Chapter 12: , headed “A Night with Durdles,” contains a description of the (1)

ascent of the Cathedral Tower, to the following effect:—

“They go up the winding staircase . . . among the cobwebs and the
dust. Twice or thrice they emerge into level low-arched galleries,
whence they can look down into the moonlight nave. . . Anon they
turn into narrower and steeper staircases, and the night air begins
to blow upon them, and the chirp of some startled jackdaw or
frightened rook precedes the heavy beating of wings in a confined
space, and the beating down of dust and straws upon their heads. At
last, leaving their light behind a stair—for it blows fresh up
here—they look down on Cloisterham, fair to see in the moonlight: its
ruined habitations and sanctuaries of the dead, at the tower’s base:
its moss-softened red-tiled roofs and red-brick houses of the living,
clustered beyond: its river winding down from the mist on the
horizon, as though that were its source, and already heaving with a
restless knowledge of its approach towards the sea.”

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

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

Turning to the right, on the opposite side of the High Street, we soon reach a stone-fronted edifice, with small windows and three gables, known as The Poor Travellers’ House. This charity was established 1579, by a local philanthropist, RICHARD WATTS, formerly citizen of Rochester, who rose from a humble position to be Member of Parliament for the City. He entertained Queen Elizabeth at his mansion (in 1573), a white house situated near the Castle gardens, and called _Satis House_. It will be recollected that Dickens transferred this name to Restoration House, situated in Crow Lane. It is said that the appellation was bestowed on the mansion by the virgin queen herself, in recognition of the “satisfactory” entertainment afforded by her host. _Estella_ gives another explanation of the title: “It meant, when it was given, that whoever had this house could want nothing else. They must have been easily satisfied.”

Watts’s Charity, the Travellers’ Rest aforesaid, is associated with the Christmas Number of _Household Words_ (1854), entitled “THE SEVEN POOR TRAVELLERS;” in which the inscription over the quaint old door is reproduced as follows:—

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

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

[This gentleman’s memory is also perpetuated in the charitable annals of the district by a handsome pile of buildings, in the Elizabethan style, on the Maidstone Road, called WATTS’S ALMSHOUSES—with pleasure-grounds in front, affording accommodation for ten men and ten women, who also receive twelve shillings each per week. The Institution is superintended by a matron and governed by sixteen trustees.]

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

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

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

“Myself with the pitcher.
Ben with Beer.
Inattentive Boy with hot Inattentive Boy with hot
plates. plates.
THE TURKEY.

Female carrying sauces to be heated on the spot.

THE BEEF.

Man with Tray on his head, containing Vegetables and
Sundries.

Volunteer Hostler from Hotel, grinning,
and rendering no assistance.”

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

The pen of the “Inimitable” was never in more genial feather than when inditing this Christmas story, the cheery and sympathetic humour of which is not excelled even by the “Carol” itself.

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

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

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

Here Mr. Jingle, on that fateful occasion, gave dire offence to Doctor Slammer, of the 97th Regiment, by making himself obtrusively agreeable to the rich little widow, Mrs. Budger; and we may remember how the Doctor, with his “hitherto bottled-up indignation effervescing from all parts of his countenance in a perspiration of passion,” insisted on a hostile meeting.

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

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

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

Leaving Rochester by The Bridge, crossing the Medway, we may bestow a passing thought on _Richard Doubledick_ as he came over the same, “with half a shoe to his dusty feet,” in the year 1799, limping into the town of Chatham. (See “The Seven Poor Travellers,” previously mentioned.)

