0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. Henry Austin.]
FURNIVAL'S INN, _Wednesday Night, past 12._
DEAR HENRY,
I have just been ordered on a journey, the length of which is at present
uncertain. I may be back on Sunday very probably, and start again on the
following day. Should this be the case, you shall hear from me before.
Don't laugh. I am going (alone) in a gig; and, to quote the eloquent
inducement which the proprietors of Hampstead _chays_ hold out to Sunday
riders--"the gen'l'm'n drives himself." I am going into Essex and
Suffolk. It strikes me I shall be spilt before I pay a turnpike. I have
a presentiment I shall run over an only child before I reach Chelmsford,
my first stage.
Let the evident haste of this specimen of "The Polite Letter Writer" be
its excuse, and
Believe me, dear Henry, most sincerely yours,
[HW: Charles Dickens]
NOTE.--To avoid the monotony of a constant repetition, we propose to
dispense with the signature at the close of each letter, excepting to
the first and last letters of our collection. Charles Dickens's
handwriting altered so much during these years of his life, that we have
thought it advisable to give a facsimile of his autograph to this our
first letter; and we reproduce in the same way his latest autograph.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Catherine%20Dickens/2Charles Dickens
1835-00-00[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
FURNIVAL'S INN, _Wednesday Evening, 1835._
MY DEAREST KATE,
The House is up; but I am very sorry to say that I must stay at home. I
have had a visit from the publishers this morning, and the story cannot
be any longer delayed; it must be done to-morrow, as there are more
important considerations than the mere payment for the story involved
too. I must exercise a little self-denial, and set to work.
They (Chapman and Hall) have made me an offer of fourteen pounds a
month, to write and edit a new publication they contemplate, entirely by
myself, to be published monthly, and each number to contain four
woodcuts. I am to make my estimate and calculation, and to give them a
decisive answer on Friday morning. The work will be no joke, but the
emolument is too tempting to resist.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Catherine%20Dickens/3Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: The same.]
_Sunday Evening._
I have at this moment got Pickwick and his friends on the Rochester
coach, and they are going on swimmingly, in company with a very
different character from any I have yet described, who I flatter myself
will make a decided hit. I want to get them from the ball to the inn
before I go to bed; and I think that will take me until one or two
o'clock at the earliest. The publishers will be here in the morning, so
you will readily suppose I have no alternative but to stick at my desk.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/J%20P%20Harley/4Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. J. P. Harley.]
48, DOUGHTY STREET, _Saturday Morning._
MY DEAR SIR,
I have considered the terms on which I could afford just now to sell Mr.
Braham the acting copyright in London of an entirely new piece for the
St. James's Theatre; and I could not sit down to write one in a single
act of about one hour long, under a hundred pounds. For a new piece in
two acts, a hundred and fifty pounds would be the sum I should require.
I do not know whether, with reference to arrangements that were made
with any other writers, this may or may not appear a large item. I state
it merely with regard to the value of my own time and writings at this
moment; and in so doing I assure you I place the remuneration below the
mark rather than above it.
As you begged me to give you my reply upon this point, perhaps you will
lay it before Mr. Braham. If these terms exceed his inclination or the
ability of the theatre, there is an end of the matter, and no harm done.
Believe me ever faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/5Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
48, DOUGHTY STREET, _Wednesday Evening._
MY DEAR SIR,
There is a semi-business, semi-pleasure little dinner which I intend to
give at The Prince of Wales, in Leicester Place, Leicester Square, on
Saturday, at five for half-past precisely, at which only Talfourd,
Forster, Ainsworth, Jerdan, and the publishers will be present. It is
to celebrate (that is too great a word, but I can think of no better)
the conclusion of my "Pickwick" labours; and so I intend, before you
take that roll upon the grass you spoke of, to beg your acceptance of
one of the first complete copies of the work. I shall be much delighted
if you would join us.
I know too well the many anxieties that press upon you just now to seek
to persuade you to come if you would prefer a night's repose and quiet.
Let me assure you, notwithstanding, most honestly and heartily that
there is no one I should be more happy or gratified to see, and that
among your brilliant circle of well-wishers and admirers you number none
more unaffectedly and faithfully yours than,
My dear Sir, yours most truly.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Catherine%20Dickens/6Charles Dickens
1838-02-01[Sidenote: Mrs. Charles Dickens.]
GRETA BRIDGE, _Thursday, Feb. 1st, 1838._
MY DEAREST KATE,
I am afraid you will receive this later than I could wish, as the mail
does not come through this place until two o'clock to-morrow morning.
However, I have availed myself of the very first opportunity of writing,
so the fault is that mail's, and not this.
We reached Grantham between nine and ten on Thursday night, and found
everything prepared for our reception in the very best inn I have ever
put up at. It is odd enough that an old lady, who had been outside all
day and came in towards dinner time, turned out to be the mistress of a
Yorkshire school returning from the holiday stay in London. She was a
very queer old lady, and showed us a long letter she was carrying to one
of the boys from his father, containing a severe lecture (enforced and
aided by many texts of Scripture) on his refusing to eat boiled meat.
She was very communicative, drank a great deal of brandy and water, and
towards evening became insensible, in which state we left her.
Yesterday we were up again shortly after seven A.M., came on upon our
journey by the Glasgow mail, which charged us the remarkably low sum of
six pounds fare for two places inside. We had a very droll male
companion until seven o'clock in the evening, and a most delicious
lady's-maid for twenty miles, who implored us to keep a sharp look-out
at the coach-windows, as she expected the carriage was coming to meet
her and she was afraid of missing it. We had many delightful vauntings
of the same kind; but in the end it is scarcely necessary to say that
the coach did not come, but a very dirty girl did.
As we came further north the mire grew deeper. About eight o'clock it
began to fall heavily, and, as we crossed the wild heaths hereabout,
there was no vestige of a track. The mail kept on well, however, and at
eleven we reached a bare place with a house standing alone in the midst
of a dreary moor, which the guard informed us was Greta Bridge. I was in
a perfect agony of apprehension, for it was fearfully cold, and there
were no outward signs of anybody being up in the house. But to our great
joy we discovered a comfortable room, with drawn curtains and a most
blazing fire. In half an hour they gave us a smoking supper and a bottle
of mulled port (in which we drank your health), and then we retired to
a couple of capital bedrooms, in each of which there was a rousing fire
halfway up the chimney.
We have had for breakfast, toast, cakes, a Yorkshire pie, a piece of
beef about the size and much the shape of my portmanteau, tea, coffee,
ham, and eggs; and are now going to look about us. Having finished our
discoveries, we start in a postchaise for Barnard Castle, which is only
four miles off, and there I deliver the letter given me by Mitton's
friend. All the schools are round about that place, and a dozen old
abbeys besides, which we shall visit by some means or other to-morrow.
We shall reach York on Saturday I hope, and (God willing) I trust I
shall be at home on Wednesday morning.
I wish you would call on Mrs. Bentley and thank her for the letter; you
can tell her when I expect to be in York.
A thousand loves and kisses to the darling boy, whom I see in my mind's
eye crawling about the floor of this Yorkshire inn. Bless his heart, I
would give two sovereigns for a kiss. Remember me too to Frederick, who
I hope is attentive to you.
Is it not extraordinary that the same dreams which have constantly
visited me since poor Mary died follow me everywhere? After all the
change of scene and fatigue, I have dreamt of her ever since I left
home, and no doubt shall till I return. I should be sorry to lose such
visions, for they are very happy ones, if it be only the seeing her in
one's sleep. I would fain believe, too, sometimes, that her spirit may
have some influence over them, but their perpetual repetition is
extraordinary.
Love to all friends.
Ever, my dear Kate,
Your affectionate Husband.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Thomas%20Mitton/7Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. Thomas Mitton.]
TWICKENHAM PARK, _Tuesday Night._
DEAR TOM,
I sat down this morning and put on paper my testamentary meaning.
Whether it is sufficiently legal or not is another question, but I hope
it is. The rough draft of the clauses which I enclose will be preceded
by as much of the fair copy as I send you, and followed by the usual
clause about the receipts of the trustees being a sufficient discharge.
I also wish to provide that if all our children should die before
twenty-one, and Kate married again, half the surplus should go to her
and half to my surviving brothers and sisters, share and share alike.
This will be all, except a few lines I wish to add which there will be
no occasion to consult you about, as they will merely bear reference to
a few tokens of remembrance and one or two slight funeral directions.
And so pray God that you may be gray, and Forster bald, long before you
are called upon to act as my executors.
I suppose I shall see you at the water-party on Thursday? We will then
make an appointment for Saturday morning, and if you think my clauses
will do, I will complete my copy, seal it up, and leave it in your
hands. There are some other papers which you ought to have. We must get
a box.
Ever yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Serjeant%20Talfourd%20MP/8Charles Dickens
1838-07-15[Sidenote: Mr. Serjeant Talfourd, M.P.]
TWICKENHAM PARK, _Sunday, July 15th, 1838._
MY DEAR TALFOURD,
I cannot tell you how much pleasure I have derived from the receipt of
your letter. I have heard little of you, and seen less, for so long a
time, that your handwriting came like the renewal of some old
friendship, and gladdened my eyes like the face of some old friend.
If I hear from Lady Holland before you return, I shall, as in duty
bound, present myself at her bidding; but between you and me and the
general post, I hope she may not renew her invitation until I can visit
her with you, as I would much rather avail myself of your personal
introduction. However, whatever her ladyship may do I shall respond to,
and anyway shall be only too happy to avail myself of what I am sure
cannot fail to form a very pleasant and delightful introduction.
Your kind invitation and reminder of the subject of a pleasant
conversation in one of our pleasant rides, has thrown a gloom over the
brightness of Twickenham, for here I am chained. It is indispensably
necessary that "Oliver Twist" should be published in three volumes, in
September next. I have only just begun the last one, and, having the
constant drawback of my monthly work, shall be sadly harassed to get it
finished in time, especially as I have several very important scenes
(important to the story I mean) yet to write. Nothing would give me so
much pleasure as to be with you for a week or so. I can only imperfectly
console myself with the hope that when you see "Oliver" you will like
the close of the book, and approve my self-denial in staying here to
write it. I should like to know your address in Scotland when you leave
town, so that I may send you the earliest copy if it be produced in the
vacation, which I pray Heaven it may.
Meanwhile, believe that though my body is on the banks of the Thames,
half my heart is going the Oxford circuit.
Mrs. Dickens and Charley desire their best remembrances (the latter
expresses some anxiety, not unmixed with apprehension, relative to the
Copyright Bill, in which he conceives himself interested), with hearty
wishes that you may have a fine autumn, which is all you want, being
sure of all other means of enjoyment that a man can have.
I am, my dear Talfourd,
Ever faithfully yours.
P.S.--I hope you are able to spare a moment now and then to glance at
"Nicholas Nickleby," and that you have as yet found no reason to alter
the opinion you formed on the appearance of the first number.
You know, I suppose, that they elected me at the Athenaeum? Pray thank
Mr. Serjeant Storks for me.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Catherine%20Dickens/9Charles Dickens
1838-11-01[Sidenote: Mrs. Charles Dickens.]
LION HOTEL, SHREWSBURY, _Thursday, Nov. 1st, 1838._
MY DEAREST LOVE,
I received your welcome letter on arriving here last night, and am
rejoiced to hear that the dear children are so much better. I hope that
in your next, or your next but one, I shall learn that they are quite
well. A thousand kisses to them. I wish I could convey them myself.
We found a roaring fire, an elegant dinner, a snug room, and capital
beds all ready for us at Leamington, after a very agreeable (but very
cold) ride. We started in a postchaise next morning for Kenilworth, with
which we were both enraptured, and where I really think we MUST have
lodgings next summer, please God that we are in good health and all goes
well. You cannot conceive how delightful it is. To read among the ruins
in fine weather would be perfect luxury. From here we went on to Warwick
Castle, which is an ancient building, newly restored, and possessing no
very great attraction beyond a fine view and some beautiful pictures;
and thence to Stratford-upon-Avon, where we sat down in the room where
Shakespeare was born, and left our autographs and read those of other
people and so forth.
We remained at Stratford all night, and found to our unspeakable dismay
that father's plan of proceeding by Bridgenorth was impracticable, as
there were no coaches. So we were compelled to come here by way of
Birmingham and Wolverhampton, starting at eight o'clock through a cold
wet fog, and travelling, when the day had cleared up, through miles of
cinder-paths and blazing furnaces, and roaring steam-engines, and such a
mass of dirt, gloom, and misery as I never before witnessed. We got
pretty well accommodated here when we arrived at half-past four, and are
now going off in a postchaise to Llangollen--thirty miles--where we
shall remain to-night, and where the Bangor mail will take us up
to-morrow. Such are our movements up to this point, and when I have
received your letter at Chester I shall write to you again and tell you
when I shall be back. I can say positively that I shall not exceed the
fortnight, and I think it very possible that I may return a day or two
before it expires.
We were at the play last night. It was a bespeak--"The Love Chase," a
ballet (with a phenomenon!), divers songs, and "A Roland for an Oliver."
It is a good theatre, but the actors are very funny. Browne laughed with
such indecent heartiness at one point of the entertainment, that an old
gentleman in the next box suffered the most violent indignation. The
bespeak party occupied two boxes, the ladies were full-dressed, and the
gentlemen, to a man, in white gloves with flowers in their button-holes.
It amused us mightily, and was really as like the Miss Snevellicci
business as it could well be.
My side has been very bad since I left home, although I have been very
careful not to drink much, remaining to the full as abstemious as usual,
and have not eaten any great quantity, having no appetite. I suffered
such an ecstasy of pain all night at Stratford that I was half dead
yesterday, and was obliged last night to take a dose of henbane. The
effect was most delicious. I slept soundly, and without feeling the
least uneasiness, and am a great deal better this morning; neither do I
find that the henbane has affected my head, which, from the great effect
it had upon me--exhilarating me to the most extraordinary degree, and
yet keeping me sleepy--I feared it would. If I had not got better I
should have turned back to Birmingham, and come straight home by the
railroad. As it is, I hope I shall make out the trip.
God bless you, my darling. I long to be back with you again and to see
the sweet Babs.
Your faithful and most affectionate Husband.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Hastings%20Hughes/10Charles Dickens
1838-12-12[Sidenote: Master Hastings Hughes.]
DOUGHTY STREET, LONDON, _Dec. 12th, 1838._
RESPECTED SIR,
I have given Squeers one cut on the neck and two on the head, at which
he appeared much surprised and began to cry, which, being a cowardly
thing, is just what I should have expected from him--wouldn't you?
I have carefully done what you told me in your letter about the lamb and
the two "sheeps" for the little boys. They have also had some good ale
and porter, and some wine. I am sorry you didn't say _what_ wine you
would like them to have. I gave them some sherry, which they liked very
much, except one boy, who was a little sick and choked a good deal. He
was rather greedy, and that's the truth, and I believe it went the wrong
way, which I say served him right, and I hope you will say so too.
Nicholas had his roast lamb, as you said he was to, but he could not
eat it all, and says if you do not mind his doing so he should like to
have the rest hashed to-morrow with some greens, which he is very fond
of, and so am I. He said he did not like to have his porter hot, for he
thought it spoilt the flavour, so I let him have it cold. You should
have seen him drink it. I thought he never would have left off. I also
gave him three pounds of money, all in sixpences, to make it seem more,
and he said directly that he should give more than half to his mamma and
sister, and divide the rest with poor Smike. And I say he is a good
fellow for saying so; and if anybody says he isn't I am ready to fight
him whenever they like--there!
Fanny Squeers shall be attended to, depend upon it. Your drawing of her
is very like, except that I don't think the hair is quite curly enough.
The nose is particularly like hers, and so are the legs. She is a nasty
disagreeable thing, and I know it will make her very cross when she sees
it; and what I say is that I hope it may. You will say the same I
know--at least I think you will.
I meant to have written you a long letter, but I cannot write very fast
when I like the person I am writing to, because that makes me think
about them, and I like you, and so I tell you. Besides, it is just eight
o'clock at night, and I always go to bed at eight o'clock, except when
it is my birthday, and then I sit up to supper. So I will not say
anything more besides this--and that is my love to you and Neptune; and
if you will drink my health every Christmas Day I will drink
yours--come.
I am,
Respected Sir,
Your affectionate Friend.
P.S.--I don't write my name very plain, but you know what it is you
know, so never mind.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/11Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
DOUGHTY STREET, _Monday Morning._
MY DEAR MACREADY,
I have not seen you for the past week, because I hoped when we next met
to bring "The Lamplighter" in my hand. It would have been finished by
this time, but I found myself compelled to set to work first at the
"Nickleby" on which I am at present engaged, and which I regret to
say--after my close and arduous application last month--I find I cannot
write as quickly as usual. I must finish it, at latest, by the 24th (a
doubtful comfort!), and the instant I have done so I will apply myself
to the farce. I am afraid to name any particular day, but I pledge
myself that you shall have it this month, and you may calculate on that
promise. I send you with this a copy of a farce I wrote for Harley when
he left Drury Lane, and in which he acted for some seventy nights. It is
the best thing he does. It is barely possible you might like to try it.
Any local or temporary allusions could be easily altered.
Believe me that I only feel gratified and flattered by your inquiry
after the farce, and that if I had as much time as I have inclination, I
would write on and on and on, farce after farce and comedy after comedy,
until I wrote you something that would run. You do me justice when you
give me credit for good intentions; but the extent of my good-will and
strong and warm interest in you personally and your great undertaking,
you cannot fathom nor express.
Believe me, my dear Macready,
Ever faithfully yours.
P.S.--For Heaven's sake don't fancy that I hold "The Strange Gentleman"
in any estimation, or have a wish upon the subject.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/12Charles Dickens
1838-12-13[Sidenote: Mr. W. C Macready.]
48, DOUGHTY STREET, _December 13th, 1838._
MY DEAR MACREADY,
I can have but one opinion on the subject--withdraw the farce at once,
by all means.
I perfectly concur in all you say, and thank you most heartily and
cordially for your kind and manly conduct, which is only what I should
have expected from you; though, under such circumstances, I sincerely
believe there are few but you--if any--who would have adopted it.
Believe me that I have no other feeling of disappointment connected with
this matter but that arising from the not having been able to be of some
use to you. And trust me that, if the opportunity should ever arrive, my
ardour will only be increased--not damped--by the result of this
experiment.
Believe me always, my dear Macready,
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/13Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
DOUGHTY STREET, _Sunday._
MY DEAR MACREADY,
I will have, if you please, three dozen of the extraordinary champagne;
and I am much obliged to you for recollecting me.
I ought not to be sorry to hear of your abdication, but I am,
notwithstanding, most heartily and sincerely sorry, for my own sake and
the sake of thousands, who may now go and whistle for a theatre--at
least, such a theatre as you gave them; and I do now in my heart believe
that for a long and dreary time that exquisite delight has passed away.
If I may jest with my misfortunes, and quote the Portsmouth critic of
Mr. Crummles's company, I say that: "As an exquisite embodiment of the
poet's visions and a realisation of human intellectuality, gilding with
refulgent light our dreamy moments, and laying open a new and magic
world before the mental eye, the drama is gone--perfectly gone."
With the same perverse and unaccountable feeling which causes a
heart-broken man at a dear friend's funeral to see something
irresistibly comical in a red-nosed or one-eyed undertaker, I receive
your communication with ghostly facetiousness; though on a moment's
reflection I find better cause for consolation in the hope that,
relieved from your most trying and painful duties, you will now have
leisure to return to pursuits more congenial to your mind, and to move
more easily and pleasantly among your friends. In the long catalogue of
the latter, I believe that there is not one prouder of the name, or more
grateful for the store of delightful recollections you have enabled him
to heap up from boyhood, than,
My dear Macready,
Yours always faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Thomas%20Mitton/14Charles Dickens
1839-03-06[Sidenote: Mr. Thomas Mitton.]
NEW LONDON INN, EXETER,
_Wednesday Morning, March 6th, 1839._
DEAR TOM,
Perhaps you have heard from Kate that I succeeded yesterday in the very
first walk, and took a cottage at a place called Alphington, one mile
from Exeter, which contains, on the ground-floor, a good parlour and
kitchen, and above, a full-sized country drawing-room and three
bedrooms; in the yard behind, coal-holes, fowl-houses, and meat-safes
out of number; in the kitchen, a neat little range; in the other rooms,
good stoves and cupboards; and all for twenty pounds a year, taxes
included. There is a good garden at the side well stocked with cabbages,
beans, onions, celery, and some flowers. The stock belonging to the
landlady (who lives in the adjoining cottage), there was some question
whether she was not entitled to half the produce, but I settled the
point by paying five shillings, and becoming absolute master of the
whole!
