A Week's Tramp in Dickens-Land Part 12

[Ill.u.s.tration: A DORMITORY in the "Six Poor Travellers"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Gallery Leading to the Dormitories]

A clerk has the responsibility of making a careful selection of six from the number of applicants, and this appears to be no light task, inasmuch as the "prescribed number of Poor Travellers are forthcoming every night from year's end to year's end," and sometimes amount to fifty in a day. In selecting the persons to be admitted, care is taken that, unless under special circ.u.mstances, the same person be not admitted for more than one night, and in no case for more than two consecutive nights. A glance over the register shows that the names include almost all trades and occupations; and, as regards the fact of a great many coming from Kentish towns, Dartford, Greenwich, Canterbury, Maidstone, etc., we are informed, in reply to our enquiry, that this is no criterion of the real residence, because the place where the traveller last lodged is always entered. The matron told us a story of a clever attempt to obtain admission by a Poor Traveller "with a tin whistle and very gentlemanly hands," who subsequently turned out to be a reporter from the _Echo_, in which paper there afterwards appeared an account of the Charity, called _On Tramp by an Amateur_.

We are shown over the premises--scrupulously neat and clean--and observe that there are excellent lavatories with foot-pans, and a pair of slippers provided for each recipient. We afterwards see the six Poor Travellers who have had their supper, and are comfortably smoking their pipes in a snug room, and we have a pleasant and interesting chat with them. They are much above the condition of ordinary tramps, and are lodged in six separate bedrooms, or "dormitories" which open out of a gallery at the back part of the building, a very curious structure, remaining just as it was in the days of Queen Elizabeth. For supper, each man is allowed half a pound of cooked meat, a pound of bread, and half-a-pint of porter, and receives fourpence in money on leaving. It is right to state that we heard complaints in the city relating to the evil effects of a number of poor travellers being attracted to the Charity daily, when but a few can obtain relief.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Satis House.]

Respecting the Worshipful Master Richard Watts himself very little is known, except that he was appointed by Queen Elizabeth in 1560 to be the surveyor and clerk of the works for the building of Upnor Castle; that he was paymaster to the Wardens of Rochester Bridge for some years previously; that he was recorder of Rochester, and represented the city in Parliament from 1563 to 1571, and that he resided at "Satis House,"

which stood on the site of the modern residence bearing the same name, now occupied by Mrs. Booth, a little to the south of the Cathedral, but which must not, however, be confounded with the Satis House of _Great Expectations_, this latter, as has been previously explained, being identical with Restoration House, in Crow Lane. When Queen Elizabeth visited Rochester in 1573, Watts had the honour of entertaining Her Majesty there, on the last day of her residence in "the ancient city"; and to his expressions of regret at having no better accommodation to offer, the Queen was pleased generously to reply, "Satis," by which name the house has ever since been known. Estella, in _Great Expectations_, gives another view of the origin of the name. She says:--"Its other name was Satis; which is Greek, or Latin, or Hebrew, or all three--or all one to me--for enough: but it meant more than it said. It meant, when it was given, that whoever had this house, could want nothing else.

They must have been easily satisfied in those days, I should think."

Archbishop Longley was born there in 1794.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Watts's Monument in Rochester Cathedral.

_Over the Memorial Bra.s.s of Charles d.i.c.kens._]

There is a monument to the proctor-hating philanthropist on the wall of the south transept of the Cathedral over the bra.s.s to Charles d.i.c.kens, surmounted by a very curious painted marble half-figure effigy with flowing beard, of "worthy Master Richard starting out of it, like a ship's figurehead." Underneath is the following epitaph:--

Sacred to the Memory of =Richard Watts, Esq.=, a princ.i.p.al Benefactor to this City, who departed this life Sept. 10, 1579, at his Mansion house on Bully Hill, called SATIS (so named by Q. ELIZABETH of glorious memory), and lies interr'd near this place, as by his Will doth plainly appear. By which Will, dated Aug. 22, and proved Sep. 25, 1579, he founded an Almshouse for the relief of poor people and for the reception of six poor Travelers every night, and for imploying the poor of this City.

The Mayor and Citizens of this City, in testimony of their Grat.i.tude and his Merit, have erected this Monument, A.D. 1736.

RICHARD WATTS, ESQ., then Mayor.

