The Golden Cross; Associations with Pickwick and Copperfield—Craven Street; Residence of Mr. Brownlow—Charing Cross Terminus—Hungerford Stairs and Market; Lamert’s Blacking Manufactory; Micawber’s Lodgings; Mr. Dick’s Bedroom—No. 3 Chandos Street; Blacking Warehouse—Bedfordbury; “Tom All-Alone’s”—Buckingham Street; Copperfield’s Chambers—The Adelphi Arches—The Adelphi Hotel; Snodgrass and Emily Wardle—“The Fox-under-the-Hill”; Martin Chuzzlewit and Mark Tapley—The Residence of Miss La Creevy—Offices of Household Words and All the Year Round—Covent Garden Market; Hummums and Tavistock Hotels, associated with “Great Expectations,” etc.—Bow Street—Old Bow Street Police Court; “The Artful Dodger”—Covent Garden Theatre—Broad Court; Mr. Snevellicci—St. Martin’s Hall; Dickens’s First London Readings—Russell Court; Nemo’s Burial Place—Clare Court; Copperfield’s Dining-Rooms—Old Roman Bath; Mrs. Lirriper’s Lodgings—St. Clement Danes—Portsmouth Street; “The Old Curiosity Shop”—The Old George the Fourth; “The Magpie and Stump”—Portugal Street; “The Horse and Groom”; Mr. Tony Weller and his Legal Adviser—Lincoln’s Inn Fields; Mr. John Forster’s House; Residence of Mr. Tulkinghorn.

Starting from Charing Cross Post Office as a convenient centre, and taking an eastward course up the Strand, we immediately reach, on the left-hand (north) side—a few doors from the Post Office—The Golden Cross Hotel. Sixty years since this establishment was one of the principal Coaching Houses of the Metropolis. It was the starting-point of the Rochester Coach, by which, on May 13, 1827, Mr. Pickwick and his friends commenced their travels. Driving by cab from the vicinity of that gentleman’s residence in Goswell Street, here it was that the pugnacious cabman, having mistaken the purpose of Mr. P.’s note-book, committed assault and battery upon the four Pickwickians, “sparring away like clockwork,” from which unexpected attack they were rescued by the redoubtable Mr. Alfred Jingle. In those days there was an arched entrance leading from the Strand beneath the front of the hotel to the coach-yard behind. Hence Mr. Jingle’s warning to his new acquaintances—“Heads, heads; take care of your heads!” which recommendation was followed by the first recorded anecdote as given by that loquacious pretender—

“Terrible place—dangerous work—other day—five children—mother—tall lady, eating sandwiches—forgot the arch—crash—knock—children look round—mother’s head off—sandwich in her hand—no mouth to put it in—head of a family off—shocking—shocking.”

This coach-yard and its entrance existed until the days of Copperfield, who came to The Golden Cross in the nineteenth chapter of his history, having just finished his education at Dr. Strong’s. He arrived “outside the Canterbury Coach,” and here met Steerforth, his former schoolboy patron, who speedily arranged for his transference from No. 44, “a little loft over a stable,” to No. 72, a comfortable bedroom next his own. Here, says David, “I fell asleep in blissful condition . . . until the early morning coaches rumbling out of the archway underneath made me dream of thunder and the gods.” This entrance was abolished in 1851, giving place to a more convenient exterior arrangement and doorway; again remodelled, 1897.

The Golden Cross is again referred to in the Copperfield experience (chapter 40) as the place where David conferred with Mr. Peggotty, one snowy night, after their unexpected meeting opposite St. Martin’s Church (close at hand on the north, at the corner of St. Martin’s Lane), when Martha listened at the door.

“In those days there was a side entrance” (Duncannon Street, now appropriated by the London and North-Western Railway Company) “nearly opposite to where we stood. I pointed out the gateway, put my arm through his, and we went across. Two or three public rooms opened out of the stable-yard; and looking into one of them, and finding it empty, and a good fire burning, I took him in there.”