I do assure you that I am charmed with the place and the beauty of the
country round about, though I have not seen it under very favourable
circumstances, for it snowed when I was there this morning, and blew
bitterly from the east yesterday. It is really delightful, and when the
house is to rights and the furniture all in, I shall be quite sorry to
leave it. I have had some few things second-hand, but I take it seventy
pounds will be the mark, even taking this into consideration. I include
in that estimate glass and crockery, garden tools, and such like little
things. There is a spare bedroom of course. That I have furnished too.
I am on terms of the closest intimacy with Mrs. Samuell, the landlady,
and her brother and sister-in-law, who have a little farm hard by. They
are capital specimens of country folks, and I really think the old woman
herself will be a great comfort to my mother. Coals are dear just
now--twenty-six shillings a ton. They found me a boy to go two miles out
and back again to order some this morning. I was debating in my mind
whether I should give him eighteenpence or two shillings, when his fee
was announced--twopence!
The house is on the high road to Plymouth, and, though in the very heart
of Devonshire, there is as much long-stage and posting life as you would
find in Piccadilly. The situation is charming. Meadows in front, an
orchard running parallel to the garden hedge, richly-wooded hills
closing in the prospect behind, and, away to the left, before a splendid
view of the hill on which Exeter is situated, the cathedral towers
rising up into the sky in the most picturesque manner possible. I don't
think I ever saw so cheerful or pleasant a spot. The drawing-room is
nearly, if not quite, as large as the outer room of my old chambers in
Furnival's Inn. The paint and paper are new, and the place clean as the
utmost excess of snowy cleanliness can be.
You would laugh if you could see me powdering away with the upholsterer,
and endeavouring to bring about all sorts of impracticable reductions
and wonderful arrangements. He has by him two second-hand carpets; the
important ceremony of trying the same comes off at three this afternoon.
I am perpetually going backwards and forwards. It is two miles from
here, so I have plenty of exercise, which so occupies me and prevents my
being lonely that I stopped at home to read last night, and shall
to-night, although the theatre is open. Charles Kean has been the star
for the last two evenings. He was stopping in this house, and went away
this morning. I have got his sitting-room now, which is smaller and more
comfortable than the one I had before.
You will have heard perhaps that I wrote to my mother to come down
to-morrow. There are so many things she can make comfortable at a much
less expense than I could, that I thought it best. If I had not, I could
not have returned on Monday, which I now hope to do, and to be in town
at half-past eight.
Will you tell my father that if he could devise any means of bringing
him down, I think it would be a great thing for him to have Dash, if it
be only to keep down the trampers and beggars. The cheque I send you
below.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/George%20Cattermole/15Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. George Cattermole.]
ELM COTTAGE, PETERSHAM, _Wednesday Morning._
MY DEAR CATTERMOLE,
Why is "Peveril" lingering on my dusty shelves in town, while my fair
cousin and your fair bride remains in blissful ignorance of his merits?
There he is, I grieve to say, but there he shall not be long, for I
shall be visiting my other home on Saturday morning, and will bring him
bodily down and forward him the moment he arrives.
Not having many of my books here, I don't find any among them which I
think more suitable to your purpose than a carpet-bagful sent herewith,
containing the Italian and German novelists (convenient as being easily
taken up and laid down again; and I suppose you won't read long at a
sitting), Leigh Hunt's "Indicator" and "Companion" (which have the same
merit), "Hood's Own" (complete), "A Legend of Montrose," and
"Kenilworth," which I have just been reading with greater delight than
ever, and so I suppose everybody else must be equally interested in. I
have Goldsmith, Swift, Fielding, Smollett, and the British Essayists
"handy;" and I need not say that you have them on hand too, if you like.
You know all I would say from my heart and soul on the auspicious event
of yesterday; but you don't know what I could say about the delightful
recollections I have of your "good lady's" charming looks and bearing,
upon which I discoursed most eloquently here last evening, and at
considerable length. As I am crippled in this respect, however, by the
suspicion that possibly she may be looking over your shoulder while you
read this note (I would lay a moderate wager that you have looked round
twice or thrice already), I shall content myself with saying that I am
ever heartily, my dear Cattermole,
Hers and yours.
P.S.--My man (who with his charge is your man while you stay here) waits
to know if you have any orders for him.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/J%20P%20Harley/16Charles Dickens
1839-06-28[Sidenote: Mr. J. P. Harley.]
ELM COTTAGE, PETERSHAM, NEAR RICHMOND,
_June 28th, 1839._
MY DEAR HARLEY,
I have "left my home," and been here ever since the end of April, and
shall remain here most probably until the end of September, which is the
reason that we have been such strangers of late.
I am very sorry that I cannot dine with you on Sunday, but some people
are coming here, and I cannot get away. Better luck next time, I hope.
I was on the point of writing to you when your note came, to ask you if
you would come down here next Saturday--to-morrow week, I mean--and stop
till Monday. I will either call for you at the theatre, at any time you
name, or send for you, "punctual," and have you brought down. Can you
come if it's fine? Say yes, like a good fellow as you are, and say it
per post.
I have countermanded that face. Maclise has made another face of me,
which all people say is astonishing. The engraving will be ready soon,
and I would rather you had that, as I am sure you would if you had seen
it.
In great haste to save the post, I am, my dear Harley,
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/William%20Longman/17Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. William Longman.]
DOUGHTY STREET, _Monday Morning._
MY DEAR SIR,
On Friday I have a family dinner at home--uncles, aunts, brothers,
sisters, cousins--an annual gathering.
By what fatality is it that you always ask me to dine on the wrong day?
While you are tracing this non-consequence to its cause, I wish you
would tell Mr. Sydney Smith that of all the men I ever heard of and
never saw, I have the greatest curiosity to see and the greatest
interest to know him.
Begging my best compliments at home,
I am, my dear Sir,
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/18Charles Dickens
1839-07-26[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
PETERSHAM, _July 26th, 1839._
MY DEAR MACREADY,
Fix your visit for whenever you please. It can never give us anything
but delight to see you, and it is better to look forward to such a
pleasure than to look back upon it, as the last gratification is
enjoyable all our lives, and the first for a few short stages in the
journey.
I feel more true and cordial pleasure than I can express to you in the
request you have made. Anything which can serve to commemorate our
friendship and to keep the recollection of it alive among our children
is, believe me, and ever will be, most deeply prized by me. I accept the
office with hearty and fervent satisfaction; and, to render this
pleasant bond between us the more complete, I must solicit you to become
godfather to the last and final branch of a genteel small family of
three which I am told may be looked for in that auspicious month when
Lord Mayors are born and guys prevail. This I look upon as a bargain
between us, and I have shaken hands with you in spirit upon it. Family
topics remind me of Mr. Kenwigs. As the weather is wet, and he is about
to make his last appearance on my little stage, I send Mrs. Macready an
early proof of the next number, containing an account of his baby's
progress.
I am going to send you something else on Monday--a tragedy. Don't be
alarmed. I didn't write it, nor do I want it acted. A young Scotch lady
whom I don't know (but she is evidently very intelligent and
accomplished) has sent me a translation of a German play, soliciting my
aid and advice in the matter of its publication. Among a crowd of
Germanisms, there are many things in it which are so very striking, that
I am sure it will amuse you very much. At least I think it will; it has
me. I am going to send it back to her--when I come to Elstree will be
time enough; and meantime, if you bestow a couple of hours upon it, you
will not think them thrown away.
It's a large parcel, and I must keep it here till somebody goes up to
town and can book it by the coach. I warrant it, large as it looks,
readable in two hours; and I very much want to know what you think of
the first act, and especially the opening, which seems to me quite
famous. The metre is very odd and rough, but now and then there's a
wildness in it which helps the thing very much; and altogether it has
left a something on my mind which I can't get rid of.
Mrs. Dickens joins with me in kindest regards to yourself, Mrs., and
Miss Macready. And I am always,
My dear Macready,
Faithfully and truly yours.
P.S.--A dreadful thought has just occurred to me--that this is a
quadruple letter, and that Elstree may not be within the twopenny post.
Pray Heaven my fears are unfounded.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/19Charles Dickens
1839-09-21[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
40, ALBION STREET, BROADSTAIRS,
_September 21st, 1839._
MY DEAR MACREADY,
I am so anxious to prefer a request to you which does not admit of delay
that I send you a double letter, with the one redeeming point though of
having very little in it.
Let me prefix to the last number of "Nickleby," and to the book, a
duplicate of the leaf which I now send you. Believe me that there will
be no leaf in the volume which will afford me in times to come more true
pleasure and gratification, than that in which I have written your name
as foremost among those of the friends whom I love and honour. Believe
me, there will be no one line in it conveying a more honest truth or a
more sincere feeling than that which describes its dedication to you as
a slight token of my admiration and regard.
So let me tell the world by this frail record that I was a friend of
yours, and interested to no ordinary extent in your proceedings at that
interesting time when you showed them such noble truths in such noble
forms, and gave me a new interest in, and associations with, the labours
of so many months.
I write to you very hastily and crudely, for I have been very hard at
work, having only finished to-day, and my head spins yet. But you know
what I mean. I am then always,
Believe me, my dear Macready,
Faithfully yours.
P.S.--(Proof of Dedication enclosed): "To W. C. Macready, Esq., the
following pages are inscribed, as a slight token of admiration and
regard, by his friend, the Author."http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/20Charles Dickens
1839-10-25[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
DOUGHTY STREET, _Friday Night, Oct. 25th, 1839._
MY DEAR MACREADY,
The book, the whole book, and nothing but the book (except the binding,
which is an important item), has arrived at last, and is forwarded
herewith. The red represents my blushes at its gorgeous dress; the
gilding, all those bright professions which I do not make to you; and
the book itself, my whole heart for twenty months, which should be yours
for so short a term, as you have it always.
With best regards to Mrs. and Miss Macready, always believe me,
My dear Macready,
Your faithful Friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/21Charles Dickens
1839-11-14[Sidenote: The same.]
DOUGHTY STREET, _Thursday, Nov. 14th, 1839._
MY DEAR MACREADY,
Tom Landseer--that is, the deaf one, whom everybody quite loves for his
sweet nature under a most deplorable infirmity--Tom Landseer asked me if
I would present to you from him the accompanying engraving, which he has
executed from a picture by his brother Edwin; submitting it to you as a
little tribute from an unknown but ardent admirer of your genius, which
speaks to his heart, although it does not find its way there through his
ears. I readily undertook the task, and send it herewith.
I urged him to call upon you with me and proffer it boldly; but he is a
very modest and delicately-minded creature, and was shy of intruding. If
you thank him through me, perhaps you will say something about my
bringing him to call, and so gladden the gentle artist and make him
happy.
You must come and see my new house when we have it to rights. By
Christmas Day we shall be, I hope, your neighbours.
Kate progresses splendidly, and, with me, sends her best remembrances to
Mrs. Macready and all your house.
Ever believe me,
Dear Macready,
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/George%20Cattermole/22Charles Dickens
1840-01-13[Sidenote: Mr. George Cattermole.]
1, DEVONSHIRE TERRACE,
_Monday, January 13th, 1840._
MY DEAR CATTERMOLE,
I am going to propound a mightily grave matter to you. My now periodical
work appears--or I should rather say the first number does--on Saturday,
the 28th of March; and as it has to be sent to America and Germany, and
must therefore be considerably in advance, it is now in hand; I having
in fact begun it on Saturday last. Instead of being published in monthly
parts at a shilling each only, it will be published in weekly parts at
threepence and monthly parts at a shilling; my object being to baffle
the imitators and make it as novel as possible. The plan is a new one--I
mean the plan of the fiction--and it will comprehend a great variety of
tales. The title is: "Master Humphrey's Clock."
Now, among other improvements, I have turned my attention to the
illustrations, meaning to have woodcuts dropped into the text and no
separate plates. I want to know whether you would object to make me a
little sketch for a woodcut--in indian-ink would be quite
sufficient--about the size of the enclosed scrap; the subject, an old
quaint room with antique Elizabethan furniture, and in the
chimney-corner an extraordinary old clock--the clock belonging to Master
Humphrey, in fact, and no figures. This I should drop into the text at
the head of my opening page.
I want to know besides--as Chapman and Hall are my partners in the
matter, there need be no delicacy about my asking or your answering the
question--what would be your charge for such a thing, and whether (if
the work answers our expectations) you would like to repeat the joke at
regular intervals, and, if so, on what terms? I should tell you that I
intend to ask Maclise to join me likewise, and that the copying the
drawing on wood and the cutting will be done in first-rate style. We are
justified by past experience in supposing that the sale would be
enormous, and the popularity very great; and when I explain to you the
notes I have in my head, I think you will see that it opens a vast
number of very good subjects.
I want to talk the matter over with you, and wish you would fix your
own time and place--either here or at your house or at the Athenaeum,
though this would be the best place, because I have my papers about me.
If you would take a chop with me, for instance, on Tuesday or Wednesday,
I could tell you more in two minutes than in twenty letters, albeit I
have endeavoured to make this as businesslike and stupid as need be.
Of course all these tremendous arrangements are as yet a profound
secret, or there would be fifty Humphreys in the field. So write me a
line like a worthy gentleman, and convey my best remembrances to your
worthy lady.
Believe me always, my dear Cattermole,
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/George%20Cattermole/23Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. George Cattermole.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Tuesday Afternoon._
MY DEAR CATTERMOLE,
I think the drawing most famous, and so do the publishers, to whom I
sent it to-day. If Browne should suggest anything for the future which
may enable him to do you justice in copying (on which point he is very
anxious), I will communicate it to you. It has occurred to me that
perhaps you will like to see his copy on the block before it is cut, and
I have therefore told Chapman and Hall to forward it to you.
In future, I will take care that you have the number to choose your
subject from. I ought to have done so, perhaps, in this case; but I was
very anxious that you should do the room.
Perhaps the shortest plan will be for me to send you, as enclosed,
regularly; but if you prefer keeping account with the publishers, they
will be happy to enter upon it when, where, and how you please.
Faithfully yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/George%20Cattermole/24Charles Dickens
1840-03-09[Sidenote: Mr. George Cattermole.]
1, DEVONSHIRE TERRACE,
_Monday, March 9th, 1840._
MY DEAR CATTERMOLE,
I have been induced, on looking over the works of the "Clock," to make a
slight alteration in their disposal, by virtue of which the story about
"John Podgers" will stand over for some little time, and that short tale
will occupy its place which you have already by you, and which treats of
the assassination of a young gentleman under circumstances of peculiar
aggravation. I shall be greatly obliged to you if you will turn your
attention to this last morsel as the feature of No. 3, and still more if
you can stretch a point with regard to time (which is of the last
importance just now), and make a subject out of it, rather than find one
in it. I would neither have made this alteration nor have troubled you
about it, but for weighty and cogent reasons which I feel very strongly,
and into the composition of which caprice or fastidiousness has no part.
I should tell you perhaps, with reference to Chapman and Hall, that they
will never trouble you (as they never trouble me) but when there is real
and pressing occasion, and that their representations in this respect,
unlike those of most men of business, are to be relied upon.
I cannot tell you how admirably I think Master Humphrey's room comes
out, or what glowing accounts I hear of the second design you have done.
I had not the faintest anticipation of anything so good--taking into
account the material and the despatch.
With best regards at home,
Believe me, dear Cattermole,
Heartily yours.
P.S.--The new (No. 3) tale begins: "I hold a lieutenant's commission in
his Majesty's army, and served abroad in the campaigns of 1677 and
1678." It has at present no title.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/S%20A%20Diezman/25Charles Dickens
1840-03-10[Sidenote: Mr. S. A. Diezman.]
1, DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, YORK GATE, REGENT'S PARK,
LONDON, _10th March, 1840._
MY DEAR SIR,
I will not attempt to tell you how much gratified I have been by the
receipt of your first English letter; nor can I describe to you with
what delight and gratification I learn that I am held in such high
esteem by your great countrymen, whose favourable appreciation is
flattering indeed.
To you, who have undertaken the laborious (and often, I fear, very
irksome) task of clothing me in the German garb, I owe a long arrear of
thanks. I wish you would come to England, and afford me an opportunity
of slightly reducing the account.
It is with great regret that I have to inform you, in reply to the
request contained in your pleasant communication, that my publishers
have already made such arrangements and are in possession of such
stipulations relative to the proof-sheets of my new works, that I have
no power to send them out of England. If I had, I need not tell you what
pleasure it would afford me to promote your views.
I am too sensible of the trouble you must have already had with my
writings to impose upon you now a long letter. I will only add,
therefore, that I am,
My dear Sir,
With great sincerity,
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Daniel%20Maclise/26Charles Dickens
1840-06-02[Sidenote: Mr. Daniel Maclise.]
BROADSTAIRS, _June 2nd, 1840._
MY DEAR MACLISE,
My foot is in the house,
My bath is on the sea,
And, before I take a souse,
Here's a single note to thee.
It merely says that the sea is in a state of extraordinary sublimity;
that this place is, as the Guide Book most justly observes, "unsurpassed
for the salubrity of the refreshing breezes, which are wafted on the
ocean's pinions from far-distant shores." That we are all right after
the perils and voyages of yesterday. That the sea is rolling away in
front of the window at which I indite this epistle, and that everything
is as fresh and glorious as fine weather and a splendid coast can make
it. Bear these recommendations in mind, and shunning Talfourdian
pledges, come to the bower which is shaded for you in the one-pair
front, where no chair or table has four legs of the same length, and
where no drawers will open till you have pulled the pegs off, and then
they keep open and won't shut again.
COME!
I can no more.
Always faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/George%20Cattermole/27Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. George Cattermole.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _December 21st._
MY DEAR GEORGE,
Kit, the single gentleman, and Mr. Garland go down to the place where
the child is, and arrive there at night. There has been a fall of snow.
Kit, leaving them behind, runs to the old house, and, with a lanthorn in
one hand and the bird in its cage in the other, stops for a moment at a
little distance with a natural hesitation before he goes up to make his
presence known. In a window--supposed to be that of the child's little
room--a light is burning, and in that room the child (unknown, of
course, to her visitors, who are full of hope) lies dead.
If you have any difficulty about Kit, never mind about putting him in.
The two others to-morrow.
Faithfully always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/George%20Cattermole/28Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. George Cattermole.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Friday Morning._
MY DEAR CATTERMOLE,
I sent the MS. of the enclosed proof, marked 2, up to Chapman and Hall,
from Devonshire, mentioning a subject of an old gateway, which I had put
in expressly with a view to your illustrious pencil. By a mistake,
however, it went to Browne instead. Chapman is out of town, and such
things have gone wrong in consequence.
The subject to which I wish to call your attention is in an unwritten
number to follow this one, but it is a mere echo of what you will find
at the conclusion of this proof marked 2. I want the cart, gaily
decorated, going through the street of the old town with the wax brigand
displayed to fierce advantage, and the child seated in it also
dispersing bills. As many flags and inscriptions about Jarley's Wax Work
fluttering from the cart as you please. You know the wax brigands, and
how they contemplate small oval miniatures? That's the figure I want. I
send you the scrap of MS. which contains the subject.
Will you, when you have done this, send it with all speed to Chapman and
Hall, as we are mortally pressed for time, and I must go hard to work to
make up for what I have lost by being dutiful and going to see my
father.
I want to see you about a frontispiece to our first "Clock" volume,
which will come out (I think) at the end of September, and about other
matters. When shall we meet and where?
I say nothing about our cousin or the baby, for Kate bears this, and
will make me a full report and convey all loves and congratulations.
Could you dine with us on Sunday, at six o'clock sharp? I'd come and
fetch you in the morning, and we could take a ride and walk. We shall be
quite alone, unless Macready comes. What say you?
Don't forget despatch, there's a dear fellow, and ever believe me,
Heartily yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/George%20Cattermole/29Charles Dickens
1840-12-22[Sidenote: Mr. George Cattermole.]
