable situation; and whenever one of these fearful little coops was to be let (which seldom happened, for they were in great request), the house agent advertised it as a gentlemanly residence in the most aristocratic part of the town, inhabited solely by the élite of the beau monde.”
The Patriarchal Casby, with his daughter—the irrepressible _Flora_—and _Mr. F.’s Aunt_,
“Lived in a street in the Gray’s Inn Road, which had set off from that thoroughfare with the intention of running at one heat down into the valley, and up again to the top of Pentonville Hill; but which had run itself out of breath in twenty yards, and had stood still ever since. There is no such place in that part now; but it remained there for many years, looking with a baulked countenance at the wilderness patched with unfruitful gardens, and pimpled with eruptive summer-houses, that it had meant to run over in no time.”
TALE OF TWO CITIES.
In this Tale we read of the funeral of _Cly_, the Old Bailey Informer; the interment taking place in the burial-ground attached to the ancient church of St. Pancras in the Fields. This edifice still exists in PANCRAS ROAD (east side, opposite _Goldington Crescent_), which leads from King’s Cross, northward, to Kentish Town. There is a church of the same name to be found in the EUSTON ROAD—east of _Upper Woburn Place_, but this is altogether another and more modern structure than the one above referred to. A century since, at the time of the funeral described, the name of this locality was literally correct; the church being situated in the outlying fields of the suburban village of PANCRAS. We may here recollect the fishing expedition undertaken by _Mr. Cruncher_ and his two companions, on the night following the funeral; when young _Jerry_ quietly followed his “honoured parent,” and assured himself of the nature of his father’s secret avocation.
GREAT EXPECTATIONS.
Mr. Jaggers, the Old Bailey lawyer, had his private residence on the south side of _Gerrard Street_, _Soho_, where he lived in solitary state, with his eccentric housekeeper, the mother of Estella: “Rather a stately house of its kind, but dolefully in want of painting, and with dirty windows.”
Wemmick’s Castle at _Walworth_ is altogether a place of the past; Walworth being now one of the most populous and crowded of metropolitan districts. We read that in Pip’s time
“It appeared to be a collection of black lanes, ditches, and little gardens, and to present the aspect of a rather dull retirement. Wemmick’s house was a little wooden cottage in the midst of plots of garden, and the top of it was cut out and painted like a battery mounted with guns.”
Mr. Barley, _alias Old Gruff-and-Glum_, lived at _Mill Pond Bank_, by Chinks’s Basin and the Old Green Copper Rope-walk. Pip says the place was anything but easy to find. Losing himself among shipbuilders’ and shipbreakers’ yards, he continues the description of his search as follows:—
“After several times falling short of my destination, and as often overshooting it, I came unexpectedly round a corner, upon Mill Pond Bank. It was a fresh kind of place, all circumstances considered, where the wind from the river had room to turn itself round; and there were two or three trees in it, and there was the stump of a ruined windmill, and there was the Old Green Copper Rope-walk—whose long and narrow vista I could trace in the moonlight, along a series of wooden frames set in the ground, that looked like superannuated haymaking rakes, which had grown old and lost most of their teeth. Selecting from the few queer houses upon Mill Pond Bank, a house with a wooden front and three storeys of bow-window (not bay-window, which is another thing), I looked at the plate upon the door, and read there Mrs. Whimple . . . the name I wanted.”
OUR MUTUAL FRIEND.
The House of Gaffer Hexam, the humble home of _Lizzie Hexam_ and her brother, was situated somewhere in the district of _Limehouse_, near the river. In a description given of the route by which Messrs. Lightwood and Wrayburn approached this locality, we read—
“Down by the Monument, and by the Tower, and by the Docks; down by Ratcliffe, and by Rotherhithe. . . . In and out among vessels that seemed to have got ashore, and houses that seemed to have got afloat—among bowsprits staring into windows, and windows staring into ships—the wheels rolled on, until they stopped at a dark corner, river-washed and otherwise not washed at all, where the boy alighted and opened the door.”
