chapter 12.

The first reference of our author to King’s Bench Prison will be found in “Nicholas Nickleby” (chapter 46), on the occasion of the hero’s first visit to _Madeline Bray_, who resided with her father in one

“Of a row of mean and not over cleanly houses, situated within ‘the rules’ of the King’s Bench Prison; . . . comprising some dozen streets in which debtors who could raise money to pay large fees—from which their creditors did not derive any benefit—were permitted to reside.”

We learn from Allen’s “History of Surrey” that these rules comprehended all St. George’s Fields, one side of Blackman Street, and part of the Borough High Street, forming an area of about three miles in circumference. They could be purchased by the prisoners at the rate of five guineas for small debts, eight guineas for the first hundred pounds of debt, and about half that sum for every subsequent hundred.

The site of the prison is now occupied by workmen’s model dwellings named “Queen’s Buildings,” divided, north and south, by Scovell’s Road.

At the opposite side (east) of _Newington Causeway_, which here commences, is _Union Road_, late _Horsemonger __Lane_; a short distance down which, on its south side, is “THE PUBLIC PLAYGROUND FOR CHILDREN,” formerly the site of Horsemonger Lane Gaol, erected at the back of the Surrey Sessions House. Here the execution of the Mannings took place, November 13th, 1849, on which occasion Charles Dickens was present. The same day he sent a notable letter to the _Times_, directing general attention to the demoralising effect of such public exhibitions; thus setting on foot an agitation which shortly resulted in the adoption of our present private mode of carrying out the last penalty of the law. After giving a forcible and graphic picture of the night scenes enacted by the disorderly crowd in waiting, the letter was thus continued:—

“When the sun rose brightly—as it did—it gilded thousands upon thousands of upturned faces, so inexpressibly odious in their brutal mirth or callousness, that a man had cause to shrink from himself as fashioned in the image of the devil. When the two miserable creatures who attracted all this ghastly sight about them, were turned quivering into the air, there was no more emotion, no more pity, no more thought that two immortal souls had gone to judgment, no more restraint in any of the previous obscenities, than if the name of Christ had never been heard in this world, and there was no belief among men but that they perished like the beasts. I have seen, habitually, some of the worst sources of general contamination and corruption in this country, and I think there are not many phases of London life that could surprise me. I am solemnly convinced that nothing that ingenuity could devise to be done in this city, in the same compass of time, could work such ruin as one public execution; and I stand astounded and appalled by the wickedness it exhibits.”

Mr. Chivery resided with his family in _Horsemonger Lane_, in close proximity to the old prison, and kept a tobacconist’s shop for the supply of his Marshalsea customers and the general public of the neighbourhood—

“A rural establishment one storey high, which had the benefit of the air from the yards of Horsemonger Lane Jail, and the advantage of a retired walk under the wall of that pleasant establishment. The business was of too modest a character to support a life-size Highlander, but it maintained a little one on a bracket on the door-post, who looked like a fallen cherub that had found it necessary to take to a kilt.”

In the little back-yard of the premises, “Young John”—disappointed in love—was accustomed to sit and meditate; taking cold among the “tuneless groves” of the newly-washed family linen, and composing suitable epitaphs to his own memory, in melancholy anticipation of an early decease.

Proceeding along the Borough Road, we arrive in due course at St. George’s Obelisk, which stands at the meeting-point of six roads. In the twelfth chapter of “David Copperfield” we read of the Obelisk as the place near to which the “long-legged young man with a very little empty donkey-cart” was standing, whom David engaged to take his box to the Dover coach-office for sixpence. And we all remember the sad _dénouement_ of that engagement, as previously mentioned. Near at hand, at the top of Blackfriars Road, stands The Surrey Theatre, at which _Fanny Dorrit_ was engaged as a dancer, while her Uncle Frederick played the clarionet in the orchestra.

