Ramble III — Charing Cross to Thavies Inn, Holborn Circus
South-Eastern Terminus—Spa Road Station—Jacob’s Island; Sykes’s last Refuge—Butler’s Wharf, formerly Quilp’s Wharf—Quilp’s House, Tower Hill—Trinity House and Garden; Bella Wilfer’s Waiting-place—Southwark Bridge; Little Dorrit’s Promenade—The General Post Office—Falcon Hotel, Falcon Square; John Jasper’s patronage—Little Britain; Office of Mr. Jaggers—Smithfield—Newgate Prison; Pip’s description in “Great Expectations”—The Old Bailey Criminal Court, as per “Tale of Two Cities”—The Saracen’s Head; Associations with Nicholas Nickleby—Clerkenwell Green; Oliver Twist and his Companions—Scene of the Robbery—Line of Route taken by Oliver and “The Artful Dodger” from the Angel to Saffron Hill—Hatton Garden Police Court; Administration of Mr. Fang—Great Saffron Hill and Field Lane—Fagin’s House and the “Three Cripples”—Bleeding Hart Yard; Factory of Doyce and Clennam; the Plornish Family—Ely Place—Thavies Inn; Mrs. Jellyby’s Residence.
From the South-Eastern Terminus at Charing Cross there are frequent trains by which the Rambler can travel to Spa Road Station, Bermondsey (about twenty minutes’ ride), from which point the situation of what was once Jacob’s Island may be conveniently visited. This place was associated with the adventures of Oliver Twist, being the last refuge to which Sykes, the murderer of Nancy, betook himself on his return to London, and where he met a righteous retribution when attempting his escape. It is described by Dickens—nearly sixty years since—as being
“Near to that part of the Thames on which the church at Rotherhithe abuts, where the buildings on the banks are dirtiest, and the vessels on the river blackest, with the dust of colliers and the smoke of close-built, low-roofed houses. In such a neighbourhood, beyond Dockhead, in the borough of Southwark, stands Jacob’s Island, surrounded by a muddy ditch, six or eight feet deep, and fifteen or twenty wide when the tide is in, once called Mill Pond, but known in the days of this story as Folly Ditch.”
Arriving at Spa Road, the explorer turns left and right by the short routes of West Street South, Fream Street, and Rouel Road, into Jamaica Road (five minutes from station); passing from the opposite side of which, through Parker’s Row to the thoroughfare of Dockhead, he will find himself face to face with a tavern on the north side, named “The Swan and Sugar Loaf.” A short cut on the right of this house leads immediately to London Street, its northern side forming the south boundary of the old site of Jacob’s Island. Folly Ditch, flowing from the Thames through Mill Street, took its course through London Street (it has been filled in since 1851); and in these streets wooden bridges crossed to the Island, and “crazy wooden galleries, common to the backs of half-a-dozen houses”—referred to by the novelist—used to “ornament the banks of Folly Ditch.” To the right we pass into George Row, enclosing Jacob’s Island (east), and may note en passant the blocks of workmen’s dwellings, erected 1883, named “Wolseley’s Buildings,” which occupy the site of the old Island on its eastern side. From George Row we turn (right) into Jacob Street, north of the Island, by which we come into Mill Street (west); again returning to London Street, and so completing the circumnavigation of this interesting locality. Some of the old wooden erections still exist in Farthing Alley, Halfpenny Alley, and Edward Street, which intersect the area. In his preface to the first cheap edition of “Oliver Twist,” the author makes a further reference, as follows:—
“In the year one thousand eight hundred and fifty, it was publicly declared in London by an amazing alderman, that Jacob’s Island did not exist, and never had existed. Jacob’s Island continues to exist (like an ill-bred place as it is) in the year one thousand eight hundred and sixty-seven, though improved and much changed.”
Starting westward from “The Swan and Sugar Loaf,” we now proceed through Thornton Street, and turn to the right, by one block in the street beyond, into Queen Street, which leads directly north to the riverside. At the end of this street is the locality of Quilp’s Wharf and place of business, aforetime described in the pages of “The Old Curiosity Shop”:—
“A small, rat-infested, dreary yard, in which were a little wooden counting-house, burrowing all awry in the dust as if it had fallen from the clouds, and ploughed into the ground; a few fragments of rusty anchors, several large iron rings, some piles of rotten wood, and two or three heaps of old sheet copper—crumpled, cracked, and battered.”