“The Six Jolly Fellowship Porters” was located in this same vicinity, overlooking the river. A waterside public-house, kept by _Miss Abbey Patterson_, who enforced a certain standard of respectability among her numerous clients, and conducted the house with a strict regard to discipline and punctuality—
“Externally, it was a narrow, lop-sided, wooden jumble of corpulent windows heaped one upon another, as you might heap as many toppling oranges, with a crazy wooden verandah impending over the water; indeed, the whole house, inclusive of the complaining flagstaff on the roof, impended over the water, but seemed to have got into the condition of a faint-hearted diver who has paused so long on the brink that he will never go in at all. . . . The back of the establishment, though the chief entrance, was there so contracted that it merely represented, in its connection with the front, the handle of a flat iron set upright on its broadest end. This handle stood at the bottom of a wilderness of court and alley; which wilderness pressed so hard and close upon the ‘Six Jolly Fellowship Porters,’ as to leave the hostelry not an inch of ground beyond its door.”
Rogue Riderhood and his daughter _Pleasant_ traded at _Limehouse Hole_, in the same district as above, where they kept “a leaving shop” for sailors; advancing small sums of money on the portable property of seafaring customers. Mr. Riderhood did not stand well in the esteem of the neighbourhood, which “was rather shy in reference to the honour of cultivating” his acquaintance, his daughter being the more respectable and respected member of the firm.
Mr. Twemlow, “an innocent piece of dinner furniture,” often in request in certain West-end circles of society, lodged in _Duke Street_, _St. James’s_, “over a livery stable-yard.”
The Location of the Veneering Family is described as “a bran-new house, in a bran-new quarter,” designated by the appellation of “_Stucconia_;” while their intimate friends The Podsnaps flourished “in a shady angle adjoining _Portman Square_.”
Boffin’s Bower, the home in which we are first introduced to the Golden Dustman and his wife, was to be found “about a mile and a quarter up Maiden Lane, Battle Bridge,” in the close vicinity of the Mounds of Dust for which Mr. Harman was the contractor.
The Location of Mr. R. Wilfer and family was in the northern district of _Holloway_, beyond Battle Bridge, divided therefrom by “a tract of suburban Sahara, where tiles and bricks were burnt, bones were boiled, carpets were beat, rubbish was shot, dogs were fought, and dust was heaped by contractors.”
The Establishment of Mr. Venus was in _Clerkenwell_, among
“The poorer shops of small retail traders in commodities to eat and drink and keep folks warm, and of Italian frame-makers, and of barbers, and of brokers, and of dealers in dogs and singing-birds. From these, in a narrow and a dirty street devoted to such callings, Mr. Wegg selects one dark shop-window with a tallow candle dimly burning in it, surrounded by a muddle of objects vaguely resembling pieces of leather and dry stick, but among which nothing is resolvable into anything distinct, save the candle itself in its old tin candlestick, and two preserved frogs fighting a small-sword duel.”
THE MYSTERY OF EDWIN DROOD.
In the first chapter of the tale we are introduced to “the meanest and closest of small rooms,” where, “through the ragged window-curtain, the light of early day steals in from a miserable court.” A man
“Lies dressed, across a large unseemly bed, upon a bedstead that has indeed given way under the weight upon it. Lying, also dressed, and also across the bed, not longwise, are a Chinaman, a Lascar, and a haggard woman. The two first are in a sleep or stupor; the last is blowing at a kind of pipe, to kindle it.”
This Opium Smokers’ Den had its location in an eastern district of London, probably the _Shadwell_ neighbourhood of the LONDON DOCKS, but no precise indication of its whereabouts is given in the tale. We read of John Jasper starting from his hotel in _Falcon Square_: “Eastward, and still eastward, through the stale streets, he takes his way, until he reaches his destination—a miserable court, specially miserable among many such.”
THE SOUTH KENSINGTON MUSEUM
is readily attainable from _Charing Cross_ (or any other) station of the _District Metropolitan Railway_. Entrance in _Cromwell Road_, five minutes’ walk, on the north side, from South Kensington Station.