_December 22nd, 1840._
DEAR GEORGE,
The child lying dead in the little sleeping-room, which is behind the
open screen. It is winter time, so there are no flowers; but upon her
breast and pillow, and about her bed, there may be strips of holly and
berries, and such free green things. Window overgrown with ivy. The
little boy who had that talk with her about angels may be by the
bedside, if you like it so; but I think it will be quieter and more
peaceful if she is quite alone. I want it to express the most beautiful
repose and tranquillity, and to have something of a happy look, if death
can.
2.
The child has been buried inside the church, and the old man, who cannot
be made to understand that she is dead, repairs to the grave and sits
there all day long, waiting for her arrival, to begin another journey.
His staff and knapsack, her little bonnet and basket, etc., lie beside
him. "She'll come to-morrow," he says when it gets dark, and goes
sorrowfully home. I think an hourglass running out would help the
notion; perhaps her little things upon his knee, or in his hand.
I am breaking my heart over this story, and cannot bear to finish it.
Love to Missis.
Ever and always heartily.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Rev%20William%20Harness/30Charles Dickens
1841-01-02[Sidenote: Rev. William Harness.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Saturday Morning, Jan. 2nd, 1841._
MY DEAR HARNESS,
I should have been very glad to join your pleasant party, but all next
week I shall be laid up with a broken heart, for I must occupy myself in
finishing the "Curiosity Shop," and it is such a painful task to me that
I must concentrate myself upon it tooth and nail, and go out nowhere
until it is done.
I have delayed answering your kind note in a vague hope of being
heart-whole again by the seventh. The present state of my work, however
(Christmas not being a very favourable season for making progress in
such doings), assures me that this cannot be, and that I must heroically
deny myself the pleasure you offer.
Always believe me,
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/George%20Cattermole/31Charles Dickens
1841-01-14[Sidenote: Mr. George Cattermole.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Thursday, Jan. 14th, 1841._
MY DEAR CATTERMOLE,
I cannot tell you how much obliged I am to you for altering the child,
or how much I hope that my wish in that respect didn't go greatly
against the grain.
I saw the old inn this morning. Words cannot say how good it is. I can't
bear the thought of its being cut, and should like to frame and glaze it
in _statu quo_ for ever and ever.
Will you do a little tail-piece for the "Curiosity" story?--only one
figure if you like--giving some notion of the etherealised spirit of the
child; something like those little figures in the frontispiece. If you
will, and can despatch it at once, you will make me happy.
I am, for the time being, nearly dead with work and grief for the loss
of my child.
Always, my dear George,
Heartily yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/George%20Cattermole/32Charles Dickens
1841-01-28[Sidenote: The same.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Thursday Night, Jan. 28th, 1841._
MY DEAR GEORGE,
I sent to Chapman and Hall yesterday morning about the second subject
for No. 2 of "Barnaby," but found they had sent it to Browne.
The first subject of No. 3 I will either send to you on Saturday, or,
at latest, on Sunday morning. I have also directed Chapman and Hall to
send you proofs of what has gone before, for reference, if you need it.
I want to know whether you feel ravens in general and would fancy
Barnaby's raven in particular. Barnaby being an idiot, my notion is to
have him always in company with a pet raven, who is immeasurably more
knowing than himself. To this end I have been studying my bird, and
think I could make a very queer character of him. Should you like the
subject when this raven makes his first appearance?
Faithfully always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/George%20Cattermole/33Charles Dickens
1841-01-30[Sidenote: Mr. George Cattermole.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Saturday Evening, Jan. 30th, 1841._
MY DEAR GEORGE,
I send you the first four slips of No. 48, containing the description of
the locksmith's house, which I think will make a good subject, and one
you will like. If you put the "'prentice" in it, show nothing more than
his paper cap, because he will be an important character in the story,
and you will need to know more about him as he is minutely described. I
may as well say that he is very short. Should you wish to put the
locksmith in, you will find him described in No. 2 of "Barnaby" (which I
told Chapman and Hall to send you). Browne has done him in one little
thing, but so very slightly that you will not require to see his sketch,
I think.
Now, I must know what you think about the raven, my buck; I otherwise am
in this fix. I have given Browne no subject for this number, and time is
flying. If you would like to have the raven's first appearance, and
don't object to having both subjects, so be it. I shall be delighted.
If otherwise, I must feed that hero forthwith.
I cannot close this hasty note, my dear fellow, without saying that I
have deeply felt your hearty and most invaluable co-operation in the
beautiful illustrations you have made for the last story, that I look at
them with a pleasure I cannot describe to you in words, and that it is
impossible for me to say how sensible I am of your earnest and friendly
aid. Believe me that this is the very first time any designs for what I
have written have touched and moved me, and caused me to feel that they
expressed the idea I had in my mind.
I am most sincerely and affectionately grateful to you, and am full of
pleasure and delight.
Believe me, my dear Cattermole,
Always heartily yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/John%20Tomlin/34Charles Dickens
1841-02-23[Sidenote: Mr. John Tomlin.]
1, DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, YORK GATE, REGENT'S PARK,
LONDON, _Tuesday, Feb. 23rd, 1841._
DEAR SIR,
You are quite right in feeling assured that I should answer the letter
you have addressed to me. If you had entertained a presentiment that it
would afford me sincere pleasure and delight to hear from a warm-hearted
and admiring reader of my books in the backwoods of America, you would
not have been far wrong.
I thank you cordially and heartily both for your letter and its kind and
courteous terms. To think that I have awakened a fellow-feeling and
sympathy with the creatures of many thoughtful hours among the vast
solitudes in which you dwell, is a source of the purest delight and
pride to me; and believe me that your expressions of affectionate
remembrance and approval, sounding from the green forests on the banks
of the Mississippi, sink deeper into my heart and gratify it more than
all the honorary distinctions that all the courts in Europe could
confer.
It is such things as these that make one hope one does not live in vain,
and that are the highest reward of an author's life. To be numbered
among the household gods of one's distant countrymen, and associated
with their homes and quiet pleasures; to be told that in each nook and
corner of the world's great mass there lives one well-wisher who holds
communion with one in the spirit, is a worthy fame indeed, and one which
I would not barter for a mine of wealth.
That I may be happy enough to cheer some of your leisure hours for a
very long time to come, and to hold a place in your pleasant thoughts,
is the earnest wish of "Boz."
And, with all good wishes for yourself, and with a sincere reciprocation
of all your kindly feeling,
I am, dear Sir,
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/R%20Monckton%20Milnes/35Charles Dickens
1841-03-10[Sidenote: Mr. R. Monckton Milnes]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Wednesday, March 10th, 1841._
MY DEAR MILNES,
I thank you very much for the "Nickleby" correspondence, which I will
keep for a day or two, and return when I see you. Poor fellow! The long
letter is quite admirable, and most affecting.
I am not quite sure either of Friday or Saturday, for, independently of
the "Clock" (which for ever wants winding), I am getting a young brother
off to New Zealand just now, and have my mornings sadly cut up in
consequence. But, knowing your ways, I know I may say that I will come
if I can; and that if I can't I won't.
That Nellicide was the act of Heaven, as you may see any of these fine
mornings when you look about you. If you knew the pain it gave me--but
what am I talking of? if you don't know, nobody does. I am glad to shake
you by the hand again autographically,
And am always,
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/George%20Cattermole/36Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. George Cattermole.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Tuesday, February 9th._
MY DEAR GEORGE,
My notes tread upon each other's heels. In my last I quite forgot
business.
Will you, for No. 49, do the locksmith's house, which was described in
No. 48? I mean the outside. If you can, without hurting the effect, shut
up the shop as though it were night, so much the better. Should you want
a figure, an ancient watchman in or out of his box, very sleepy, will be
just the thing for me.
I have written to Chapman and requested him to send you a block of a
long shape, so that the house may come upright as it were.
Faithfully ever.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/George%20Cattermole/37Charles Dickens
1841-02-26[Sidenote: The same.]
OLD SHIP HOTEL, BRIGHTON, _Feb. 26th, 1841._
MY DEAR KITTENMOLES,
I passed your house on Wednesday, being then atop of the Brighton Era;
but there was nobody at the door, saving a solitary poulterer, and all
my warm-hearted aspirations lodged in the goods he was delivering. No
doubt you observed a peculiar relish in your dinner. That was the
cause.
I send you the MS. I fear you will have to read all the five slips; but
the subject I think of is at the top of the last, when the guest, with
his back towards the spectator, is looking out of window. I think, in
your hands, it will be a very pretty one.
Then, my boy, when you have done it, turn your thoughts (as soon as
other engagements will allow) first to the outside of The Warren--see
No. 1; secondly, to the outside of the locksmith's house, by night--see
No. 3. Put a penny pistol to Chapman's head and demand the blocks of
him.
I have addled my head with writing all day, and have barely wit enough
left to send my love to my cousin, and--there's a genealogical
poser--what relation of mine may the dear little child be? At present, I
desire to be commended to her clear blue eyes.
Always, my dear George,
Faithfully yours,
[HW: Boz.]http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/William%20Harrison%20Ainsworth/38Charles Dickens
1841-04-29[Sidenote: Mr. William Harrison Ainsworth.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _April 29th, 1841._
MY DEAR AINSWORTH,
With all imaginable pleasure. I quite look forward to the day. It is an
age since we met, and it ought not to be.
The artist has just sent home your "Nickleby." He suggested variety,
pleading his fancy and genius. As an artful binder must have his way, I
put the best face on the matter, and gave him his. I will bring it
together with the "Pickwick" to your house-warming with me.
The old _Royal George_ went down in consequence of having too much
weight on one side. I trust the new "First Rate" won't be heavy
anywhere. There seems to me to be too much whisker for a shilling, but
that's a matter of taste.
Faithfully yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/G%20Lovejoy/39Charles Dickens
1841-05-31[Sidenote: Mr. G. Lovejoy.]
1, DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, YORK GATE, REGENT'S PARK,
_Monday Evening, May 31st, 1841._
SIR,
I am much obliged and flattered by the receipt of your letter, which I
should have answered immediately on its arrival but for my absence from
home at the moment.
My principles and inclinations would lead me to aspire to the
distinction you invite me to seek, if there were any reasonable chance
of success, and I hope I should do no discredit to such an honour if I
won and wore it. But I am bound to add, and I have no hesitation in
saying plainly, that I cannot afford the expense of a contested
election. If I could, I would act on your suggestion instantly. I am not
the less indebted to you and the friends to whom the thought occurred,
for your good opinion and approval. I beg you to understand that I am
restrained solely (and much against my will) by the consideration I have
mentioned, and thank both you and them most warmly.
Yours faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/G%20Lovejoy/40Charles Dickens
1841-06-10[Sidenote: The same.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _June 10th, 1841._
DEAR SIR,
I am favoured with your note of yesterday's date, and lose no time in
replying to it.
The sum you mention, though small I am aware in the abstract, is greater
than I could afford for such a purpose; as the mere sitting in the House
and attending to my duties, if I were a member, would oblige me to make
many pecuniary sacrifices, consequent upon the very nature of my
pursuits.
The course you suggest did occur to me when I received your first
letter, and I have very little doubt indeed that the Government would
support me--perhaps to the whole extent. But I cannot satisfy myself
that to enter Parliament under such circumstances would enable me to
pursue that honourable independence without which I could neither
preserve my own respect nor that of my constituents. I confess therefore
(it may be from not having considered the points sufficiently, or in the
right light) that I cannot bring myself to propound the subject to any
member of the administration whom I know. I am truly obliged to you
nevertheless, and am,
Dear Sir,
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/George%20Cattermole/41Charles Dickens
1841-07-28[Sidenote: Mr. George Cattermole.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Wednesday Evening, July 28th, 1841._
MY DEAR GEORGE,
Can you do for me by Saturday evening--I know the time is short, but I
think the subject will suit you, and I am greatly pressed--a party of
rioters (with Hugh and Simon Tappertit conspicuous among them) in old
John Willet's bar, turning the liquor taps to their own advantage,
smashing bottles, cutting down the grove of lemons, sitting astride on
casks, drinking out of the best punch-bowls, eating the great cheese,
smoking sacred pipes, etc. etc.; John Willet, fallen backward in his
chair, regarding them with a stupid horror, and quite alone among them,
with none of The Maypole customers at his back.
It's in your way, and you'll do it a hundred times better than I can
suggest it to you, I know.
Faithfully always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/George%20Cattermole/42Charles Dickens
1841-08-06[Sidenote: Mr. George Cattermole.]
BROADSTAIRS, _Friday, August 6th, 1841._
MY DEAR GEORGE,
Here is a subject for the next number; the next to that I hope to send
you the MS. of very early in the week, as the best opportunities of
illustration are all coming off now, and we are in the thick of the
story.
The rioters went, sir, from John Willet's bar (where you saw them to
such good purpose) straight to The Warren, which house they plundered,
sacked, burned, pulled down as much of as they could, and greatly
damaged and destroyed. They are supposed to have left it about half an
hour. It is night, and the ruins are here and there flaming and smoking.
I want--if you understand--to show one of the turrets laid open--the
turret where the alarm-bell is, mentioned in No. 1; and among the ruins
(at some height if possible) Mr. Haredale just clutching our friend, the
mysterious file, who is passing over them like a spirit; Solomon Daisy,
if you can introduce him, looking on from the ground below.
Please to observe that the M. F. wears a large cloak and a slouched hat.
This is important, because Browne will have him in the same number, and
he has not changed his dress meanwhile. Mr. Haredale is supposed to have
come down here on horseback, pell-mell; to be excited to the last
degree. I think it will make a queer picturesque thing in your hands. I
have told Chapman and Hall that you may like to have a block of a
peculiar shape for it. One of them will be with you almost as soon as
you receive this.
We are very anxious to know that our cousin is out of her trouble, and
you free from your anxiety. Mind you write when it comes off. And when
she is quite comfortable come down here for a day or two, like a
bachelor, as you will be. It will do you a world of good. Think of that.
Always, dear Cattermole,
Heartily yours.
P.S.--When you have done the subject, I wish you'd write me one line and
tell me how, that I may be sure we agree. Loves from Kate.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/George%20Cattermole/43Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. George Cattermole.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Thursday, August 13th._
MY DEAR CATTERMOLE,
Will you turn your attention to a frontispiece for our first volume, to
come upon the left-hand side of the book as you open it, and to face a
plain printed title? My idea is, some scene from the "Curiosity Shop,"
in a pretty border, or scroll-work, or architectural device; it matters
not what, so that it be pretty. The scene even might be a fanciful
thing, partaking of the character of the story, but not reproducing any
particular passage in it, if you thought that better for the effect.
I ask you to think of this, because, although the volume is not
published until the end of September, there is no time to lose. We wish
to have it engraved with great care, and worked very skilfully; and this
cannot be done unless we get it on the stocks soon.
They will give you every opportunity of correction, alteration,
revision, and all other ations and isions connected with the fine arts.
Always believe me,
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/George%20Cattermole/44Charles Dickens
1841-08-19[Sidenote: Mr. George Cattermole.]
BROADSTAIRS, _August 19th, 1841._
MY DEAR GEORGE,
When Hugh and a small body of the rioters cut off from The Warren
beckoned to their pals, they forced into a very remarkable postchaise
Dolly Varden and Emma Haredale, and bore them away with all possible
rapidity; one of their company driving, and the rest running beside the
chaise, climbing up behind, sitting on the top, lighting the way with
their torches, etc. etc. If you can express the women inside without
showing them--as by a fluttering veil, a delicate arm, or so forth
appearing at the half-closed window--so much the better. Mr. Tappertit
stands on the steps, which are partly down, and, hanging on to the
window with one hand and extending the other with great majesty,
addresses a few words of encouragement to the driver and attendants.
Hugh sits upon the bar in front; the driver sitting postilion-wise, and
turns round to look through the window behind him at the little doves
within. The gentlemen behind are also anxious to catch a glimpse of the
ladies. One of those who are running at the side may be gently rebuked
for his curiosity by the cudgel of Hugh. So they cut away, sir, as fast
as they can.
Always faithfully.
P.S.--John Willet's bar is noble.
We take it for granted that cousin and baby are hearty. Our loves to
them.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/45Charles Dickens
1841-08-24[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
BROADSTAIRS, _Tuesday, August 24th, 1841._
MY DEAR MACREADY,
I must thank you, most heartily and cordially, for your kind note
relative to poor Overs. I can't tell you how glad I am to know that he
thoroughly deserves such kindness.
What a good fellow Elliotson is. He kept him in his room a whole hour,
and has gone into his case as if he were Prince Albert; laying down all
manner of elaborate projects and determining to leave his friend Wood in
town when he himself goes away, on purpose to attend to him. Then he
writes me four sides of paper about the man, and says he can't go back
to his old work, for that requires muscular exertion (and muscular
exertion he mustn't make), what are we to do with him? He says: "Here's
five pounds for the present."
I declare before God that I could almost bear the Jones's for five years
out of the pleasure I feel in knowing such things, and when I think that
every dirty speck upon the fair face of the Almighty's creation, who
writes in a filthy, beastly newspaper; every rotten-hearted pander who
has been beaten, kicked, and rolled in the kennel, yet struts it in the
editorial "We," once a week; every vagabond that an honest man's gorge
must rise at; every live emetic in that noxious drug-shop the press, can
have his fling at such men and call them knaves and fools and thieves, I
grow so vicious that, with bearing hard upon my pen, I break the nib
down, and, with keeping my teeth set, make my jaws ache.
I have put myself out of sorts for the day, and shall go and walk,
unless the direction of this sets me up again. On second thoughts I
think it will.
Always, my dear Macready,
Your faithful Friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/George%20Cattermole/46Charles Dickens
1841-09-12[Sidenote: Mr. George Cattermole.]
BROADSTAIRS, _Sunday, September 12th, 1841._
MY DEAR GEORGE,
Here is a business letter, written in a scramble just before post time,
whereby I dispose of loves to cousin in a line.
Firstly. Will you design, upon a block of wood, Lord George Gordon,
alone and very solitary, in his prison in the Tower? The chamber as
ancient as you please, and after your own fancy; the time, evening; the
season, summer.
Secondly. Will you ditto upon a ditto, a sword duel between Mr. Haredale
and Mr. Chester, in a grove of trees? No one close by. Mr. Haredale has
just pierced his adversary, who has fallen, dying, on the grass. He
(that is, Chester) tries to staunch the wound in his breast with his
handkerchief; has his snuffbox on the earth beside him, and looks at Mr.
Haredale (who stands with his sword in his hand, looking down on him)
with most supercilious hatred, but polite to the last. Mr. Haredale is
more sorry than triumphant.
Thirdly. Will you conceive and execute, after your own fashion, a
frontispiece for "Barnaby"?
Fourthly. Will you also devise a subject representing "Master Humphrey's
Clock" as stopped; his chair by the fireside, empty; his crutch against
the wall; his slippers on the cold hearth; his hat upon the chair-back;
the MSS. of "Barnaby" and "The Curiosity Shop" heaped upon the table;
and the flowers you introduced in the first subject of all withered and
dead? Master Humphrey being supposed to be no more.
I have a fifthly, sixthly, seventhly, and eighthly; for I sorely want
you, as I approach the close of the tale, but I won't frighten you, so
we'll take breath.
Always, my dear Cattermole,
Heartily yours.
P.S.--I have been waiting until I got to subjects of this nature,
thinking you would like them best.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/George%20Cattermole/47Charles Dickens
1841-09-21[Sidenote: Mr. George Cattermole.]
BROADSTAIRS, _September 21st, 1841._
MY DEAR GEORGE,
Will you, before you go on with the other subjects I gave you, do one of
Hugh, bareheaded, bound, tied on a horse, and escorted by horse-soldiers
to jail? If you can add an indication of old Fleet Market, and bodies of
foot soldiers firing at people who have taken refuge on the tops of
stalls, bulk-heads, etc., it will be all the better.
Faithfully yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Mary%20Talfourd/48Charles Dickens
1841-12-16[Sidenote: Miss Mary Talfourd.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _December 16th, 1841._
MY DEAR MARY,
I should be delighted to come and dine with you on your birthday, and to
be as merry as I wish you to be always; but as I am going, within a very
few days afterwards, a very long distance from home, and shall not see
any of my children for six long months, I have made up my mind to pass
all that week at home for their sakes; just as you would like your papa
and mamma to spend all the time they possibly could spare with you if
they were about to make a dreary voyage to America; which is what I am
going to do myself.
