In Search of Victorian London

When wandering the streets of London it’s not hard to see remnants of the nineteenth century city - from the grand sweep of John Nash’s parks and surrounding streets, the extravagant museums of South Kensington to the imposing memorials in the likes of Highgate cemetery, and many churches dotted across the city. In honour of Victober, a month-long celebration of literature from Britain’s golden age of writing, I’ve put together this post of places to visit to walk in the footsteps of some of your favourite creatives.

Charles Dickens Museum at Christmas

Charles Dickens

The author most closely associated with Victorian London, famous for walking the streets at night, his writing evokes the darkness and squalor of many of the areas he knew. A great place to start in your search for Dickens’ London is the Charles Dickens Museum. His home between March 1837 and December 1839, it is decorated similarly to how it would have been when he lived and worked there. The museum also owns the property next door, meaning they’ve been able to expand their exhibition space. The interior has been digitised on Google maps, so even if you can’t get there in person, you can still explore the home of this most famous of authors.

If you really want to experience London through Dickens’ eyes, why not indulge in a self-guided walking tour, this one put together by the BBC is excellent.

Mary Shelley

St. Pancras Old Church

A little north of the site of Dickens’ home lies the birthplace of Mary Shelley, in Somers Town. The building itself is no longer standing, having been demolished in 1904, and now being home to Oakshott Court, a plaque nonetheless commemorates her birth on 30th August 1797. Not far away is the grave of her mother, Mary Wollstonecraft, in the graveyard of St. Pancras Old Church. Those familiar with the legend of Shelley will know that it’s believed her father taught her to write her name by tracing the lettering on her mother’s grave, as well as being a meeting place for secret liaisons with Percy Bysshe Shelley in the early days of their relationship. The house where she lived her final five years is still standing at 24 Chester Square, a blue plaque marks its historic significance.

Wilkie Collins

There is a blue plaque at 65 Gloucester Place, Marylebone, marking the house in which Collins once resided, but it is perhaps Hampstead that is most associated with him. He lived in Hampstead as a child, when it was yet to be consumed by the city. Fans of The Woman in White will delight in walking across the Heath, the location of Hartright’s walk immediately before his first encounter with the eponymous figure at the junction of modern day Finchley Road and Frognal Lane. Hampstead also makes an appearance in both Armadale and The Moonstone. It remains a beautiful place to explore and has retained its village feel despite now being much better connected to the rest of the capital. While you’re in the area, it’s also worth making a stop at another literary location - Keats House. One final stop for those so inclined is Collins’ grave in Kensal Green Cemetery.

William Morris' Red House

William Morris 

The William Morris Gallery in Walthamstow is a wonderful place to start your William Morris journey. Housed in a villa that he lived in during his late teens and early twenties, it is an inspiring museum that delves beyond his famous designs  (although you'll find plenty of them there too) into his wider creative and political work, and it’s free to visit. South of the river is Red House, a home Morris commissioned his friend Phillip Webb to build shortly after his wedding to Jane. The house was designed and decorated by Morris and his friends, including Dante Gabriel Rossetti and Edward Burne-Jones, and has been described as a ‘palace of art’. Sadly, the dream only lasted for five years, when he had to move his family back to central London. Finally, a visit to the William Morris Society, housed in the basement of Kelmscott House where he lived for the final eighteen years of his life. Unfortunately, their exhibition space remains closed due to Covid, but there is a virtual tour available on their website.

The Royal Observatory

Joseph Conrad

You can find a blue plaque on Conrad’s former residence at 17 Gillingham Street, Victoria, but to delve into the London of his novel The Secret Agent, it’s Soho and Greenwich that you want to explore. Soho is the location of Verloc’s shop and the area is portrayed as dark, confusing, and threatening. It oozes with atmosphere and the air of corruption that it was known for during the nineteenth century. The novel revolves around a plot to blow up the Greenwich Observatory, inspired by a real life attempt in the late nineteenth century. It remains a brilliant place to visit and dwell upon the importance of it at its creation, as well as offering panoramic views across the city.