The Forster Collection—on the first floor—in this museum contains several of the earlier LETTERS written by Dickens to Forster, and the pen-and-ink sketch by _Maclise_, representing the “Apotheosis of ‘Grip,’” the celebrated Raven, who departed this life at No. 1 Devonshire Terrace, March 12th, 1841. There are also here exhibited The Manuscripts of the principal WORKS OF DICKENS, together with a _Proof Copy_ of “David Copperfield,” showing the corrections of the Author. Most of these lie opened, each at its first page; and it is interesting to observe the careful interlineations and alterations with which the various original copies were amended. In the case of “The Mystery of Edwin Drood,” the sorrowful memento of its final page is exposed to view, as being the last sheet written by the “vanished hand” of our much loved and faithful friend,
[Picture: Charles Dickens Signature]
INDEX
ACCADEMY, Turveydrop’s, 65
Adam Street, 5
Adelphi Arches, The, 5
— Hotel, The, 5
Albany, The, 62
Aldgate High Street, 70
— Pump, 71
Almshouses, Watts’s, 95
Apartments of Captain Cuttle, 156
— Major Bagstock, 156
— Miss Tox, 156
— Mrs. Gamp, 50
— Richard Carstone, 52
— The Kenwigses, 64
— Tom Pinch, 155
Apotheosis of “Grip,” 164
Artful Dodger at Court, The, 8
— Dodger at Work, The, 37
Astley’s Theatre, 78
* * * * *
BAGNET, Mr., 159
Bailey, Junior, 50, 72
Bank, Child’s, 20
— of England, 67
— Tellson’s, 20
Bardell v. Pickwick, 29
Bardell’s House, Mrs., 151
Barley, Mr., 161
Barnacle, Mr. Tite, 160
Barnard’s Inn, 45
Barnett’s Hotel, 3
Bedfordbury, 4
Bell Tavern, The, 27
— Yard, 20
Belle Sauvage Yard, 26
Bethlehem Hospital, 77
Bevis Marks, 69 70
Billickin, Mrs., 51
Bishop’s Court, 17
Black Lion, The, 154
Bleeding Hart Yard, 40
Blinder, Mrs., 20
Bloomsbury Square, 52
“Blue Boar,” The, 68
Blunderstone Rookery, 140
Blundeston, 140
Boarding House, Todgers’s, 71
Bob Sawyer’s Lodging, 74
Boffin, House of Mr., 59
Boffin’s Bower, 163
Boot Tavern, 55
Borough, The, 72
Bouverie Street, 24
Bow Street Police Court, 8
Bradbury & Evans, 24
Bradley Headstone, 23
Bream’s Buildings, 19
Broad Court, 8
Brook Street, Grosvenor Sq, 60
Brownlow’s Residence, Mr., 3
Buckhurst Hill, 128
Buckingham Street, 5
Buffet, Spiers and Pond’s, 46
Bull and Anchor Tavern, 49
Bull Inn Yard, The, 76
Burial Ground, Nemo’s, 9
Butler’s Wharf, 33
CANTERBURY
AUGUSTINIAN Monastery, 106
Burgate Street, 111
Butcher, The obnoxious, 108
Canterbury, City of, 103
Castle Street, 104
Christchurch Gate, 106
Doctor Strong, 106
Faversham, 103
Fleur de Lys Hotel, 109
George and Dragon Inn, 109
Home of Agnes, 111
— Mr. Larkins, 107
King’s School, 106
Lady’s Green, The, 106
Larkins, The eldest Miss, 107
London Coach Office, 109
London, Chatham & Dover Station 103, 112
