" Imagine being dumped in a place like Cloisterham." Jonathan
Good morning - early morning as we're still on London time. Must patiently wait for sleep rhythm to get back to normal. This is a good quiet time to read your posts and catch up with this most interesting and informative discussion. Isn't it funny how we read the same pages and notice different things? I'm looking at some things in a different way after reading your posts.
Jonathan, your comment caught my eye - especially after my time in London at the Dickens' Museum on Doughty St. where he lived in the early years of his marriage with his wife, baby son AND his sistering, Mary Hogarth.
Not to overwhelm with all that I learned in the museum, I'll try to be brief - I said I'd
try.
I need to comment here that Dickens
loved Cloisterham - which is the actual cathedral town of Rochester. He lived near to Rochester when he was just a child - for several years starting at age five - before his father's downward spiral which landed him in the poor house...and Dickens was sent to the blacking factory. It is said that these were the happiest years of his childhood - he found it serene and peaceful - so much so that his expressed wishes were to be buried in the cathedral burial ground! Imagine that! The same burial ground that he's writing about here in Cloisterham! (You can guess where he is buried, perhaps? Not in Rochester...)
Though the London Museum on Doughty St. is considered
THE Dickens' Museum - can you imagine how I felt when I learned that Rochester is only a twenty minute train ride from London? And that Gad's Hill where Dickens was living at his death as he penned his last novel - only five miles from Rochester?
So little time - not enough for another day's excursion, but to think I could have walked on High Street seen the very cathedral, the Nuns' House, the burial yard, the crypt. All there, just as we are reading the description of Cloisterham. Missed opportunity. But I did learn much to share with you at the museum in London.
This is the very house where Dickens lived as a
twenty six year old - with wife and
17 year old sister-in-law, Mary. He was quite attached to Mary, scholars still argue today about their relationship. She died in his arms at age 17 - and it is said that he never got over that - his name was on her lips as she died. He wore her ring for the rest of his life. Descriptions of her youth, beauty, innocence and naievte were to appear in many of his novels. I actually stood in the room where she lived - and died.
The reason I visited the museum was because Matthew Pearl acknowledged the people here for contributing to his research his novel,
The Last Dickens. I sure hope that you all will find your way into that discussion of his well researched book. I just know you will enjoy it - and will most likely be hungry for more about Drood when we finish the published episodes.
Here's a photo of the four story house, the Dickens' Museum. (I'm sure that awning wasn't there in Dickens' time.) I'll show you more photos of the interior at another time, but don't want to interrupt this discussion with too much...