Rochester has undergone many topographical changes (not necessarily for the better) since that memorable morning in 1827 when Mr. Pickwick leaned over the balustrades of the old stone bridge “contemplating nature and waiting for breakfast.” To begin with, the bridge itself has been demolished, and an elliptical iron structure takes its place. The view, too, which Mr. Pickwick admired of the banks of the Medway, with the cornfields, pastures, and windmills, is more obscured to-day by that discomforting symbol of commercialism, smoke, so constantly pouring from the ever-increasing number of lofty shafts appertaining to the various cement works which flourish here. From the other side of the bridge Mr. Pickwick could obtain a pleasant glimpse of the river, with its numerous sailing-barges, in the direction of Chatham; but the prospect, alas! is now completely blotted out by hideous railway viaducts. Happily, in spite of modern innovations, those who appreciate the old-world air of our English cities will find much to charm them in the precincts of the Cathedral, sufficiently remote from the bustle and noise of the High Street to enable it to preserve the quiet serenity which invariably encompasses our venerable minsters. Besides the picturesque stone gateways here, much remains in the High Street and elsewhere to remind us of what Rochester looked like in days of old; as Dickens writes in “The Seven Poor Travellers”: “The silent High Street of Rochester is full of gables, with old beams and timbers carved into strange faces.” Of these surviving specimens of ancient domestic architecture, many will regard Eastgate House as the most interesting from an archæological point of view, while to the Dickens student there is an additional attraction in the fact that it is the original of the Nuns’ House in “Edwin Drood,” the boarding-school for young ladies over which Miss Twinkleton presided, and where Rosa Bud received her education.
For many years during the last century Eastgate House was actually in use as a ladies’ school, and eventually became the headquarters of the Rochester Men’s Institute. Quite recently the civic authorities, with commendable good sense, availed themselves of the opportunity of acquiring the property, which they have thoroughly and tastefully reinstated and converted into a public museum; and I must add to this statement the significant fact that a room has been permanently set apart for an exhibition of mementoes of Charles Dickens—both gifts and loans—thus, in a sense, stultifying the old proverb, that “a prophet is not without honour save in his own country.” On one of the inside beams of Eastgate House is carved the date “1591,” and the rooms are adorned with carved mantelpieces and plaster enrichments.
CHARLES DICKENS IN 1868.
From a Photograph by Mason. Reproduced by kind permission of Messrs. Chapman and Hall.
Nearly opposite Eastgate House is another picturesque half-timbered building, which, with its three gables and its projecting bay-windows supported by carved brackets, is a veritable ornament to this portion of the High Street. We recognise it as the one-time residence of two of Dickens’s characters, viz., of Mr. Sapsea, the auctioneer in “Edwin Drood”—“Mr. Sapsea’s premises are in the High Street over against the Nuns’ House”—and of Mr. Pumblechook, the seed merchant in “Great Expectations.” But there exists in Rochester a specimen of domestic architecture of even greater interest than those just described. This is Restoration House, pleasantly situated facing an open space called “The Vines”—the Monks’ Vineyard of “Edwin Drood.” Restoration House is the Satis House of “Great Expectations,” where lived that strange creature Miss Havisham; as a matter of fact, there exists in Rochester an actual Satis House, the name being transferred by Dickens to the old manor-house associated with Pip and Estella, and with that “immensely rich and grim lady” the aforesaid Miss Havisham. Restoration House, which dates from Elizabeth’s reign, afforded temporary lodging to Charles II. in 1660, who subsequently honoured his host, Sir Francis Clarke, with a series of large tapestries of English workmanship, which are still preserved.
In Rochester High Street the visitor cannot fail to observe, on the north side, a stone-fronted building with three gables, having over the entrance-gate a curiously inscribed tablet, which reads thus:
Richard Watts, Esquire,
by his Will dated 22nd August, 1579,
founded this Charity
for Six Poor Travellers,
who, not being Rogues or Proctors,
May receive gratis for one Night
Lodging, Entertainment,
and Fourpence each.
