A Week's Tramp in Dickens-Land Part 9

"I well remember the day of public rejoicing in the picturesque city of Rochester, on the occasion of the ceremony of formally presenting the old Castle and grounds to the inhabitants. I had received instructions from the manager of the _Graphic_ newspaper to make sketches of the princ.i.p.al incidents in connection with the day's proceedings, and I reached my destination just in time to obtain from the authorities some idea of the nature of those proceedings. With this object in view, I made my way through the surging crowd to the Guildhall, where, in one of the Corporation rooms, I found a large a.s.sembly of local magnates in official attire, including the Mayor, who was vainly endeavouring to properly adjust his sword, an operation in which I had the honour of a.s.sisting, much to his Wors.h.i.+p's satisfaction, I hope.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Rochester Castle and the Medway]

"The streets of Rochester were thronged with excited people, and the houses were gaily decked with flags and bunting. When everything was ready, an imposing procession was formed, and proceeded to the Castle grounds, preceded by a military band; on arriving there, an address was read from the paG.o.da to an attentive audience, the subsequent proceedings being enlivened by musical strains.

"It had been announced that, in the evening, the old Keep would be illuminated by the electric light, and I made a point of being present to witness the unusual sight. The night was very dark, and the ivy-clad ruin could barely be distinguished; presently, a burst of music from the band was immediately followed by a remarkably strong beam of light, which shot into the darkness with such effect as to fairly startle those present. Then it rested on the grey walls of the huge pile, bathing in brightness the ma.s.sive stones and clinging ivy, the respective colours of each being vividly apparent. But the most striking feature was yet to come. The hundreds of pigeons which inhabited the nooks and crannies of the old Keep, being considerably alarmed by this sudden illumination of their domain, flew with one accord round and round their ancient tenement, now in the full blaze of light, now lost in the inky darkness beyond, and fluttering about in a state of the utmost bewilderment.

Methinks even Mr. Pickwick, had he been present in the flesh, would have been equally amazed at this remarkable spectacle."

F. G. K.

FOOTNOTES:

[6] Mr. Kitton was, by an interesting coincidence, present at the ceremony above referred to, and he has kindly given his impressions thereon, which appear at the end of this chapter.

[7] This was a joint article; the description of the works of the dockyard being by R. H. Horne, and that of the fortifications and country around by Charles d.i.c.kens.

CHAPTER V.

ROCHESTER CATHEDRAL.

"That same afternoon, the ma.s.sive grey square tower of an old Cathedral rises before the sight of a jaded traveller. The bells are going for daily Vesper Service, and he must needs attend it, one would say, from his haste to reach the open Cathedral door. The choir are getting on their sullied white robes, in a hurry, when he arrives among them, gets on his own robe, and falls into the procession filing in to Service. Then, the Sacristan locks the iron-barred gates that divide the Sanctuary from the Chancel, and all of the procession having scuttled into their places, hide their faces; and then the intoned words, 'WHEN THE WICKED MAN--' rise among the groins of arches and beams of roof, awakening muttered thunder."--_Edwin Drood._

THE readers of d.i.c.kens are first introduced to Rochester Cathedral, in the early pages of the immortal _Pickwick Papers_, by that audacious _raconteur_, Mr. Alfred Jingle:--

"Old Cathedral too--earthy smell--pilgrims' feet worn away the old steps--little Saxon doors--confessionals like money-takers' boxes at theatres--queer customers those monks--Popes, and Lord Treasurers, and all sorts of old fellows, with great red faces, and broken noses, turning up every day--buff jerkins too--matchlocks--sarcophagus--fine place--old legends too--strange stories: capital."

But it was through the medium of _Edwin Drood_, and under the masked name of Cloisterham, that all the novel-reading world beyond the "ancient city" first recognized Rochester Cathedral--and indeed the ancient city too--as having been elevated to a degree of interest and importance far beyond that imparted to it by its own venerable history and ecclesiastical a.s.sociations, numerous and varied as they are. The early portion of the story introduces us to Cloisterham in imperishable language:--

[Ill.u.s.tration: Rochester Cathedral]

"An ancient city Cloisterham, and no meet dwelling-place for any one with hankerings after the noisy world. . . . 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. . . . In a word, a city of another and a bygone time is Cloisterham, with its hoa.r.s.e cathedral bell, its hoa.r.s.e rooks hovering about the cathedral tower, its hoa.r.s.er and less distinct rooks in the stalls far beneath. . . ."