But although I cannot come to see you on that day, you may be sure I
shall not forget that it is your birthday, and that I shall drink your
health and many happy returns, in a glass of wine, filled as full as it
will hold. And I shall dine at half-past five myself, so that we may
both be drinking our wine at the same time; and I shall tell my Mary
(for I have got a daughter of that name but she is a very small one as
yet) to drink your health too; and we shall try and make believe that
you are here, or that we are in Russell Square, which is the best thing
we can do, I think, under the circumstances.
You are growing up so fast that by the time I come home again I expect
you will be almost a woman; and in a very few years we shall be saying
to each other: "Don't you remember what the birthdays used to be in
Russell Square?" and "How strange it seems!" and "How quickly time
passes!" and all that sort of thing, you know. But I shall always be
very glad to be asked on your birthday, and to come if you will let me,
and to send my love to you, and to wish that you may live to be very old
and very happy, which I do now with all my heart.
Believe me always,
My dear Mary,
Yours affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/49Charles Dickens
1841-12-28[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Tuesday, Dec. 28th, 1841._
MY DEAR MACREADY,
This note is about the saloon. I make it as brief as possible. Read it
when you have time. As we were the first experimentalists last night you
will be glad to know what it wants.
First, the refreshments are preposterously dear. A glass of wine is a
shilling, and it ought to be sixpence.
Secondly, they were served out by the wrong sort of people--two most
uncomfortable drabs of women, and a dirty man with his hat on.
Thirdly, there ought to be a box-keeper to ring a bell or give some
other notice of the commencement of the overture to the after-piece. The
promenaders were in a perpetual fret and worry to get back again.
And fourthly, and most important of all--if the plan is ever to
succeed--you must have some notice up to the effect that as it is now a
place of resort for ladies, gentlemen are requested not to lounge there
in their hats and greatcoats. No ladies will go there, though the
conveniences should be ten thousand times greater, while the sort of
swells who have been used to kick their heels there do so in the old
sort of way. I saw this expressed last night more strongly than I can
tell you.
Hearty congratulations on the brilliant triumph. I have always expected
one, as you know, but nobody could have imagined the reality.
Always, my dear Macready,
Affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Messrs%20Chapman%20and%20Hall/50Charles Dickens
[Sidenote: Messrs. Chapman and Hall.]
Having disposed of the business part of this letter, I should not feel
at ease on leaving England if I did not tell you once more with my whole
heart that your conduct to me on this and all other occasions has been
honourable, manly, and generous, and that I have felt it a solemn duty,
in the event of any accident happening to me while I am away, to place
this testimony upon record. It forms part of a will I have made for the
security of my children; for I wish them to know it when they are
capable of understanding your worth and my appreciation of it.
Always believe me,
Faithfully and truly yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Thomas%20Mitton/51Charles Dickens
1842-01-03[Sidenote: Mr. Thomas Mitton.]
ADELPHI HOTEL, LIVERPOOL, _Monday, Jan. 3rd, 1842._
MY DEAR MITTON,
This is a short note, but I will fulfil the adage and make it a merry
one.
We came down in great comfort. Our luggage is now aboard. Anything so
utterly and monstrously absurd as the size of our cabin, no "gentleman
of England who lives at home at ease" can for a moment imagine. Neither
of the portmanteaus would go into it. There!
These Cunard packets are not very big you know actually, but the
quantity of sleeping-berths makes them much smaller, so that the saloon
is not nearly as large as in one of the Ramsgate boats. The ladies'
cabin is so close to ours that I could knock the door open without
getting off something they call my bed, but which I believe to be a
muffin beaten flat. This is a great comfort, for it is an excellent room
(the only good one in the ship); and if there be only one other lady
besides Kate, as the stewardess thinks, I hope I shall be able to sit
there very often.
They talk of seventy passengers, but I can't think there will be so
many; they talk besides (which is even more to the purpose) of a very
fine passage, having had a noble one this time last year. God send it
so! We are in the best spirits, and full of hope. I was dashed for a
moment when I saw our "cabin," but I got over that directly, and laughed
so much at its ludicrous proportions, that you might have heard me all
over the ship.
God bless you! Write to me by the first opportunity. I will do the like
to you. And always believe me,
Your old and faithful Friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Thomas%20Mitton/52Charles Dickens
1842-01-31[Sidenote: Mr. Thomas Mitton.]
TREMONT HOUSE, BOSTON, _January 31st, 1842._
MY DEAR MITTON,
I am so exhausted with the life I am obliged to lead here, that I have
had time to write but one letter which is at all deserving of the name,
as giving any account of our movements. Forster has it, in trust, to
tell you all its news; and he has also some newspapers which I had an
opportunity of sending him, in which you will find further particulars
of our progress.
We had a dreadful passage, the worst, the officers all concur in saying,
that they have ever known. We were eighteen days coming; experienced a
dreadful storm which swept away our paddle-boxes and stove our
lifeboats; and ran aground besides, near Halifax, among rocks and
breakers, where we lay at anchor all night. After we left the English
Channel we had only one fine day. And we had the additional discomfort
of being eighty-six passengers. I was ill five days, Kate six; though,
indeed, she had a swelled face and suffered the utmost terror all the
way.
I can give you no conception of my welcome here. There never was a king
or emperor upon the earth so cheered and followed by crowds, and
entertained in public at splendid balls and dinners, and waited on by
public bodies and deputations of all kinds. I have had one from the Far
West--a journey of two thousand miles! If I go out in a carriage, the
crowd surround it and escort me home; if I go to the theatre, the whole
house (crowded to the roof) rises as one man, and the timbers ring
again. You cannot imagine what it is. I have five great public dinners
on hand at this moment, and invitations from every town and village and
city in the States.
There is a great deal afloat here in the way of subjects for
description. I keep my eyes open pretty wide, and hope to have done so
to some purpose by the time I come home.
When you write to me again--I say again, hoping that your first letter
will be soon upon its way here--direct to me to the care of David
Colden, Esq., New York. He will forward all communications by the
quickest conveyance and will be perfectly acquainted with all my
movements.
Always your faithful Friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Fitz-Greene%20Halleck/53Charles Dickens
1842-02-14[Sidenote: Mr. Fitz-Greene Halleck.]
CARLTON HOUSE, _February 14th, 1842._
MY DEAR SIR,
Will you come and breakfast with me on Tuesday, the 22nd, at half-past
ten? Say yes. I should have been truly delighted to have a talk with you
to-night (being quite alone), but the doctor says that if I talk to man,
woman, or child this evening I shall be dumb to-morrow.
Believe me, with true regard,
Faithfully your Friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/54Charles Dickens
1842-03-22[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
BALTIMORE, _March 22nd, 1842._
MY DEAR FRIEND,
I beg your pardon, but you were speaking of rash leaps at hasty
conclusions. Are you quite sure you designed that remark for me? Have
you not, in the hurry of correspondence, slipped a paragraph into my
letter which belongs of right to somebody else? When did you ever find
me leap at wrong conclusions? I pause for a reply.
Pray, sir, did you ever find me admiring Mr. ----? On the contrary, did
you never hear of my protesting through good, better, and best report
that he was not an open or a candid man, and would one day, beyond all
doubt, displease you by not being so? I pause again for a reply.
Are you quite sure, Mr. Macready--and I address myself to you with the
sternness of a man in the pit--are you quite sure, sir, that you do not
view America through the pleasant mirage which often surrounds a thing
that has been, but not a thing that is? Are you quite sure that when you
were here you relished it as well as you do now when you look back upon
it. The early spring birds, Mr. Macready, _do_ sing in the groves that
you were, very often, not over well pleased with many of the new
country's social aspects. Are the birds to be trusted? Again I pause for
a reply.
My dear Macready, I desire to be so honest and just to those who have so
enthusiastically and earnestly welcomed me, that I burned the last
letter I wrote to you--even to you to whom I would speak as to
myself--rather than let it come with anything that might seem like an
ill-considered word of disappointment. I preferred that you should think
me neglectful (if you could imagine anything so wild) rather than I
should do wrong in this respect. Still it is of no use. I _am_
disappointed. This is not the republic I came to see; this is not the
republic of my imagination. I infinitely prefer a liberal monarchy--even
with its sickening accompaniments of court circulars--to such a
government as this. The more I think of its youth and strength, the
poorer and more trifling in a thousand aspects it appears in my eyes. In
everything of which it has made a boast--excepting its education of the
people and its care for poor children--it sinks immeasurably below the
level I had placed it upon; and England, even England, bad and faulty as
the old land is, and miserable as millions of her people are, rises in
the comparison.
_You_ live here, Macready, as I have sometimes heard you imagining!
_You!_ Loving you with all my heart and soul, and knowing what your
disposition really is, I would not condemn you to a year's residence on
this side of the Atlantic for any money. Freedom of opinion! Where is
it? I see a press more mean, and paltry, and silly, and disgraceful than
any country I ever knew. If that is its standard, here it is. But I
speak of Bancroft, and am advised to be silent on that subject, for he
is "a black sheep--a Democrat." I speak of Bryant, and am entreated to
be more careful, for the same reason. I speak of international
copyright, and am implored not to ruin myself outright. I speak of Miss
Martineau, and all parties--Slave Upholders and Abolitionists, Whigs,
Tyler Whigs, and Democrats, shower down upon me a perfect cataract of
abuse. "But what has she done? Surely she praised America enough!" "Yes,
but she told us of some of our faults, and Americans can't bear to be
told of their faults. Don't split on that rock, Mr. Dickens, don't write
about America; we are so very suspicious."
Freedom of opinion! Macready, if I had been born here and had written my
books in this country, producing them with no stamp of approval from any
other land, it is my solemn belief that I should have lived and died
poor, unnoticed, and a "black sheep" to boot. I never was more convinced
of anything than I am of that.
The people are affectionate, generous, open-hearted, hospitable,
enthusiastic, good-humoured, polite to women, frank and candid to all
strangers, anxious to oblige, far less prejudiced than they have been
described to be, frequently polished and refined, very seldom rude or
disagreeable. I have made a great many friends here, even in public
conveyances, whom I have been truly sorry to part from. In the towns I
have formed perfect attachments. I have seen none of that greediness and
indecorousness on which travellers have laid so much emphasis. I have
returned frankness with frankness; met questions not intended to be
rude, with answers meant to be satisfactory; and have not spoken to one
man, woman, or child of any degree who has not grown positively
affectionate before we parted. In the respects of not being left alone,
and of being horribly disgusted by tobacco chewing and tobacco spittle,
I have suffered considerably. The sight of slavery in Virginia, the
hatred of British feeling upon the subject, and the miserable hints of
the impotent indignation of the South, have pained me very much; on the
last head, of course, I have felt nothing but a mingled pity and
amusement; on the other, sheer distress. But however much I like the
ingredients of this great dish, I cannot but come back to the point upon
which I started, and say that the dish itself goes against the grain
with me, and that I don't like it.
You know that I am truly a Liberal. I believe I have as little pride as
most men, and I am conscious of not the smallest annoyance from being
"hail fellow well met" with everybody. I have not had greater pleasure
in the company of any set of men among the thousands I have received (I
hold a regular levee every day, you know, which is duly heralded and
proclaimed in the newspapers) than in that of the carmen of Hertford,
who presented themselves in a body in their blue frocks, among a crowd
of well-dressed ladies and gentlemen, and bade me welcome through their
spokesman. They had all read my books, and all perfectly understood
them. It is not these things I have in my mind when I say that the man
who comes to this country a Radical and goes home again with his
opinions unchanged, must be a Radical on reason, sympathy, and
reflection, and one who has so well considered the subject that he has
no chance of wavering.
We have been to Boston, Worcester, Hertford, New Haven, New York,
Philadelphia, Baltimore, Washington, Fredericksburgh, Richmond, and back
to Washington again. The premature heat of the weather (it was eighty
yesterday in the shade) and Clay's advice--how you would like
Clay!--have made us determine not to go to Charleston; but having got to
Richmond, I think I should have turned back under any circumstances. We
remain at Baltimore for two days, of which this is one; then we go to
Harrisburgh. Then by the canal boat and the railroad over the Alleghany
Mountains to Pittsburgh, then down the Ohio to Cincinnati, then to
Louisville, and then to St. Louis. I have been invited to a public
entertainment in every town I have entered, and have refused them; but I
have excepted St. Louis as the farthest point of my travels. My friends
there have passed some resolutions which Forster has, and will show
you. From St. Louis we cross to Chicago, traversing immense prairies.
Thence by the lakes and Detroit to Buffalo, and so to Niagara. A run
into Canada follows of course, and then--let me write the blessed word
in capitals--we turn towards HOME.
Kate has written to Mrs. Macready, and it is useless for me to thank
you, my dearest friend, or her, for your care of our dear children,
which is our constant theme of discourse. Forster has gladdened our
hearts with his account of the triumph of "Acis and Galatea," and I am
anxiously looking for news of the tragedy. Forrest breakfasted with us
at Richmond last Saturday--he was acting there, and I invited him--and
he spoke very gratefully, and very like a man, of your kindness to him
when he was in London.
David Colden is as good a fellow as ever lived; and I am deeply in love
with his wife. Indeed we have received the greatest and most earnest and
zealous kindness from the whole family, and quite love them all. Do you
remember one Greenhow, whom you invited to pass some days with you at
the hotel on the Kaatskill Mountains? He is translator to the State
Office at Washington, has a very pretty wife, and a little girl of five
years old. We dined with them, and had a very pleasant day. The
President invited me to dinner, but I couldn't stay for it. I had a
private audience, however, and we attended the public drawing-room
besides.
Now, don't you rush at the quick conclusion that I have rushed at a
quick conclusion. Pray, be upon your guard. If you can by any process
estimate the extent of my affectionate regard for you, and the rush I
shall make when I reach London to take you by your true right hand, I
don't object. But let me entreat you to be very careful how you come
down upon the sharpsighted individual who pens these words, which you
seem to me to have done in what Willmott would call "one of Mr.
Macready's rushes." As my pen is getting past its work, I have taken a
new one to say that
I am ever, my dear Macready,
Your faithful Friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Thomas%20Mitton/55Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. Thomas Mitton.]
BALTIMORE, UNITED STATES, _March 22nd, 1842._
MY DEAR FRIEND,
We have been as far south as Richmond in Virginia (where they grow and
manufacture tobacco, and where the labour is all performed by slaves),
but the season in those latitudes is so intensely and prematurely hot,
that it was considered a matter of doubtful expediency to go on to
Charleston. For this unexpected reason, and because the country between
Richmond and Charleston is but a desolate swamp the whole way, and
because slavery is anything but a cheerful thing to live amidst, I have
altered my route by the advice of Mr. Clay (the great political leader
in this country), and have returned here previous to diving into the far
West. We start for that part of the country--which includes mountain
travelling, and lake travelling, and prairie travelling--the day after
to-morrow, at eight o'clock in the morning; and shall be in the West,
and from there going northward again, until the 30th of April or 1st of
May, when we shall halt for a week at Niagara, before going further into
Canada. We have taken our passage home (God bless the word) in the
_George Washington_ packet-ship from New York. She sails on the 7th of
June.
I have departed from my resolution not to accept any more public
entertainments; they have been proposed in every town I have visited--in
favour of the people of St. Louis, my utmost western point. That town is
on the borders of the Indian territory, a trifling distance from this
place--only two thousand miles! At my second halting-place I shall be
able to write to fix the day; I suppose it will be somewhere about the
12th of April. Think of my going so far towards the setting sun to
dinner!
In every town where we stay, though it be only for a day, we hold a
regular levee or drawing-room, where I shake hands on an average with
five or six hundred people, who pass on from me to Kate, and are shaken
again by her. Maclise's picture of our darlings stands upon a table or
sideboard the while; and my travelling secretary, assisted very often by
a committee belonging to the place, presents the people in due form.
Think of two hours of this every day, and the people coming in by
hundreds, all fresh, and piping hot, and full of questions, when we are
literally exhausted and can hardly stand. I really do believe that if I
had not a lady with me, I should have been obliged to leave the country
and go back to England. But for her they never would leave me alone by
day or night, and as it is, a slave comes to me now and then in the
middle of the night with a letter, and waits at the bedroom door for an
answer.
It was so hot at Richmond that we could scarcely breathe, and the peach
and other fruit trees were in full blossom; it was so cold at Washington
next day that we were shivering; but even in the same town you might
often wear nothing but a shirt and trousers in the morning, and two
greatcoats at night, the thermometer very frequently taking a little
trip of thirty degrees between sunrise and sunset.
They do lay it on at the hotels in such style! They charge by the day,
so that whether one dines out or dines at home makes no manner of
difference. T'other day I wrote to order our rooms at Philadelphia to be
ready on a certain day, and was detained a week longer than I expected
in New York. The Philadelphia landlord not only charged me half rent
for the rooms during the whole of that time, but board for myself and
Kate and Anne during the whole time too, though we were actually
boarding at the same expense during the same time in New York! What do
you say to that? If I remonstrated, the whole virtue of the newspapers
would be aroused directly.
We were at the President's drawing-room while we were in Washington. I
had a private audience besides, and was asked to dinner, but couldn't
stay.
Parties--parties--parties--of course, every day and night. But it's not
all parties. I go into the prisons, the police-offices, the
watch-houses, the hospitals, the workhouses. I was out half the night in
New York with two of their most famous constables; started at midnight,
and went into every brothel, thieves' house, murdering hovel, sailors'
dancing-place, and abode of villany, both black and white, in the town.
I went _incog._ behind the scenes to the little theatre where Mitchell
is making a fortune. He has been rearing a little dog for me, and has
called him "Boz."[1] I am going to bring him home. In a word I go
everywhere, and a hard life it is. But I am careful to drink hardly
anything, and not to smoke at all. I have recourse to my medicine-chest
whenever I feel at all bilious, and am, thank God, thoroughly well.
When I next write to you, I shall have begun, I hope, to turn my face
homeward. I have a great store of oddity and whimsicality, and am going
now into the oddest and most characteristic part of this most queer
country.
Always direct to the care of David Colden, Esq., 28, Laight Street,
Hudson Square, New York. I received your Caledonia letter with the
greatest joy.
Kate sends her best remembrances.
And I am always.
P.S.--Richmond was my extreme southern point, and I turn from the South
altogether the day after to-morrow. Will you let the Britannia[2] know
of this change--if needful?http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Dr%20F%20H%20Deane/56Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Dr. F. H. Deane.]
CINCINNATI, OHIO, _April 4th, 1842._
MY DEAR SIR,
I have not been unmindful of your request for a moment, but have not
been able to think of it until now. I hope my good friends (for whose
christian-names I have left blanks in the epitaph) may like what I have
written, and that they will take comfort and be happy again. I sail on
the 7th of June, and purpose being at the Carlton House, New York, about
the 1st. It will make me easy to know that this letter has reached you.
Faithfully yours.
This is the Grave of a Little Child,
WHOM GOD IN HIS GOODNESS CALLED TO A BRIGHT ETERNITY
WHEN HE WAS VERY YOUNG.
HARD AS IT IS FOR HUMAN AFFECTION TO RECONCILE ITSELF
TO DEATH IN ANY
SHAPE (AND MOST OF ALL, PERHAPS, AT FIRST IN THIS),
HIS PARENTS CAN EVEN NOW BELIEVE THAT IT WILL BE A CONSOLATION
TO THEM THROUGHOUT THEIR LIVES,
AND WHEN THEY SHALL HAVE GROWN OLD AND GRAY,
Always to think of him as a Child in Heaven.
"_And Jesus called a little child unto Him, and set him
in the midst of them._"
HE WAS THE SON OF Q---- AND M---- THORNTON, CHRISTENED
CHARLES JERKING.
HE WAS BORN ON THE 20TH DAY OF JANUARY, 1841,
AND HE DIED ON THE 12TH DAY OF MARCH, 1842,
HAVING LIVED ONLY THIRTEEN MONTHS AND TWENTY DAYS.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Henry%20Austin/57Charles Dickens
1842-05-01[Sidenote: Mr. Henry Austin.]
NIAGARA FALLS (English Side),
_Sunday, May 1st, 1842._
MY DEAR HENRY,
Although I date this letter as above, it will not be so old a one as at
first sight it would appear to be when it reaches you. I shall carry it
on with me to Montreal, and despatch it from there by the steamer which
goes to Halifax, to meet the Cunard boat at that place, with Canadian
letters and passengers. Before I finally close it, I will add a short
postscript, so that it will contain the latest intelligence.