The place has been altogether altered and improved during the last forty years, and is now known as “Butler’s Wharf,” but the original prototype of Quilp is still remembered by some of the older residents of the neighbourhood.
The westward route being continued by the side of the river, we walk through Shad Thames and Pickle Herring Street (underneath an archway) to Vine Street, where is the southern entrance of the Tower Subway, by which we may cross below the river to the other side. Emerging near the Tower, Quilp’s House, on Tower Hill, is near at hand. No. 6 Tower Dock, facing the public entrance to the Tower, is said to have comprised the lodging assigned by Dickens for the accommodation of Mr. and Mrs. Daniel Quilp and Mrs. Jiniwin. We may here recall the matrons’ tea-meeting, as described in chapter 4 of “The Old Curiosity Shop,” when Quilp’s conduct as a husband was freely discussed, and much good advice tendered to Mrs. Quilp for the true assertion of her rights and dignity. Also the notable occasion when, the master of the house being missing and thought to be drowned, Mr. Sampson Brass was in consultation, and the party were unpleasantly surprised, as they were preparing a descriptive advertisement, by the sudden appearance of the Dwarf, as lively and sarcastic as ever.
“A question now arises with regard to his nose. ‘Flat,’ said Mrs. Jiniwin. ‘Aquiline!’ cried Quilp, thrusting in his head, and striking the feature with his fist. ‘Aquiline, you hag. Do you see it? Do you call this flat? Do you? Eh?’”
Hard by this locality stands Trinity House, Tower Hill, with its garden in front, and it may be remembered that Mr. Wilfer suggested this neighbourhood as a waiting-place for Bella, on the occasion of their “innocent elopement” to Greenwich, while he should array himself in new garments at her expense, to do honour to the expedition. We now turn westward by Tower Street, and may save time by taking train at Mark Lane Station for the Mansion House, about ten minutes’ ride. On arrival at the Mansion House Station we shall find Queen Street close at hand, leading riverwards to Southwark Bridge, referred to in “Little Dorrit” as the Iron Bridge. This was Amy Dorrit’s favourite promenade, it being quieter than many of the neighbouring thoroughfares; and we may recall the scene when young John Chivery was obliged to take no for an answer, when he attempted the proffer of his hand and heart.
Proceeding onwards through Cannon Street, we turn to the right through St. Paul’s Churchyard, crossing Cheapside to the stately edifice of the General Post Office, St. Martin’s-le-Grand. This building, in the times of “Nicholas Nickleby,” occasioned honest John Browdie some surprise:—
“Wa-at dost thee tak’ yon place to be, noo, that ’un ower the wa’? Ye’d never coom near it, gin ye thried for twolve moonths. It’s na but a Poast-office. Ho, ho! they need to charge for double latthers. A Poast-office! What dost thee think of that? Ecod, if that’s on’y a Poast-office, loike to see where the Lord Mayor o’ Lunnon lives!”
Aldersgate Street leads northward from St. Martin’s-le-Grand; passing the first block in which, Falcon Street turns on the right (No. 16) towards Falcon Square, a small city piazza, where may be found (No. 8) The Falcon Hotel. This is the place at which John Jasper sojourned when visiting London. In “The Mystery of Edwin Drood” we read the following commendation of the house in question:—
“It is hotel, boarding-house, or lodging-house at its visitor’s option. It announces itself, in the new Railway advertisers, as a novel enterprise, timidly beginning to spring up. It bashfully, almost apologetically, gives the traveller to understand that it does not expect him, on the good old constitutional hotel plan, to order a pint of sweet blacking for his drinking, and throw it away; but insinuates that he may have his boots blacked instead of his stomach, and may also have bed, breakfast, attendance, and a porter up all night, for a certain fixed charge.”