The particulars in this chapter mainly relate to _The Mystery of Edwin Drood_, which Longfellow thought "certainly one of d.i.c.kens's most beautiful works, if not the most beautiful of all," but a few words may not be inappropriate respecting some of the princ.i.p.al events connected with the Cathedral. It was founded[8] A.D. 604, by Ethelbert, King of Kent, and the first bishop of the See (Bishop Justus) was ordained by Augustine, the Archbishop of the Britons. The See of Rochester is therefore, with the exception of Canterbury, at once the most ancient and also the smallest in England.

The Cathedral, as well as the city, suffered from the attacks of Ethelred, King of Mercia, and in 1075, "when Arnot, a monk of Bec, came to the See, it was in a most deplorable condition." Bishop Gundulph, who succeeded him, and by whose efforts the Castle was erected, replaced the old English church by a Norman one (1080), and made other improvements.

The Cathedral suffered from fire in 1138 and 1179. Its great north transept was built in 1235, and the great south transept in 1240. In 1423, the parish altar of St. Nicholas, in the nave, was removed to a new Church for the citizens on the north side of the Cathedral. In 1470, the great west window was inserted. The Norman west front has a richly sculptured door of five receding arches, containing figures of the Saviour and the twelve apostles, and statues of Henry I. and his Queen, Matilda. There are monuments in the Cathedral to St. William of Perth, a baker of that town, who was murdered near here by his servant, on his way to the Holy Land (1201), and was canonized, to Bishop Gundulph, Bishop John de Sheppey, Bishop de Merton (the founder of Merton College, Oxford), and to many others.

According to Mr. Phillips Bevan, "the chapter-house is remarkable for its magnificent Decorated Door (about 1344), of which there is a fac-simile at the Crystal Palace. The figures represent the Christian and the Jewish Churches, surrounded by Fathers and Angels. The figure at the top is the pure soul for whom the angels are supposed to be praying."

Various alterations and additions have been made from time to time, the last of which appears to be the central tower, which is terribly mean and inappropriate, and altogether out of place with the ancient surroundings. It was built by Cottingham in 1825.

We pa.s.s, at various times, several pleasant hours in the Cathedral and its precincts, admiring the beautiful Norman work, and recalling most delightful memories of Charles d.i.c.kens and his a.s.sociations therewith.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Rochester Cathedral Interior]

Among the many friends we made at Rochester, was Mr. Syms, the respected Manager of the Gas Company, and an old resident in the city.

To this gentleman we are indebted for several reminiscences of d.i.c.kens and his works. He fancies that _The Mystery of Edwin Drood_ owed its origin to the following strange local event that happened many years ago. A well-to-do person, a bachelor (who lived somewhere near the site of the present Savings Bank in High St., Rochester, Chatham end), was the guardian and trustee of a nephew (a minor), who was the inheritor of a large property. Business, pleasure, or a desire to seek health, took the nephew to the West Indies, from whence he returned somewhat unexpectedly. After his return he suddenly disappeared, and was supposed to have gone another voyage, but no one ever saw or heard of him again, and the matter was soon forgotten. When, however, certain excavations were being made for some improvements or additions to the Bank, the skeleton of a young man was discovered; and local tradition couples the circ.u.mstance with the probability of the murder of the nephew by the uncle.

Mr. Syms thought that the "Crozier," which is probably a set off to the "Mitre," the orthodox hotel where Mr. Datchery put up with his "portmanteau," was probably the city coffee-house, an old hotel of the coaching days, which stood on the site now occupied by the London County Bank. "It was a hotel of a most retiring disposition," and "business was chronically slack at the 'Crozier,'" which probably accounts for its dissolution. Another suggestion is that the "Crozier" may have been "The Old Crown," a fifteenth-century house, which was pulled down in 1864. He could not identify the "Tilted Wagon," the "cool establishment on the top of a hill."

It is generally admitted that "Mr. Thomas Sapsea, Auctioneer, &c.," was a compound of two originals well known in Rochester--a Mr. B. and a Mr.

F., who had many of the characteristics of the quondam Mayor of Cloisterham. Mr. Sapsea's house is the fine old timbered building opposite Eastgate House, which has been previously alluded to.

