What the Dickens!

It’s hard to believe that we’re coming to the end of another year, and what an exciting year it’s been! With events, anniversaries and commemorations, it feels like 2012 really has been a year to remember. Of course, it’s not over yet, but our series of Dickens exhibitions, celebrating the bicentenary of the author’s birth, is now coming to a close.

Cover of the first issue of Our Mutual Friend, May 1864

Cover of the first issue of Our Mutual Friend, May 1864

For the next six weeks, you can enjoy our fond farewell to our Dickensian celebration in our latest exhibition, “What the Dickens! Beyond the Books.” It’s on in the Templeman Gallery (accessible from the Library Cafe) and includes a cornucopia of the bizarre, banal and brilliant Dickens items in our archives.

Having examined Dickens on Stage in the nineteenth century and cartoonists’ use of Dickens’ characters in the twentieth, this time we’re investigating how Dickens’ fame and the popularity of his characters have survived and been transformed since their first success.

Do you know how Joseph Clayton Clarke made his living from Dickens’ characters? Or how Dickens became associated with music? Have you hear of Sir John Martin-Harvey, who played one of Dickens’ characters more than 4000 times on stage? What is the link between Dickens, Oliver Twist and chocolate?

Take a look at the exhibition to discover all this and more as we look ahead to the new academic year and plenty of new Special Collections discoveries.

“What the Dickens! Beyond the books” will be on display from 26 September until 6 November in the Templeman Gallery, next to the library cafe.

 

Going on a summer holiday? 4: an Omnipotent Creator

When we last heard from William, he was in Paris, sampling the delights of the city and commenting on some of the most important episodes of the early nineteenth century. By the time he wrote to his father again, it was October, and he and his three friends had enjoyed ‘a most interesting journey’ through Switzerland. In spite of the excitement, William had been glad to receive a letter from his father, and ‘a double one from Thomas and my sister’. Detective work so far suggests that William’s sister, Margaret, was married to Thomas, both of whom are mentioned in every letter. William was relieved to be assured ‘of the welfare of my dear friends’, explaining:

“The farther we are removed from those who have a right to our affections, the more importance do we attach to every fresh arrival of intelligence from them.”

Of course, William’s journey was going to take him much further from his family than Switzerland.

Vallies of SwitzerlandThe landscape and the climate of the Switzerland, William explained, were largely the same as in England and ‘some of the cattle are as fine as our own’. After France, with its ‘endless straight roads’, the architectural eye found the ‘serpentine lines and hedges’ far more pleasing. William had little to say about Switzerland and his time spent in Geneva, only adding that there were delicious wild cranberries growing in the hedges on the road between Geneva and Sallanches. The journey from Geneva to the eventual arrival in Milan, however, offered plenty for William to write home about.

Mont Blanc “As we approached Sallènche [Sallanches], the scenery gradually became mountainous and within half an hour of that place an object of the most sublime description burst on our more astonished senses – Mont Blanc! the highest mountain in Europe! Its summits clad with eternal snows, soaring far above the very clouds, illumined by the last golden rays of the setting sun. Imagination can hardly conceive anything to surpass it.”

Awed by the sight, William told his father:

In the contemplation of such a glorious scene as this, the mighty hand of an Omnipotent Creator is most evident to the most superficial and carries with it that feeling of dependence and submission to his will which it is impossible not to acknowledge.

This is not to say that William necessarily held views of religion which would seem antiquated and credulous to some today; long before the publication of The Origin of Species in 1859 there had been debate about the literal truth of the Bible and many discoveries which had led to new explorations of Christianity. Later on in this letter, William described the glacier of Bossons, which falls towards the ‘beautiful valley’ of Chamonix (‘Chamouny’ in William’s letters):

The glacier of Bassons

The glacier of Bossons

an enormous mass of frozen ice and snow descending from Mont Blanc into the verdant valley below. The novel effect it has to an eye unaccustomed to such sights is wonderful. The glaring purity of the ice, split into immense pyramids of very acute form, contrasted with a grove of dark mountain pine in the background while cultivation and verdure almost dispute its footing altogether appear more like enchantment than reality.