Crossing over to the opposite thoroughfare of _Lambeth Road_, the Rambler will find, at a short distance on the left, the entrance to Bethlehem Hospital, familiarly known as Bedlam. A reference to this asylum will be found in the pages of “The Uncommercial Traveller,” where our author implies the idea that the sane and insane are, at all events, equal in their dreams—

“Are not all of us outside this Hospital, who dream more or less, in the condition of those inside it, every night of our lives?”

The question may afford us matter for speculation as the route is continued through Lambeth Road, at the end of which we turn to the right, in the direction of the river. At the angle of the roads, past the Lambeth Police Office, we reach Christchurch, conspicuous for style and position, at which the Rev. Newman Hall some years since officiated. We may here recall the criticism given by Dickens with reference to this popular preacher in the book above referred to. See “_Two Views of a Cheap Theatre_,” as contained in “The Uncommercial Traveller.”

We now come onwards by _Westminster Bridge Road_, passing beneath the span of the London and South-Western Railway. Near Westminster Bridge, on the left, is the old site of Astley’s Theatre (non-existent since 1896). This establishment had cause to bless itself once a quarter, in days gone by, when Christopher Nubbles, Barbara, and friends patronised the performance. We may here remember the occasion when Kit knocked a man over the head with his bundle of oranges for “scroudging his parent with unnecessary violence;” also the happy evening that followed, when little Jacob first saw a play and learnt what oysters meant (_vide_ the “Old Curiosity Shop”). On the site formerly occupied by this favourite place of entertainment, there now stand five handsome houses and shops, Nos. 225 to 233 Westminster Bridge Road.

Past a few doors beyond these, above, on the same side, we reach Lambeth Palace Road, turning by which we may walk (or ride by tramcar) a short distance southward. Leaving on the right the seven handsome buildings of ST. THOMAS’S HOSPITAL, we pass—on the left—farther on, LAMBETH EPISCOPAL PALACE, and cross the Thames by LAMBETH SUSPENSION BRIDGE.

On the Middlesex shore we come into _Millbank Street_, and bestow a brief thought on Poor “Martha,” following her in imagination as she took her melancholy way southward in this same street, towards the waste riverside locality, “near the great blank prison” of Millbank, long since replaced by _Tate’s Gallery_.

Here it will be remembered that _David Copperfield_ and his trusty friend _Mr. Peggotty_ saved the despairing girl from a self-sought and miserable death.

At a few minutes’ distance northward from the bridge, _Church Street_ will be found, leading (left) to _Smith Square_. In this street lived The Dolls’ Dressmaker, little _Jenny Wren_. The whimsical description of the central church—ST. JOHN THE EVANGELIST’S—as given in the pages of “Our Mutual Friend,” may be worth comparison with the original—

“In this region are a certain little street called Church Street, and a certain little blind square called Smith Square, in the centre of which last retreat is a very hideous church, with four towers at the four corners, generally resembling some petrified monster, frightful and gigantic, on its back with its legs in the air.”

The house in which Jenny and her father lived is stated to have been one of the modest little houses which stand at the point where the street gives into Smith Square. The Rambler will observe four houses answering this description on the north side of Church Street; No. 9 has been indicated as the humble home in question, where “_the person of the house_” and her “_bad boy_” resided. Here, also, _Lizzie Hexam_ lodged for some time after the death of her father, during the days when her uncertain lover, _Eugene Wrayburn_, was yet a bachelor.

We may now return to the main road and continue the northward route by _Abingdon Street_, crossing _Old Palace Yard_. A passing thought may here be given to Mr. John Harmon, the _Julius Handford_ of “Our Mutual Friend,” who furnished the Police authorities with his address—The Exchequer Coffee House, Palace Yard, Westminster. Such a house of resort no longer exists in this vicinity.

On the west side the Rambler passes the precincts of Westminster Abbey, beneath whose “high embowed roof” repose the sacred ashes of the illustrious dead. To this venerable fane—the especial resting-place of English literary genius—we will return after our concluding ramble to the birthplace of our greatest English novelist.