The "Travellers' Twopenny" of _Edwin Drood_, where Deputy, _alias_ Winks, lodged, Mr. Syms thought to have been a cheap lodging-house well known in that locality, which stood at the junction of Frog Alley and Crow Lane, originally called "The Duck," and subsequently "Kitt's Lodging-house." But, like less interesting and more important relics of the past, this has disappeared, to make way for modern improvements. It had been partly burnt down before. To satisfy ourselves, we go over the ground, which is near Mr. Franklin Homan's furniture establishment.

We are reminded, in reference to _Edwin Drood_, that the chief tenor singer never heads the procession of choristers. That place of honour belongs to the smaller boys of the choir. An enquiry from us, as to what was the opinion of the townsfolk generally respecting d.i.c.kens, elicited the reply that they thought him at times "rather masterful."

We are most attentively shown over the Cathedral and its surroundings by Mr. Miles, the venerable verger. This faithful and devoted official, who began at the bottom of the ladder as a choir boy in the sacred edifice at the commencement of the present century, is much respected, and has recently celebrated his golden wedding. Few can therefore be more closely identified with the growth and development of its current history. Pleasant and instructive it is to hear him recount the many celebrated incidents which have marked its progress, and to see the beautiful memorials of past munificence or affection erected by friends or relatives, which he lovingly points out. It is in no perfunctory spirit, or as mere matter of routine, that he performs his office: we really feel that he takes a deep interest in his task, which makes it a privilege to walk under his guidance through the historic building, and into its famous crypt, so especially a.s.sociated with Jasper and Durdles.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Crypt, Rochester Cathedral.]

We enter "by a small side door, . . . descend the rugged steps, and are down in the crypt." It is very s.p.a.cious, and vaulted with stone. Even by daylight, here and there, "the heavy pillars which support the roof engender ma.s.ses of black shade, but between them there are lanes of light," and we walk "up and down these lanes," being strangely reminded of Durdles as we notice fragments of old broken stone ornaments carefully laid out on boards in several places. Formerly there were altars to St. Mary and St. Catherine in the crypt or undercroft, but Mr.

Wildish's local guide-book says:--"They seem not to have been much frequented; consequently these saints were not very profitable to the priests."

We "go up the winding staircase of the great tower, toilsomely turning and turning, and lowering [our] heads to avoid the stairs above, or the rough stone pivot around which they twist." About ninety steps bring us on to the roof of the Cathedral over the choir, and then, keeping along a pa.s.sage by the parapet, we reach the belfry, and from thence go on by ladder to the bell-chamber, which contains six bells--dark--very--long ladders--trap-doors--very heavy--almost extinguish us when lowering them--more ladders from bell-chamber to roof of tower. The parapet of the tower is very high; we can just see over it when standing on a narrow ledge near the top-coping of the leaded roof. There are a number of curious carved heads on the pinnacles of the tower, and the parapet, to our surprise, appears to be about the same height as the top of the Castle Keep. A panoramic view of Cloisterham presents itself to our view (alas! not by moonlight, as in the story), "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, cl.u.s.tered beyond."

We are anxious to go round the triforium, but there is no pa.s.sage through the arches; it was closed, we are told, at the time of the restoration, about fifteen years ago, when the walls of the Cathedral were pinned for safety. The verger, on being asked, said he did not call to mind that d.i.c.kens ever went round the triforium or ascended the tower. If this is so, then much of the wonderful description of that "unaccountable sort of expedition," in the twelfth chapter of _Edwin Drood_, must have been written from imagination.

As it is Sunday, and as the summer is nearly over, Mr. Miles, with a feeling akin to that which George Eliot has expressed regarding imperfect work:--

"but G.o.d be praised, Antonio Stradivari has an eye That winces at false work and loves the true,"--

apologetically explains that one-half the choir are absent on leave, and perhaps we shall not have the musical portion of the service conducted with that degree of efficiency which, as visitors, we may have expected.

Nevertheless we attend the afternoon service; and Mendelssohn's glorious anthem, "If with all your hearts," appeals to us with enhanced effect, from the exquisite rendering of it by the gifted pure tenor who takes the solo, followed by the delicate harmonies of the choir, as the sound waves carry them upwards through and around the arches, and from the sublime emotions called into being by the impa.s.sioned appeal of the Hebrew prophet.

