Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870 -- Homes and haunts -- England -- London; Literary landmarks -- England -- London
Here then was the Home of _Agnes_—that finest delineation of feminine
portraiture ever conceived by our author—the central figure of the many
pure and beautiful associations which entwine themselves with the chief
interests of this most charming tale. In view of the personal history
and character of its heroine, we may well understand Thackeray’s eulogium
of his contemporary, as providing for the delectation of his daughters
“the pure pages of David Copperfield;” and we can as readily appreciate
the preference of Charles Dickens himself, when he says:—
“Of all my books I like this the best. It will be easily believed
that I am a fond parent to every child of my fancy, and that no one
can ever love that family as dearly as I love them. But, like many
fond parents, I have, in my heart of hearts, a favourite child, and
his name is David Copperfield.”
Leaving CANTERBURY by the direct line of the LONDON, CHATHAM AND DOVER
RAILWAY, we are carried onward through a pleasant country towards the
south-east coast; the white roads of the district indicating the abundant
chalkiness of the soil. In Copperfield’s 13th chapter, narrating the
circumstances of his long tramp to Dover, he says, “From head to foot I
was powdered almost as white with chalk and dust as if I had come out of
a lime-kiln.”
Passing three minor stations, the train arrives at DOVER PRIORY—about
which more anon—whence it proceeds through an intervening tunnel to the
town station, at the old port of
DOVER.
The town is of especial interest to readers of “David Copperfield,” as
containing on its suburban heights the cottage residence of Miss Trotwood
and Mr. Dick.
Proceeding eastward from the station, a short distance along COMMERCIAL
QUAY; turning left, then right; and walking onwards _viâ_ SNARGATE, BENCH
and KING STREETS, the Rambler may reach the Market Place, centrally
situated in the lower part of the town, and may recall the circumstance
of poor David resting near at hand, on his arrival—a juvenile stranger in
a strange land—after a morning’s fruitless inquiry as to the whereabouts
of his aunt. We read (in chapter 13) as follows:—
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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