We have had a blessed interval of quiet in this beautiful place, of
which, as you may suppose, we stood greatly in need, not only by reason
of our hard travelling for a long time, but on account of the incessant
persecutions of the people, by land and water, on stage coach, railway
car, and steamer, which exceeds anything you can picture to yourself by
the utmost stretch of your imagination. So far we have had this hotel
nearly to ourselves. It is a large square house, standing on a bold
height, with overhanging eaves like a Swiss cottage, and a wide handsome
gallery outside every story. These colonnades make it look so very
light, that it has exactly the appearance of a house built with a pack
of cards; and I live in bodily terror lest any man should venture to
step out of a little observatory on the roof, and crush the whole
structure with one stamp of his foot.
Our sitting-room (which is large and low like a nursery) is on the
second floor, and is so close to the Falls that the windows are always
wet and dim with spray. Two bedrooms open out of it--one our own; one
Anne's. The secretary slumbers near at hand, but without these sacred
precincts. From the three chambers, or any part of them, you can see the
Falls rolling and tumbling, and roaring and leaping, all day long, with
bright rainbows making fiery arches down a hundred feet below us. When
the sun is on them, they shine and glow like molten gold. When the day
is gloomy, the water falls like snow, or sometimes it seems to crumble
away like the face of a great chalk cliff, or sometimes again to roll
along the front of the rock like white smoke. But it all seems gay or
gloomy, dark or light, by sun or moon. From the bottom of both Falls,
there is always rising up a solemn ghostly cloud, which hides the
boiling cauldron from human sight, and makes it in its mystery a hundred
times more grand than if you could see all the secrets that lie hidden
in its tremendous depth. One Fall is as close to us as York Gate is to
No. 1, Devonshire Terrace. The other (the great Horse-shoe Fall) may be,
perhaps, about half as far off as "Creedy's."[3] One circumstance in
connection with them is, in all the accounts, greatly exaggerated--I
mean the noise. Last night was perfectly still. Kate and I could just
hear them, at the quiet time of sunset, a mile off. Whereas, believing
the statements I had heard I began putting my ear to the ground, like a
savage or a bandit in a ballet, thirty miles off, when we were coming
here from Buffalo.
I was delighted to receive your famous letter, and to read your account
of our darlings, whom we long to see with an intensity it is impossible
to shadow forth, ever so faintly. I do believe, though I say it as
shouldn't, that they are good 'uns--both to look at and to go. I roared
out this morning, as soon as I was awake, "Next month," which we have
been longing to be able to say ever since we have been here. I really do
not know how we shall ever knock at the door, when that slowest of all
impossibly slow hackney-coaches shall pull up--at home.
I am glad you exult in the fight I have had about the copyright. If you
knew how they tried to stop me, you would have a still greater interest
in it. The greatest men in England have sent me out, through Forster, a
very manly, and becoming, and spirited memorial and address, backing me
in all I have done. I have despatched it to Boston for publication, and
am coolly prepared for the storm it will raise. But my best rod is in
pickle.
Is it not a horrible thing that scoundrel booksellers should grow rich
here from publishing books, the authors of which do not reap one
farthing from their issue by scores of thousands; and that every vile,
blackguard, and detestable newspaper, so filthy and bestial that no
honest man would admit one into his house for a scullery door-mat,
should be able to publish those same writings side by side, cheek by
jowl, with the coarsest and most obscene companions with which they must
become connected, in course of time, in people's minds? Is it tolerable
that besides being robbed and rifled an author should be forced to
appear in any form, in any vulgar dress, in any atrocious company; that
he should have no choice of his audience, no control over his own
distorted text, and that he should be compelled to jostle out of the
course the best men in this country who only ask to live by writing? I
vow before high heaven that my blood so boils at these enormities, that
when I speak about them I seem to grow twenty feet high, and to swell
out in proportion. "Robbers that ye are," I think to myself when I get
upon my legs, "here goes!"
The places we have lodged in, the roads we have gone over, the company
we have been among, the tobacco-spittle we have wallowed in, the strange
customs we have complied with, the packing-cases in which we have
travelled, the woods, swamps, rivers, prairies, lakes, and mountains we
have crossed, are all subjects for legends and tales at home; quires,
reams, wouldn't hold them. I don't think Anne has so much as seen an
American tree. She never looks at a prospect by any chance, or displays
the smallest emotion at any sight whatever. She objects to Niagara that
"it's nothing but water," and considers that "there is too much of
that."
I suppose you have heard that I am going to act at the Montreal theatre
with the officers? Farce-books being scarce, and the choice consequently
limited, I have selected Keeley's part in "Two o'Clock in the Morning."
I wrote yesterday to Mitchell, the actor and manager at New York, to get
and send me a comic wig, light flaxen, with a small whisker halfway down
the cheek; over this I mean to wear two night-caps, one with a tassel
and one of flannel; a flannel wrapper, drab tights and slippers, will
complete the costume.
I am very sorry to hear that business is so flat, but the proverb says
it never rains but it pours, and it may be remarked with equal truth
upon the other side, that it never _don't_ rain but it holds up very
much indeed. You will be busy again long before I come home, I have no
doubt.
We purpose leaving this on Wednesday morning. Give my love to Letitia
and to mother, and always believe me, my dear Henry,
Affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Henry%20Austin/58Charles Dickens
1842-05-12[Sidenote: Mr. Henry Austin.]
MONTREAL, CANADA, _May 12th, 1842._
All well, though (with the exception of one from Fred) we have received
no letters whatever by the _Caledonia_. We have experienced
impossible-to-be-described attentions in Canada. Everybody's carriage
and horses are at our disposal, and everybody's servants; and all the
Government boats and boats' crews. We shall play, between the 20th and
the 25th, "A Roland for an Oliver," "Two o'Clock in the Morning," and
"Deaf as a Post."http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Thomas%20Longman/59Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. Thomas Longman.]
ATHENAEUM, _Friday Afternoon._
MY DEAR SIR,
If I could possibly have attended the meeting yesterday I would most
gladly have done so. But I have been up the whole night, and was too
much exhausted even to write and say so before the proceedings came on.
I have fought the fight across the Atlantic with the utmost energy I
could command; have never been turned aside by any consideration for an
instant; am fresher for the fray than ever; will battle it to the death,
and die game to the last.
I am happy to say that my boy is quite well again. From being in perfect
health he fell into alarming convulsions with the surprise and joy of
our return.
I beg my regards to Mrs. Longman,
And am always,
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Julia%20Pardoe/60Charles Dickens
1842-07-19[Sidenote: Miss Pardoe.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, YORK GATE, REGENT'S PARK,
_July 19th, 1842._
DEAR MADAM,
I beg to set you right on one point in reference to the American
robbers, which perhaps you do not quite understand.
The existing law allows them to reprint any English book, without any
communication whatever with the author or anybody else. My books have
all been reprinted on these agreeable terms.
But sometimes, when expectation is awakened there about a book before
its publication, one firm of pirates will pay a trifle to procure early
proofs of it, and get so much the start of the rest as they can obtain
by the time necessarily consumed in printing it. Directly it is printed
it is common property, and may be reprinted a thousand times. My
circular only referred to such bargains as these.
I should add that I have no hope of the States doing justice in this
dishonest respect, and therefore do not expect to overtake these
fellows, but we may cry "Stop thief!" nevertheless, especially as they
wince and smart under it.
Faithfully yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/H%20P%20Smith/61Charles Dickens
1842-07-14[Sidenote: Mr. H. P. Smith.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Thursday, July 14th, 1842._
MY DEAR SMITH,
The cheque safely received. As you say, it would be cheap at any money.
My devotion to the fine arts renders it impossible for me to cash it. I
have therefore ordered it to be framed and glazed.
I am really grateful to you for the interest you take in my proceedings.
Next time I come into the City I will show you my introductory chapter
to the American book. It may seem to prepare the reader for a much
greater amount of slaughter than he will meet with; but it is honest and
true. Therefore my hand does not shake.
Best love and regards. "Certainly" to the Richmondian intentions.
Always faithfully your Friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Harrison%20Ainsworth/62Charles Dickens
1842-09-14[Sidenote: Mr. Harrison Ainsworth.]
BROADSTAIRS, KENT, _September 14th, 1842._
MY DEAR AINSWORTH,
The enclosed has been sent to me by a young gentleman in Devonshire (of
whom I know no more than that I have occasionally, at his request, read
and suggested amendments in some of his writings), with a special
petition that I would recommend it to you for insertion in your
magazine.
I think it very pretty, and I have no doubt you will also. But it is
poetry, and may be too long.
He is a very modest young fellow, and has decided ability.
I hope when I come home at the end of the month, we shall foregather
more frequently. Of course you are working, tooth and nail; and of
course I am.
Kate joins me in best regards to yourself and all your house (not
forgetting, but especially remembering, my old friend, Mrs. Touchet),
and I am always,
My dear Ainsworth,
Heartily yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Henry%20Austin/63Charles Dickens
1842-09-25[Sidenote: Mr. Henry Austin.]
BROADSTAIRS, _Sunday, September 25th, 1842._
MY DEAR HENRY,
I enclose you the Niagara letter, with many thanks for the loan of it.
Pray tell Mr. Chadwick that I am greatly obliged to him for his
remembrance of me, and I heartily concur with him in the great
importance and interest of the subject, though I do differ from him, to
the death, on his crack topic--the New Poor-Law.
I have been turning my thoughts to this very item in the condition of
American towns, and had put their present aspects strongly before the
American people; therefore I shall read his report with the greater
interest and attention.
We return next Saturday night.
If you will dine with us next day or any day in the week, we shall be
truly glad and delighted to see you. Let me know, then, what day you
will come.
I need scarcely say that I shall joyfully talk with you about the
Metropolitan Improvement Society, then or at any time; and with love to
Letitia, in which Kate and the babies join, I am always, my dear Henry,
Affectionately yours.
P.S.--The children's present names are as follows:
Katey (from a lurking propensity to fieryness), Lucifer Box.
Mamey (as generally descriptive of her bearing), Mild Glo'ster.
Charley (as a corruption of Master Toby), Flaster Floby.
Walter (suggested by his high cheek-bones), Young Skull.
Each is pronounced with a peculiar howl, which I shall have great
pleasure in illustrating.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Rev%20William%20Harness/64Charles Dickens
1842-11-08[Sidenote: Rev. William Harness.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _November 8th, 1842._
MY DEAR HARNESS,
Some time ago, you sent me a note from a friend of yours, a barrister, I
think, begging me to forward to him any letters I might receive from a
deranged nephew of his, at Newcastle. In the midst of a most bewildering
correspondence with unknown people, on every possible and impossible
subject, I have forgotten this gentleman's name, though I have a kind of
hazy remembrance that he lived near Russell Square. As the Post Office
would be rather puzzled, perhaps, to identify him by such an address,
may I ask the favour of you to hand him the enclosed, and to say that it
is the second I have received since I returned from America? The last, I
think, was a defiance to mortal combat. With best remembrances to your
sister, in which Mrs. Dickens joins, believe me, my dear Harness,
Always faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/65Charles Dickens
1842-11-12[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Saturday, Nov. 12th, 1842._
MY DEAR MACREADY,
You pass this house every day on your way to or from the theatre. I wish
you would call once as you go by, and soon, that you may have plenty of
time to deliberate on what I wish to suggest to you. The more I think of
Marston's play, the more sure I feel that a prologue to the purpose
would help it materially, and almost decide the fate of any ticklish
point on the first night. Now I have an idea (not easily explainable in
writing but told in five words), that would take the prologue out of the
conventional dress of prologues, quite. Get the curtain up with a dash,
and begin the play with a sledge-hammer blow. If on consideration, you
should think with me, I will write the prologue heartily.
Faithfully yours ever.
PROLOGUE
TO MR. MARSTON'S PLAY OF "THE PATRICIAN'S DAUGHTER."
No tale of streaming plumes and harness bright
Dwells on the poet's maiden harp to-night;
No trumpet's clamour and no battle's fire
Breathes in the trembling accents of his lyre;
Enough for him, if in his lowly strain
He wakes one household echo not in vain;
Enough for him, if in his boldest word
The beating heart of MAN be dimly heard.
Its solemn music which, like strains that sigh
Through charmed gardens, all who hearing die;
Its solemn music he does not pursue
To distant ages out of human view;
Nor listen to its wild and mournful chime
In the dead caverns on the shore of Time;
But musing with a calm and steady gaze
Before the crackling flames of living days,
He hears it whisper through the busy roar
Of what shall be and what has been before.
Awake the Present! shall no scene display
The tragic passion of the passing day?
Is it with Man, as with some meaner things,
That out of death his single purpose springs?
Can his eventful life no moral teach
Until he be, for aye, beyond its reach?
Obscurely shall he suffer, act, and fade,
Dubb'd noble only by the sexton's spade?
Awake the Present! Though the steel-clad age
Find life alone within the storied page,
Iron is worn, at heart, by many still--
The tyrant Custom binds the serf-like will;
If the sharp rack, and screw, and chain be gone,
These later days have tortures of their own;
The guiltless writhe, while Guilt is stretched in sleep,
And Virtue lies, too often, dungeon deep.
Awake the Present! what the Past has sown
Be in its harvest garner'd, reap'd, and grown!
How pride breeds pride, and wrong engenders wrong,
Read in the volume Truth has held so long,
Assured that where life's flowers freshest blow,
The sharpest thorns and keenest briars grow,
How social usage has the pow'r to change
Good thoughts to evil; in its highest range
To cramp the noble soul, and turn to ruth
The kindling impulse of our glorious youth,
Crushing the spirit in its house of clay,
Learn from the lessons of the present day.
Not light its import and not poor its mien;
Yourselves the actors, and your homes the scene.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/66Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
_Saturday Morning._
MY DEAR MACREADY,
One suggestion, though it be a late one. Do have upon the table, in the
opening scene of the second act, something in a velvet case, or frame,
that may look like a large miniature of Mabel, such as one of Ross's,
and eschew that picture. It haunts me with a sense of danger. Even a
titter at that critical time, with the whole of that act before you,
would be a fatal thing. The picture is bad in itself, bad in its effect
upon the beautiful room, bad in all its associations with the house. In
case of your having nothing at hand, I send you by bearer what would be
a million times better. Always, my dear Macready,
Faithfully yours.
P.S.--I need not remind you how common it is to have such pictures in
cases lying about elegant rooms.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20P%20Frith/67Charles Dickens
1842-11-15[Sidenote: Mr. W. P. Frith.]
1, DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, YORK GATE, REGENT'S PARK,
_November 15th, 1842._
MY DEAR SIR,
I shall be very glad if you will do me the favour to paint me two little
companion pictures; one, a Dolly Varden (whom you have so exquisitely
done already), the other, a Kate Nickleby.
Faithfully yours always.
P.S.--I take it for granted that the original picture of Dolly with the
bracelet is sold?http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20P%20Frith/68Charles Dickens
1842-11-17[Sidenote: The same.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _November 17th, 1842._
MY DEAR SIR,
Pray consult your own convenience in the matter of my little commission;
whatever suits your engagements and prospects will best suit me.
I saw an unfinished proof of Dolly at Mitchell's some two or three
months ago; I thought it was proceeding excellently well then. It will
give me great pleasure to see her when completed.
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Thomas%20Hood/69Charles Dickens
1842-11-30[Sidenote: Mr. Thomas Hood.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _November 30th, 1842._
MY DEAR HOOD,
In asking your and Mrs. Hood's leave to bring Mrs. D.'s sister (who
stays with us) on Tuesday, let me add that I should very much like to
bring at the same time a very unaffected and ardent admirer of your
genius, who has no small portion of that commodity in his own right, and
is a very dear friend of mine and a very famous fellow; to wit, Maclise,
the painter, who would be glad (as he has often told me) to know you
better, and would be much pleased, I know, if I could say to him, "Hood
wants me to bring you."
I use so little ceremony with you, in the conviction that you will use
as little with me, and say, "My dear D.--Convenient;" or, "My dear
D.--Ill-convenient," (as the popular phrase is), just as the case may
be. Of course, I have said nothing to him.
Always heartily yours,
BOZ.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Frances%20Trollope/70Charles Dickens
1842-12-16[Sidenote: Mrs. Trollope.]
1, DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, YORK GATE, REGENT'S PARK,
_December 16th, 1842._
MY DEAR MRS. TROLLOPE,
Let me thank you most cordially for your kind note, in reference to my
Notes, which has given me true pleasure and gratification.
As I never scrupled to say in America, so I can have no delicacy in
saying to you, that, allowing for the change you worked in many social
features of American society, and for the time that has passed since you
wrote of the country, I am convinced that there is no writer who has so
well and accurately (I need not add so entertainingly) described it, in
many of its aspects, as you have done; and this renders your praise the
more valuable to me. I do not recollect ever to have heard or seen the
charge of exaggeration made against a feeble performance, though, in its
feebleness, it may have been most untrue. It seems to me essentially
natural, and quite inevitable, that common observers should accuse an
uncommon one of this fault, and I have no doubt that you were long ago
of this opinion; very much to your own comfort.
Mrs. Dickens begs me to thank you for your kind remembrance of her, and
to convey to you her best regards. Always believe me,
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/George%20Cattermole/71Charles Dickens
1842-12-20[Sidenote: Mr. George Cattermole.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _December 20th, 1842._
MY DEAR GEORGE,
It is impossible for me to tell you how greatly I am charmed with those
beautiful pictures, in which the whole feeling, and thought, and
expression of the little story is rendered to the gratification of my
inmost heart; and on which you have lavished those amazing resources of
yours with a power at which I fairly wondered when I sat down yesterday
before them.
I took them to Mac, straightway, in a cab, and it would have done you
good if you could have seen and heard him. You can't think how moved he
was by the old man in the church, or how pleased I was to have chosen it
before he saw the drawings.
You are such a queer fellow and hold yourself so much aloof, that I am
afraid to say half I would say touching my grateful admiration; so you
shall imagine the rest. I enclose a note from Kate, to which I hope you
will bring the only one acceptable reply. Always, my dear Cattermole,
Faithfully yours.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] The little dog--a white Havana spaniel--_was_ brought home and
renamed, after an incidental character in "Nicholas Nickleby," "Mr.
Snittle Timbery." This was shortened to "Timber," and under that name
the little dog lived to be very old, and accompanied the family in all
its migrations, including the visits to Italy and Switzerland.
[2] Life Insurance Office.
[3] Mr. Macready's--so pronounced by one of Charles Dickens's little
children.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Charles%20Babbage/72Charles Dickens
1843-04-27[Sidenote: Mr. Charles Babbage.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _April 27th, 1843._
MY DEAR SIR,
I write to you, _confidentially_, in answer to your note of last night,
and the tenor of mine will tell you why.
You may suppose, from seeing my name in the printed letter you have
received, that I am favourable to the proposed society. I am decidedly
opposed to it. I went there on the day I was in the chair, after much
solicitation; and being put into it, opened the proceedings by telling
the meeting that I approved of the design in theory, but in practice
considered it hopeless. I may tell you--I did not tell them--that the
nature of the meeting, and the character and position of many of the men
attending it, cried "Failure" trumpet-tongued in my ears. To quote an
expression from Tennyson, I may say that if it were the best society in
the world, the grossness of some natures in it would have weight to drag
it down.
In the wisdom of all you urge in the notes you have sent me, taking them
as statements of theory, I entirely concur. But in practice, I feel sure
that the present publishing system cannot be overset until authors are
different men. The first step to be taken is to move as a body in the
question of copyright, enforce the existing laws, and try to obtain
better. For that purpose I hold that the authors and publishers must
unite, as the wealth, business habits, and interest of that latter class
are of great importance to such an end. The Longmans and Murray have
been with me proposing such an association. That I shall support. But
having seen the Cockspur Street Society, I am as well convinced of its
invincible hopelessness as if I saw it written by a celestial penman in
the Book of Fate.
My dear Sir,
Always faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Douglas%20Jerrold/73Charles Dickens
1843-05-03[Sidenote: Mr. Douglas Jerrold.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _May 3rd, 1843._
MY DEAR JERROLD,
Let me thank you most cordially for your books, not only for their own
sakes (and I have read them with perfect delight), but also for this
hearty and most welcome mark of your recollection of the friendship we
have established; in which light I know I may regard and prize them.