Mary Elizabeth Braddon

Braddon serialised her novels Birds of Prey and Charlotte’s Inheritance in the magazine Belgravia, for which she was editor. In these novels she places London centre stage as she dissects the veneer of respectability, and the darkness hidden beneath, in areas such as Bloomsbury. The buildings in the area are largely still in tact, and it is a pleasant area to wander around, keeping in mind also, of course, the literary associations of the later Bloomsbury Group. Braddon also has connections to the outer suburb of Richmond. She lived with her husband John Maxwell in Lichfield House from 1874 until her death in 1915. The House no longer stands however, having been replaced by the modern development, Lichfield Court. Her final resting place is Richmond Cemetery, where her grave can still be visited, as well as a commemorative plaque in St Mary Magdalene Church in Richmond.

Another literary landmark not too far from Richmond is Strawberry Hill House, Horace Walpole’s famous Gothic Revival house. In Richmond itself, Virginia Woolf’s former home and the place where Hogarth Press was established, can be seen on Paradise Road. It is now a private residence.

Victorian Villains, University of Oxford, 9th February 2019

On a bright winter morning a group of Victorian enthusiasts gathered for a thought-provoking study day on the most notorious villains in Victorian literature.

First was an examination of the enigma that is Heathcliff by Dr Sandie Byrne. She spoke of the way modern adaptations of Wuthering Heights underplay his villainy, instead focusing on his victimization, and a skewed version of his love for Cathy. Wrong-footing us slightly, rather than dissecting his character in the tradition of villainy, instead we looked at the different tropes of hero figures and whether or not he could fit into these. The Brontës having been fans of the Romantics we looked to the Romantic hero to which he loosely fits due to his extremes of emotion and fixation on one thing. There were also comparisons to the trend ignited by Henry MacKenzie’s The Man of Feeling which allowed men to be as emotional as women until its popularity waned with a backlash accusing such men as being effeminate, an accusation unlikely to be leveled at Heathcliff, he does nonetheless have a great sensitivity to certain stimuli.

One other possible link to the hero type is being the moral centre of the novel. Heathcliff’s morality is not one that’s held up as being admirable, but Byrne argues he could be seen as the only character in the book that stays true to themselves. Catherine betrays not just Heathcliff but her own true nature by entering the world of the Lintons. His behaviour toward the other characters could be seen as testing them. They repeatedly fail and as a result he sees them as weak. Yet, Heathcliff is full of contradiction. He is hellbent on revenge and yet before it is fully realised he stops, claiming in the famous line ‘I have lost the faculty of enjoying their destruction, and I am too idle to destroy for nothing.’ Why is this? Has seeing Hareton and Cathy defy his attempts to force a repeat of his own history softened him? Was he merely worn out? Is his desire to be reunited with Catherine in death greater than his desire for revenge? Why does he seem to regret some of his actions yet refuse to reconcile with Catherine on her deathbed? (I don’t hold Heathcliff to account for this, she continued to torment him to the end).

What are we to make of his nature? We see Hindley tormenting him in his youth and Catherine’s desertion of him wounds his very soul. Yet as Byrne points out, these actions skew traditional morality – he has done nothing wrong at this point, it is not punishment. There is much we don’t know of his history however, was it the actions of the Earnshaws that led him to becoming bitter and vengeful, had something in his past that we aren’t privy to affected him so deeply? Or, perhaps, Emily is expressing in him her belief that people should act according to their nature, like animals, and be held to no account? Heathcliff could therefore be seen as simply having a violent and fierce nature and living out his inevitability. A strange stance you may think from the daughter of a priest, and yet some have gone as far as to claim she was not a woman of faith at all. Fundamentally, it is this unknown surrounding Heathcliff that has made generations of readers fascinated, dissecting his character, pitying or reviling him.

Dr Charlotte Jones then led a discussion of the villains in Dickens’ Hard Times. In this we questioned what it meant to be a villain during the Industrial Revolution. Jones took us through a whirlwind history of the term, explaining how words that once denoted social rank became moral terms during the sixteenth century. The drastic changes brought about during the Victorian period raised questions once again of how we measure morality and it is this that Dickens bases his villains on in this novel. Thomas Gradgrind is the first character we meet and he is introduced to us as a villain, obsessed with utilitarianism, losing sight of what makes us human in his obsession with facts and figures. The fact he has fundamentally misunderstood Bentham’s philosophy make his character almost comically distressing, and somewhat sympathetic. He does not set out to make people miserable and yet his actions do, raising questions of what makes a villain.