Margaret Street, 104, 105
Markleham, Mrs., 110
Mercery Lane, 105, 108
Micawbers, The, 104
Monastery Street, 106
North Lane (No. 65), 110
Palace Street, 110
Queen’s Head Inn, 104
Residence of Dr. Strong, 106
— Mr. Wickfield, 111
— Uriah Heep, 110
St. Alphege, Church of, 110
— Dunstan Street, 111
— Margaret’s Church, 105
Sittingbourne, 103
Teynsham, 103
Watling Street, 104
* * * * *
CARLISLE House, 66
Carnaby Street, 64
Carstone’s Apartments, Richard, 53
Casby, Mr., 160
Castle, The, 28
Chadband, Rev. Mr., 19
Chambers of Copperfield, 5
— Mr. Fledgby, 62
— Mr. Grewgious, 48
— Mr. Tartar, 48
— John Westlock, 46
Chandos Street (No. 3), 4
Chapman & Hall, Messrs., 63
Charing Cross Terminus, 3, 31, 102
Charles Darnay’s Trial, 36
CHATHAM, 86
— Clover Lane Academy, 87
— Fort Pitt, 87
— Military Hospital, 87
— Providence Chapel, 87
— Railway Street, 86
— Recreation Ground, 88
— Rome Lane, 86
— The Brook, 87
Cheeryble Bros., Messrs., 153
Chester, Edward, 22
— Sir John, 22, 23
Chevy Slyme, 155
Chichester Rents, 17
Chicksey, Veneering, & Co., 71
Chigwell, 129
— Church, 129
— King’s Head, 129
Children’s Hospital, The, 53
Child’s Bank, 20
Chivery’s Shop, 76
Christchurch, 77
Church, Dulwich, 83
— Emmanuel, 82
— St. Alphege, 101
— St. Dunstan’s, 23
— St. George’s, 73
— St. John the Evangelist’s, 79
— St. Mary-le-Bow, 28
— St. Pancras in the Fields, 161
— Street, 79
Chuzzlewit & Son, 154
Clare Court, 10
Claridge’s Hotel, 60
Clennam’s House, Mrs., 160
Clerkenwell Green, 37
Clifford’s Inn Passage, 23
Cloisterham, 88
Coavinses’ Castle, 17
Cobham, 84
Cook’s Court, 18
Cooling Village, 91
Copperfield’s Chambers, 5
Cornhill, 68
Court of Chancery, 16
Covent Garden Market, 7, 8
— Theatre, 8
Craven Street (No. 39), 3
Creakle’s Establishment, Mr., 157
Crisparkle, Rev. S., 92
Cross Keys Inn, The, 28
Crown Inn, The, 64
Crozier Hotel, The, 98
Curiosity Shop, The Old, 11
Cursitor Street, 17
* * * * *
_Daily News_ Office, 24
Dean’s Court, 27
Dedlock Mansion, The, 159
Devonshire House, 60
— Street, 53
— Terrace, 57
Dickens, Amateur Acting of, 61
— Death of, 100
— Dining-House of, 10
Dickens at Lamert’s Factory, 3
— Letters of, 164
— Manuscripts of, 164
— Memorial Tablet, 92
— Readings of, 9, 62
— Residences of, 46, 48, 55, 87, 99
— at School, 87
— Tomb of, 146
Dickens’s Establishment, Mrs., 56
Doctor Slammer, 98
Doctors’ Commons, 27
Dodson & Fogg, Messrs , 68
Dolls’ Dressmaker, The, 79
Dombey & Son’s Offices, 30
Dombey’s Residence, Mr., 58, 59
Dorking, 141
— “Marquis of Granby”, 142
— “White Horse,” 142
— Rev. Mr. Stiggins, 143
— ,, ,, Downfall of, 144
Doubledick, Richard, 98
Doughty Street (No. 48), 55
* * * * *
DOVER
COPPERFIELD’S Resting Place, 113
Dover Priory, 112-114
Dover, Town of, 112