For all of his talk of enchantment and of an Omnipotent Creator, William then described the formation of the glacier like a nineteenth-century scientist:

“The glaciers are the remains of ancient avalanches, or masses of snow which roll down from the summits of the mountains when it has accumulated in heaps too large to remain there. This mostly happens in winter and spring and ‘tis said they fall with a noise loud as thunder. During the heats of summer they are constantly melting…. They have also a progressive or sliding motion into the valley imperceptible indeed, but it has been proved by experiment to be not less than 4 or 5 inches a day and this motion is the cause of the clefts and pyramids formed in the glacier….. Glaciers sometimes decrease in bulk and so seem to retreat in a very hot season as is the case with this of which I am now speaking and it has left a sad desolate site covered with large stones and pebbles without one single blade of grass to distract from the hideous picture. After a severe winter, acres of cultivation have been lost by their incontrolable [sic] advance.”

The glacier of Bassons

The glacier of Bossons

William’s romantic edge as a writer returns when he adds that:

‘The shadows on the pyramids or rather spires of ice produced by the melting snow are of the finest cerulean blue.’

I think that William’s commentary on the awe inspiring Mont Blanc landscape illustrates the psyche of the early nineteenth century gentleman: a Christian, a thinker and a scientist, all rolled into one.

Watery clouds sailing amongst the mountains

Watery clouds sailing amongst the mountains

Not everything about the mountain trek was picturesque, however; the lower hills were ‘partially concealed by the watery clouds sailing amongst them – the foreboders of the stormy day which followed’. Leaving Sallanches in the morning in ‘a strange 4 wheeled carriage for 3 persons called a ‘char-a-banc’ resembling the body of a garden chaise placed sideways’, William and his friends were annoyed to find that it rained ‘without interruption with great violence’ until 5 o’clock. The three in the carriage were spattered with mud and the fourth, riding a mule (they took it in turns), probably fared little better. There was little to be seen ‘through the pelting rain’ but what they could make out was ‘of a grand and wild character’. Never mind spending 3 hours crossing the channel; this stage of the journey sounds the most unnerving so far:

“Sometimes the road which was extremely rugged ran close to the edge of a steep precipice – in another part the rocks were several hundred feet above us. We saw several immense stones lying scattered about, hurled by the all prevailing hand of time from the cragged mountains. Several small torrents intercepted the route – full of pebbles as long as paving stones…”

‘So you can imagine’, he wrote drily, ‘we had a pretty rough jaunt of it.’

However, it sounds as if all four – William, Mr Brooks, Mr Angell and Mr Butts arrived safely at Chamonix, where they stayed (perhaps predictably) at the London Hotel, with views of Mont Blanc, the glacier of Bassons and the Mer de Glace from their windows. It’s starting to make me jealous of their holiday!

Chamonix

The modern valley of Chamonix

The four evidently made a trip to the ‘Jardin’ of Mont Blanc, part of the mountain walk which rises above the Mer de Glace, since William told his father that he was attempting to describe it in a letter to his sister. In his brief paragraph apparently responding to his father’s news in a previous letter, William makes an interesting reference to ‘Jane’, who he had sent his love to, along with his mother and sister, in all of his earlier letters.

'Jane'

“I am sorry to hear that Jane is no longer an inmate of your house but hope the change will be more agreeable to all parties.”

Who was Jane? It’s a mystery to me, at the moment, but I hope to do some more investigation and find out soon!

This letter also gives us the address of Mr Thomas Angell’s father, at 8 Church Row, Islington. William asked his father to write to Thomas’ father whenever William sent news, and that Thomas would ask his father to do the same. This small band of young architects were evidently becoming fast friends.

So having written from Milan, in an unusually clear letter (with only one layer of writing, though it’s all crammed in), William wished his father the best and signed off for a trip around Italy. More on that next time…

William’s fourth letter will be on display in the Templeman Library foyer for a limited period, along with some of the scientific and theological literature of his day.

PS. If you’re wondering about the horse, William was ‘very glad to hear [a] good account of poor Dick.’

Going on a summer holiday? 3: Turbulent times

This summer, we’re following young architect William Harris’ trip around Europe, which began in 1821. He left Dover in the company of two friends and travelled to Calais, where he witnessed the celebrations for Corpus Christi. From there, he and Mr Brooks took a leisurely route to Paris. Although William arrived in the city early in July, he only had time to send a quick note to his father to assure him that they were well. We catch up with him on 23 July, when he’d found time in his busy schedule to write a longer letter home.