Opposite the principal entrance of The Golden Cross is Craven Street, leading to the Thames Embankment. It now mainly consists of private hotels and boarding-houses, at which visitors to London may be conveniently accommodated on reasonable terms. In the days of Oliver Twist these were, for the most part, private houses; and here was Mr. Brownlow’s Residence—taken after his removal from Pentonville—in which was the back parlour where full confession was extorted from Monks, alias Edward Leeford. The house, No. 39 (now Barnett’s Private Hotel), centrally situated on the east side, is stated to have been assigned as the residence aforesaid.

On the south side of the Strand we immediately reach the Charing Cross Terminus of the South-Eastern Railway, built on the site of old Hungerford Market. At No. 30 Hungerford Stairs, at the back of this locality, Charles Dickens, when a lad, did duty at the Blacking Manufactory of a relative, by name James Lamert, at a salary of six or seven shillings a week, as his first employment in life. It was the last house on the left-hand side of the way, a crazy, tumble-down old place abutting on the river. Here his work was to cover and label the pots of paste-blacking. To this episode of his youthful experience he refers in the history of “David Copperfield,” chapter 11, David becoming “a labouring hind” in the service of Messrs. Murdstone and Grinby. In old Hungerford Market, too, was The Chandler’s Shop over which Mr. Peggotty slept on the night of his first arrival in London; the bedroom being afterwards appropriated by Mr. Dick.

“There was a low wooden colonnade before the door, which pleased Mr. Dick mightily. The glory of lodging over this structure would have compensated him for many inconveniences. . . . He was perfectly charmed with his accommodation. Mrs. Crupp had indignantly assured him that there wasn’t room to swing a cat there; but, as Mr. Dick justly observed, ‘You know, Trotwood, I don’t want to swing a cat. I never do swing a cat. Therefore, what does that signify to me!’”—See “Copperfield,” chapters 32 and 35.

Hungerford is also mentioned in the same book (chapter 57) as the place where, previous to their departure for Australia, the Micawber Family had lodgings “in a little, dirty, tumble-down public-house, which in those days was close to the stairs, and whose protruding wooden rooms overhung the river.”

By a parallel street near at hand (next turning on the left of the Strand—Agar Street) we come into Chandos Street, where are situated the large stores of the Civil Service Supply Association, which, during recent years, have been enlarged, extending westward in Chandos Street. This extension occupies the former site of No. 3, whilom a chemist’s shop, kept by a Mr. Wellspring. Here, in the days that are gone, was established a second warehouse of Lamert’s blacking trade, the business being removed in course of time to this address; and here Dickens, with other lads, was often busily employed near the window. They acquired such dexterity in finishing off the pots, that many persons would stand outside, looking on with interest at the performance.

On the opposite side of Chandos Street is Bedfordbury—a northward thoroughfare leading to New Street, Covent Garden—on the right of which stands a range of five large five-storied blocks known as Peabody’s Buildings. These afford respectable accommodation for artizans. This was the locality of Tom All-Alone’s, that wretched rookery of evil repute in the days of Poor Joe, as described in chapter 16 of “Bleak House.” But, in these degenerate times, the black, dilapidated streets and tumbling tenements have given place to wholesome dwellings, and the neighbourhood is associated with the name of a great American philanthropist.

Returning to the south side of the Strand, we next come to Buckingham Street (turning on right, by No. 37), at the end house of which, on the right, facing the river, was the top set of chambers in the Adelphi, consisting of

“A little half-blind entry, where you could hardly see anything, a little stone-blind pantry, where you could see nothing at all, a sitting-room and a bedroom.”

Here David Copperfield for some time resided under the housekeeping supervision of Mrs. Crupp, and the residence was afterwards shared by Miss Betsy Trotwood. At the next turning in the Strand—by No. 64, same side of the way—we arrive at Durham Street, which leads to the no thoroughfare of The Adelphi Arches, about and through which the lad Charles Dickens loved in his leisure time to roam. David Copperfield says—

“I was fond of wandering about the Adelphi, because it was a mysterious place, with those dark arches. I see myself emerging one evening from one of these arches, on a little public-house, close to the river, with an open space before it, where some coal-heavers were dancing.”

Of this place more anon.