[Picture: Gadshill Place]

On the north side of the river, the Rambler enters the town of _Strood_, and may proceed through the same, about two miles on the Gravesend Road, to

GADSHILL PLACE,

the last residence of Charles Dickens. It is situated on the left-hand side, nearly opposite the _Falstaff Inn_. The house was purchased by him on the 14th of March 1856, for £1790; and he afterwards projected and carried out many costly additions and improvements thereto. On the first-floor landing is displayed an illuminated frame (the work of Mr. Owen Jones), which reads as follows:—

“THIS HOUSE, GADSHILL PLACE, stands on the summit of Shakespeare’s Gadshill, ever memorable for its association with Sir John Falstaff in his noble fancy—‘_But_, _my lads_, _my lads_, _to-morrow morning_, _by four o’clock_, _early at Gadshill_! _there are pilgrims going to Canterbury with rich offerings_, _and traders riding to London with fat purses_: _I have vizards for you all_; _you have horses for yourselves_.’”

On this residence Dickens had fixed his choice in his boyish days. It had always held a prominent place amid the recollections connected with his childhood. Forster says that “upon first seeing it as he came from Chatham with his father, and looking up at it with admiration, he had been promised that he might live in it himself, or some such house, when he came to be a man, if he would only work hard enough.” It is pleasant to record that this ambition was gratified in after life, when the dream of his boyhood was realised.

In the contiguous shrubbery was placed a Swiss Chalet, presented to Dickens by his friend Mr. Fechter, which arrived from Paris in ninety-four pieces, fitting like the joints of a puzzle. Our author was fond of working in this chalet during the summer months; and in it, much of the material of his latest work was prepared.

In sad association with Gadshill Place, we must refer to the unexpected Death of Charles Dickens, which occurred here on the 9th of June 1870. He had been feeling weary and fatigued for some days previous to this date, but had nevertheless continued to work with cheerfulness, writing in the chalet, in preparation of the sixth number of “Edwin Drood.” On the 8th of June, whilst at dinner, he was suddenly attacked with apoplexy, and never spoke afterwards; and on the evening of the following day—with one rolling tear and one deep sigh—his gentle spirit soared beyond these earthly shadows,

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

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

“We went over the side into our boat, and lay at a little distance to
see the ship wafted on her course. It was then calm, radiant sunset.
She lay between us and the red light, and every taper line and spar
was visible against the glow. A sight at once so beautiful, so
mournful, and so hopeful, as the glorious ship lying still on the
flushed water, with all the life on board her crowded at the
bulwarks, and there clustering for a moment, bareheaded and silent, I
never saw. Silent, only for a moment. As the sails rose to the
wind, and the ship began to move, there broke from all the boats
three resounding cheers, which those on board took up and echoed
back, and which were echoed and re-echoed . . . Surrounded by the
rosy light . . . they solemnly passed away.”

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

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

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

Following the route northward, we may soon reach _King William Street_, by the river side, in which is situated Quartermaine’s Ship Tavern. This is the place where the “lovely woman” and her father once dined together on the occasion of their “innocent elopement.” (See “Our Mutual Friend,” chapter 8, Book 2.) It may be also remembered as the hotel at which was celebrated the wedding dinner of _Mr. and Mrs. Rokesmith_ aforesaid, “dear little Pa” being the honoured guest of that blissful opportunity. We may here also recollect the dignified bearing of the head waiter—The Archbishop of Greenwich—“a solemn gentleman in black clothes and a white cravat, who looked much more like a clergyman than _the_ clergyman, and seemed to have mounted a great deal higher in the church.”

Leaving GREENWICH, a short ride of twenty minutes (six miles), following the course of the river, will bring us to the CHARING CROSS TERMINUS, in central London.

RAMBLE VII Excursion to Canterbury and Dover

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

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

Beyond Chatham the journey is continued on the LONDON, CHATHAM AND DOVER RAILWAY, by three minor stations to SITTINGBOURNE, formerly a favourite resting-place for pilgrims (as its name would seem to indicate) _en route_ for Canterbury; but the modern mode of travel only now necessitates a halt of twenty minutes. Passing TEYNSHAM and FAVERSHAM, the train proceeds by the intermediate station of SELLING, to the fair old city of

CANTERBURY,

pleasantly situated on the banks of the Stour. Seat of the Primate of England, where, as Mr. Micawber writes, “the society may be described as a happy admixture of the agricultural and the clerical.” A quaint and quiet cathedral town, redolent with fragrant memories of _Agnes Wickfield_, fairest type of English womanhood—her father, and friends.