I am greatly pleased with your opening paper in the Illuminated. It is
very wise, and capital; written with the finest end of that iron pen of
yours; witty, much needed, and full of truth. I vow to God that I think
the parrots of society are more intolerable and mischievous than its
birds of prey. If ever I destroy myself, it will be in the bitterness of
hearing those infernal and damnably good old times extolled. Once, in a
fit of madness, after having been to a public dinner which took place
just as this Ministry came in, I wrote the parody I send you enclosed,
for Fonblanque. There is nothing in it but wrath; but that's wholesome,
so I send it you.
I am writing a little history of England for my boy, which I will send
you when it is printed for him, though your boys are too old to profit
by it. It is curious that I have tried to impress upon him (writing, I
daresay, at the same moment with you) the exact spirit of your paper,
for I don't know what I should do if he were to get hold of any
Conservative or High Church notions; and the best way of guarding
against any such horrible result is, I take it, to wring the parrots'
necks in his very cradle.
Oh Heaven, if you could have been with me at a hospital dinner last
Monday! There were men there who made such speeches and expressed such
sentiments as any moderately intelligent dustman would have blushed
through his cindery bloom to have thought of. Sleek, slobbering,
bow-paunched, over-fed, apoplectic, snorting cattle, and the auditory
leaping up in their delight! I never saw such an illustration of the
power of purse, or felt so degraded and debased by its contemplation,
since I have had eyes and ears. The absurdity of the thing was too
horrible to laugh at. It was perfectly overwhelming. But if I could have
partaken it with anybody who would have felt it as you would have done,
it would have had quite another aspect; or would at least, like a
"classic mask" (oh d---- that word!) have had one funny side to relieve
its dismal features.
Supposing fifty families were to emigrate into the wilds of North
America--yours, mine, and forty-eight others--picked for their
concurrence of opinion on all important subjects and for their
resolution to found a colony of common-sense, how soon would that devil,
Cant, present itself among them in one shape or other? The day they
landed, do you say, or the day after?
That is a great mistake (almost the only one I know) in the "Arabian
Nights," when the princess restores people to their original beauty by
sprinkling them with the golden water. It is quite clear that she must
have made monsters of them by such a christening as that.
My dear Jerrold,
Faithfully your Friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/David%20Dickson/74Charles Dickens
1843-05-10[Sidenote: Mr. David Dickson.]
1, DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, YORK GATE, REGENT'S PARK,
_May 10th, 1843._
SIR,
Permit me to say, in reply to your letter, that you do not understand
the intention (I daresay the fault is mine) of that passage in the
"Pickwick Papers" which has given you offence. The design of "the
Shepherd" and of this and every other allusion to him is, to show how
sacred things are degraded, vulgarised, and rendered absurd when persons
who are utterly incompetent to teach the commonest things take upon
themselves to expound such mysteries, and how, in making mere cant
phrases of divine words, these persons miss the spirit in which they had
their origin. I have seen a great deal of this sort of thing in many
parts of England, and I never knew it lead to charity or good deeds.
Whether the great Creator of the world and the creature of his hands,
moulded in his own image, be quite so opposite in character as you
believe, is a question which it would profit us little to discuss. I
like the frankness and candour of your letter, and thank you for it.
That every man who seeks heaven must be born again, in good thoughts of
his Maker, I sincerely believe. That it is expedient for every hound to
say so in a certain snuffling form of words, to which he attaches no
good meaning, I do not believe. I take it there is no difference between
us.
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Douglas%20Jerrold/75Charles Dickens
1843-06-13[Sidenote: Mr. Douglas Jerrold.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _June 13th, 1843._
MY DEAR JERROLD,
Yes, you have anticipated my occupation. Chuzzlewit be d----d. High
comedy and five hundred pounds are the only matters I can think of. I
call it "The One Thing Needful; or, A Part is Better than the Whole."
Here are the characters:
Old Febrile Mr. FARREN.
Young Febrile (his Son) Mr. HOWE.
Jack Hessians (his Friend) Mr. W. LACY.
Chalks (a Landlord) Mr. GOUGH.
Hon. Harry Staggers Mr. MELLON.
Sir Thomas Tip Mr. BUCKSTONE.
Swig Mr. WEBSTER.
The Duke of Leeds Mr. COUTTS.
Sir Smivin Growler Mr. MACREADY.
Servants, Gamblers, Visitors, etc.
Mrs. Febrile Mrs. GALLOT.
Lady Tip Mrs. HUMBY.
Mrs. Sour Mrs. W. CLIFFORD.
Fanny Miss A. SMITH.
One scene, where Old Febrile tickles Lady Tip in the ribs, and
afterwards dances out with his hat behind him, his stick before, and his
eye on the pit, I expect will bring the house down. There is also
another point, where Old Febrile, at the conclusion of his disclosure to
Swig, rises and says: "And now, Swig, tell me, have I acted well?" And
Swig says: "Well, Mr. Febrile, have you ever acted ill?" which will
carry off the piece.
Herne Bay. Hum. I suppose it's no worse than any other place in this
weather, but it is watery rather--isn't it? In my mind's eye, I have the
sea in a perpetual state of smallpox; and the chalk running downhill
like town milk. But I know the comfort of getting to work in a fresh
place, and proposing pious projects to one's self, and having the more
substantial advantage of going to bed early and getting up ditto, and
walking about alone. I should like to deprive you of the last-named
happiness, and to take a good long stroll, terminating in a
public-house, and whatever they chanced to have in it. But fine days are
over, I think. The horrible misery of London in this weather, with not
even a fire to make it cheerful, is hideous.
But I have my comedy to fly to. My only comfort! I walk up and down
the street at the back of the theatre every night, and peep in at
the green-room window, thinking of the time when "Dick--ins" will be
called for by excited hundreds, and won't come till Mr. Webster
(half Swig and half himself) shall enter from his dressing-room,
and quelling the tempest with a smile, beseech that wizard, if he be
in the house (here he looks up at my box), to accept the congratulations
of the audience, and indulge them with a sight of the man who has got
five hundred pounds in money, and it's impossible to say how much in
laurel. Then I shall come forward, and bow once--twice--thrice--roars of
approbation--Brayvo--brarvo--hooray--hoorar--hooroar--one cheer more;
and asking Webster home to supper, shall declare eternal friendship for
that public-spirited individual.
They have not sent me the "Illustrated Magazine." What do they mean by
that? You don't say your daughter is better, so I hope you mean that she
is quite well. My wife desires her best regards.
I am always, my dear Jerrold,
Faithfully your Friend,
THE CONGREVE OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY
(which I mean to be called in the Sunday papers).
P.S.--I shall dedicate it to Webster, beginning: "My dear Sir,--When you
first proposed to stimulate the slumbering dramatic talent of England, I
assure you I had not the least idea"--etc. etc. etc.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Clarkson%20Stanfield/76Charles Dickens
1843-07-26[Sidenote: Mr. Clarkson Stanfield.]
1, DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _July 26th, 1843._
MY DEAR STANFIELD,
I am chairman of a committee, whose object is to open a subscription,
and arrange a benefit for the relief of the seven destitute children of
poor Elton the actor, who was drowned in the _Pegasus_. They are
exceedingly anxious to have the great assistance of your name; and if
you will allow yourself to be announced as one of the body, I do assure
you you will help a very melancholy and distressful cause.
Faithfully always.
P.S.--The committee meet to-night at the Freemasons', at eight o'clock.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Lord%20Morpeth/77Charles Dickens
1843-08-03[Sidenote: Lord Morpeth.]
1, DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, YORK GATE, REGENT'S PARK,
_August 3rd, 1843._
DEAR LORD MORPETH,
In acknowledging the safe receipt of your kind donation in behalf of
poor Mr. Elton's orphan children, I hope you will suffer me to address
you with little ceremony, as the best proof I can give you of my cordial
reciprocation of all you say in your most welcome note. I have long
esteemed you and been your distant but very truthful admirer; and trust
me that it is a real pleasure and happiness to me to anticipate the time
when we shall have a nearer intercourse.
Believe me, with sincere regard,
Faithfully your Servant.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/William%20Harrison%20Ainsworth/78Charles Dickens
1843-10-13[Sidenote: Mr. William Harrison Ainsworth.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _October 13th, 1843._
MY DEAR AINSWORTH,
I want very much to see you, not having had that old pleasure for a long
time. I am at this moment deaf in the ears, hoarse in the throat, red in
the nose, green in the gills, damp in the eyes, twitchy in the joints,
and fractious in the temper from a most intolerable and oppressive cold,
caught the other day, I suspect, at Liverpool, where I got exceedingly
wet; but I will make prodigious efforts to get the better of it to-night
by resorting to all conceivable remedies, and if I succeed so as to be
only negatively disgusting to-morrow, I will joyfully present myself at
six, and bring my womankind along with me.
Cordially yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/R%20H%20Horne/79Charles Dickens
1843-11-13[Sidenote: Mr. R. H. Horne.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _November 13th, 1843._
Pray tell that besotted ---- to let the opera sink into its native
obscurity. I did it in a fit of d----ble good nature long ago, for
Hullah, who wrote some very pretty music to it. I just put down for
everybody what everybody at the St. James's Theatre wanted to say and
do, and that they could say and do best, and I have been most sincerely
repentant ever since. The farce I also did as a sort of practical joke,
for Harley, whom I have known a long time. It was funny--adapted from
one of the published sketches called the "Great Winglebury Duel," and
was published by Chapman and Hall. But I have no copy of it now, nor
should I think they have. But both these things were done without the
least consideration or regard to reputation.
I wouldn't repeat them for a thousand pounds apiece, and devoutly wish
them to be forgotten. If you will impress this on the waxy mind of ----
I shall be truly and unaffectedly obliged to you.
Always faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/80Charles Dickens
1844-01-03[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _January 3rd, 1844._
MY VERY DEAR MACREADY,
You know all the news, and you know I love you; so I no more know why I
write than I do why I "come round" after the play to shake hands with
you in your dressing-room. I say come, as if you were at this present
moment the lessee of Drury Lane, and had ---- with a long face on one
hand, ---- elaborately explaining that everything in creation is a
joint-stock company on the other, the inimitable B. by the fire, in
conversation with ----. Well-a-day! I see it all, and smell that
extraordinary compound of odd scents peculiar to a theatre, which bursts
upon me when I swing open the little door in the hall, accompanies me as
I meet perspiring supers in the narrow passage, goes with me up the two
steps, crosses the stage, winds round the third entrance P.S. as I wind,
and escorts me safely into your presence, where I find you unwinding
something slowly round and round your chest, which is so long that no
man can see the end of it.
Oh that you had been at Clarence Terrace on Nina's birthday! Good God,
how we missed you, talked of you, drank your health, and wondered what
you were doing! Perhaps you are Falkland enough (I swear I suspect you
of it) to feel rather sore--just a little bit, you know, the merest
trifle in the world--on hearing that Mrs. Macready looked brilliant,
blooming, young, and handsome, and that she danced a country dance with
the writer hereof (Acres to your Falkland) in a thorough spirit of
becoming good humour and enjoyment. Now you don't like to be told that?
Nor do you quite like to hear that Forster and I conjured bravely; that
a plum-pudding was produced from an empty saucepan, held over a blazing
fire kindled in Stanfield's hat without damage to the lining; that a box
of bran was changed into a live guinea-pig, which ran between my
godchild's feet, and was the cause of such a shrill uproar and clapping
of hands that you might have heard it (and I daresay did) in America;
that three half-crowns being taken from Major Burns and put into a
tumbler-glass before his eyes, did then and there give jingling answers
to the questions asked of them by me, and knew where you were and what
you were doing, to the unspeakable admiration of the whole assembly.
Neither do you quite like to be told that we are going to do it again
next Saturday, with the addition of demoniacal dresses from the
masquerade shop; nor that Mrs. Macready, for her gallant bearing always,
and her best sort of best affection, is the best creature I know. Never
mind; no man shall gag me, and those are my opinions.
My dear Macready, the lecturing proposition is not to be thought of. I
have not the slightest doubt or hesitation in giving you my most
strenuous and decided advice against it. Looking only to its effect at
home, I am immovable in my conviction that the impression it would
produce would be one of failure, and a reduction of yourself to the
level of those who do the like here. To us who know the Boston names and
honour them, and who know Boston and like it (Boston is what I would
have the whole United States to be), the Boston requisition would be a
valuable document, of which you and your friends might be proud. But
those names are perfectly unknown to the public here, and would produce
not the least effect. The only thing known to the public here is, that
they ask (when I say "they" I mean the people) everybody to lecture. It
is one of the things I have ridiculed in "Chuzzlewit." Lecture you, and
you fall into the roll of Lardners, Vandenhoffs, Eltons, Knowleses,
Buckinghams. You are off your pedestal, have flung away your glass
slipper, and changed your triumphal coach into a seedy old pumpkin. I am
quite sure of it, and cannot express my strong conviction in language of
sufficient force.
"Puff-ridden!" why to be sure they are. The nation is a miserable
Sindbad, and its boasted press the loathsome, foul old man upon his
back, and yet they will tell you, and proclaim to the four winds for
repetition here, that they don't need their ignorant and brutal papers,
as if the papers could exist if they didn't need them! Let any two of
these vagabonds, in any town you go to, take it into their heads to make
you an object of attack, or to direct the general attention elsewhere,
and what avail those wonderful images of passion which you have been all
your life perfecting!
I have sent you, to the charge of our trusty and well-beloved Colden, a
little book I published on the 17th of December, and which has been a
most prodigious success--the greatest, I think, I have ever achieved. It
pleases me to think that it will bring you home for an hour or two, and
I long to hear you have read it on some quiet morning. Do they allow you
to be quiet, by-the-way? "Some of our most fashionable people, sir,"
denounced me awfully for liking to be alone sometimes.
Now that we have turned Christmas, I feel as if your face were directed
homewards, Macready. The downhill part of the road is before us now, and
we shall travel on to midsummer at a dashing pace; and, please Heaven, I
will be at Liverpool when you come steaming up the Mersey, with that red
funnel smoking out unutterable things, and your heart much fuller than
your trunks, though something lighter! If I be not the first Englishman
to shake hands with you on English ground, the man who gets before me
will be a brisk and active fellow, and even then need put his best leg
foremost. So I warn Forster to keep in the rear, or he'll be blown.
If you shall have any leisure to project and put on paper the outline of
a scheme for opening any theatre on your return, upon a certain list
subscribed, and on certain understandings with the actors, it strikes me
that it would be wise to break ground while you are still away. Of
course I need not say that I will see anybody or do anything--even to
the calling together of the actors--if you should ever deem it
desirable. My opinion is that our respected and valued friend Mr. ----
will stagger through another season, if he don't rot first. I understand
he is in a partial state of decomposition at this minute. He was very
ill, but got better. How is it that ---- always do get better, and
strong hearts are so easy to die?
Kate sends her tender love; so does Georgy, so does Charlie, so does
Mamey, so does Katey, so does Walter, so does the other one who is to be
born next week. Look homeward always, as we look abroad to you. God
bless you, my dear Macready.
Ever your affectionate Friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Laman%20Blanchard/81Charles Dickens
1844-01-04[Sidenote: Mr. Laman Blanchard.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _January 4th, 1844._
MY DEAR BLANCHARD,
I cannot thank you enough for the beautiful manner and the true spirit
of friendship in which you have noticed my "Carol." But I _must_ thank
you because you have filled my heart up to the brim, and it is running
over.
You meant to give me great pleasure, my dear fellow, and you have done
it. The tone of your elegant and fervent praise has touched me in the
tenderest place. I cannot write about it, and as to talking of it, I
could no more do that than a dumb man. I have derived inexpressible
gratification from what I know was a labour of love on your part. And I
can never forget it.
When I think it likely that I may meet you (perhaps at Ainsworth's on
Friday?) I shall slip a "Carol" into my pocket and ask you to put it
among your books for my sake. You will never like it the less for having
made it the means of so much happiness to me.
Always, my dear Blanchard,
Faithfully your Friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Catherine%20Dickens/82Charles Dickens
1844-02-26[Sidenote: Mrs. Charles Dickens.]
LIVERPOOL, RADLEY'S HOTEL, _Monday, Feb. 26th, 1844._
MY DEAR KATE,
I got down here last night (after a most intolerably wet journey) before
seven, and found Thompson sitting by my fire. He had ordered dinner, and
we ate it pleasantly enough, and went to bed in good time. This morning,
Mr. Yates, the great man connected with the Institution (and a brother
of Ashton Yates's), called. I went to look at it with him. It is an
enormous place, and the tickets have been selling at two and even three
guineas apiece. The lecture-room, in which the celebration is held, will
accommodate over thirteen hundred people. It was being fitted with gas
after the manner of the ring at Astley's. I should think it an easy
place to speak in, being a semicircle with seats rising one above
another to the ceiling, and will have eight hundred ladies to-night, in
full dress. I am rayther shaky just now, but shall pull up, I have no
doubt. At dinner-time to-morrow you will receive, I hope, a facetious
document hastily penned after I return to-night, telling you how it all
went off.
When I came back here, I found Fanny and Hewett had picked me up just
before. We all went off straight to the _Britannia_, which lay where she
did when we went on board. We went into the old little cabin and the
ladies' cabin, but Mrs. Bean had gone to Scotland, as the ship does not
sail again before May. In the saloon we had some champagne and biscuits,
and Hewett had set out upon the table a block of Boston ice, weighing
fifty pounds. Scott, of the _Caledonia_, lunched with us--a very nice
fellow. He saw Macready play Macbeth in Boston, and gave me a tremendous
account of the effect. Poor Burroughs, of the _George Washington_, died
on board, on his last passage home. His little wife was with him.
Hewett dines with us to-day, and I have procured him admission to-night.
I am very sorry indeed (and so was he), that you didn't see the old
ship. It was the strangest thing in the world to go on board again.
I had Bacon with me as far as Watford yesterday, and very pleasant.
Sheil was also in the train, on his way to Ireland.
Give my best love to Georgy, and kisses to the darlings. Also
affectionate regards to Mac and Forster.
Ever affectionately.
OUT OF THE COMMON--PLEASE.
DICKENS _against_ THE WORLD.
Charles Dickens, of No. 1, Devonshire Terrace, York Gate, Regent's Park,
in the county of Middlesex, gentleman, the successful plaintiff in the
above cause, maketh oath and saith: That on the day and date hereof, to
wit at seven o'clock in the evening, he, this deponent, took the chair
at a large assembly of the Mechanics' Institution at Liverpool, and that
having been received with tremendous and enthusiastic plaudits, he, this
deponent, did immediately dash into a vigorous, brilliant, humorous,
pathetic, eloquent, fervid, and impassioned speech. That the said speech
was enlivened by thirteen hundred persons, with frequent, vehement,
uproarious, and deafening cheers, and to the best of this deponent's
knowledge and belief, he, this deponent, did speak up like a man, and
did, to the best of his knowledge and belief, considerably distinguish
himself. That after the proceedings of the opening were over, and a vote
of thanks was proposed to this deponent, he, this deponent, did again
distinguish himself, and that the cheering at that time, accompanied
with clapping of hands and stamping of feet, was in this deponent's case
thundering and awful. And this deponent further saith, that his
white-and-black or magpie waistcoat, did create a strong sensation, and
that during the hours of promenading, this deponent heard from persons
surrounding him such exclamations as, "What is it! _Is_ it a waistcoat?
No, it's a shirt"--and the like--all of which this deponent believes to
have been complimentary and gratifying; but this deponent further saith
that he is now going to supper, and wishes he may have an appetite to
eat it.
CHARLES DICKENS.
Sworn before me, at the Adelphi }
Hotel, Liverpool, on the 26th }
of February, 1844. }
S. RADLEY.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Clarkson%20Stanfield/83Charles Dickens
1844-04-30[Sidenote: Mr. Clarkson Stanfield.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _April 30th, 1844._
MY DEAR STANFIELD,
The Sanatorium, or sick house for students, governesses, clerks, young
artists, and so forth, who are above hospitals, and not rich enough to
be well attended in illness in their own lodgings (you know its
objects), is going to have a dinner at the London Tavern, on Tuesday,
the 5th of June.
The Committee are very anxious to have you for a steward, as one of the
heads of a large class; and I have told them that I have no doubt you
will act. There is no steward's fee or collection whatever.