We study "the fantastic carvings on the under brackets of the stall seats," and examine the lectern described as "the big bra.s.s eagle holding the sacred books upon his wings," and in imagination can almost call up the last scene described in _The Mystery of Edwin Drood_, where Her Royal Highness, the Princess Puffer, "grins," and "shakes both fists at the leader of the choir," and "Deputy peeps, sharp-eyed, through the bars, and stares astounded from the threatener to the threatened."

Upon being interrogated as to whether he knew Charles d.i.c.kens, our guide immediately answers with a smile--"Knew him! yes. He came here very often, and I knew him very well. The fact is, they want to make me out to be 'Tope.'" And indeed there appears to be such a relevancy in the a.s.sociation, that we frequently find ourselves addressing him as "Mr.

Tope," at which he good-humouredly laughs. He further states that d.i.c.kens was frequently in Rochester, and especially so when writing _Edwin Drood_, and appeared to be studying the Cathedral and its surroundings very attentively.

The next question we put is:--"Was there ever such a person as Durdles?"

to which he replies, "Of course there was,--a drunken old German stonemason, about thirty years ago, who was always prowling about the Cathedral trying to pick up little bits of broken stone ornaments, carved heads, crockets, finials, and such like, which he carried about in a cotton handkerchief, and which may have suggested to d.i.c.kens the idea of the 'slouching' Durdles and his inseparable dinner bundle. He used to work for a certain Squire N----." His earnings mostly went to "The Fortune of War,"--now called "The Life-Boat,"--the inn where he lodged.

Mr. Miles does not remember the prototypes of any other "cathedraly"

characters--Crisparkle and the rest--but he quite agrees with the general opinion previously referred to as to the origin of Mr. Sapsea.

He considers "Deputy" (the imp-like satellite of Durdles and the "Kinfreederel") to be decidedly a street Arab, the type of which is more common in London than in Rochester. He thinks that the fact of the rooms over the gatehouse having once been occupied by an organ-blower of the Cathedral may have prompted d.i.c.kens to make it the residence of the choir-master. He also throws out the suggestion that the discovery in 1825 of the effigy of Bishop John de Sheppey, who died in 1360, may possibly have given rise to the idea of the "old 'uns" in the crypt, the frequent object of Durdles's search, _e.g._ "Durdles come upon the old chap (in reference to a buried magnate of ancient time and high degree) by striking right into the coffin with his pick. The old chap gave Durdles a look with his open eyes as much as to say, 'Is your name Durdles? Why, my man, I've been waiting for you a Devil of a time!' and then he turned to powder. With a two-foot rule always in his pocket, and a mason's hammer all but always in his hand, Durdles goes continually sounding and tapping all about and about the Cathedral; and whenever he says to Tope, 'Tope, here's another old 'un in here!' Tope announces it to the Dean as an established discovery."

[Ill.u.s.tration: Minor Canon Row: Rochester]

On the south side of the Cathedral is the curious little terrace of old-fas.h.i.+oned houses, about seven in number, called "Minor Canon Row"--"a wonderfully quaint row of red-brick tenements" (d.i.c.kens's name for it is "Minor Canon Corner"),--chiefly occupied by the officers and others attached to the Cathedral. Here it was that Mr. Crisparkle dwelt with his mother, and where the little party was held (after the dinner at which Mr. Luke Honeythunder, with his "Curse your souls and bodies--come here and be blessed" philanthropy, was present, and caused "a most doleful breakdown"), which included Miss Twinkleton, the Landlesses, Rosa Bud, and Edwin Drood, as shown in the ill.u.s.tration, "At the Piano." The Reverend Septimus Crisparkle's mother, who is the hostess (and celebrated for her wonderful closet with stores of pickles, jams, biscuits, and cordials), is beautifully described in the story:--

"What is prettier than an old lady--except a young lady--when her eyes are bright, when her figure is trim and compact, when her face is cheerful and calm, when her dress is as the dress of a china shepherdess: so dainty in its colours, so individually a.s.sorted to herself, so neatly moulded on her? Nothing is prettier, thought the good Minor Canon frequently, when taking his seat at table opposite his long-widowed mother. Her thought at such times may be condensed into the two words that oftenest did duty together in all her conversations: 'My Sept.'"

The backs of the houses have very pretty gardens, and, as evidence of the pleasant and healthy atmosphere of the locality, we notice beautiful specimens of the ilex, arbutus, euonymus, and fig, the last-named being in fruit. The wall-rue (_Asplenium ruta-muraria_) is found hereabout.