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

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

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

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

We may also recollect the dinner and convivial evening thereafter, celebrated two days later at this address, when David attended as the honoured guest of the occasion—

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

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

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

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

Crossing the HIGH STREET, and continuing northward through the narrow thoroughfare of MERCERY LANE (on the opposite side)—once the resort of the many pilgrims who came aforetime to worship at the shrine of Thomas-à-Becket—we enter the precincts of the Cathedral by CHRIST CHURCH GATE (16th century).

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

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

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

Crossing the LADY’S GREEN towards the gate of the ancient AUGUSTINIAN MONASTERY, and proceeding onwards by MONASTERY STREET, we may find at the end and corner of the street, on the left hand, a noteworthy antique-looking house, partly incorporated with a second gate of the old Monastery, at present the residence of a gentleman of the medical profession. In bygone time this house was a point of considerable attraction to David during his later school-days at Canterbury, as being the home of “The Eldest Miss Larkins,” his second love. In chapter 18, as we may remember, is contained a very pleasant piece of natural sketching, entitled “A Retrospect,” comprising, _inter alia_, the story of his youthful passion. David says:—

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

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

“I waltz with the eldest Miss Larkins! I don’t know where, among
whom, or how long. I only know that I swim about in space with a
blue angel, in a state of blissful delirium. . . . I am lost in the
recollection of this delicious interview, and the waltz, when she
comes to me again, with a plain, elderly gentleman, who has been
playing whist all night, upon her arm, and says, ‘Oh, here is my bold
friend! Mr. Chestle wants to know you, Mr. Copperfield.’ I feel at
once that he is a friend of the family, and am much gratified. . . .
I think I am in a happy dream. I waltz again with the eldest Miss
Larkins. She says I waltz so well! I go home in a state of
unspeakable bliss, and waltz in imagination, all night long, with my
arm round the blue waist of my dear divinity.”

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

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

“There is a vague belief abroad that the beef suet with which he
anoints his hair gives him unnatural strength, and that he is a match
for a man. He is a broad-faced, bull-necked young butcher, with
rough red cheeks, an ill-conditioned mind, and an injurious tongue.
His main use of this tongue is to disparage Dr. Strong’s young
gentlemen. He says publicly that if they want anything he’ll give it
’em. He names individuals among them (myself included) whom he could
undertake to settle with one hand, and the other tied behind him. He
waylays the smaller boys to punch their unprotected heads, and calls
challenges after me in the open streets. For these sufficient
reasons I resolve to fight the butcher.

“It is a summer evening, down in a green hollow, at the corner of a
wall. I meet the butcher by appointment. I am attended by a select
body of our boys; the butcher by two other butchers, a young
publican, and a sweep. The preliminaries are adjusted, and the
butcher and myself stand face to face. In a moment the butcher
lights ten thousand candles out of my left eyebrow. In another
moment I don’t know where the wall is, or where I am, or where
anybody is. I hardly know which is myself and which the butcher; we
are always in such a tangle and tussle, knocking about upon the
trodden grass. Sometimes I see the butcher, bloody but confident;
sometimes I see nothing, but sit gasping on my second’s knee;
sometimes I go in at the butcher madly, and cut my knuckles open
against his face, without appearing to discompose him at all. At
last I awake, very queer about the head, as from a giddy sleep, and
see the butcher walking off, congratulated by the two other butchers
and the sweep and publican, and putting on his coat as he goes, from
which I augur justly that the victory is his.”

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

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

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

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

“Halfway there, I met the London coach with Mr. and Mrs. Micawber up
behind; Mr. Micawber, the very picture of tranquil enjoyment, smiling
at Mrs. Micawber’s conversation, eating walnuts out of a paper bag,
with a bottle sticking out of his breast pocket. As they did not see
me, I thought it best, all things considered, not to see them. So,
with a great weight taken off my mind, I turned into a by-street that
was the nearest way to school, and felt, upon the whole, relieved
that they were gone, though I still liked them very much,
nevertheless.”

