Dickens, Lowestoft and David Copperfield
The Novel David Copperfield is well known for its central figure’s connection with Blundeston, Great Yarmouth and the Peggotty family – but, scarcely known at all for David’s brief acquaintance with the town of Lowestoft, as revealed in Chapter 2 of the novel. Both were the result of a visit to Norfolk in January 1849, undertaken by Charles Dickens, in company with two friends: John Leech (illustrator for Punch magazine and also first illustrator for A Christmas Carol in 1843) and Mark Lemon (founding editor of Punch and soon to be a contributor to Dicken’s new weekly magazine Household Words). The three of them came up to Norwich by train on Saturday 7 January and then moved on to Yarmouth the following day. During 1843-5, Samuel Morton Peto had built railway lines connecting Norwich with both Yarmouth and Brandon – the latter of which created a connection with London and thereby enabled the Dickens party excursion to be undertaken with ease. All three men were in their thirties: Leech the youngest at thirty-one, Dickens next at thirty-six (a month short of his next birthday), and Lemon last at thirty-nine.
It is not known where the trio stayed overnight in Norwich, but it goes on record that Dickens himself formed no great opinion of the place – and, certainly, with nothing of the “Fine City” (later to became its slogan) about it. Here is what he had to say in a letter to an acquaintance called John Forster, written on 12 January after he had his friends had returned to London: “Norwich, a disappointment; all save its place of execution, which we found fit for a gigantic scoundrel’s exit. But the success of the trip, for me, was to come. Yarmouth, sir, where we went afterwards, is the strangest place in the wide world: one hundred and forty-six miles of hill-less marsh between it and London. More when we meet.” The distance given between the two places may not be quite the same in present-day terms and the idea of the interposing space being nothing but “hill-less marsh” was fanciful (and geographically inaccurate) even in Dickens’s time. As for the place of execution in Norwich, that was on the top of the Castle’s motte – the building itself being the main regional gaol. The particular letter reproduced here is to be found on an Internet site hosted by Columbia University, New York, called Dickens’s Letters Concerning David Copperfield.
On arriving in Great Yarmouth, on the morning of Sunday 8 January, Dickens and his two friends, put up at the town’s Royal Hotel – located at the southern end of Marine Parade (present-day No. 4) and not far from the Sea Life Centre of today. This would have put them close to the beach which, in 1849, would have borne little resemblance to what is now to be seen (no Pleasure Beach, nor any Wellington Pier etc., etc.). They were also placed not far from the Yarmouth Jetty (built in 1560 and demolished in 2012), which would have been a hub of fishing-related activity – with general maritime cargo handling mainly conducted up-river in the Hall Quay and South Quay area. Then there were the four Yarmouth beach companies which operated along the shoreline, whose members were involved in salvage work, retrieval of wreck and life-saving, as well as longshore fishing. Their lookout towers and sheds would have been very much part of the shoreline scene, and one feature taken in by Dickens’s keen sense of observation probably led to his creation of the Peggotty family’s house.
There were no upturned ships of any size, converted into cottages, standing on Yarmouth Beach. What was to be seen (as in Lowestoft) were old rowing-boats sawn in half, upended, and set into the sand and shingle – the thwarts having been first removed – with planks nailed onto the gunwales and an integral door as part of the structure. The bow half of the craft was the favoured one for use because of its sloping profile and these sheds (as they were) served for the storage of all kinds of gear used in both fishing and salvage work. It would have been these very structures which gave Dickens the idea of a dwelling being created from the interior of an upturned superannuated ship. Would anyone reading David Copperfield (even now) have stopped to think how the vessel had been turned upside down in the first place, before undergoing conversion into a family’s home?
Having seen what they were able to take in of Yarmouth on the Sunday of their arrival, the London threesome then took a walk to Lowestoft and back on Monday 9 January. Again, using the Columbia University letters, Dickens had this to say to his wife Catherine on the evening of their return to Yarmouth: “We have had a two or three and twenty mile walk to day [sic] – to Lowestoft in Suffolk (Mrs. Gibson’s country) and back, and are sitting round the fire, giving encouragement to Lemon, who did his walking admirably, but is somewhat disposed to snore.” Given the length of the journey there and back, and the state of the road (at the time) running along what is now the dual carriageway of the A47, is it any surprise that Mark Lemon should have dozed off? And how long would each leg of the journey have taken them? It must surely have been in the region of three hours each way, at least, which is six hours out of a day with less than eight hours of full daylight.