Over and over again, in the various roads and lanes which we traverse, in the county famous for "apples, cherries, hops, and women," we have ample opportunities of verifying the experience of d.i.c.kens, and indeed of many other observers (including David Copperfield, who met numbers of "ferocious-looking ruffians"), as to the prevalence of tramps, not all of whom appear eligible as recipients of Watts's Charity! Our fraternity seems to be ubiquitous, and had we the purse of Fortunatus, it would hardly suffice to satisfy their requirements. What a wonderfully thoughtful, descriptive, and exhaustive chapter is that on "Tramps" in _The Uncommercial Traveller!_ We believe Rochester and Strood Hill must have been in d.i.c.kens's mind when he penned it. Every species and every variety of tramp is herein described,--The surly Tramp, The slinking Tramp, The well-spoken young-man Tramp, The John Anderson Tramp, Squire Pouncerby's Tramp, The show Tramp, The educated Tramp, The tramping Soldier, The tramping Sailor, The Tramp handicraft man, Clock-mending Tramps, Harvest Tramps, Hopping Tramps and Spectator Tramps--but perhaps the most amusing of all is the following:--

"The young fellows who trudge along barefoot, five or six together, their boots slung over their shoulders, their shabby bundles under their arms, their sticks newly cut from some roadside wood, are not eminently prepossessing, but are much less objectionable. There is a tramp-fellowship among them. They pick one another up at resting stations, and go on in companies. They always go at a fast swing--though they generally limp too--and there is invariably one of the company who has much ado to keep up with the rest. They generally talk about horses, and any other means of locomotion than walking: or, one of the company relates some recent experiences of the road--which are always disputes and difficulties. As for example. So as I'm a standing at the pump in the market, blest if there don't come up a Beadle, and he ses, 'Mustn't stand here,' he ses. 'Why not?' I ses. 'No beggars allowed in this town,' he ses.

'Who's a beggar?' I ses. 'You are,' he ses. 'Who ever see _me_ beg? Did _you_?' I ses. 'Then you're a tramp,' he ses. 'I'd rather be that than a Beadle,' I ses. (The company express great approval.) 'Would you?' he ses to me. 'Yes, I would,' I ses to him. 'Well,' he ses, 'anyhow, get out of this town.' 'Why, blow your little town!' I ses, 'who wants to be in it? Wot does your dirty little town mean by comin' and stickin' itself in the road to anywhere? Why don't you get a shovel and a barrer, and clear your town out o' people's way?' (The company expressing the highest approval and laughing aloud, they all go down the hill.)"

It is worthy of consideration, and it is probably more than a mere coincidence, to observe that some of the reforms which have been effected in the management of the now munificent revenues of Richard Watts's Charity were instigated as a sequence to the appearance of d.i.c.kens's imperishable stories, published under the t.i.tle of _The Seven Poor Travellers_. The Rev. Robert Whiston, with whom we chatted on the subject, is of opinion that the late Lord Brougham is ent.i.tled to the credit for reforms in this and other charities.

CHAPTER VII.

AN AFTERNOON AT GAD'S HILL PLACE.

"It was just large enough, and no more; was as pretty within as it was without, and was perfectly arranged and comfortable."--_Little Dorrit._

"This has been a happy home. . . . I love it. . . ."--_The Cricket on the Hearth._

A NEVER-TO-BE-FORGOTTEN day was Sat.u.r.day, the twenty-fifth of August, 1888, a day remarkable, as were many of the closing days of the summer of that year, for its bright, sunny, and cheerful nature. The sky was a deep blue--usually described as an Italian sky--broken only by a few fleecy, c.u.mulus clouds, which served to bring out more clearly the rich colour of the background. There was a fine bracing air coming from the north-west, for which the county of Kent is famous. Truly an enjoyable day for a holiday! and one that d.i.c.kens himself would have loved to describe. So after a desultory stroll about the streets of Rochester, one of many delightful strolls, we make our first outward tramp, and that of course to Gad's Hill. By the way, much attention has been devoted to the consideration of the derivation of the name, "Gad's Hill." It is no doubt a corruption of "G.o.d's Hill," of which there are two so-called places in the county, and there is also a veritable "G.o.d's Hill" a little further south, in the Isle of Wight.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Rochester from Strood Hill.]

Crossing Rochester Bridge, we enter the busy town of Strood, pa.s.s through its long thoroughfare, go up the Dover Road,--which was the ancient Roman military road afterwards called Watling Street, until a little above Strood it turned slightly to the left, pa.s.sing through what is now Cobham Park,--and leave the windmill on Broomhill to the right.