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

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

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

Returning to the main street, we pass the ancient WEST GATE—a fine specimen of medieval architecture, built between two massive round towers, with battlements and portcullis—and continue westward by ST. DUNSTAN STREET. At a short distance onwards, on the south side of the thoroughfare, nearly facing the approach to the SOUTH-EASTERN Railway Station, there may be observed—No. 71—an old picturesque timbered house, with three projecting gables and antiquated windows. This was the Residence of Mr. Wickfield, as described by David, in chapter 15, when he was first taken to Canterbury by Miss Betsy Trotwood—

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

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

[Some friends resident at Canterbury have been disposed to locate Mr. Wickfield’s house at No. 15 BURGATE STREET, now in occupation of the legal firm of Messrs. Fielding and Plummer (names, by-the-bye, which are used by Dickens in “The Cricket on the Hearth”); but neither the house nor its position will in any way correspond with Copperfield’s description of the same.]

[Picture: The Home of Agnes]

Here then was the Home of _Agnes_—that finest delineation of feminine portraiture ever conceived by our author—the central figure of the many pure and beautiful associations which entwine themselves with the chief interests of this most charming tale. In view of the personal history and character of its heroine, we may well understand Thackeray’s eulogium of his contemporary, as providing for the delectation of his daughters “the pure pages of David Copperfield;” and we can as readily appreciate the preference of Charles Dickens himself, when he says:—

“Of all my books I like this the best. It will be easily believed
that I am a fond parent to every child of my fancy, and that no one
can ever love that family as dearly as I love them. But, like many
fond parents, I have, in my heart of hearts, a favourite child, and
his name is David Copperfield.”

Leaving CANTERBURY by the direct line of the LONDON, CHATHAM AND DOVER RAILWAY, we are carried onward through a pleasant country towards the south-east coast; the white roads of the district indicating the abundant chalkiness of the soil. In Copperfield’s 13th chapter, narrating the circumstances of his long tramp to Dover, he says, “From head to foot I was powdered almost as white with chalk and dust as if I had come out of a lime-kiln.”

Passing three minor stations, the train arrives at DOVER PRIORY—about which more anon—whence it proceeds through an intervening tunnel to the town station, at the old port of

DOVER.

The town is of especial interest to readers of “David Copperfield,” as containing on its suburban heights the cottage residence of Miss Trotwood and Mr. Dick.

Proceeding eastward from the station, a short distance along COMMERCIAL QUAY; turning left, then right; and walking onwards _viâ_ SNARGATE, BENCH and KING STREETS, the Rambler may reach the Market Place, centrally situated in the lower part of the town, and may recall the circumstance of poor David resting near at hand, on his arrival—a juvenile stranger in a strange land—after a morning’s fruitless inquiry as to the whereabouts of his aunt. We read (in chapter 13) as follows:—

“I inquired about my aunt among the boatmen first, and received
various answers. One said she lived in the South Foreland light, and
had singed her whiskers by doing so; another, that she was made fast
to the great buoy outside the harbour, and could be only visited at
half-tide; a third, that she was locked up in Maidstone Jail for
child stealing; a fourth, that she was seen to mount a broom in the
last high wind and make direct for Calais. The fly-drivers among
whom I inquired were equally jocose and equally disrespectful; and
the shopkeepers, not liking my appearance, generally replied without
hearing what I had to say, that they had got nothing for me. I felt
more miserable and destitute than I had done at any period of my
running away. My money was all gone, I had nothing left to dispose
of; I was hungry, thirsty, and worn out, and seemed as distant from
my end as if I had remained in London.”

