THE GEORGE INN, AMESBURY. ([Page 100].)
“The Blue Dragon” of “Martin Chuzzlewit.”
Dickens, as already intimated, originally conceived the idea of opening the tale of “Martin Chuzzlewit” on the coast of Cornwall. Instead of this, however, we find, in the initial chapter of that story, that the scene is laid in a village near Salisbury. That he had previously made himself acquainted with Wiltshire is indicated in his correspondence with Forster in 1842, where he declared (for instance) that in beholding an American prairie for the first time he felt no such emotions as he experienced when crossing Salisbury Plain. “I would say to every man who can’t see a prairie,” he remarked, “go to Salisbury Plain, Marlborough Downs, or any of the broad, high, open lands near the sea. Many of them are fully as impressive, and Salisbury Plain is decidedly more so.”
Six years later he and Forster, with John Leech and Mark Lemon, procured horses at Salisbury, and “passed the whole of a March day in riding over every part of the plain, visiting Stonehenge, and exploring Hazlitt’s hut at Winterslow, the birthplace of some of his finest essays.”[57]
There are persons still living in the neighbourhood of Salisbury who remember Dickens’s quest for local colour with which to give a semblance of reality to his topographical descriptions in “Chuzzlewit.” “The fair old town of Salisbury” figures prominently in that story, and we must believe that his allusion (in the fifth chapter) to the grand cathedral derived inspiration from personal observation: “The yellow light that streamed in through the ancient windows in the choir was mingled with a murky red. As the grand tones (of the organ) resounded through the church, they seemed to Tom to find an echo in the depth of every ancient tomb, no less than in the deep mystery of his own heart.” He makes a curious mistake in the twelfth chapter when speaking of the “towers” of the old cathedral; but, of course, he knew perfectly well that the venerable fane is surmounted by a beautifully tapering spire, immortalized in one of Constable’s most remarkable pictures. The scene in Salisbury Market, so vividly portrayed in chapter v., could not have been penned except by an acute observer like Dickens; nothing escaped him, and he noted all the details of that busy scene, and stored them in his retentive memory in readiness for the pen-picture which he afterwards delineated so faithfully and so picturesquely.
The “little Wiltshire village,” described as being within an easy journey of Salisbury, has not been absolutely identified. Certain commentators opine that Amesbury is intended, while others consider it more probable that the novelist had in his mind the village of Alderbury, and that its principal inn, the Green Dragon, was the original of Mrs. Lupin’s establishment, concerning which that unprincipled adventurer, Montague Tigg, spoke with undisguised disparagement and contempt.
CHAPTER V.
IN SOUTHERN ENGLAND.
Portsmouth is justly proud of the fact that it is the native place of certain distinguished men—to wit, Charles Dickens, Sir Walter Besant, and Brunel the great engineer.
In 1838, when engaged upon “Nicholas Nickleby,” Dickens renewed acquaintance with the town, of which it is fair to suppose he could remember but little, seeing that he was only about two years of age when his father was recalled to London, taking with him wife and family. He, however, astonished Forster (who accompanied him thither) by readily recalling memories of his childhood there, and distinctly remembering such details as the exact shape of the military parade.
Dickens’s particular object in then journeying to Portsmouth (not on foot, as did Nicholas and Smike) was doubtless for the express purpose of obtaining local colour for “Nickleby,” as presented in chapters xxiii. and xxiv. He succeeded in finding suitable lodging for Vincent Crummles at Bulph the pilot’s in St. Thomas’s Street (conjectured to be No. 78), for Miss Snevellicci at a tailor’s in Lombard Street, while Nickleby and his companion were quartered at a tobacconist’s on the Common Hard, which he describes as “a dirty street leading down to the dockyard.” The old Portsmouth Theatre, the scene of Nicholas’s early triumphs on the stage, plays a prominent part in the tale. This primitive building, which stood in the High Street, was destroyed many years ago; it occupied the site of the Cambridge Barracks; the present house is styled “The New Theatre Royal.” The story is current in Portsmouth that Dickens, on the occasion just referred to, called upon the manager at the old theatre and actually asked for a small part. Whether this tradition be true or false, we are justified in assuming that he and Forster went behind the scenes and chatted with the players, the result being the portrayal of those inimitable descriptions which treat of the company of Mr. Vincent Crummles, and of the “great bespeak” for Miss Snevellicci. Apropos of the theatre itself, as it appeared to the hero of the story, we read: “It was not very light, but Nicholas found himself close to the first entrance on the prompter’s side, among bare walls, dusty scenes, mildewed clouds, heavily daubed draperies, and dirty floors. He looked about him; ceiling, pit, boxes, gallery, orchestra, fittings, and decorations of every kind—all looked coarse, cold, gloomy, and wretched. ‘Is this a theatre?’ whispered Smike in amazement. ‘I thought it was a blaze of light and finery.’ ‘Why, so it is,’ replied Nicholas, hardly less surprised; ‘but not by day, Smike—not by day!’” Matters theatrical have improved vastly since then, and provincial theatres now vie with those in the Metropolis in regard to the comfort and magnificence of their appointments.