Continuing our onward journey, we come to Adam Street (right-hand turning by No. 72), looking down which may be seen, at the corner of John Street, The Adelphi Hotel. This hotel was known in the days of Pickwick as Osborn’s Hotel, Adelphi. To this establishment, it will be remembered, came Mr. Wardle, visiting London with his daughter Emily, after Mr. Pickwick’s release from the Fleet Prison, also accompanied by his trusty retainer, the fat boy, Joe. The last plate but one in the book illustrates the plan adopted by Mary when inducing that intelligent youth to observe a discreet silence as to the visit of Mr. Snodgrass to his young mistress at this hotel; and we may recollect the contretemps which afterwards took place here at dinner-time, involving the detention of the clandestine lover, and resulting in a very satisfactory dÉnouement.—See “Pickwick,” chapter 54.

Passing the next block onwards, we arrive at the handsome frontage of the Hotel Cecil. In former days, at western corner of same, close to No. 75, there existed a narrow and precipitous passage which was formerly the approach to the halfpenny boats. It led to a little public-house, “The Fox-under-the-Hill,” for a long time shut up and in ruinous condition—once situated on the water-side, the site of which is now covered by the west wing of the Hotel Cecil.

This place is spoken of in Mr. Forster’s Biography as being one of our author’s favourite localities, and referred to in “Copperfield,” as before mentioned, in connection with the Adelphi Arches. This, then, was doubtless the tavern at which Martin Chuzzlewit, junr., was accommodated, on his arrival in London, “in the humbler regions of the Adelphi;” and where he was unexpectedly visited by Mark Tapley, who then and there became his “nat’ral born servant, hired by fate,” and his very faithful friend.—See “Martin Chuzzlewit,” chapter 13.

Farther onwards, on the same side, towards the centre of the Strand, there stood near Savoy Street the house which in all probability was the Residence of Miss La Creevy. It will be recollected that Ralph Nickleby, visiting his relations at this address in the Strand, is described as stopping

“At a private door, about halfway down that crowded thoroughfare.”

No. 111 was an old-fashioned house in just such a position, with a private door—a somewhat unusual convenience in the Strand. A photographer’s case had, for many years, displaced the “large gilt frame screwed upon the street door,” in which Miss La Creevy aforetime displayed her painted miniatures. The place has been pulled down, together with the adjoining house. Handsome modern business premises are erected on the double site.—See “Nicholas Nickleby,” chapter 2.

We now cross to the north side of the Strand, and take the next turning on the left, Wellington Street North. Passing the Lyceum Theatre, we may note, on the opposite side, the offices of the Gaiety Theatre, No. 16. For many years this was the Office of “Household Words”; this well-known miscellany being started under the conductorship of Charles Dickens, March 30, 1850.

It was afterwards removed to No. 26, higher up, on the same side of the way, at which address the later issue of All the Year Round was published, as conducted by Charles Dickens, the son.

Proceeding a short distance onwards, and turning to the left, we come into the precincts of Covent Garden Market. At the south corner of Russell Street we may note the position of the old Hummums Hotel, mentioned in “Great Expectations” as the place where Pip slept, in accordance with the warning received from Mr. Wemmick—“Don’t go home.”

The present establishment was erected on the site of the former hotel (as it stood in the days of Mr. Pip’s sojourn), 1892; on completion of the new Flower Market, The Tavistock Hotel, Piazzas, on the north side of the market, was the house at which were held the fortnightly meetings of “The Finches of the Grove,” Herbert Pocket and Mr. Pip being members of the Club known by this appellation in the book above mentioned. The end and aim of this institution seemed to be “that the members should dine expensively once a fortnight, to quarrel among themselves as much as possible after dinner, and to cause six waiters to get drunk on the stairs.”A general description of Covent Garden will be found in “Little Dorrit” (chapter 14), and a graphic reference to “the seamy side” of this locality is contained in the pages of “Our Mutual Friend” (chapter 9, Book 4).