Therefore, it must have been an early breakfast at the Royal Hotel, Yarmouth, with only a limited amount of time spent in Lowestoft (perhaps accompanied by a bite to eat – who knows?). And the deviation from the direct route to the town, which was created by passing through Blundeston on the outward leg of the journey, would have increased travelling time further. Here is what Dickens had to say about this in a letter to a certain Mrs. Watson (dated Saturday 27 August, 1853), written at a hotel in Boulogne where he was staying – said letter to be found on the Internet site, The Project Gutenberg eBook of the Letters of Charles Dickens:“Lowestoft I know, by walking over there from Yarmouth, when I went down on an exploring expedition, previous to "Copperfield." It is a fine place. I saw the name "Blunderstone" on a direction-post between it and Yarmouth, and took it from the said direction-post for the book”.
The direction-post mentioned was probably one set on the main road, pointing down Market Lane, and almost certainly said “Blundeston” – leaving Dickens’s love of words, and of playing with them, to create the name used for David Copperfield’s place-of-birth. Walking along the length of Market Lane would have eventually brought him and his companions to the middle of the village, where The Plough inn stood – usually cited as the place where Barkis the carrier operated from. He would have seen the round tower of St. Mary’s Church in the distance and walked to the building along Short Road and Church Road, observing it sufficiently well (and probably making notes in the book he always carried with him) to record it as having a porch – which is mentioned in Chapter 2 of the novel. And he would also have seen the parish Rectory house, across the road to the south of the Church and surrounded by trees. Which, of course, became The Rookeryin the novel: David’s home.
With the writer having noted a certain number of basic features of Blundeston, it then becomes a question of which route he and his two companions took to reach Lowestoft. They wouldn’t have retraced their steps back to Market Lane and, from there, headed back to the main road. It is far more likely that they continued along Church Road to its junction with Flixton Road and then headed south along the latter to eventually reach Lowestoft End, at what is now the junction of Hall Lane and Somerleyton Road with the B1375. From there, they would have progressed down Steyngate Way (now Gorleston Road), turning left at the bottom onto Beccles Way and proceeding all the way along it into town – the whole stretch having long been known as Normanston Drive and St. Peter’s Street. Would they have taken in the High Street, on their arrival? Quite possibly. But they might also have turned to the right and proceeded along the stretch of turnpike road built during the 1780s (called the London Road), which ran straight down to the harbour bridge where the shingle-bar crossing between the sea and Lake Lothing had previously stood. As they proceeded along this, they would have noticed the new building which had grown up along either side of the roadway – except on the east, towards the southern end, where the Grove Estate (large late Georgian house, with extensive grounds) had not yet been developed into the Grove Road - Beach Road area.
The Suffolk Hotel (built during the 1830s and following on from construction of the Harbour, 1827-30) would already have been in place, situated where it was to take advantage of the bridge-channel crossing and the turnpike road, and Denmark Road was already in being – though it did not yet run as far as what later became the southern end of Rotterdam Road. The first Railway Station building (a wooden structure) would have been a prominent feature, serving as the terminus of the Norwich-Lowestoft line which had arrived during 1847, and Samuel Morton Peto’s Outer Harbour works were also largely complete. All of this might well have combined to give Dickens the sense of Lowestoft being a “fine place”, as referred to in the letter above. And the feeling would probably have been further reinforced, standing on the bridge itself and looking to both the east and the west – the former, with the view out to sea, showing much of Peto’s Outer Harbour extensions and the accompanying maritime activity, and the latter looking down Lake Lothing (now the town’s Inner Harbour) with sundry trading vessels moored up on the north side’s wharves.
It is very likely that Dickens and his friends, having taken in both of these views, then walked to the South Pier and took a stroll along it – which is one reason why it was built as long as it is, at 400 metres (the other being its protective function for the harbour’s entrance). Promenading in a seaside environment being quite the thing to do in the middle of the 19th century. Among the things observed by the party would have been Peto’s first phase of his South Lowestoft model seaside resort, just beginning to take shape on the old Kirkley coastal common land. The sea wall would have already been in place and both the Harbour Hotel and Royal Hotel in the later stages of construction. The Marine Parade terrace, the grand Villas spaced along The Esplanade and Wellington Terrace were yet to come, but things were under way, and it is entirely possible that Dickens used the large, impressive, unfinished Royal Hotel (its interior still having to be fitted out) as the place where Edward Murdstone and stepson-to-be David Copperfield met with two of Murdstone’s business associates, who had sailed into Lowestoft harbour on their yacht.