On the other end of the spectrum is Bounderby who has created his life on a fantasy, lying about his past to fit into the ideal of the self-made man. Samuel Smiles’ Self Help was hugely popular at the time and emphasized the perceived difference between the ‘deserving’ and ‘undeserving’ poor, intended to stimulate action as it frames the gentleman as a moral status rather than an economic one. In pretending to have come from a life of poverty and abuse to create financial success for himself Bounderby is abusing his position and making a moral judgment on those less fortunate than himself. In having these two opposing villains Dickens broadens the definition of a villain.

Jones argues however, that labour is in fact the main villain in the novel. Dickens was writing for a specific audience – literate and wealthy enough to buy journals. In writing about a world alien to them he was attempting to open their eyes to the problems of factory work. It is widely acknowledged that working conditions at the time were dangerous and grueling and yet he seems to be suggesting that the most pervasive problem was the repetitious inevitability of life. The monotony wears the workers down and makes them miserable. In his description of Coketown everything looks the same, from school to hospital to gaol, the workers leave home at the exact same time every day, and in the descriptions you begin to feel how claustrophobic and tedious this is, the writing begins to reflect the repetitive monotony of life in industrial towns at the time.

Next, Barrie Bullen led us through the complex world of villains and Greek gods in Hardy’s Tess of the D’Urbervilles. The two main villains are Alec D’Urberville and Angel Clare. Alec claims to be a villain and yet Bullen believes he is merely ventriloquizing bourgeoisie values. There’s no doubt he doesn’t treat Tess well, regardless of what you believe happened the night he impregnated her. Yet, Bullen claims it is Angel’s rejection and desertion of her that is the far crueler villainy enacted on her.

He believes they are symbolic of something much more significant than mere stage villains. Likening them to Dionysus (Alec) and Apollo (Angel) he points out that even Tess and Angel’s courtship mirrors the solar year, beginning in Spring, attaining its passionate climax in summer and then the abandonment by winter. The scene at Stonehenge and discussion of sacrifice to the sun is appropriate as one in which Angel plays a part. In fact, this scene and the earlier scene in the Chase with Alec are carefully mirrored. Bullen pulls out the similarities in the ancient settings, the darkness, dominance of the man, and ultimately, of Tess’s sacrifice. It is in the final lines of the novel that Bullen argues reveals the true villain – the President of the Immortals.

In all of the novels so far it has been shown that their villains are not as straightforward as one might originally have thought, and indeed it is often not the characters that prove to be the most villainous but the environment in which the action takes place or the gods who kill humans for sport. In the final lecture of the day, delivered by Dr David Grylls, we perhaps see the most traditional antagonist in Count Fosco from Wilkie Collins’s The Woman in White. Yet, his character is not all that simple, Collins himself described him as both ‘a brand-new villain’ and ‘the quintessence of a hecatomb of villains’. He meets many of the traits of a classic villain; he is intelligent, subtle, foreign, fallible, and attractive, and yet Collins created a character that he enjoyed writing and that readers often come to admire.

His intelligence is genuine, although disturbing for being devoid of morality. He plays against expectations, when providing Marian with medication the reader is led to assume he is poisoning her when he is not; he is aware of the suspicion he might encounter due to his nationality and he plays up to it, constantly keeping one step ahead of the rest of the characters. Collins can be seen to be mocking parochial xenophobia as it is the least intelligent characters that believe the stereotypes. Percival Glyde, who sat happily in the role of villain in the first volume of the novel, before Count Fosco appears, is soon shown to be clumsy and crude in comparison. As in Hard Times and a number of other Dickens novels, Collins uses opposing villains that complement each other in their disparity.

Similarly, as we saw with Heathcliff, Fosco is full of contradictions. He is physically large yet light on his feet. Once a radical, he abandons his beliefs for social pretension, a fact which ultimately leads to his downfall. His fondness for pets and in particular his mice, is a childlike image yet in every other way he appears cultured and sophisticated, possessing not just the fruits of study but also emotional intelligence. We saw throughout the day that a villain can take many forms, are often strengthened by a counterpart, and need some relatable qualities to make them believable and interesting.