Returning by Russell Street, we soon reach Bow Street, and on the left may observe an open space contiguous to the Foreign Fruit Market. On this space there stood No. 4, in recent times occupied by Mr. Stinchcombe, costumier. Some years since this was the situation of Bow Street Police Court, now removed to the handsome new building facing Covent Garden Theatre. This, therefore, was the place at which the Artful Dodger, when committed for trial by the presiding magistrate, thus reserved his defence:—

“This ain’t the shop for justice; besides which my attorney is a-breakfasting this morning with the Vice-President of the House of Commons; but I shall have something to say elsevere, and so will he, and so will a wery numerous and respectable circle of acquaintances, as’ll make them beaks wish they’d never been born.”—See “Oliver Twist,” chapter 43.

At a short distance onwards, we may note Covent Garden Theatre, selected by David Copperfield as his first place of entertainment in London, after dinner at the Golden Cross Hotel—

“Being then in a pleasant frame of mind . . . I resolved to go to the play. It was Covent Garden Theatre that I chose; and there, from the back of a centre box, I saw “Julius CÆsar” and the new pantomime. To have all those noble Romans alive before me, and walking in and out for my entertainment, instead of being the stern taskmasters they had been at school, was a most novel and delightful effect.”

This theatre, as attended by David, was destroyed by fire March 4, 1856, six years after his autobiography was published, and afterwards rebuilt.

Exactly opposite the faÇade of the theatre is Broad Court, past the new magisterial building above referred to. This was the location given by Mr. Snevellicci (at Portsmouth), on a convivial occasion, described in “Nicholas Nickleby” (chapter 30), as his London address:—

“I am not ashamed of myself; Snevellicci is my name. I’m to be found in Broad Court, Bow Street, when I’m in town. If I’m not at home, let any man ask for me at the stage-door.”

There is also historical reference to Bow Street in “Barnaby Rudge,” as the place where “another boy was hanged,” after the suppression of the Gordon riots.

Exactly facing the north end of Bow Street, which gives into Long Acre, is a large building, now a stationer’s warehouse, recently used as the Clergy Co-operative Stores. Thirty-five years since this site was occupied by St. Martin’s Hall, in which Dickens gave his first series of paid readings in London (sixteen nights), under the management of Mr. Arthur Smith, 1858. The hall was a short time afterwards burnt down, and the Queen’s Theatre was here erected in its stead by Mr. Wigan; which theatre was since converted to the commercial uses of the Clergy as aforesaid.

Proceeding up Long Acre to Drury Lane, we turn to the right, and in five minutes pass the back of Drury Lane Theatre. The second turning on the same side is Russell Court, a narrow passage leading to Catherine Street. The entire area between the two streets, for some distance, is cleared for building improvements, so that the indications immediately following refer to the past, and not practically to the present. These things have been, but are not.

In this court, about halfway on the right, was to be found (until 1897) the entrance to what was once the pauper Burial Ground where Captain Hawdon—known as Nemo in the pages of “Bleak House”—was interred, and where Lady Dedlock was afterwards found dead at the gateway, she having fled from her husband, Sir Leicester, in despair, dreading the exposÉ threatened by Mr. Tulkinghorn. It is also associated with Poor Jo, the crossing-sweeper.—See “Bleak House,” chapters 11 and 59.

“With houses looking on, on every side, save where a reeking little tunnel of a court gives access to the iron gate—with every villainy of life in action close on death, and every poisonous element of death in action close on life—here, they lower our dear brother down a foot or two: here, sow him in corruption, to be raised in incorruption: an avenging ghost at many a sick bedside: a shameful testimony to future ages, how civilisation and barbarism walked this boastful island together.”

This intermural graveyard was attached to the Church of St. Mary-le-Strand, and has been closed for many years. The enclosure was converted into a recreation ground, and formally opened as such by Lady George Hamilton, May 19, 1886, on behalf of the Metropolitan Public Garden Association. But the entire locality is changed, the “avenging ghost” has ceased to walk, and the “shameful testimony” has ended.