The ground rises gently, the chalk formation being exposed here and there in disused pits. A portion of the road higher up is cut through the Thanet sands, which rest on the chalk. Again and again we stop, and turn to admire the winding valley of the Medway. As we get more into the country and leave the town behind, we find the roadsides still decked with summer flowers, notably the fine dark blue Canterbury bell--the nettle-leaved Campanula (_Campanula Trachelium_)--and the exquisite light-blue chicory (_Cichorium Intybus_); but the flowers of the latter are so evanescent that, when gathered, they fade in an hour or two. This beautiful starlike-blossomed plant is abundant in many parts of Kent.

We pa.s.s on the right the pretty high-standing grounds of Mr. Hulkes at the "Little Hermitage," and notice the obelisk further to the right on still higher land, erected about fifty years ago to the memory of Charles Larkin (a name very suggestive of "the eldest Miss Larkins") of Rochester,--"a parish orator and borough Hampden"--by his grateful fellow-citizens.

A walk of less than three miles brings us to the "Sir John Falstaff"--"a delightfully old-fashioned roadside inn of the coaching days, which stands on the north side of the road a little below 'Gad's Hill Place,'

and which no man possessed of a penny was ever known to pa.s.s in warm weather."

Mr. Kitton relates in _d.i.c.kensiana_ the following amusing story of a former waiter at the "Falstaff":--

"A few days after d.i.c.kens's death, an Englishman, deeply grieved at the event, made a sort of pilgrimage to Gad's Hill--to the home of the great novelist. He went into the famous 'Sir John Falstaff Inn' near at hand, and in the effusiveness of his honest emotions, he could not avoid taking the country waiter into his confidence.

"'A great loss this of Mr. d.i.c.kens,' said the pilgrim.

"'A very great loss to us, sir,' replied the waiter, shaking his head; 'he had all his ale sent in from this house!'"

One of the two lime-trees only remains, but the well and bucket--as recorded by the _Uncommercial Traveller_ in the chapter on "Tramps"--are there still, surrounded by a protective fence.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The "Sir John Falstaff" Inn, Gad's Hill.]

We have but little time to notice the "Falstaff," for our admiring gaze is presently fixed on Gad's Hill Place itself, the house in which d.i.c.kens resided happily--albeit trouble came to him as to most men--from the year 1856 till his death in 1870. Everybody knows the story of how, as a little boy, he cherished the idea of one day living in this house, and how that idea was gratified in after-life. It is from the _Uncommercial Traveller_, in the chapter on "Travelling Abroad," and the repet.i.tion is never stale. He says:--

"So smooth was the old high road, and so fresh were the horses, and so fast went I, that it was midway between Gravesend and Rochester, and the widening river was bearing the ships, white-sailed or black-smoked, out to sea, when I noticed by the wayside a very queer small boy.

"'Holloa!' said I to the very queer small boy, 'where do you live?'

"'At Chatham,' says he.

"'What do you do there?' says I.

"'I go to school,' says he.

"I took him up in a moment, and we went on.

Presently, the very queer small boy says, 'This is Gad's Hill we are coming to, where Falstaff went out to rob those travellers, and ran away.'

"'You know something about Falstaff, eh?' said I.

"'All about him,' said the very queer small boy.

'I am old (I am nine), and I read all sorts of books. But _do_ let us stop at the top of the hill, and look at the house there, if you please!'

"'You admire that house?' said I.

"'Bless you, sir,' said the very queer small boy, 'when I was not more than half as old as nine, it used to be a treat for me to be brought to look at it. And now, I am nine, I come by myself to look at it. And ever since I can recollect, my father, seeing me so fond of it, has often said to me, 'If you were to be very persevering, and were to work hard, you might some day come to live in it.'

Though that's impossible!' said the very queer small boy, drawing a low breath, and now staring at the house out of window with all his might.

"I was rather amazed to be told this by the very queer small boy; for that house happens to be _my_ house, and I have reason to believe that what he said was true."

[Ill.u.s.tration: Gadshill Place]

Mrs. Lynn Linton, the celebrated novelist, who resided at Gad's Hill as a child, has very kindly given us her personal recollections of it sixty years ago, and of the interesting circ.u.mstances under which Charles d.i.c.kens subsequently purchased the property;--which will be found at the end of this chapter.