They are particularly anxious also to have Mr. Etty and Edwin Landseer.
As you see them daily at the Academy, will you ask them or show them
this note? Sir Martin became one of the Committee some few years ago,
at my solicitation, as recommending young artists, struggling alone in
London, to the better knowledge of this establishment.
The dinner is to comprise the new feature of ladies dining at the tables
with the gentlemen--not looking down upon them from the gallery. I hope
in your reply you will not only book yourself, but Mrs. Stanfield and
Mary. It will be very brilliant and cheerful I hope. Dick in the chair.
Gentlemen's dinner-tickets a guinea, as usual; ladies', twelve
shillings. I think this is all I have to say, except (which is
nonsensical and needless) that I am always,
Affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Edwin%20Landseer/84Charles Dickens
1844-05-27[Sidenote: Mr. Edwin Landseer.]
ATHENAEUM, _Monday Morning, May 27th, 1844._
MY DEAR LANDSEER,
I have let my house with such delicious promptitude, or, as the
Americans would say, "with sich everlass'in slickness and al-mity
sprydom," that we turn out to-night! in favour of a widow lady, who
keeps it all the time we are away!
Wherefore if you, looking up into the sky this evening between five and
six (as possibly you may be, in search of the spring), should see a
speck in the air--a mere dot--which, growing larger and larger by
degrees, appears in course of time to be an eagle (chain and all) in a
light cart, accompanied by a raven of uncommon sagacity, curse that
good-nature which prompted you to say it--that you would give them
house-room. And do it for the love of
BOZ.
P.S.--The writer hereof may be heerd on by personal enquiry at No. 9,
Osnaburgh Terrace, New Road.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Charles%20Knight/85Charles Dickens
1844-06-04[Sidenote: Mr. Charles Knight.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _June 4th, 1844._
MY DEAR SIR,
Many thanks for your proof, and for your truly gratifying mention of my
name. I think the subject excellently chosen, the introduction exactly
what it should be, the allusion to the International Copyright question
most honourable and manly, and the whole scheme full of the highest
interest. I had already seen your prospectus, and if I can be of the
feeblest use in advancing a project so intimately connected with an end
on which my heart is set--the liberal education of the people--I shall
be sincerely glad. All good wishes and success attend you!
Believe me always,
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Dudley%20Costello/86Charles Dickens
1844-06-07[Sidenote: Mr. Dudley Costello.]
_June 7th, 1844._
DEAR SIR,
Mrs. Harris, being in that delicate state (just confined, and "made
comfortable," in fact), hears some sounds below, which she fancies may
be the owls (or howls) of the husband to whom she is devoted. They ease
her mind by informing her that these sounds are only organs. By "they" I
mean the gossips and attendants. By "organs" I mean instrumental boxes
with barrels in them, which are commonly played by foreigners under the
windows of people of sedentary pursuits, on a speculation of being
bribed to leave the street. Mrs. Harris, being of a confiding nature,
believed in this pious fraud, and was fully satisfied "that his owls was
organs."
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Robert%20Keeley/87Charles Dickens
1844-06-24[Sidenote: Mr. Robert Keeley.]
9, OSNABURGH TERRACE, _Monday Evening, June 24th, 1844._
MY DEAR SIR,
I have been out yachting for two or three days; and consequently could
not answer your letter in due course.
I cannot, consistently with the opinion I hold and have always held, in
reference to the principle of adapting novels for the stage, give you a
prologue to "Chuzzlewit." But believe me to be quite sincere in saying
that if I felt I could reasonably do such a thing for anyone, I would do
it for you.
I start for Italy on Monday next, but if you have the piece on the
stage, and rehearse on Friday, I will gladly come down at any time you
may appoint on that morning, and go through it with you all. If you be
not in a sufficiently forward state to render this proposal convenient
to you, or likely to assist your preparations, do not take the trouble
to answer this note.
I presume Mrs. Keeley will do Ruth Pinch. If so, I feel secure about
her, and of Mrs. Gamp I am certain. But a queer sensation begins in my
legs, and comes upward to my forehead, when I think of Tom.
Faithfully yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Daniel%20Maclise/88Charles Dickens
1844-07-22[Sidenote: Mr. Daniel Maclise.]
VILLA DI BAGNARELLO, ALBARO, _Monday, July 22nd, 1844._
MY VERY DEAR MAC,
I address you with something of the lofty spirit of an exile--a banished
commoner--a sort of Anglo-Pole. I don't exactly know what I have done
for my country in coming away from it; but I feel it is
something--something great--something virtuous and heroic. Lofty
emotions rise within me, when I see the sun set on the blue
Mediterranean. I am the limpet on the rock. My father's name is Turner
and my boots are green.
Apropos of blue. In a certain picture, called "The Serenade," you
painted a sky. If you ever have occasion to paint the Mediterranean, let
it be exactly of that colour. It lies before me now, as deeply and
intensely blue. But no such colour is above me. Nothing like it. In the
South of France--at Avignon, at Aix, at Marseilles--I saw deep blue
skies (not _so_ deep though--oh Lord, no!), and also in America; but the
sky above me is familiar to my sight. Is it heresy to say that I have
seen its twin-brother shining through the window of Jack Straw's--that
down in Devonshire I have seen a better sky? I daresay it is; but like a
great many other heresies, it is true.
But such green--green--green--as flutters in the vineyard down below the
windows, _that_ I never saw; nor yet such lilac, and such purple as
float between me and the distant hills; nor yet--in anything--picture,
book, or verbal boredom--such awful, solemn, impenetrable blue, as is
that same sea. It has such an absorbing, silent, deep, profound effect,
that I can't help thinking it suggested the idea of Styx. It looks as if
a draught of it--only so much as you could scoop up on the beach, in the
hollow of your hand--would wash out everything else, and make a great
blue blank of your intellect.
When the sun sets clearly, then, by Heaven, it is majestic! From any one
of eleven windows here, or from a terrace overgrown with grapes, you may
behold the broad sea; villas, houses, mountains, forts, strewn with rose
leaves--strewn with thorns--stifled in thorns! Dyed through and through
and through. For a moment. No more. The sun is impatient and fierce,
like everything else in these parts, and goes down headlong. Run to
fetch your hat--and it's night. Wink at the right time of black
night--and it's morning. Everything is in extremes. There is an insect
here (I forget its name, and Fletcher and Roche are both out) that
chirps all day. There is one outside the window now. The chirp is very
loud, something like a Brobdingnagian grasshopper. The creature is born
to chirp--to progress in chirping--to chirp louder, louder, louder--till
it gives one tremendous chirp, and bursts itself. That is its life and
death. Everything "is in a concatenation accordingly." The day gets
brighter, brighter, brighter, till it's night. The summer gets hotter,
hotter, hotter, till it bursts. The fruit gets riper, riper, riper, till
it tumbles down and rots.
Ask me a question or two about fresco--will you be so good? All the
houses are painted in fresco hereabout--the outside walls I mean; the
fronts, and backs, and sides--and all the colour has run into damp and
green seediness, and the very design has struggled away into the
component atoms of the plaster. Sometimes (but not often) I can make out
a Virgin with a mildewed glory round her head; holding nothing, in an
indiscernible lap, with invisible arms; and occasionally the leg or arms
of a cherub, but it is very melancholy and dim. There are two old
fresco-painted vases outside my own gate--one on either hand--which are
so faint, that I never saw them till last night; and only then because I
was looking over the wall after a lizard, who had come upon me while I
was smoking a cigar above, and crawled over one of these embellishments
to his retreat. There is a church here--the Church of the
Annunciation--which they are now (by "they" I mean certain noble
families) restoring at a vast expense, as a work of piety. It is a large
church, with a great many little chapels in it, and a very high dome.
Every inch of this edifice is painted, and every design is set in a
great gold frame or border elaborately wrought. You can imagine nothing
so splendid. It is worth coming the whole distance to see. But every
sort of splendour is in perpetual enactment through the means of these
churches. Gorgeous processions in the streets, illuminations of windows
on festa nights; lighting up of lamps and clustering of flowers before
the shrines of saints; all manner of show and display. The doors of the
churches stand wide open; and in this hot weather great red curtains
flutter and wave in their palaces; and if you go and sit in one of these
to get out of the sun, you see the queerest figures kneeling against
pillars, and the strangest people passing in and out, and vast streams
of women in veils (they don't wear bonnets), with great fans in their
hands, coming and going, that you are never tired of looking on. Except
in the churches, you would suppose the city (at this time of year) to be
deserted, the people keep so close within doors. Indeed it is next to
impossible to go out into the heat. I have only been into Genoa twice
myself. We are deliciously cool here, by comparison; being high, and
having the sea breeze. There is always some shade in the vineyard, too;
and underneath the rocks on the sea-shore, so if I choose to saunter I
can do it easily, even in the hot time of the day. I am as lazy,
however, as--as you are, and do little but eat and drink and read.
As I am going to transmit regular accounts of all sight-seeings and
journeyings to Forster, who will show them to you, I will not bore you
with descriptions, however. I hardly think you allow enough for the
great brightness and brilliancy of colour which is commonly achieved on
the Continent, in that same fresco painting. I saw some--by a French
artist and his pupil--in progress at the cathedral at Avignon, which
was as bright and airy as anything can be,--nothing dull or dead about
it; and I have observed quite fierce and glaring colours elsewhere.
We have a piano now (there was none in the house), and have fallen into
a pretty settled easy track. We breakfast about half-past nine or ten,
dine about four, and go to bed about eleven. We are much courted by the
visiting people, of course, and I very much resort to my old habit of
bolting from callers, and leaving their reception to Kate. Green figs I
have already learnt to like. Green almonds (we have them at dessert
every day) are the most delicious fruit in the world. And green lemons,
combined with some rare hollands that is to be got here, make prodigious
punch, I assure you. You ought to come over, Mac; but I don't expect
you, though I am sure it would be a very good move for you. I have not
the smallest doubt of that. Fletcher has made a sketch of the house, and
will copy it in pen-and-ink for transmission to you in my next letter. I
shall look out for a place in Genoa, between this and the winter time.
In the meantime, the people who come out here breathe delightedly, as if
they had got into another climate. Landing in the city, you would hardly
suppose it possible that there could be such an air within two miles.
Write to me as often as you can, like a dear good fellow, and rely upon
the punctuality of my correspondence. Losing you and Forster is like
losing my arms and legs, and dull and lame I am without you. But at
Broadstairs next year, please God, when it is all over, I shall be very
glad to have laid up such a store of recollections and improvement.
I don't know what to do with Timber. He is as ill-adapted to the climate
at this time of year as a suit of fur. I have had him made a lion dog;
but the fleas flock in such crowds into the hair he has left, that they
drive him nearly frantic, and renders it absolutely necessary that he
should be kept by himself. Of all the miserable hideous little frights
you ever saw, you never beheld such a devil. Apropos, as we were
crossing the Seine within two stages of Paris, Roche suddenly said to
me, sitting by me on the box: "The littel dog 'ave got a great lip!" I
was thinking of things remote and very different, and couldn't
comprehend why any peculiarity in this feature on the part of the dog
should excite a man so much. As I was musing upon it, my ears were
attracted by shouts of "Helo! hola! Hi, hi, hi! Le voila! Regardez!" and
the like. And looking down among the oxen--we were in the centre of a
numerous drove--I saw him, Timber, lying in the road, curled up--you
know his way--like a lobster, only not so stiff, yelping dismally in the
pain of his "lip" from the roof of the carriage; and between the aching
of his bones, his horror of the oxen, and his dread of me (who he
evidently took to be the immediate agent in and cause of the damage),
singing out to an extent which I believe to be perfectly unprecedented;
while every Frenchman and French boy within sight roared for company. He
wasn't hurt.
Kate and Georgina send their best loves; and the children add "theirs."
Katey, in particular, desires to be commended to "Mr. Teese." She has a
sore throat; from sitting in constant draughts, I suppose; but with that
exception, we are all quite well. Ever believe me, my dear Mac,
Your affectionate Friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Rev%20Edward%20Tagart/89Charles Dickens
1844-08-09[Sidenote: Rev. Edward Tagart.]
ALBARO, NEAR GENOA, _Friday, August 9th, 1844._
MY DEAR SIR,
I find that if I wait to write you a long letter (which has been the
cause of my procrastination in fulfilling my part of our agreement), I
am likely to wait some time longer. And as I am very anxious to hear
from you; not the less so, because if I hear of you through my brother,
who usually sees you once a week in my absence; I take pen in hand and
stop a messenger who is going to Genoa. For my main object being to
qualify myself for the receipt of a letter from you, I don't see why a
ten-line qualification is not as good as one of a hundred lines.
You told me it was possible that you and Mrs. Tagart might wander into
these latitudes in the autumn. I wish you would carry out that infant
intention to the utmost. It would afford us the truest delight and
pleasure to receive you. If you come in October, you will find us in the
Palazzo Peschiere, in Genoa, which is surrounded by a delicious garden,
and is a most charming habitation in all respects. If you come in
September, you will find us less splendidly lodged, but on the margin of
the sea, and in the midst of vineyards. The climate is delightful even
now; the heat being not at all oppressive, except in the actual city,
which is what the Americans would call considerable fiery, in the middle
of the day. But the sea-breezes out here are refreshing and cool every
day, and the bathing in the early morning is something more agreeable
than you can easily imagine. The orange trees of the Peschiere shall
give you their most fragrant salutations if you come to us at that
time, and we have a dozen spare beds in that house that I know of; to
say nothing of some vast chambers here and there with ancient iron
chests in them, where Mrs. Tagart might enact Ginevra to perfection, and
never be found out. To prevent which, I will engage to watch her
closely, if she will only come and see us.
The flies are incredibly numerous just now. The unsightly blot a little
higher up was occasioned by a very fine one who fell into the inkstand,
and came out, unexpectedly, on the nib of my pen. We are all quite well,
thank Heaven, and had a very interesting journey here, of which, as well
as of this place, I will not write a word, lest I should take the edge
off those agreeable conversations with which we will beguile our walks.
Pray tell me about the presentation of the plate, and whether ---- was
very slow, or trotted at all, and if so, when. He is an excellent
creature, and I respect him very much, so I don't mind smiling when I
think of him as he appeared when addressing you and pointing to the
plate, with his head a little on one side, and one of his eyes turned up
languidly.
Also let me know exactly how you are travelling, and when, and all about
it; that I may meet you with open arms on the threshold of the city, if
happily you bend your steps this way. You had better address me, "Poste
Restante, Genoa," as the Albaro postman gets drunk, and when he has lost
letters, and is sober, sheds tears--which is affecting, but hardly
satisfactory.
Kate and her sister send their best regards to yourself, and Mrs. and
Miss Tagart, and all your family. I heartily join them in all kind
remembrances and good wishes. As the messenger has just looked in at the
door, and shedding on me a balmy gale of onions, has protested against
being detained any longer, I will only say (which is not at all
necessary) that I am ever,
Faithfully yours.
P.S.--There is a little to see here, in the church way, I assure you.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Clarkson%20Stanfield/90Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. Clarkson Stanfield.]
ALBARO, _Saturday Night, August 24th, 1844._
MY DEAR STANFIELD,
I love you so truly, and have such pride and joy of heart in your
friendship, that I don't know how to begin writing to you. When I think
how you are walking up and down London in that portly surtout, and can't
receive proposals from Dick to go to the theatre, I fall into a state
between laughing and crying, and want some friendly back to smite.
"Je-im!" "Aye, aye, your honour," is in my ears every time I walk upon
the sea-shore here; and the number of expeditions I make into Cornwall
in my sleep, the springs of Flys I break, the songs I sing, and the
bowls of punch I drink, would soften a heart of stone.
We have had weather here, since five o'clock this morning, after your
own heart. Suppose yourself the Admiral in "Black-eyed Susan" after the
acquittal of William, and when it was possible to be on friendly terms
with him. I am T. P.[4] My trousers are very full at the ankles, my
black neckerchief is tied in the regular style, the name of my ship is
painted round my glazed hat, I have a red waistcoat on, and the seams of
my blue jacket are "paid"--permit me to dig you in the ribs when I make
use of this nautical expression--with white. In my hand I hold the very
box connected with the story of Sandomingerbilly. I lift up my eyebrows
as far as I can (on the T. P. model), take a quid from the box, screw
the lid on again (chewing at the same time, and looking pleasantly at
the pit), brush it with my right elbow, take up my right leg, scrape my
right foot on the ground, hitch up my trousers, and in reply to a
question of yours, namely, "Indeed, what weather, William?" I deliver
myself as follows:
Lord love your honour! Weather! Such weather as
would set all hands to the pumps aboard one of
your fresh-water cockboats, and set the purser
to his wits' ends to stow away, for the use of
the ship's company, the casks and casks full of
blue water as would come powering in over the
gunnel! The dirtiest night, your honour, as
ever you see 'atween Spithead at gun-fire and
the Bay of Biscay! The wind sou'-west, and your
house dead in the wind's eye; the breakers
running up high upon the rocky beads, the
light'us no more looking through the fog than
Davy Jones's sarser eye through the blue sky of
heaven in a calm, or the blue toplights of your
honour's lady cast down in a modest overhauling
of her catheads: avast! (_whistling_) my dear
eyes; here am I a-goin' head on to the breakers
(_bowing_).
_Admiral_ (_smiling_). No, William! I admire
plain speaking, as you know, and so does old
England, William, and old England's Queen. But
you were saying----
_William._ Aye, aye, your honour (_scratching
his head_). I've lost my reckoning. Damme!--I
ast pardon--but won't your honour throw a
hencoop or any old end of towline to a man as
is overboard?
_Admiral_ (_smiling still_). You were saying,
William, that the wind----
_William_ (_again cocking his leg, and slapping
the thighs very hard_). Avast heaving, your
honour! I see your honour's signal fluttering
in the breeze, without a glass. As I was
a-saying, your honour, the wind was blowin'
from the sou'-west, due sou'-west, your honour,
not a pint to larboard nor a pint to starboard;
the clouds a-gatherin' in the distance for all
the world like Beachy Head in a fog, the sea
a-rowling in, in heaps of foam, and making
higher than the mainyard arm, the craft
a-scuddin' by all taught and under storms'ils
for the harbour; not a blessed star a-twinklin'
out aloft--aloft, your honour, in the little
cherubs' native country--and the spray is
flying like the white foam from the Jolly's
lips when Poll of Portsea took him for a
tailor! (_laughs._)
_Admiral_ (_laughing also_). You have described
it well, William, and I thank you. But who are
these?
_Enter Supers in calico jackets to look like
cloth, some in brown holland petticoat-trousers
and big boots, all with very large buckles.
Last Super rolls on a cask, and pretends to
keep it. Other Supers apply their mugs to the
bunghole and drink, previously holding them
upside down._
_William_ (_after shaking hands with
everybody_). Who are these, your honour!
Messmates as staunch and true as ever broke
biscuit. Ain't you, my lads?
_All._ Aye, aye, William. That we are! that we
are!
_Admiral_ (_much affected_). Oh, England, what
wonder that----! But I will no longer detain
you from your sports, my humble friends
(ADMIRAL _speaks very low, and looks hard at
the orchestra, this being the cue for the
dance_)--from your sports, my humble friends.
Farewell!
_All._ Hurrah! hurrah! [_Exit_ ADMIRAL.
_Voice behind._ Suppose the dance, Mr.
Stanfield. Are you all ready? Go then!
My dear Stanfield, I wish you would come this way and see me in that
Palazzo Peschiere! Was ever man so welcome as I would make you! What a
truly gentlemanly action it would be to bring Mrs. Stanfield and the
baby. And how Kate and her sister would wave pocket-handkerchiefs from
the wharf in joyful welcome! Ah, what a glorious proceeding!
Do you know this place? Of course you do. I won't bore you with anything
about it, for I know Forster reads my letters to you; but what a place
it is. The views from the hills here, and the immense variety of
prospects of the sea, are as striking, I think, as such scenery can be.
Above all, the approach to Genoa, by sea from Marseilles, constitutes a
picture which you ought to paint, for nobody else can ever do it!
William, you made that bridge at Avignon better than it is. Beautiful as
it undoubtedly is, you made it fifty times better. And if I were
Morrison, or one of that school (bless the dear fellows one and all!), I
wouldn't stand it, but would insist on having another picture gratis, to
atone for the imposition.