Having enjoyed cigars and sherry in the hotel (the latter of which David sampled, with accompanying biscuit), the four of them then took a walk along a cliff (Kirkley Cliff, surely, in its undeveloped state) and sat down for a while – with David being given a telescope to look through, out to sea. After this interlude, they returned to the hotel for an early dinner and then walked to where Murdstone’s colleagues’ yacht (called Skylark) was moored. Most likely (though not stated) in the small dock long known as the Yacht Basin – which was already in being by 1849, though with a much shorter north-south pier than it has now. Exactly where Dickens, Leech and Lemon themselves found something to eat, on reaching Lowestoft, is not known. Nor is their time of arrival. Perhaps somewhere around midday, if they had left Yarmouth about 8 a.m. (and allowing for the Blundeston diversion). Nor can they have spent a large amount of time in the town, if they wished to get back to Yarmouth before the hours of darkness. But they were there long enough for the novelist to get some sense of the place as he found it and to build this impression into the novel.
That, really, is as much as can be said regarding Dickens’s acquaintanceship with Lowestoft and (it has to be admitted) with a good deal of accompanying conjecture attaching to it. This is, however, based on what is revealed in Chapter 2 of the novel David Copperfield itself and is set within the historical context of what is known to have been happening in Lowestoft during the late 1840s. There remains only the return journey back to Yarmouth to be discussed, with the matter of which way was taken. The party of three would not have gone back along the whole of the route taken to reach Lowestoft and had a choice of two ways of return to Yarmouth. First, was to go back to the southern end of Lowestoft High Street and retrace their steps alongBeccles Way to its junction with Steyngate Way and then carry straight on along this road, through Oulton Village (such as it was), and on to its junction with the road to Yarmouth. Of slightly less distance was to have continued along the length of the High Street to its northern extremity, past the High Lighthouse, and over the North Common – across which the road to Yarmouth ran.
After such a day’s activity, I’m not surprised that Mark Lemon should have nodded off in the after-diinner warmth and comfort of its Royal Hotel. Which brings this part of the article to a close, except to say that it may serve to flag up Lowestoft’s presence (albeit a minor one) in the novel David Copperfield. Not in any way to compete with Blundeston and Great Yarmouth, but just to let people know that it’s there.
CREDIT: David Butcher
Sources:
Extract from Chapter 2 of “David Copperfield”
One autumn morning I was with my mother in the front garden, when Mr. Murdstone—I knew him by that name now—came by, on horseback. He reined up his horse to salute my mother, and said he was going to Lowestoft to see some friends who were there with a yacht, and merrily proposed to take me on the saddle before him if I would like the ride.
The air was so clear and pleasant, and the horse seemed to like the idea of the ride so much himself, as he stood snorting and pawing at the garden-gate, that I had a great desire to go. So I was sent upstairs to Peggotty to be made spruce; and in the meantime Mr. Murdstone dismounted, and, with his horse’s bridle drawn over his arm, walked slowly up and down on the outer side of the sweetbriar fence, while my mother walked slowly up and down on the inner to keep him company. I recollect Peggotty and I peeping out at them from my little window; I recollect how closely they seemed to be examining the sweetbriar between them, as they strolled along; and how, from being in a perfectly angelic temper, Peggotty turned cross in a moment, and brushed my hair the wrong way, excessively hard.
Mr. Murdstone and I were soon off, and trotting along on the green turf by the side of the road. He held me quite easily with one arm, and I don’t think I was restless usually; but I could not make up my mind to sit in front of him without turning my head sometimes, and looking up in his face. He had that kind of shallow black eye—I want a better word to express an eye that has no depth in it to be looked into—which, when it is abstracted, seems from some peculiarity of light to be disfigured, for a moment at a time, by a cast. Several times when I glanced at him, I observed that appearance with a sort of awe, and wondered what he was thinking about so closely. His hair and whiskers were blacker and thicker, looked at so near, than even I had given them credit for being. A squareness about the lower part of his face, and the dotted indication of the strong black beard he shaved close every day, reminded me of the wax-work that had travelled into our neighbourhood some half-a-year before. This, his regular eyebrows, and the rich white, and black, and brown, of his complexion—confound his complexion, and his memory!—made me think him, in spite of my misgivings, a very handsome man. I have no doubt that my poor dear mother thought him so too.