The onward road takes us past the HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT, on the right, to PARLIAMENT STREET, leading to Whitehall and Charing Cross. At a short distance up this thoroughfare is Derby Street—the first turning on the right; on the north corner of which there stood—until 1899—an old public-house, “The Red Lion” (No. 48). This place may be specially noted as the house at which _young David Copperfield_ gave his “magnificent order” for a glass of the “Genuine Stunning,” and where the landlord’s wife gave him back the money and a kiss besides. This was an actual experience in the boyhood of Dickens, and is referred to in Mr. Forster’s Biography, where the house is indicated as above. It is now being rebuilt and modernised.

Proceeding by Whitehall, and crossing to the opposite side of the street, we shortly arrive at The Horse Guards, and may take passing observation of the OLD CLOCK—famed for its perfection of time-keeping—by whose warning note _Mark Tapley_ regulated the period of the interview next referred to. Passing through the arched passage beneath, we now attain the eastern side of St. James’s Park. This locality will be remembered as the place of meeting between _Mary Graham_ and _Martin Chuzzlewit_, previous to his departure for America. As the young lady was escorted by Mark in the early morning from a City hotel, we may be certain that the interview must have taken place on this side of the Park, doubtless near the principal gate of the promenade facing the Horse Guards’ entrance.

Leaving the Park northward, by _Spring Gardens_, we come into _Cockspur Street_, shortly leading (left) to PALL MALL. At the first corner of the latter stands Her Majesty’s Theatre. At this establishment, as reconstructed during the early years of the century, _Mrs. Nickleby_ attended, by special invitation of _Sir Mulberry Hawk_, Messrs. Pyke and Pluck assisting on that notable occasion, when, by a prearranged coincidence, Kate and the Wititterlys occupied the adjoining box.—_Vide_ “Nicholas Nickleby,” chapter 27.

This Opera House was burnt down 1789, and rebuilt the following year. It was remodelled 1818, and again destroyed by fire, December 6, 1867. Being a second time rebuilt, it was, for some seasons, closed since 1875. The present theatre is of recent and splendid erection.

At this central position, from which we may readily take departure for any point in London, the present Ramble will terminate. To all those needing reparation of tissue, a visit to Epitaux’s Restaurant, near the Haymarket Theatre, will be satisfactory.

RAMBLE VI _Excursion to Chatham_, _Rochester_, _and Gadshill_

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

Starting from the _Holborn Viaduct_ or _Ludgate Hill Station_ of the London, Chatham, and Dover Railway, we cross the Thames and proceed _en route_ for the Kentish uplands. At ten minutes’ distance from the London terminus, passing the Elephant and Castle and Walworth Road Stations, we may observe (on the left) the back of Emmanuel Church, as the train slackens speed for _Camberwell_. This may be noted as the place where _Mr. Wemmick_ and _Miss Skiffins_ were united in the bonds of matrimony; so we may here suitably recall the scene narrated in “Great Expectations,” and the informal and unexpected procedure adopted by Mr. W. on that occasion—

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

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

_Mr. Snodgrass_ and _Emily Wardle_, as we all know, were married at DULWICH CHURCH, in this vicinity; the wedding guests—including “the poor relations, who got there somehow”—assembling at Mr. Pickwick’s new house on that interesting occasion; and we may remember the general verdict then unanimously given as to the elegance, comfort, and suitability of our old friend’s suburban retreat—

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

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

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

[Picture: The “Leather Bottle”, Cobham]

“The Leather Bottle Inn”—where he was found at dinner by his anxious friends—is described as “a clean and commodious village ale-house,” and still maintains its favourable repute. It stands opposite the church at Cobham—

“At Muggleton they procured a conveyance to Rochester. By the time they reached the last-named place, the violence of their grief had sufficiently abated to admit of their making a very excellent early dinner; and having procured the necessary information relative to the road, the three friends set forward again in the afternoon to walk to Cobham.