After the note he sent home on 2 July, William Harris began to feel ‘no little anxiety’ that he had not heard from his father for a full 15 days, nor from his sister for 14 days. The long awaited missive arrived on 15 July, delayed, apparently, by his father’s equally busy schedule! ‘Really, my dear Father, you must endeavour to spare time to let me hear from you a little more frequently’ William admonished, eager to hear ‘any news from Old England’. Sadly, we don’t have any of William Harris Senr.’s replies to his son in the deed box, but this letter is only the third of twelve, so there’s still a long way for William (and for us) to go!

Once he had settled into his lodgings in Paris, William began his errands in the city which, he said, possessed ‘so many points of attraction’. One interesting ‘commission’ he was sent with was to locate a mysterious ‘Madame Crowe’ on behalf of one Mr Jackson. The information relating to this woman in the letter is sparse, except that she was a married woman and probably ‘not residing in furnished lodgings’. In any case, William reported with some disappointment that he had been unable to locate her, concluding

“In all probability therefore, Madame Crowe does not wish her whereabouts to be discovered as she had given no number in a street a full half a mile long.”

Considering the upheaval in France from the fall and two exiles of Napoleon, with the involvement of the European Coalition to restore the Bourbon monarchy, Paris was perhaps one of the easiest places in Europe to stay hidden at this time.

Malmaison

Le Temple de ‘Amour, Malmaison (HJ PC:301)

Aside from commissions from friends and acquaintances, William’s main reason for travelling through Europe appears to have been to take in objects of art and architecture, for which the small group visited Malmaison on 19 July. This chateau was ‘a favourite retreat of the late Emperor’s and the Empress Josephine’; Josephine had bought the estate while Napoleon was in Egypt, with the expected proceeds of that campaign. She spent years and a small fortune restoring the chateau and its gardens as well as creating a menagerie which roamed free through the grounds. After her divorce from Napoleon in 1810, Josephine kept the chateau until her death in 1814. William recalled his father often telling him:

“the frowning of Paris on the very mentioned of which [Malmaison] is infamous…”

Of course, it wasn’t just France which was going through difficult times politically; there was a good reason why William wanted all of the news from old England. He noted his whereabouts on 19 July 1821 for a good reason: it was the date of King George IV’s coronation, after the death of the mad King George III in 1820. George IV had been Prince Regent during periods of his father’s incapacitating illnesses, although he had largely left the role of governance of the country to his politicians. While the coronation of the new King appeared didn’t appear to threaten any crisis, there was drama on the day due to George IV’s difficult relationship with his wife.

George_IV_coronation_banquet

Coronation banquet of George IV by an unknown artist, c.1821

Having been married in 1795, reluctantly, to Princess Caroline of Brunswick, the Prince Regent’s marriage quickly ran into difficulty. After the birth of their only child, Princess Charlotte, the royal couple separated in 1796. Queen Caroline went to live on the continent in 1814, but at her husband’s coronation in 1821 she decided to return to London to assert her rights. William noted:

We hear that everything went off quietly in London with the exception of a few broken windows and that the Queen applied for admission at the doors of the [Westminster] Abbey and was refused”

George refused to recognise Caroline as Queen, and made efforts to ensure that European monarchs did likewise. Although he tried to divorce her and later to annul the marriage, these efforts proved unpopular with the public. In the end, the marriage ended quietly: Caroline became ill on the day of the coronation and died on 7 August, with some rumours that she had been poisoned. William’s brief note of the incidents on coronation day suggest that he, at least, had little interest in the quarrels of the royal family. In any case, his excitement about his trip around Europe was far more important.

News of the coronation reaches William in Paris

William was not the only architect who had left Britain to experience the culture and art of the rest of Europe; as well as his friend Mr. Brooks, with whom he had travelled from Dover, a Mr Angell joined them on their onward journey from Paris to Rome. William wrote:

“He is a young man of good sense and possesses a zeal for his profession without which something is a mere dead letter.”