King’s Head Hotel, 114
Market Place Corner, 113
Miss Manetty and Mr. Lorry, 114
Priory Hill, 114
Residence of Miss Trotwood, 114
Stanley Mount, 114
Staplehurst Disaster, 115
* * * * *
Doyce & Clennam’s Factory, 40
Dulwich Church, 83
Durdles, A night with, 93
Durdles’s Lodgings, 93
* * * * *
EDWIN Drood and Rosa, 98
Ely Place, Holborn, 41
Emigration of Peggotty, &c., 100
Emmanuel Church, 82
Escort in London, 120
Establishment of Mr. Waterbrook, 41
Eugene Wrayburn, 23, 123
Exchequer Coffee House, 79
Execution of the Mannings, 76
* * * * *
FAGIN’S House, 152
Falcon Hotel, 34
Falstaff Inn, 99
Fang, Mr. J. P., 38, 39
Feast of the Three Hobgoblins, 71
Feenix Town House, 60
Field Lane, 39
Finches of the Grove, The, 7
First Avenue Hotel, 49
— Readings, Dickens’s, 9
Fish Street Hill, 71
Fleet Market, 25
— Prison, 25
Flite, Miss, 16
Folly Ditch, 32
Forest House, Chigwell, 131
Forge, Joe Gargery’s, 90
Forster Collection, The, 164
Forster’s House, Mr., 14
Foundling Hospital, The, 54
Fountain Court, Temple, 21
Fox-under-the-Hill, The, 6
Freeman’s Court, 68
Funeral of Dickens, 147
Furnival’s Inn, 46
* * * * *
GADSHILL Place, 99
Gaffer Hexam’s House, 162
Gamp, Mrs., 50
Garden Court, Temple, 21
Gargery’s Forge, Joe, 91
Gate of the Temple, 21
General Agency Office, 153
George and Vulture Inn, The, 68
George the IVth, The Old, 12
George Yard, The, 68
George’s Shooting-Gallery, 158
Giles, Rev. William, 87
Golden Cross Hotel, The, 1
— Key, The, 154
— Square, 63
Goldsmith’s Buildings, 23
Gordon, Lord George, 60
— Riots, The, 36, 44
Goswell Street, 151
Gower Street, 56, 57
Gravesend, 100
Gray’s Inn, 49
Great Ormond Street, 53
— Yarmouth, 135
— Angel Hotel, 138
— Coaches, 138
— Home of Little Emily, 136
— Star Hotel, 138
— Storm at, 137
Green Dragon Tavern, The, 68
Greenwich Park, 101
Gridley’s Lodgings, 20
Grip, The Raven, 28
— Apotheosis of, 164
Grocers’ Hall Court, 29
Guild of Literature and Art, 61
Guildhall, The, 28
Guppy, Mr., 62, 158
Guppy’s Address, Mr., 158
— Mrs., 158
* * * * *
HAMPSTEAD, 151, 152
Hanging Sword Alley, 24
Harley Street, 58
Hatchett’s Hotel, 61
Hatton Yard, 38
Hawdon, Capt., 17
* * * * *
HENLEY
A CRY for Help, 122
Anchor Inn, 121
Aston, 124
Attack by Headstone, 123
Betty Higden, Death of, 122
— Burial of, 122
Death of Riderhood and Headstone, 125
Eastern Tow Path, 124
Eugene Wrayburn, 123
Fawley Court, 124
Greenlands, 124
Harmon’s Reflections, 127
Henley Bridge, 123
Hurley Lock, 125
Kensal Green Cemetery, 117
Lizzie Hexam, 119, 122, 123
Lock House, Hurley, 125
Marriage of Eugene and Lizzie, 119
Marsh Lock, 123
— Mill, 121
Medmenham Abbey, 124
Micawber’s Quotation, 126
Plashwater Weir Mill Lock, 124, 125
Railway Station, Henley, 121
Red Lion Inn, 118