“A delightful walk it was; for it was a pleasant afternoon in June, and their way lay through a deep and shady wood, cooled by the light wind which gently rustled the thick foliage, and enlivened by the songs of the birds that perched upon the boughs. The ivy and the moss crept in thick clusters over the old trees, and the soft green turf overspread the ground like a silken mat. They emerged upon an open park, with an ancient hall, displaying the quaint and picturesque architecture of Elizabeth’s time. Long vistas of stately oaks and elm-trees appeared on every side; large herds of deer were cropping the fresh grass; and occasionally a startled hare scoured along the ground with the speed of the shadows thrown by the light clouds which swept across a sunny landscape like a passing breath of summer. ‘If this,’ said Mr. Pickwick, looking about him, ‘if this were the place to which all who are troubled with our friend’s complaint came, I fancy their old attachment to this world would very soon return.’

“‘I think so too,’ said Mr. Winkle.

“‘And really,’ added Mr. Pickwick, after half-an-hour’s walking had brought them to the village, ‘really, for a misanthrope’s choice, this is one of the prettiest and most desirable places of residence I ever met with.’

“In this opinion also both Mr. Winkle and Mr. Snodgrass expressed their concurrence; and having been directed to the Leather Bottle, a clean and commodious village ale-house, the three travellers entered, and at once inquired for a gentleman of the name of Tupman. The three friends entered a long, low-roofed room, furnished with a large number of high-backed leather-cushioned chairs, of fantastic shapes, and embellished with a great variety of old portraits. At the upper end of the room was a table, with a white cloth upon it, well covered with a roast fowl, bacon, ale, and et ceteras; and at the table sat Mr. Tupman, looking as unlike a man who had taken his leave of the world as possible.”

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

[Picture: Cobham Inscription]

Full particulars are duly recorded in “The Pickwick Papers,” chapter 11. We may also remember the celebrated controversy in scientific and erudite circles, to which this remarkable stone gave rise; Mr. Pickwick being “elected an honorary member of seventeen native and foreign societies for the discovery.”

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

CHATHAM.

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

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

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

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

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

At the upper end of Railway Street we proceed (right) by the _High Street_, and at a short distance (left) by _Fair __Row_ to the _Brook_. Turning to the left, we shall find, standing immediately beyond the corner, on the west side, the old Residence of the Dickens Family, No. 18, next door to _Providence Chapel_. The house is a modest-looking dwelling of three storeys, with white-washed plaster front as in former days, six steps leading up to the front door, and a small garden before and behind. The chapel previously referred to has been, in more recent years, used for meetings of the Salvation Army, since becoming a clothing factory. During the residence of the family at Chatham, the minister of this place of worship was a _Mr. William Giles_, who was also the schoolmaster of Clover Lane Academy. For the last two years of Charles’s Chatham experience he was placed under the educational supervision of this young Baptist minister, whose influence seems to have been favourable to the development of his pupil’s youthful talents.

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

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

Coming through Clover Street, and turning (right) into the _New Road_, we shortly regain the neighbourhood of Chatham Station, on the south side of which a road in the westward direction leads to Fort Pitt, now the Chatham Military Hospital. Pickwickians will remember that Fort Pitt was indicated by Lieutenant Tappleton, the friend of the choleric _Doctor __Slammer_, as being in the vicinity of a field where the quarrel between the doctor and Mr. Winkle could be adjusted. This old field, and the contiguous land surrounding the Fort, now form The Recreation Ground of the City. Visitors may hence obtain an interesting and comprehensive view of the town and neighbourhood. We are, doubtless, all familiar with the happy termination of the affair of honour above referred to; the unworthy Jingle being at the bottom of the mischief. Full particulars of the dilemma may be found in chapter 2 of “The Pickwick Papers.”

Returning to the New Road, the Rambler, passing ST. BARTHOLOMEW’S HOSPITAL (founded in the eleventh century) on the right, may proceed by _Star Hill_, in the outskirts of Rochester. On the south side (left) of the descent there may be noted _en passant_ the new building of the ROCHESTER CONSERVATIVE CLUB, which stands on the site of The Old Theatre. Here the versatile Mr. Jingle and his melancholic friend, “elegantly designated Dismal Jemmy,” were engaged to perform “in the piece that the Officers of the Fifty-second” got up, when Mr. Pickwick commenced his travels, May 1827.