Returning to Aldersgate Street, we shall find that the opposite turning, leading to Smithfield, is Little Britain. In “Great Expectations” we learn that the Offices of Mr. Jaggers, the Old Bailey lawyer, were here situated, in near proximity to Bartholomew Close; but the house cannot be precisely indicated. Here Mr. Wemmick assisted his Principal in the details of his professional business. He may be remembered as having a decided preference for “portable property.”
Proceeding onward by Duke Street, the visitor will shortly come into Smithfield, a locality which is considerably changed since the days when Pip first arrived in London. He says—
“When I told the clerk that I would take a turn in the air while I waited, he advised me to go round the corner and I should come into Smithfield. So I came into Smithfield; and the shameful place, being all asmear with filth, and fat, and blood, and foam, seemed to stick to me. So, I rubbed it off with all possible speed by turning into a street where I saw the great black dome of Saint Paul’s bulging at me from behind a grim stone building which a bystander said was Newgate Prison.”
Adopting the same line of route, the Rambler may pass the south front of the Metropolitan Meat Market, turning to the left by St. Bartholomew’s Hospital into Giltspur Street, which leads to Newgate Street, and faces on the opposite corner of Old Bailey Newgate Prison. In “Great Expectations,” Pip describes his visit to the interior, at the invitation and in the company of Mr. Wemmick:—
“We passed through the Lodge, where some fetters were hanging up, on the bare walls among the prison rules, into the interior of the jail. At that time jails were much neglected, and the period of exaggerated reaction consequent on all public wrong-doing—and which is always its longest and heaviest punishment—was still far off. So, felons were not lodged and fed better than soldiers (to say nothing of paupers), and seldom set fire to their prisons with the excusable object of improving the flavour of their soup. It was visiting-time when Wemmick took me in, and a potman was going his rounds with beer, and the prisoners behind bars in yards were buying beer and talking to friends; and a frowsy, ugly, disorderly, depressing scene it was.”
Again, it may be remarked that things have much improved since the good old days. Inter alia, the principles and rules of prison management and discipline have greatly changed for the better.
In the tale of “Barnaby Rudge” is the narrative of the burning of Newgate and the liberation of the prisoners by the rioters (1780), on which occasion it will be remembered that our old friend Gabriel Varden was somewhat roughly handled. For full particulars, see chapter 64.
Immediately south of Newgate is the adjacent Central Criminal Court of The Old Bailey, the scene of Charles Darnay’s trial in “The Tale of Two Cities.” At the time there described (1775)—
“The Old Bailey was famous as a kind of deadly Inn yard, from which pale travellers set out continually, in carts and coaches, on a violent passage to the other world, traversing some two miles and a half of public street and road, and shaming few good citizens, if any. So powerful is use, and so desirable to be good use in the beginning. It was famous, too, for the pillory, a wise old institution, that inflicted a punishment of which no one could foresee the extent; also for the whipping-post, another dear old institution, very humanising and softening to behold in action; also for extensive transactions in blood-money, another fragment of ancestral wisdom.”
Facing eastward from Newgate Street is the Holborn Viaduct, which has for many years superseded the old ascending and descending road of Holborn Hill.
The Saracen’s Head, the old coaching-house on Snow Hill, with which we have been familiar from the days of “Nicholas Nickleby,” as the headquarters of Mr. Squeers, has disappeared since 1868, having been pulled down long ago, with many other buildings of this neighbourhood, giving room to the great improvements which have taken place in this part of London. Hereabouts it stood, on a lower level, not far from St. Sepulchre’s Church—
“Just on that particular part of Snow Hill where omnibus horses going eastward seriously think of falling down on purpose, and horses in hackney cabriolets going westward not unfrequently fall by accident.”
The present Police Station, Snow Hill, stands on part of the site formerly occupied by this old hostelry.
This modern thoroughfare of Snow Hill commences at the first turning on the right, in which has been erected a commodious hotel of the same name (No. 10), where, by the aid of a little refreshment and a slight exercise of imagination, we may recall the departure of Nicholas for Dotheboy’s Hall, Greta Bridge, by the Yorkshire coach, with Mr. Squeers and the pupils; also the later arrival in London of Mr. and Mrs. Browdie, accompanied by the lovely Fanny as bridesmaid, and the first meeting of Nicholas with Frank Cheeryble, newly returned from Continental travel.