— Lawn, 119
Rescue of Eugene, 119
Rogue Riderhood, 125
Stoke Pogis Churchyard, 126
Tow Path, The, 121
Waterloo Station, 120
* * * * *
Her Majesty’s Theatre, 80
Hexam’s House, 162
Holborn Restaurant, The, 14
— Viaduct, 37
Hope Brothers, Messrs., 26
Horndean, 141
Horse and Groom, The, 13
— Guards, The, 80
Horsemonger Lane Gaol, 76
Horseshoe Restaurant, The, 66
Hospital, Bethlehem, 77
— Children’s, The, 53
— Foundling, The, 54
Hotel, Adelphi, 5
— Barnett’s Private, 3
— Cecil, 5
— Claridge’s, 60
— Falcon, 34
— First Avenue, 49
— Golden Cross, 1
— Hatchett’s, 61
— Hummums, 7
— Tavistock, 7
— Woods’, 47
House of Sampson Brass, 70
— Sol Gills, 69
_Household Words Office_, 7
Hugh, 23
Hungerford Market, 3
— Stairs, 3
* * * * *
IPSWICH, 131
— Residence of Mr. Nupkins, 134
— St. Clement’s Church, 133
— White Horse Hotel, 131
* * * * *
JACOB’S Island, 32
Jaggers, Offices of Mr., 35
— Residence of Mr., 161
Jarndyce, Mr., 158
Jarndyce v. Jarndyce, 16
Jellyby’s Residence, Mrs., 41
Jenny Wren, 79, 119
Jerry Cruncher’s Apartments, 24
— Cruncher’s Employment, 161
Jingle, Mr., 2, 97, 134
Job Trotter, 133
John Jasper, Apartments of, 94
Johnny’s Will, 54
Julius Handford, Mr., 79
* * * * *
KENGE & Carboy’s Offices, 16
Kenwigs Family, The, 64
King’s Bench Prison, 74, 75
“King’s Head,” Chigwell, 129
King’s Head Court, 71
Kingsgate Street, 50
Knag, Mr. and Miss, 153
Krook’s Warehouse, 17
* * * * *
LAING, Mr. J. P., 39
Lambeth Palace, 78
— Road, 78
Lamert’s Blacking Factory, 3
— Warehouse, 3
Langdale’s Distillery, 39
Lant Street, 74
Leadenhall Street, 69
Leather Bottle Inn, The, 84
Letters of Dickens, 164
Lewsome’s Illness, 49
Lightwood’s Offices, 23
Lincoln’s Inn Chambers, 18
— Fields, 14, 15
— Hall, 16
— Old Square, 16
Lirriper’s Lodgings, 11
Little Britain, 35
London Bridge, 72
— Coffee Tavern, The, 26
— Stereoscopic Company, 28
— Street, 32
— Tavern, The, 152
Lucretia Tox, Miss, 156
* * * * *
MACSTINGER, Mrs., 156
Magpie and Stump, The, 12
Manette, Doctor, 66
— Street, 66
Mansfield, Lord, 52
— Street, 58
Mansion House, The, 29
Mantalini, Madame, 59
Manuscripts of Dickens, 164
Mark Tapley, 6, 29
Market, Covent Garden, 7, 8
— Farringdon, 25
— Fleet, 25
— Hungerford, 3
Marshall Street, 65
Marshalsea Place, 73
— Prison, 73
Martha’s Lodging, 65
— Suicidal attempt, 78
Martin Chuzzlewit, 6, 21
“Maypole Inn,” The, 129
Memorial Hall, The, 25
Merdle, Mr., 58
Micawber, Mr., 157
Mill Bank Street, 78
— Street, 32
Mincing Lane, 71
Minor Canon Corner, 92
Minories, 70, 71
Monk’s Vineyard, The, 91
Mowcher, Miss, 139
* * * * *
NADGETT, Mr., 155
Nancy and Rose Maylie, 72
Neckett’s Lodging, 20
Nemo’s Burial, 9
— Lodging, 17
Newgate Prison, 35
— Burning of, 36
Newman Noggs, 64
— Street, 65
Newman’s Court, 68