At a short distance in Drury Lane, towards the Strand, we turn (left) by No. 106, into Clare Court, referred to in Forster’s Biography as follows—(C.D. loq.):—

“Once, I remember tucking my own bread (which I had brought from home in the morning) under my arm, wrapped up in a piece of paper like a book, and going into the best dining-room in Johnson’s a la mode beef-house in Clare Court, Drury Lane, and magnificently ordering a small plate of a la mode beef to eat with it. What the waiter thought of such a strange little apparition, coming in all alone, I don’t know, but I can see him now, staring at me as I ate my dinner, and bringing up the other waiter to look. I gave him a halfpenny, and I wish now that he hadn’t taken it.”

This episode of the author’s experience as a poor boy in London was reproduced in “David Copperfield,” chapter 11. The dining-house mentioned then existed (1824) at No. 13 in the court, in a prominent corner position. It has been unknown to fame for the last thirty years.

Returning by Drury Court to the Strand, and passing on the south side of the church above mentioned, we turn by No. 162a into Strand Lane, where may be visited, at No. 5, The Old Roman Bath referred to by David Copperfield, who says, “In which I have had many a cold plunge.” (See chapter 35.) The bath itself is lined with white marble, and dates from the sixteenth century. It is supplied from an old Roman reservoir adjoining, about 2000 years old.

The Old Roman Bath

Passing Surrey Street, just beyond, we come (next on the right) to Norfolk Street, in which there may be noted the former whereabouts of Mrs. Lirriper’s Lodgings; and we may here recall the pleasant associations connected with the Christmas numbers of All the Year Round, 1863 and 1864. The houses in this street are not enumerated beyond forty-five, all told. The figures 81, as given in the tale referred to, should be reversed; but sad to relate, No. 18—long standing as an old-fashioned boarding-house on the western side, below Howard Street—has disappeared, and certain modern buildings, offices, etc., recently erected, now occupy the old site. At a short distance farther on, in a central position in the Strand, stands the church of St. Clement Danes. It is of interest in this connection as the scene of Mrs. Lirriper’s wedding, some forty years previous to the narration of her business experience; and where she still retained “a sitting in a very pleasant pew, with genteel company, and her own hassock, being partial to evening service, not too crowded.”

Retracing our steps, three minutes, to the Church of St. Mary-le-Strand, again leaving the Strand by Newcastle and Houghton Streets, and turning left and right (leaving Clare Market on the left), we shortly arrive at Portsmouth Street, Lincoln’s Inn Fields. At No. 14 will be found (for a short time only) a small old-fashioned house, on the front of which is painted an inscription, “The Old Curiosity Shop, Immortalised by Charles Dickens,” now occupied by Mr. H. Poole, dealer in wastepaper. This is said to be the house assigned by the novelist for the residence of Little Nell and her grandfather, with whose pathetic history we are all familiar—

“One of those receptacles for old and curious things, which seem to crouch in odd corners of this town, and to hide their musty treasures from the public eye in jealousy and distrust.”

It cannot, however, be regarded as absolutely certain that this particular house was the author’s intended “local habitation” for one of the best-known and loved of his creations. The tale itself concludes with a reference to Kit’s uncertainty as to the whereabouts of the place:—

“The old house had long ago been pulled down, and a fine broad road was in its place. At first he would draw with his stick a square upon the ground to show them where it used to stand. But he soon became uncertain of the spot, and could only say it was thereabouts, he thought, and that these alterations were confusing.”

[A lady, personally acquainted with the great novelist, has informed the author that she was once taken by Mr. Dickens to No. 10 Green Street (approaching Leicester Square from the east)—at the corner of Green and Castle Streets, behind the National Gallery—the business of curiosity-dealing being then and there carried on. Mr. Dickens himself localised this house as the home of little Nell, pointing out an inner room—divided from the shop by a glass partition—as her bedroom. The premises are now rebuilt.]

The Old Curiosity Shop

At a short distance from this locality, and at an opposite angle of the street, there existed (until 1898) one of the old-fashioned taverns of the metropolis. The house was noteworthy, with its overhanging front resting on rough wooden pillars, and was named Old George IVth.

It is now replaced by a newly-built house of the same name, in modern style of plate glass, mahogany, and glitter.