The band of architects sound more like serious professional scholars than a gap year party, but then it’s likely that William would have wanted to impress the seriousness of his enterprise onto his father who was paying his bills.’Living at Paris and travelling expenses are so much higher than I had at all imagined’ he complained in his letter;

“and with every endeavour to keep [expenses] as low as possible, I find that they have exceeded my proposed expenditure a full third”

Even so, he assured his father that the costs would drop once they left the capital, although ‘the French are always on the alert to overcharge an Englishman’. It was not, he insisted, the pursuit of luxury which had cause this spending;

“nor do I imagine I could spend a single franc less consistent with any thing like comfort or respectability were I to recommence my journey tomorrow’

William’s letter from Paris

William evidently thought of his family at home frequently during his time away; his father, mother, sister, Mr Evans and ‘Jane’ are mentioned in every letter. This letter also mentions another member of the family;

“I am sorry to hear poor Dick has been obliged to undergo an operation.”

As I was transcribing the letter, I thought that sounded interesting; who was Dick? Probably not a member of the immediate family, but perhaps a servant or someone close enough to the Harris family that they had ensured he got the operation which he needed? Leaving aside the difficulties of nineteenth century surgery, I thought that this would give an intriguing insight into a gentleman’s relationship with his dependants. In some ways, it does, but not quite as I was expecting. William goes on:

“It would be perhaps be as well to avoid taking him over the stones as much as possible. He is an excellent little horse but tis a pity he has not a lighter vehicle to draw…”

So there you go, the Harris family were very close to their horses! William goes on to advise his father on how to deal with Dick’s lameness, with as much interest as if he was a long-term servant of the family.

“[I’m sorry to hear that] poor Dick has been obliged to undergo an operation”

The small band of architects intended to leave Paris on 31 July and continue their journey via Compiegne, Rheims, Dijon, Lyons, Nismes and then reach Geneva. The itinerary was not fixed;

“at the first mentioned places our stay will be uncertain and will be regulated by the interest they excite.”

And while he was racing around Europe, William was eager to stay in touch with his friends and family at home;

“If yourself or my sister could possibly find time to write to me immediately on the receipt of this by the very next bag…”

“…by the very next bag…”

Sending off his tightly packed, overwritten letter back home, William presumably went off to enjoy his last week in Paris, and to gather some more anecdotes to tell in his next letters. It’s just a lucky coincidence that these letters have survived nearly 200 years so that we can share his excitement today.

William’s letter from Paris and related archival materials will be on display in the Templeman foyer for a limited time only! Pop in to have a look and learn more, including why Lord Byron was causing a stir in Paris in 1821.

 

Going on a summer holiday? 2: I write in haste

It’s been a while since I updated you about William Harris Esq.’s continental exploits in 1821. As you may remember, he set out from Dover after having explored the castle and travelled to Calais in the company of two friends in June. I’m sure you’ll be pleased to know that he had arrived safely at Paris by the beginning of July.

William and his friend Mr Brooks were staying at a William Hunter’s residence on rue de Sevres, in the St Germain district of the city. William Harris wrote to his father on 2 July to ask that his father might ‘inform Mrs. Adams and Mrs. Brooks of the Strand’ of Mr. Brook’s safe arrival. William added

“[Mr Brooks] had been so much engaged this morning he has not had time to finish a letter he had begun but he will take care to write in a day or two”

It seems that William was the more likely of the two to write home; in any case, a swift letter was the speediest method of communication in 1821. William comments on the end of his note that he had just received his father’s “kind letter (no. 1)”: this leaves a gap of just 8 days between his sending from Calais and receiving his father’s reply. I have to say I thought this wasn’t bad by modern standards!

William's letter from St Germain

William’s letter from St Germain

Paris in 1821 was still gripped by the instability of the political swings from the Napoleonic, in 1815, to the accession of Louis-Phillippe as king in 1830. During this time, Britain had formed part of a European coalition which restored the Bourbon monarchy, by military force, to a constitutional role. The monarchy was not consistently popular and after the second fall of Napoleon at Waterloo in 1815; although the government was elected to work alongside the Bourbons the two institutions did not always work together. Shifting political strengths throughout the decade of the 1820s must have made Paris an interesting place to be. The medieval city was still largely in existence, too; it was not demolished to make way for Haussmann’s vision of a modern city until the mid nineteenth century. It would have been a very different place to the modern tourist centre.

Of course, travel in the nineteenth century was never a straightforward or safe affair, as we’ll find out later in William’s journey. But for the time being, I will leave you with his brief note, in anticipation of the Parisian adventure to follow.

William's letter from St. Germain

William’s letter from St. Germain

 “I would have said more but the boy is just ready.”

Drop into the Templeman foyer to have a look at the original letter on display with a rare example of a nineteenth century passport.