Nickleby’s Office, Ralph, 63
Noah Claypole, 72
Norie & Wilson, Messrs., 69
Nuns’ House, The, 89
* * * * *
OBELISK, St. George’s, 77
Office of Chicksey & Co., 71
— Daily News, The, 24
— Dodson & Fogg, 68
— Dombey & Son, 30
— Jaggers, Mr., 35
— Kenge & Carboy, 16
— Lightwood & Wrayburn, 23
— Perker, Mr., 49
— Pubsey & Co., 69
— Ralph Nickleby, 63
— Spenlow & Jorkins, 27
Old Bailey, The, 36
— Curiosity Shop, The, 11, 12
— Gruff-and-Glum, 161
— Palace Yard, 79
Old Ship Tavern, The, 17
— Square, Lincoln’s Inn, 16
Olde Cheshire Cheese, Ye, 24
Oliver Twist at Court, 38
— enlightened, 37
— entering London, 38
Opium Smokers’ Den, The, 164
Osborn’s Hotel, 5
“Our House,” 59
* * * * *
PAPER Buildings, Temple, 22
Park, St. James’s, 80
Parliament Street, 79
Peabody’s Buildings, 4
Pecksniff’s Downfall, 22
Peggotty, Mr., 100
— House of, 136
Perker’s Offices, 49
Piccadilly, 61, 62
Pickwick’s Discovery, 85
— Imprisonment, 25
— Retirement, 83
— Travels, 2, 61
— Trial, 28
Pip’s Chambers, 21
P. J. T., 48
Plornish’s Home, 40
Podsnaps, The, 8
Poetical Tribute, 149
Police Court, Bow Street, 8
— Hatton Garden, 38
Portsmouth, 145
— Birthplace of Dickens, 145
— Cambridge Barracks, 145
— Street, 11
— Theatre, 145
Portugal Street, 13
Post Office, Charing Cross, 1
— General, 34
Poultry, The, 29
Princess Place, 156
Prison, The Fleet, 25
— King’s Bench, 74, 75
— Marshalsea, 73
Procter, Miss Adelaide, 97
Pubsey & Co., 69
Pump Court, Temple, 22
* * * * *
QUARTERMAINE’S Ship Tavern, 101
Queen Square, 53
Quilp’s House, 33
— Wharf, 33
* * * * *
RAILWAY Street, Chatham, 86
Red Lion, The, 70, 80
Residence of Brownlow, Mr., 3
— Dickens, 46, 48, 55, 87, 99
— Dombey, Mr., 58, 59
— Gordon, Lord G., 60
— Jellyby, Mrs., 41
— La Creevy, Miss, 6
— Lammles, The, 62
— Mansfield, Lord, 52
— Merdle, Mr., 58
— Micawber, Mr., 157
— Nickleby, Mrs., 152
— Pickwick, Mr., 83
— Snagsby, Mr., 18
— Tulkinghorn, Mr., 14
— Veneerings, 163
Restaurant, Epitaux’s, 81
Richard Doubledick, 98
ROCHESTER, 88
— Bridge, 98
— Bull Hotel, 97
— Cathedral, 92
— College Gate, 94
— Crown Hotel, 98
— Crypts, The, 93
— Eastgate House, 89
— Esplanade, 98
— Minor Canon Row, 92
— Restoration Mouse, 90
— St. Nicholas Church, 94
— Sapsea’s House, 90
— Theatre, 88
— The Vines, 99
— Watts’s Charity, 95
Rogue Riderhood, 163
Rokesmith Wedding, The, 101
Roman Bath, 10
Rosa Budd, 47, 48
Rowland & Son, 40
Rudge, Mrs., 72
Rules of King’s Bench, 74, 75
* * * * *
SACKVILLE Street, 62
Saffron Hill, Great, 38, 39
— Little, 38
St. Alphege Church, 101
— Clement Danes, 11
— Dunstan’s Church, 23
— George’s Church, 73
— ,, Obelisk, 77
— James’s Hall, 62
— ,, Park, 80
St. John the Evangelist’s Church, 79
— Martin’s Hall, 9
— Martin’s-le-Grand, 34
— Mary Axe, 69