At the junction of CHURCH STREET and CASTLE STREET, both leading to and from the Market Place—at the northeast angle—there may be noted the Street Corner at which David sat down, considering the position of affairs, and where he received the first practical intimation for the proper direction of his search:—

“The morning had worn away in these inquiries, and I was sitting on
the step of an empty shop at a street corner, near the Market-place,
deliberating upon wandering towards those other places which had been
mentioned, when a fly-driver, coming by with his carriage, dropped a
horsecloth. Something good-natured in the man’s face, as I handed it
up, encouraged me to ask him if he could tell me where Miss Trotwood
lived. . . . ‘I tell you what,’ said he. ‘If you go up there,’
pointing with his whip towards the heights, ‘and keep right on till
you come to some houses facing the sea, I think you’ll hear of her.’”

Leaving the Market Place from its north-west corner, and keeping somewhat to the left, the Rambler may ascend by CANNON and BIGGIN STREETS, as indicated by the coachman’s whip, to the heights of Priory Hill, on which elevation, in the neighbourhood of ST. MARTIN’S PRIORY and the PRIORY FARM, there may be found several semi-detached residences pleasantly overlooking the “silver streak” and the intervening town below. Here, in an eligible position, there may be seen Stanley Mount, a villa residence of two storeys, with bow windows and contiguous lawn. This house now replaces an older one, which aforetime was the cottage at which the worthy Miss Trotwood lived; the miniature lawn in front being the “patch of green” over which that amiable lady asserted private right of way; persistently maintaining it against all comers in general, and the Dover donkey boys in particular—

“The one great outrage of her life, demanding to be constantly
avenged, was the passage of a donkey over that immaculate spot. In
whatever occupation she was engaged, however interesting to her the
conversation in which she was taking part, a donkey turned the
current of her ideas in a moment, and she was upon him straight.
Jugs of water and watering-pots were kept in secret places, ready to
be discharged on the offending boys, sticks were laid in ambush
behind the door, sallies were made at all hours, and incessant war
prevailed.”

Midway between Railway Stations and Quay, there may be noted The King’s Head Hotel, as being the old Coaching House at which the London Mail terminated its journey, and referred to in “The Tale of Two Cities” by the name of “The Royal George.” Here may be recalled the interview related in chapter 4, which took place at this hotel between _Mr. Lorry_ and _Miss Manette_, and at which the reader is first introduced to the eccentric _Miss Pross_—“dressed in some extraordinary tight-fitting fashion”; wearing on “her head a most wonderful bonnet, like a Grenadier measure (and a good measure too) or a great Stilton cheese.”

Returning to London by South-Eastern Rail, the Rambler will pass, about half-way on the road, the picturesque village of Staplehurst. Near this station it may be remembered that, on June 9th, 1865, a sad disaster occurred to the train in which Mr. Dickens was a traveller. The _Postscript_ to “Our Mutual Friend” contains the following reference:—

“Mr. and Mrs. Boffin (in their manuscript dress) were on the
South-Eastern Railway with me, in a terribly destructive accident.
When I had done what I could to help others, I climbed back into my
carriage—nearly turned over a viaduct, and caught aslant upon the
turn—to extricate the worthy couple. They were very much soiled, but
otherwise unhurt. . . . I remember with devout thankfulness that I
can never be much nearer parting company with my readers for ever
than I was then, until there shall be written against my life the two
words with which I have this day closed this book—The End.”

RAMBLE VIII _Excursion to Henley-on-Thames_

Route by Great Western Railway _viâ_ Maidenhead and Twyford to Henley—The Red Lion Inn, place of accommodation for Mr. Eugene Wrayburn—Marriage of Mr. Wrayburn and Lizzie Hexam—The Anchor Inn, the “little inn” at which Bella Wilfer first visited Lizzie Hexam—Henley Railway Station—The Tow Path, scene of the interview between Lizzie and Eugene—Marsh Mill, at which Lizzie was employed—Neighbourhood where Betty Higden died—Shiplake Churchyard, where Betty was buried—“A cry for help”—West bank of Thames, Henley Bridge and Poplar Point, the neighbourhood where occurred Bradley Headstone’s attack on Eugene Wrayburn—Lizzie’s walk by Marsh Lock to the Eastern Tow Path beyond Henley Bridge—Her rescue of Eugene—Henley _viâ_ Aston and Medmenham to Hurley Lock, “Plashwater Weir Mill” Lock, Rogue Riderhood, Deputy Lockkeeper—Final scene of the Tragedy—Churchyard of Stoke Pogis—Mr. Micawber’s Quotation—The Homeward Journey—John Harmon’s Reflections.