This quaint institution, founded by Master Richard Watts, Rochester’s sixteenth-century philanthropist, still flourishes, and it is an exceptional thing for a night to pass without its full complement of applicants for temporary board and lodging, according to the terms formulated by the charitable founder, by whom also were established several almshouses situated on the Maidstone Road, endowed for the support and maintenance of impoverished Rochester townsfolk. Watts’s Charity, in the High Street, is immortalized by Dickens in the Christmas number of Household Words, 1854, entitled “The Seven Poor Travellers,” in which the story of Richard Doubledick is one of the most touching things the novelist ever penned. Dickens, doubtless, frequently visited the Charity during his Gad’s Hill days, for he delighted in escorting his American friends and others around the old city, and pointing out to them its more striking features. In one of the visitors’ books, in which many distinguished names are recorded, will be found (under date May 11, 1854, the year of publication of the above-mentioned Christmas number) the bold autographs of Charles Dickens and his friend Mark Lemon.
An account of Dickensian Rochester which omitted to mention the Bull Inn would be unpardonably incomplete. The Bull, the historic Bull of “The Pickwick Papers,” which the imperturbable Mr. Jingle averred to Mr. Pickwick was a “good house” with “nice beds,” is naturally one of the principal sights of Rochester from the point of view of the Dickens admirer and student, and Dickens pilgrims from all parts of the world immediately direct their steps thither on their arrival in the city. Situated on the south side of the High Street, within a short distance of Rochester Bridge, the Bull and Victoria Hotel (to give its full designation) has an exceedingly unprepossessing brick frontage, its only decorative feature being the Royal Arms over the entrance. Why does the famous coaching-inn bear the double sign of the Bull and Victoria? It originated in this way: One stormy day at the end of November, 1836, the late Queen Victoria (then Princess), with her mother the Duchess of Kent, stopped at the Bull; they were travelling to London from Dover, and the royal party, warned of the possibility of their carriage being upset in crossing the bridge, stayed at the hostelry all night, the apartment in which England’s future Sovereign slept being the identical room previously allocated to Mr. Tupman in “Pickwick.” Naturally, in order to commemorate the royal visit, the inn was called by its present designation, although popularly known simply as the Bull. Some portions of the establishment still retain their old-world characteristics, although it must be confessed that the appearance of the majority of the dormitories and living-rooms partakes more of the early Victorian period than of an earlier date; one might conjecture, too, that the house had been refronted during the beginning of the nineteenth century. The place is replete with Pickwickian associations; here we may see the veritable staircase where the stormy interview occurred between the irate Dr. Slammer and Alfred Jingle; here, too, is the actual ball-room, which, with its glass chandeliers and “elevated den” for the musicians, has remained unaltered since the description of it appeared in “Pickwick.” The sleeping apartments of Messrs. Tupman and Winkle (“Winkle’s bedroom is inside mine,” said Mr. Tupman) may be identified in those numbered 13 and 19 respectively, while Mr. Pickwick’s room is distinguished as “No. 17,” which tradition declares was occupied on at least one occasion by Dickens himself, and now contains some pieces of furniture formerly in use at Gad’s Hill Place. Although much less prominently than in “Pickwick,” the Bull is introduced in other works of Dickens. It appears, for example, in one of the “Sketches by Boz,” entitled “The great Winglebury Duel” (written before “Pickwick”), where “the little town of Great Winglebury” and “the Winglebury Arms” are undoubtedly intended for Rochester and its principal hostelry. In “Great Expectations” the Bull is again introduced as the Blue Boar, where it will be remembered that, in honour of the important event of Pip being bound apprentice to Joe Gargery (the premium having been paid by Miss Havisham), arrangements were made for a dinner at the Blue Boar, attended by the servile Pumblechook, the Hubbles, and Mr. Wopsle. “Among the festivities indulged in rather late in the evening,” observes Pip, who did not particularly enjoy himself on the occasion, “Mr. Wopsle gave us Collins’s Ode, and ‘threw his blood-stain’d sword in thunder down,’ with such effect that a waiter came in and said, ‘The commercials underneath sent up their compliments, and it wasn’t the Tumblers’ Arms!’”
It was recently rumoured that the Bull, not proving satisfactorily remunerative, stood in danger of demolition, and that a new hotel, possessing those improvements which present-day travellers regard as indispensable, would be erected on the site. Needless to say, all Dickens lovers would deplore the realization of such a proposal.