Snow Hill leads to the lower level of Farringdon Road, at a point immediately north of the Holborn Viaduct spanning the thoroughfare, in which, turning to the right, we walk onwards to the intersection of Clerkenwell Road (eight minutes’ work). On the right hand, across the railway, is Clerkenwell Green, referred to in “Oliver Twist” as
“That open square in Clerkenwell which is yet called by some strange perversion of terms The Green.”
It was near this place that little Oliver became enlightened as to the business of Charley Bates and the Artful Dodger. We read that the boys, traversing a narrow court in this neighbourhood, came out opposite a bookstall, where Mr. Brownlow was reading, abstracted from all other mundane considerations, so affording “a prime plant” for the operations of these light-fingered gentlemen. This court leads from the road opposite the Sessions House into Pear Tree Court, giving into the main road at some distance beyond, at which the scene above referred to was enacted.
Walking onwards by the King’s Cross Road we soon come to the point where Exmouth Street joins it from the east, facing the south-east angle of the House of Correction. Here we strike into the route taken by Oliver Twist when he first came from Barnet to London, under the escort of Mr. John Dawkins. The text of the story is as follows:—
“They crossed from the ‘Angel’ into St. John’s Road, struck down the small street which terminates at Sadler’s Wells Theatre, through Exmouth Street and Coppice Row, down the little court by the side of the Workhouse, across the classic ground which once bore the name of Hockley-in-the-Hole, thence into Little Saffron Hill, and so into Saffron Hill the Great.”
Following the line thus indicated from Exmouth Street, we come on the south side of the Workhouse, nearly opposite Little Saffron Hill, which leads into Great Saffron Hill as above. Crossing Clerkenwell Road, and proceeding for a short distance down Great Saffron Hill, we arrive at the cross street of Hatton Wall, in which, past two doors to the left on the south side, will be found—between the Hat and Tun Inn and No. 17 beyond—the entrance of Hatton Yard, a long narrow lane or mews (leading to Kirby Street), occupied by carmen and stabling. In this eligible position was situated, some fifty years since, “the very notorious Metropolitan Police Court” to which Oliver Twist was taken on the charge of theft; and we may here recall the administration of the presiding magistrate, the notable Mr. Fang, as shown in the examination of the prisoner.
The premises (No. 9, on the left) once formed part and parcel of the police court referred to; but the arrangements of the neighbourhood have been subjected to much alteration during the last half century. Mr. Forster states that Dickens “had himself a satisfaction in admitting the identity of Mr. Fang, in ‘Oliver Twist,’ with Mr. Laing of Hatton Garden.” In a letter (now in possession of Mr. S. R. Goodman, of Brighton) written to Mr. Haines, Reporter, June 3rd, 1838, Dickens writes as follows:—
“In my next number of ‘Oliver Twist’ I must have a magistrate; and, casting about for a magistrate whose harshness and insolence would render him a fit subject to be shown up, I have as a necessary consequence stumbled upon Mr. Laing of Hatton Garden celebrity. I know the man’s character perfectly well; but as it would be necessary to describe his personal appearance also, I ought to have seen him, which (fortunately or unfortunately as the case may be) I have never done. In this dilemma it occurred to me that perhaps I might under your auspices be smuggled into the Hatton Garden office for a few moments some morning. If you can further my object I shall be really very greatly obliged to you.”
“The opportunity was found; the magistrate was brought up before the novelist; and shortly after, on some fresh outbreak of intolerable temper, the Home Secretary found it an easy and popular step to remove Mr. Laing from the Bench.”
Returning to Great Saffron Hill, we may recall its description as given in the days of “Oliver Twist”—
“The street was very narrow and muddy, and the air was impregnated with filthy odours. The sole places that seemed to prosper amid the general blight of the place were the public-houses, and in them the lowest orders of the Irish were wrangling with might and main. Covered ways and yards, which here and there diverged from the main street, disclosed little knots of houses where drunken men and women were positively wallowing in filth.”
Field Lane, in the immediate vicinity, was
“Near to that spot on which Snow Hill and Holborn Hill meet.. a narrow dismal alley leading to Saffron Hill. In its filthy shops are exposed for sale huge bunches of second-hand silk handkerchiefs of all sizes and patterns, for here reside the traders who purchase them from the pickpockets.”