A very delightful country excursion may be made for visiting the neighbourhood of Henley-on-Thames, of especial interest to the readers of “Our Mutual Friend.”

It may be remembered that _Lizzie Hexam_, desirous of avoiding the attentions of her (then) unworthy lover, _Mr. Eugene Wrayburn_, left London secretly, with the assistance of Riah—representative of the honourable firm of Messrs. Pubsey and Co.; that, by his recommendation, she obtained a situation at a PAPER MILL (then under Jewish management), at some distance from the Metropolis, and remained for a time undisturbed in her country employment; that, thereafter, _Eugene Wrayburn_ obtained her address by bribing the drunken father of “_Jenny Wren_,” the dolls’ dressmaker, and so followed Lizzie to her retreat, being in his turn watched and followed by the passionate and jealous schoolmaster, _Bradley Headstone_, who attempted his life on the river bank; that, near at hand, was the ANGLER’S INN, to which Eugene—nearly dead—was carried by the heroic and devoted Lizzie, who saved him from a watery grave, and where “effect was given to the dolls’ dressmaker’s discovery,” one night, some weeks later, by their romantic marriage, while it was yet doubtful whether the bridegroom would survive; that the death of _Betty Higden_ occurred “ON THE BORDERS OF OXFORDSHIRE,” near the mill at which _Lizzie Hexam_ was engaged, Lizzie herself attending the last moments of the dying woman, and accepting her last request; that in accordance with such request poor Betty was decently interred in a contiguous churchyard, the charges being defrayed by her own hard earnings, specially saved for the purpose; and that, on this occasion, the first meeting of Lizzie and _Miss Bella Wilfer_ took place, when a very interesting and touching interview ensued, which greatly assisted Bella in confirmation of a brave and righteous decision _in re_ money _versus_ love. Also that, at no great distance from this locality, was situated “PLASHWATER WEIR MILL LOCK,” where _Rogue Riderhood_ did duty as deputy lock-keeper, and where, at the last, he and _Bradley Headstone_ were drowned.

These localities are in the neighbourhood of HENLEY, and may be readily verified by the intelligent Rambler, adopting the excursion by land and water, as subjoined.

Leaving PADDINGTON TERMINUS of the Great Western Railway, we pass WESTBOURNE PARK JUNCTION, and the well-arranged grounds of _Kensal Green Cemetery_ (in which repose the mortal remains of Leigh Hunt, Sidney Smith, John Leech, and Thackeray) on the right, travelling westward by the suburban stations of _Acton_, _Ealing_, and _Castle Hill_, and cross the Wharncliffe Viaduct to HANWELL.

To the left may be seen the handsome building of the MIDDLESEX LUNATIC ASYLUM. We next arrive at SOUTHALL, and afterwards cross the Grand Junction Canal to HAYES and WEST DRAYTON. Our train now passes from Middlesex to Buckinghamshire, and steams onwards in the neighbourhood of _Langley Park_—seen on the right. The tower of Langley Church may be observed on the left, rising from the trees, as we speed forward to SLOUGH, where we obtain a distant glimpse of the Royal Castle of Windsor, two miles southward.