— Mary-le-Bow Church, 28
— Pancras in the Fields, 161
— Paul’s Churchyard, 27
Sackville Street, 62
Salem House, 157
Sampson Brass, 70
Sam’s Valentine, 68
Sapsea, Mr., 90
Saracen’s Head, The, 36
Satis House, 90
Sawyer’s Lodging, Bob, 74
Seven Poor Travellers, The, 96
“Six Jolly Fellowship Porters The,” 162
Skimpole Family, The, 159
Slammer, Doctor, 98
Smallweed Family, The, 158
Smithfield, 35
Snagsby’s Residence, 18
Snevellicci, Mr., 8
Snow Hill, 37
Sole Street Station, 84
Sol’s Arms, The, 17, 18
Somerleyton Park, 140
Southampton Street, 51
South Kensington Museum, 164
South Square, 49
Southwark Bridge, 34
Spaniards’ Inn, The, 151
Spa Road Station, 31
Spenlow & Jorkins, 27
Spiers & Pond’s Buffet, Messrs, 42
Stagg’s Cellar, 154
— Gardens, 155
Staple Inn, 48
Steerforth, Mrs., 157
Strong’s House, Dr., 158
Stryver’s Chambers, 22
Surrey Theatre, 77
Swan and Sugar Loaf, The, 32
Sweedlepipes, House of, 50
Swiss Châlet, 99
Sydney Carton, 22, 24
Symond’s Inn, 19
* * * * *
TATTYCORAM, 55
Tavern, Black Lion, The, 154
Tavern, Boot, The, 55
— Bull and Anchor, The, 49
— Coffee, London, The, 27
— Green Dragon, The, 68
— London, The, 26
— Old George IVth, The, 12
— Old Ship, The, 17
— Quartermaine’s Ship, 101
— “Six Jolly Fellowship Porters”, 162
Tavistock Hotel, The, 7
— House, 56
— Square, 56
Tellson’s Bank, 20
Temple Bar, 20
— Church, 23
— Fountain, 21
— Garden Court, 21
— Gate, 21
— Paper Buildings, 22
— Pump Court, 22
Thames Street, 160
Thavies Inn, 41
Theatre, Astley’s, 78
— Covent Garden, 8
— Her Majesty’s, 80
— Rochester, 88
— Surrey, The, 77
Three Cripples, The, 40
Tigg, Montague, 155
Toby Veck, 23
Todger’s Boarding House, 71
Tom All-Alone’s, 4
Tom Pinch’s Apartments, 155
Toodles, Polly, 155
Took’s Court, 18
Toots’s Excursions, 71
Tox, Miss Lucretia, 156
Traddles, Home of, 49
Traddles’s Lodgings, 158
Travellers, Seven Poor, 95
Trial of Charles Darnay, 36
Trinity House, 34
Tulkinghorn’s Residence, Mr., 14
Tupman’s Retreat, 84
Turveydrop’s Academy, 65
Twemlow, Mr., 163
Twinkleton, Miss, 51
* * * * *
VARDEN Family, The, 129
Veneering Family, The, 163
Venus, Mr., 163
* * * * *
WALTER Wilding, 54
Warren, The, 131
Waterbrook’s Establishment, 41
Watts, Richard, 95
Wedding of Mr. Snodgrass, 83, 84
Welbeck Street, 60
Weller, Sam, 84, 135
— Tony, 26
Weller’s Rendezvous, 13
Wellington Academy, 152
— Street, Strand, 7
Wemmick’s Castle, 161
— Wedding, 83
Westminster Abbey, 79, 146
White Hart Inn, The, 72
White Horse Cellars, The, 61
Wigmore Street, 59
Wilfer Family, The, 57
— Residence of, 163
Willet, John, 130
Wimpole Street, 59
Wititterly, Mrs., 153
Wooden Midshipman, The, 69–71
Wood Street, 28
Woods’ Hotel, 47
* * * * *
YARMOUTH, 135
Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese, 24