This place has been effaced by the Holborn Valley improvements, and we may now look in vain for the precise locality of the house of Fagin the Jew. In this neighbourhood also was situated “The Three Cripples,” a public-house of evil repute patronised by Sykes, Fagin, and Monks. We may recall the circumstance of Mr. Morris Bolter’s (alias Noah Claypole’s) arrival at this house, when he and Charlotte first came to London, and of his subsequent interview with the wily Jew.
It is pleasant to remark that Saffron Hill has greatly improved in its character since the above-quoted description was correct. It now affords accommodation for the headquarters of the Central Shoeblacks’ Society (as established under the auspices of the late Earl of Shaftesbury), and about midway in the street where thieves “did once inhabit,” a large Board School is doing good educational service for the elevation of the humbler classes.
Turning from Great Saffron Hill westward by the One Tun public-house, we come into Charles Street, on the south side of which, towards Hatton Garden, is Bleeding Hart Yard (entrance by the Bleeding Hart Tavern, No. 19). This locality is associated with the tale of “Little Dorrit.” It will be remembered that here the factory of Messrs. Doyce and Clennam was situated, and here also resided Mr. and Mrs. Plornish, the humble friends of the Dorrit family. In these degenerate days the place has much altered, and the amiable Mr. Casby would certainly find it more difficult than ever to collect his weekly dues, even by the agency of his energetic assistant, Mr. Pancks.
Passing from this unpretending locality, we come (at No. 8) into Hatton Garden, which leads southward to Holborn Circus.
In Hatton Garden, on the east side, can be observed (No. 20) the old-established warehouse of Messrs. Rowland and Son. In this connection there may be remembered the mad old gentleman “in small clothes,” who lived next door to the Nicklebys, at Bow. On the only occasion of his visiting the family indoors, he incidentally referred to “Mrs. Rowland, who, every morning, bathes in Kalydor for nothing.”—See “Nicholas Nickleby,” chapter 49.
Mr. Waterbrook’s establishment, situated in Ely Place, Holborn, is entitled to passing mention as the place where David and his friend Traddles met each other for the first time after their schoolboy days, on the occasion of a dinner-party, at which also Agnes Wickfield and Uriah Heep attended. Ely Place is situated on the north side of Holborn Circus, and once comprised the rose garden of the Bishop of Ely, afterwards leased to Sir Christopher Hatton.
On the opposite side of the Circus, and near to St. Andrew’s Church, is situated Thavies Inn, in which Mrs. Jellyby and family resided, in the days when her daughter Caddy acted as amanuensis in re the affairs of Borrioboola-Gha.
It is described in “Bleak House” as being
“A narrow street of high houses like an oblong cistern to hold the fog.”
The house No. 13, on the right, has been indicated as once the disorderly residence of the Jellyby family. We may recollect it as the place where Esther Summerson and Ada were accommodated for their first night in London, on which occasion little unfortunate Peepy was found with his head between the area railings, and the house generally turned upside down; while Mrs. Jellyby serenely dictated her correspondence in the family sitting-room, altogether oblivious of such minor domestic accidents.
Esther thus narrates her first impressions:—
“Mrs. Jellyby had very good hair, but was too much occupied with her African duties to brush it. The shawl in which she had been loosely muffled dropped on to her chair, when she advanced towards us; and, as she turned to resume her seat, we could not help noticing that her dress didn’t nearly meet up the back, and that the open space was railed across with a lattice work of staylace—like a summer house.... ‘You find me, my dears,’ said Mrs. Jellyby, ’as usual, very busy; but that you will excuse. The African project at present employs my whole time.... We hope by this time next year to have from a hundred and fifty to two hundred healthy families cultivating coffee and educating the natives of Borrioboola-Gha, on the left bank of the Niger.”—See “Bleak House,” chapter 4.
The Buffet of Messrs. Spiers and Pond will be found a short distance eastward from Holborn Circus, on the right, next the terminus of the London, Chatham, and Dover railway. A visit to its welcome “contiguity of shade” is confidently recommended to those who may be disposed for necessary rest and refreshment.