We went to an hotel by the sea, where two gentlemen were smoking cigars in a room by themselves. Each of them was lying on at least four chairs, and had a large rough jacket on. In a corner was a heap of coats and boat-cloaks, and a flag, all bundled up together.
They both rolled on to their feet in an untidy sort of manner, when we came in, and said, ‘Halloa, Murdstone! We thought you were dead!’
‘Not yet,’ said Mr. Murdstone.
‘And who’s this shaver?’ said one of the gentlemen, taking hold of me.
‘That’s Davy,’ returned Mr. Murdstone.
‘Davy who?’ said the gentleman. ‘Jones?’
‘Copperfield,’ said Mr. Murdstone.
‘What! Bewitching Mrs. Copperfield’s encumbrance?’ cried the gentleman. ‘The pretty little widow?’
‘Quinion,’ said Mr. Murdstone, ‘take care, if you please. Somebody’s sharp.’
‘Who is?’ asked the gentleman, laughing. I looked up, quickly; being curious to know.
‘Only Brooks of Sheffield,’ said Mr. Murdstone.
I was quite relieved to find that it was only Brooks of Sheffield; for, at first, I really thought it was I.
There seemed to be something very comical in the reputation of Mr. Brooks of Sheffield, for both the gentlemen laughed heartily when he was mentioned, and Mr. Murdstone was a good deal amused also. After some laughing, the gentleman whom he had called Quinion, said:
‘And what is the opinion of Brooks of Sheffield, in reference to the projected business?’
‘Why, I don’t know that Brooks understands much about it at present,’ replied Mr. Murdstone; ‘but he is not generally favourable, I believe.’
There was more laughter at this, and Mr. Quinion said he would ring the bell for some sherry in which to drink to Brooks. This he did; and when the wine came, he made me have a little, with a biscuit, and, before I drank it, stand up and say, ‘Confusion to Brooks of Sheffield!’ The toast was received with great applause, and such hearty laughter that it made me laugh too; at which they laughed the more. In short, we quite enjoyed ourselves.
We walked about on the cliff after that, and sat on the grass, and looked at things through a telescope—I could make out nothing myself when it was put to my eye, but I pretended I could—and then we came back to the hotel to an early dinner. All the time we were out, the two gentlemen smoked incessantly—which, I thought, if I might judge from the smell of their rough coats, they must have been doing, ever since the coats had first come home from the tailor’s. I must not forget that we went on board the yacht, where they all three descended into the cabin, and were busy with some papers. I saw them quite hard at work, when I looked down through the open skylight. They left me, during this time, with a very nice man with a very large head of red hair and a very small shiny hat upon it, who had got a cross-barred shirt or waistcoat on, with ‘Skylark’ in capital letters across the chest. I thought it was his name; and that as he lived on board ship and hadn’t a street door to put his name on, he put it there instead; but when I called him Mr. Skylark, he said it meant the vessel.
I observed all day that Mr. Murdstone was graver and steadier than the two gentlemen. They were very gay and careless. They joked freely with one another, but seldom with him. It appeared to me that he was more clever and cold than they were, and that they regarded him with something of my own feeling. I remarked that, once or twice when Mr. Quinion was talking, he looked at Mr. Murdstone sideways, as if to make sure of his not being displeased; and that once when Mr. Passnidge (the other gentleman) was in high spirits, he trod upon his foot, and gave him a secret caution with his eyes, to observe Mr. Murdstone, who was sitting stern and silent. Nor do I recollect that Mr. Murdstone laughed at all that day, except at the Sheffield joke—and that, by the by, was his own.
We went home early in the evening. It was a very fine evening, and my mother and he had another stroll by the sweetbriar, while I was sent in to get my tea. When he was gone, my mother asked me all about the day I had had, and what they had said and done. I mentioned what they had said about her, and she laughed, and told me they were impudent fellows who talked nonsense—but I knew it pleased her. I knew it quite as well as I know it now. I took the opportunity of asking if she was at all acquainted with Mr. Brooks of Sheffield, but she answered No, only she supposed he must be a manufacturer in the knife and fork way.
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