The theatre was demolished December 1884.

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

ROCHESTER.

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

“An ancient city, Cloisterham, and no meet dwelling-place for any one with hankerings after the noisy world. A monotonous, silent city, deriving an earthly flavour throughout, from its Cathedral crypt. . . . A drowsy city, Cloisterham, whose inhabitants seem to suppose, with an inconsistency more strange than rare, that all its changes lie behind it, and that there are no more to come. . . . So silent are the streets of Cloisterham (though prone to echo on the smallest provocation), that of a summer day the sunblinds of its shops scarce dare to flap in the south wind; while the sun-browned tramps who pass along and stare, quicken their limp a little that they may the sooner get beyond the confines of its oppressive respectability. This is a feat not difficult of achievement, seeing that the streets of Cloisterham city are little more than one narrow street by which you get into it, and get out of it; the rest being mostly disappointing yards with pumps in them and no thoroughfare—exception made of the Cathedral-close, and a paved Quaker settlement. . . . In a word, a city of another and a bygone time is Cloisterham, with its hoarse Cathedral bell, its hoarse rooks hovering about the Cathedral tower, its hoarser and less distinct rooks in the stalls far beneath. Fragments of old wall, saint’s chapel, chapter-house, convent, and monastery have got incongruously or obstructively built into many of its houses and gardens, much as kindred jumbled notions have become incorporated into many of its citizens’ minds. All things in it are of the past.”

[Picture: Eastgate House, Rochester]

Entering the busier part of the town by the Eastgate thoroughfare, we may shortly observe, on the right, Eastgate House, now occupied by the CITY OF ROCHESTER WORKMEN’S CLUB. It is a fine old Elizabethan building; a well-preserved specimen of the domestic architecture of the sixteenth century. The building abuts on the street, with a large courtyard and entrance at the side; and a spacious garden is attached at the back of the house. For more than fifty years (until about twenty years since) this establishment flourished as a ladies’ boarding-school, and is referred to in the pages of “Edwin Drood” as The Nuns’ House, the seminary conducted by the eminently respectable _Miss Twinkleton_—

“In the midst of Cloisterham stands the Nuns’ House; a venerable brick edifice, whose present appellation is doubtless derived from the legend of its conventual uses. On the trim gate enclosing its old courtyard, is a resplendent brass plate flashing forth the legend, ‘Seminary for young Ladies. Miss Twinkleton.’ The house-front is so old and worn, and the brass plate is so shining and staring, that the general result has reminded imaginative strangers of a battered old beau with a large modern eye-glass stuck in his blind eye.”

On the opposite side of the High Street (Nos. 146 and 147) stands Mr. Sapsea’s House. It will be remembered that we are introduced to _Mr. Thomas Sapsea_, auctioneer and Mayor of Cloisterham, in the 4th chapter of the same book, as being “the purest jackass” in the town; adopting, in his voice and style, the professional mannerism of his superiors—

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

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

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

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

[Picture: Restoration House, Rochester]

We now turn on the left into _Crow Lane_; at the further end of which, on the south side, stands Restoration House, another specimen of the Elizabethan style, in the present occupation of Stephen T. Aveling, Esq. This residence is of interest as being the _Satis House_ of “Great Expectations,” in which _Miss Havisham_ lived. We may recollect the circumstance of _Pip_ being escorted in _Mr. Pumblechook’s_ chaise-cart to this address, “to play” for the diversion of Miss Havisham. Here he first met _Estella_, who then treated him with extreme contempt, but with whom he fell desperately in love notwithstanding. Pip says, when speaking of his departure from the house:—

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

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

Turning to the left, we reach the _Promenade and Recreation Ground_, called “The Vines,” an open space of more than three acres, formerly the vinery of the ancient Priory. It is referred to in “Edwin Drood,”