Resuming the journey we come, in four miles’ run, to the pleasant village of TAPLOW, on the borders of the Thames (here dividing the counties of Buckinghamshire and Berkshire), and within easy distance of _Burnham Beeches_, a favourite picnic resort. The train now crosses the river, next arriving at MAIDENHEAD, a market town on the Thames. On the right, observation may be taken of Maidenhead Bridge, a noble erection of thirteen arches. Thereafter we soon arrive at TWYFORD JUNCTION, where we change (unless seated in a special through carriage) for Henley, situated four miles northward, and served by a branch line. The town itself is very pleasantly situated on the Thames, with an old church and handsome bridge, but is of special interest to Dickensian students as containing the INN at which _Mr. Eugene Wrayburn_ found accommodation on the occasion of his journey in pursuit of Lizzie Hexam. See “Our Mutual Friend,” book 3, chapter 1, in which Bradley Headstone, returning to Plashwater Weir, is described as reporting the circumstance to the deputy lock-keeper—

“‘Lock ho! Lock.’ It was a light night, and a barge coming down
summoned him (Riderhood) out of a long doze. In due course he had
let the barge through and was alone again, looking to the closing of
his gates, when Bradley Headstone appeared before him, standing on
the brink of the Lock. ‘Halloa,’ said Riderhood. ‘Back a’ready,
T’otherest?’ ‘He has put up for the night at an Angler’s Inn,’ was
the fatigued and hoarse reply. ‘He goes on, up the river, at six in
the morning. I have come back for a couple of hours’ rest.’”

The Red Lion Inn thus referred to is situated north of Henley Bridge, on the west bank of the river, and is a favourite resort for disciples of Izaak Walton and boating men in general. Here it was that Eugene Wrayburn—after the murderous attack by the schoolmaster—was brought almost lifeless by Lizzie, when rescued by her from the river, as narrated in chapter 6—

“She ran the boat ashore, went into the water, released him from the
line, and by main strength lifted him in her arms and laid him in the
bottom of the boat. He had fearful wounds upon him, and she bound
them up with her dress torn into strips. Else, supposing him to be
still alive, she foresaw that he must bleed to death before he could
be landed at his inn, which was the nearest place for succour. . . .
She rowed hard—rowed desperately, but never wildly—and seldom removed
her eyes from him in the bottom of the boat. She had so laid him
there as that she might see his disfigured face; it was so much
disfigured that his mother might have covered it, but it was above
and beyond disfigurement in her eyes. The boat touched the edge of
inn lawn, sloping gently to the water. There were lights in the
windows, but there chanced to be no one out of doors. She made the
boat fast, and again by main strength took him up, and never laid him
down until she laid him down in the house.”

The landing-place and patch of inn lawn, above indicated, may now be verified as belonging to the “RED LION” at Henley aforesaid. The lawn is a favourite standpoint for spectators interested in the HENLEY ROYAL REGATTA, which takes place every year usually about the beginning of July.

The marriage of Eugene and Lizzie took place at this same inn some weeks later, while it was yet uncertain that Eugene would recover; the _Rev. Frank Milvey_ officiating at the bedside, _Bella_ and her husband, _Mr. Lightwood_, _Mrs. Milvey_, and _Jenny Wren_ being duly in attendance—

“They all stood round the bed, and Mr. Milvey, opening his book,
began the service, so rarely associated with the shadow of death; so
inseparable in the mind from a flush of life and gaiety and health
and hope and joy. Bella thought how different from her own sunny
little wedding, and wept. Mrs. Milvey overflowed with pity, and wept
too. The dolls’ dressmaker, with her hands before her face, wept in
her golden bower. Reading in a low, clear voice, and bending over
Eugene, who kept his eyes upon him, Mr. Milvey did his office with
suitable simplicity. As the bridegroom could not move his hand, they
touched his fingers with the ring, and so put it on the bride. When
the two plighted their troth, she laid her hand on his, and kept it
there. When the ceremony was done, and all the rest departed from
the room, she drew her arm under his head, and laid her own head down
on the pillow by his side. ‘Undraw the curtains, my dear girl,’ said
Eugene, after a while, ‘and let us see our wedding-day.’ The sun was
rising, and his first rays struck into the room, as she came back and
put her lips to his. ‘I bless the day!’ said Eugene. ‘I bless the
day!’ said Lizzie.”