It is highly probable that the old tavern represented the location and character of “The Magpie and Stump,” the rendezvous of Mr. Lowten (Perker’s clerk) and other choice spirits in the days of Pickwick. It is described in the Pickwickian history as being near Clare Market, at the back of New Inn, and to this position the “Old George IVth” will correspond. Joe Miller, of jocular celebrity, was, aforetime, a frequenter of this establishment, when his quips “were wont to set the table in a roar.” His seat was still shown in the bar of the old house. Dickens and Thackeray were also well remembered as visitors to this ancient hostelry. There is now a “Magpie and Stump” in Fetter Lane, at some distance hence; but it is evident that Dickens transferred the name to a tavern in this neighbourhood. It will be remembered that here Mr. Pickwick enjoyed an hour’s entertainment, listening to the legends of “those curious old nooks,” the Inns of London, as related by Jack Bamber—see “Pickwick,” chapter 21—also containing a description of the advertisements of the tavern, as then displayed therein.

“In the lower windows, which were decorated with curtains of a saffron hue, dangled two or three printed cards, bearing reference to Devonshire cyder and Dantzic spruce, while a large black board, announcing in white letters to an enlightened public, that there were 500,000 barrels of double stout in the cellars of the establishment, left the mind in a state of not unpleasing doubt and uncertainty as to the precise direction in the bowels of the earth, in which this mighty cavern might be supposed to extend.”

Dick Swiveller would doubtless occasionally patronise this establishment. He lodged hereabouts “in the neighbourhood of Drury Lane;” but it is difficult to indicate any particular house which Dickens may have selected for his accommodation.

Stretching eastward from this point is Portugal Street, famed in the same book as containing the Old Public House patronised by Mr. Tony Weller and his confrÈres of the coach-driving persuasion. This house—opposite the Insolvent Debtors’ Court—existed until a few years since, by name, “The Horse and Groom.” It and many more besides, have now given place to a range of new offices and buildings in Elizabethan style, on the south side of the street (forming the north boundary of New Court), and the Insolvent Court has been recently appropriated to the uses of the Bankruptcy Court. It will be remembered that it was here Mr. Samuel Weller got into difficulties, and was hence consigned to the Fleet Prison at the instance of his father; the professional services of the suave Mr. Solomon Pell being retained on that occasion. Here also a select committee of friends assembled to assist at an oyster lunch and the proving of Mrs. Weller’s will, when Mr. Pell again conducted the business to the satisfaction of all concerned.—See “Pickwick,” chapters 43 and 55.

Returning through Portsmouth Street, we come into Lincoln’s Inn Fields; and, keeping on its western side—passing Sardinia Street, with its old archway, on the left—we may note Mr. John Forster’s House, No. 58. At this house resided the friend and biographer of Dickens, and here our author was, of course, a frequent visitor. On December the 2nd, 1844, Charles Dickens here first read his new Christmas book, “The Chimes,” to a select and critical audience, including Messrs. Forster, Maclise, Douglas Jerrold, Carlyle, Laman Blanchard, Fox, Stanfield, Harness, and Dyce. The house is itself described in the pages of “Bleak House” (chapter 10) as the

Residence of Mr. Tulkinghorn.

“In a large house, formerly a house of state, lives Mr. Tulkinghorn. It is let off in sets of chambers now; and in those shrunken fragments of its greatness, lawyers lie, like maggots in nuts. But its roomy staircases, passages, and antechambers still remain; and even its painted ceiling, where Allegory in Roman helmet and celestial linen sprawls among balustrades and pillars, flowers, clouds, and big-legged boys, and makes the head ache, as would seem to be Allegory’s object always, more or less.”

As in the time spoken of, the house is still in legal possession, being let out as solicitors’ offices; but the old Allegory has disappeared beneath modern whitewash. Within two minutes’ distance northward, the weary rambler may reach the central thoroughfare of Holborn, where (turning to the left), close at hand, will be found the Holborn Restaurant, at which Sam Weller’s advice on the subject of a “little dinner” (or luncheon) may be worth practical consideration:—

“Pair of fowls and a weal cutlet; French beans, ’taturs, tart, and tidiness.”

Certain it is that everything at this establishment will be found “werry clean and comfortable,” on reasonable terms.