The night is like a seaside night in England towards the end of
September. They say it is the prelude to clear weather. But the wind is
roaring now, and the sea is raving, and the rain is driving down, as if
they had all set in for a real hearty picnic, and each had brought its
own relations to the general festivity. I don't know whether you are
acquainted with the coastguard and men in these parts? They are
extremely civil fellows, of a very amiable manner and appearance, but
the most innocent men in matters you would suppose them to be well
acquainted with, in virtue of their office, that I ever encountered. One
of them asked me only yesterday, if it would take a year to get to
England in a ship? Which I thought for a coastguardman was rather a tidy
question. It would take a long time to catch a ship going there if he
were on board a pursuing cutter though. I think he would scarcely do it
in twelve months, indeed.
So you were at Astley's t'other night. "Now, Mr. Stickney, sir, what can
I come for to go for to do for to bring for to fetch for to carry for
you, sir?" "He, he, he! Oh, I say, sir!" "Well, sir?" "Miss Woolford
knows me, sir. She laughed at me!" I see him run away after this; not on
his feet, but on his knees and the calves of his legs alternately; and
that smell of sawdusty horses, which was never in any other place in the
world, salutes my nose with painful distinctness. What do you think of
my suddenly finding myself a swimmer? But I have really made the
discovery, and skim about a little blue bay just below the town here,
like a fish in high spirits. I hope to preserve my bathing-dress for
your inspection and approval, or possibly to enrich your collection of
Italian costumes on my return. Do you recollect Yarnold in "Masaniello"?
I fear that I, unintentionally, "dress at him," before plunging into the
sea. I enhanced the likeness very much, last Friday morning, by singing
a barcarole on the rocks. I was a trifle too flesh-coloured (the stage
knowing no medium between bright salmon and dirty yellow), but apart
from that defect, not badly made up by any means. When you write to me,
my dear Stanny, as I hope you will soon, address Poste Restante, Genoa.
I remain out here until the end of September, and send in for my letters
daily. There is a postman for this place, but he gets drunk and loses
the letters; after which he calls to say so, and to fall upon his knees.
About three weeks ago I caught him at a wine-shop near here, playing
bowls in the garden. It was then about five o'clock in the afternoon,
and he had been airing a newspaper addressed to me, since nine o'clock
in the morning.
Kate and Georgina unite with me in most cordial remembrances to Mrs. and
Miss Stanfield, and to all the children. They particularise all sorts of
messages, but I tell them that they had better write themselves if they
want to send any. Though I don't know that this writing would end in the
safe deliverance of the commodities after all; for when I began this
letter, I meant to give utterance to all kinds of heartiness, my dear
Stanfield; and I come to the end of it without having said anything more
than that I am--which is new to you--under every circumstance and
everywhere,
Your most affectionate Friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/91Charles Dickens
1844-10-14[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
PALAZZO PESCHIERE, GENOA, _October 14th, 1844._
MY VERY DEAR MACREADY,
My whole heart is with you _at home_. I have not yet felt so far off as
I do now, when I think of you there, and cannot fold you in my arms.
This is only a shake of the hand. I couldn't _say_ much to you, if I
were home to greet you. Nor can I write much, when I think of you, safe
and sound and happy, after all your wanderings.
My dear fellow, God bless you twenty thousand times. Happiness and joy
be with you! I hope to see you soon. If I should be so unfortunate as to
miss you in London, I will fall upon you, with a swoop of love, in
Paris. Kate says all kind things in the language; and means more than
are in the dictionary capacity of all the descendants of all the
stonemasons that worked at Babel. Again and again and again, my own true
friend, God bless you!
Ever yours affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Douglas%20Jerrold/92Charles Dickens
1844-10-16[Sidenote: Mr. Douglas Jerrold.]
CREMONA, _Saturday Night, October 16th, 1844._
MY DEAR JERROLD,
As half a loaf is better than no bread, so I hope that half a sheet of
paper may be better than none at all, coming from one who is anxious to
live in your memory and friendship. I should have redeemed the pledge I
gave you in this regard long since, but occupation at one time, and
absence from pen and ink at another, have prevented me.
Forster has told you, or will tell you, that I very much wish you to
hear my little Christmas book; and I hope you will meet me, at his
bidding, in Lincoln's Inn Fields. I have tried to strike a blow upon
that part of the brass countenance of wicked Cant, when such a
compliment is sorely needed at this time, and I trust that the result of
my training is at least the exhibition of a strong desire to make it a
staggerer. If _you_ should think at the end of the four rounds (there
are no more) that the said Cant, in the language of _Bell's Life_,
"comes up piping," I shall be very much the better for it.
I am now on my way to Milan; and from thence (after a day or two's rest)
I mean to come to England by the grandest Alpine pass that the snow may
leave open. You know this place as famous of yore for fiddles. I don't
see any here now. But there is a whole street of coppersmiths not far
from this inn; and they throb so d----ably and fitfully, that I thought
I had a palpitation of the heart after dinner just now, and seldom was
more relieved than when I found the noise to be none of mine.
I was rather shocked yesterday (I am not strong in geographical details)
to find that Romeo was only banished twenty-five miles. That is the
distance between Mantua and Verona. The latter is a quaint old place,
with great houses in it that are now solitary and shut up--exactly the
place it ought to be. The former has a great many apothecaries in it at
this moment, who could play that part to the life. For of all the
stagnant ponds I ever beheld, it is the greenest and weediest. I went to
see the old palace of the Capulets, which is still distinguished by
their cognizance (a hat carved in stone on the courtyard wall). It is a
miserable inn. The court was full of crazy coaches, carts, geese, and
pigs, and was ankle-deep in mud and dung. The garden is walled off and
built out. There was nothing to connect it with its old inhabitants, and
a very unsentimental lady at the kitchen door. The Montagues used to
live some two or three miles off in the country. It does not appear
quite clear whether they ever inhabited Verona itself. But there is a
village bearing their name to this day, and traditions of the quarrels
between the two families are still as nearly alive as anything can be,
in such a drowsy neighbourhood.
It was very hearty and good of you, Jerrold, to make that affectionate
mention of the "Carol" in _Punch_, and I assure you it was not lost on
the distant object of your manly regard, but touched him as you wished
and meant it should. I wish we had not lost so much time in improving
our personal knowledge of each other. But I have so steadily read you,
and so selfishly gratified myself in always expressing the admiration
with which your gallant truths inspired me, that I must not call it time
lost, either.
You rather entertained a notion, once, of coming to see me at Genoa. I
shall return straight, on the 9th of December, limiting my stay in town
to one week. Now couldn't you come back with me? The journey, that way,
is very cheap, costing little more than twelve pounds; and I am sure the
gratification to you would be high. I am lodged in quite a wonderful
place, and would put you in a painted room, as big as a church and much
more comfortable. There are pens and ink upon the premises; orange
trees, gardens, battledores and shuttlecocks, rousing wood-fires for
evenings, and a welcome worth having.
Come! Letter from a gentleman in Italy to Bradbury and Evans in London.
Letter from a gentleman in a country gone to sleep to a gentleman in a
country that would go to sleep too, and never wake again, if some people
had their way. You can work in Genoa. The house is used to it. It is
exactly a week's post. Have that portmanteau looked to, and when we
meet, say, "I am coming."
I have never in my life been so struck by any place as by Venice. It is
_the_ wonder of the world. Dreamy, beautiful, inconsistent, impossible,
wicked, shadowy, d----able old place. I entered it by night, and the
sensation of that night and the bright morning that followed is a part
of me for the rest of my existence. And, oh God! the cells below the
water, underneath the Bridge of Sighs; the nook where the monk came at
midnight to confess the political offender; the bench where he was
strangled; the deadly little vault in which they tied him in a sack, and
the stealthy crouching little door through which they hurried him into a
boat, and bore him away to sink him where no fisherman dare cast his
net--all shown by torches that blink and wink, as if they were ashamed
to look upon the gloomy theatre of sad horrors; past and gone as they
are, these things stir a man's blood, like a great wrong or passion of
the instant. And with these in their minds, and with a museum there,
having a chamber full of such frightful instruments of torture as the
devil in a brain fever could scarcely invent, there are hundreds of
parrots, who will declaim to you in speech and print, by the hour
together, on the degeneracy of the times in which a railroad is building
across the water at Venice; instead of going down on their knees, the
drivellers, and thanking Heaven that they live in a time when iron makes
roads, instead of prison bars and engines for driving screws into the
skulls of innocent men. Before God, I could almost turn bloody-minded,
and shoot the parrots of our island with as little compunction as
Robinson Crusoe shot the parrots in his.
I have not been in bed, these ten days, after five in the morning, and
have been, travelling many hours every day. If this be the cause of my
inflicting a very stupid and sleepy letter on you, my dear Jerrold, I
hope it will be a kind of signal at the same time, of my wish to hail
you lovingly even from this sleepy and unpromising state. And believe me
as I am,
Always your Friend and Admirer.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Thomas%20Mitton/93Charles Dickens
1844-11-05[Sidenote: Mr. Thomas Mitton.]
PESCHIERE, GENOA, _Tuesday, Nov. 5th, 1844._
MY DEAR MITTON,
The cause of my not having written to you is too obvious to need any
explanation. I have worn myself to death in the month I have been at
work. None of my usual reliefs have been at hand; I have not been able
to divest myself of the story--have suffered very much in my sleep in
consequence--and am so shaken by such work in this trying climate, that
I am as nervous as a man who is dying of drink, and as haggard as a
murderer.
I believe I have written a tremendous book, and knocked the "Carol" out
of the field. It will make a great uproar, I have no doubt.
I leave here to-morrow for Venice and many other places; and I shall
certainly come to London to see my proofs, coming by new ground all the
way, cutting through the snow in the valleys of Switzerland, and
plunging through the mountains in the dead of winter. I would accept
your hearty offer with right goodwill, but my visit being one of
business and consultation, I see impediments in the way, and
insurmountable reasons for not doing so. Therefore, I shall go to an
hotel in Covent Garden, where they know me very well, and with the
landlord of which I have already communicated. My orders are not upon a
mighty scale, extending no further than a good bedroom and a cold
shower-bath.
Bradbury and Evans are going at it, ding-dong, and are wild with
excitement. All news on that subject (and on every other) I must defer
till I see you. That will be immediately after I arrive, of course. Most
likely on Monday, 2nd December.
Kate and her sister (who send their best regards) and all the children
are as well as possible. The house is _perfect_; the servants are as
quiet and well-behaved as at home, which very rarely happens here, and
Roche is my right hand. There never was such a fellow.
We have now got carpets down--burn fires at night--draw the curtains,
and are quite wintry. We have a box at the opera, which, is close by
(for nothing), and sit there when we please, as in our own drawing-room.
There have been three fine days in four weeks. On every other the water
has been falling down in one continual sheet, and it has been thundering
and lightening every day and night.
My hand shakes in that feverish and horrible manner that I can hardly
hold a pen. And I have so bad a cold that I can't see.
In haste to save the post,
Ever faithfully.
P.S.--Charley has a writing-master every day, and a French master. He
and his sisters are to be waited on by a professor of the noble art of
dancing, next week.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Catherine%20Dickens/94Charles Dickens
1844-11-08[Sidenote: Mrs. Charles Dickens.]
PARMA, ALBERGO DELLA POSTA, _Friday, Nov. 8th, 1844._
MY DEAREST KATE,
"If missis could see us to-night, what would she say?" That was the
brave C.'s remark last night at midnight, and he had reason. We left
Genoa, as you know, soon after five on the evening of my departure; and
in company with the lady whom you saw, and the dog whom I don't think
you did see, travelled all night at the rate of four miles an hour over
bad roads, without the least refreshment until daybreak, when the brave
and myself escaped into a miserable caffe while they were changing
horses, and got a cup of that drink hot. That same day, a few hours
afterwards, between ten and eleven, we came to (I hope) the d----dest
inn in the world, where, in a vast chamber, rendered still more desolate
by the presence of a most offensive specimen of what D'Israeli calls the
Mosaic Arab (who had a beautiful girl with him), I regaled upon a
breakfast, almost as cold, and damp, and cheerless, as myself. Then, in
another coach, much smaller than a small Fly, I was packed up with an
old padre, a young Jesuit, a provincial avvocato, a private gentleman
with a very red nose and a very wet brown umbrella, and the brave C. and
I went on again at the same pace through the mud and rain until four in
the afternoon, when there was a place in the coupe (two indeed), which I
took, holding that select compartment in company with a very ugly but
very agreeable Tuscan "gent," who said "_gia_" instead of "_si_," and
rung some other changes in this changing language, but with whom I got
on very well, being extremely conversational. We were bound, as you know
perhaps, for Piacenza, but it was discovered that we couldn't get to
Piacenza, and about ten o'clock at night we halted at a place called
Stradella, where the inn was a series of queer galleries open to the
night, with a great courtyard full of waggons and horses, and
"_velociferi_," and what not in the centre. It was bitter cold and very
wet, and we all walked into a bare room (mine!) with two immensely broad
beds on two deal dining-tables, a third great empty table, the usual
washing-stand tripod, with a slop-basin on it, and two chairs. And then
we walked up and down for three-quarters of an hour or so, while dinner,
or supper, or whatever it was, was getting ready. This was set forth (by
way of variety) in the old priest's bedroom, which had two more
immensely broad beds on two more deal dining-tables in it. The first
dish was a cabbage boiled in a great quantity of rice and hot water, the
whole flavoured with cheese. I was so cold that I thought it
comfortable, and so hungry that a bit of cabbage, when I found such a
thing floating my way, charmed me. After that we had a dish of very
little pieces of pork, fried with pigs' kidneys; after that a fowl;
after that something very red and stringy, which I think was veal; and
after that two tiny little new-born-baby-looking turkeys, very red and
very swollen. Fruit, of course, to wind up, and garlic in one shape or
another in every course. I made three jokes at supper (to the immense
delight of the company), and retired early. The brave brought in a bush
or two and made a fire, and after that a glass of screeching hot brandy
and water; that bottle of his being full of brandy. I drank it at my
leisure, undressed before the fire, and went into one of the beds. The
brave reappeared about an hour afterwards and went into the other;
previously tying a pocket-handkerchief round and round his head in a
strange fashion, and giving utterance to the sentiment with which this
letter begins. At five this morning we resumed our journey, still
through mud and rain, and at about eleven arrived at Piacenza; where we
fellow-passengers took leave of one another in the most affectionate
manner. As there was no coach on till six at night, and as it was a very
grim, despondent sort of place, and as I had had enough of diligences
for one while, I posted forward here in the strangest carriages ever
beheld, which we changed when we changed horses. We arrived here before
six. The hotel is quite French. I have dined very well in my own room on
the second floor; and it has two beds in it, screened off from the room
by drapery. I only use one to-night, and that is already made.
I purpose posting on to Bologna, if I can arrange it, at twelve
to-morrow; seeing the sights here first.
It is dull work this travelling alone. My only comfort is in motion. I
look forward with a sort of shudder to Sunday, when I shall have a day
to myself in Bologna; and I think I must deliver my letters in Venice in
sheer desperation. Never did anybody want a companion after dinner so
much as I do.
There has been music on the landing outside my door to-night. Two
violins and a violoncello. One of the violins played a solo, and the
others struck in as an orchestra does now and then, very well. Then he
came in with a small tin platter. "Bella musica," said I. "Bellissima
musica, signore. Mi piace moltissimo. Sono felice, signoro," said he. I
gave him a franc. "O moltissimo generoso. Tanto generoso signore!"
It was a joke to laugh at when I was learning, but I swear unless I
could stagger on, Zoppa-wise, with the people, I verily believe I should
have turned back this morning.
In all other respects I think the entire change has done me undoubted
service already. I am free of the book, and am red-faced; and feel
marvellously disposed to sleep.
So for all the straggling qualities of this straggling letter, want of
sleep must be responsible. Give my best love to Georgy, and my paternal
blessing to
Mamey,
Katey,
Charley,
Wally,
and
Chickenstalker.
P.S.--Get things in their places. I can't bear to picture them
otherwise.
P.P.S.--I think I saw Roche sleeping with his head on the lady's
shoulder, in the coach. I couldn't swear it, and the light was
deceptive. But I think I did.
Alia sign^{a}
Sign^{a} Dickens.
Palazzo Peschiere, Genova.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Catherine%20Dickens/95Charles Dickens
1844-11-23[Sidenote: Mrs. Charles Dickens.]
FRIBOURG, _Saturday Night, November 23rd, 1844._
MY DEAREST KATE,
For the first time since I left you I am sitting in a room of my own
hiring, with a fire and a bed in it. And I am happy to say that I have
the best and fullest intentions of sleeping in the bed, having arrived
here at half-past four this afternoon, without any cessation of
travelling, night or day, since I parted from Mr. Bairr's cheap
firewood.
The Alps appeared in sight very soon after we left Milan--by eight or
nine o'clock in the morning; and the brave C. was so far wrong in his
calculations that we began the ascent of the Simplon that same night,
while you were travelling (as I would I were) towards the Peschiere.
Most favourable state of circumstances for journeying up that tremendous
pass! The brightest moon I ever saw, all night, and daybreak on the
summit. The glory of which, making great wastes of snow a rosy red,
exceeds all telling. We _sledged_ through the snow on the summit for two
hours or so. The weather was perfectly fair and bright, and there was
neither difficulty nor danger--except the danger that there always must
be, in such a place, of a horse stumbling on the brink of an
immeasurable precipice. In which case no piece of the unfortunate
traveller would be left large enough to tell his story in dumb show. You
may imagine something of the rugged grandeur of such a scene as this
great passage of these great mountains, and indeed Glencoe, well
sprinkled with snow, would be very like the ascent. But the top itself,
so wild, and bleak, and lonely, is a thing by itself, and not to be
likened to any other sight. The cold was piercing; the north wind high
and boisterous; and when it came driving in our faces, bringing a sharp
shower of little points of snow and piercing it into our very blood, it
really was, what it is often said to be, "cutting"--with a very sharp
edge too. There are houses of refuge here--bleak, solitary places--for
travellers overtaken by the snow to hurry to, as an escape from death;
and one great house, called the Hospital, kept by monks, where wayfarers
get supper and bed for nothing. We saw some coming out and pursuing
their journey. If all monks devoted themselves to such uses, I should
have little fault to find with them.
The cold in Switzerland, since, has been something quite indescribable.
My eyes are tingling to-night as one may suppose cymbals to tingle when
they have been lustily played. It is positive pain to me to write. The
great organ which I was to have had "pleasure in hearing" don't play on
a Sunday, at which the brave is inconsolable. But the town is
picturesque and quaint, and worth seeing. And this inn (with a German
bedstead in it about the size and shape of a baby's linen-basket) is
perfectly clean and comfortable. Butter is so cheap hereabouts that they
bring you a great mass like the squab of a sofa for tea. And of honey,
which is most delicious, they set before you a proportionate allowance.
We start to-morrow morning at six for Strasburg, and from that town, or
the next halting-place on the Rhine, I will report progress, if it be
only in half-a-dozen words.
I am anxious to hear that you reached Genoa quite comfortably, and shall
look forward with impatience to that letter which you are to indite with
so much care and pains next Monday. My best love to Georgy, and to
Charley, and Mamey, and Katey, and Wally, and Chickenstalker. I have
treated myself to a new travelling-cap to-night (my old one being too
thin), and it is rather a prodigious affair I flatter myself.
Swiss towns, and mountains, and the Lake of Geneva, and the famous
suspension bridge at this place, and a great many other objects (with a
very low thermometer conspicuous among them), are dancing up and down
me, strangely. But I am quite collected enough, notwithstanding, to have
still a very distinct idea that this hornpipe travelling is
uncomfortable, and that I would gladly start for my palazzo out of hand
without any previous rest, stupid as I am and much as I want it.
Ever, my dear love,
Affectionately yours.
P.S.--I hope the dancing lessons will be a success. Don't fail to let me
know.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/96Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
HOTEL BRISTOL, PARIS, _Thursday Night,
Nov. 28th, 1844, Half-past Ten._
MY DEAREST MACREADY,
Since I wrote to you what would be called in law proceedings the exhibit
marked A, I have been round to the Hotel Brighton, and personally
examined and cross-examined the attendants. It is painfully clear to me
that I shall not see you to-night, nor until Tuesday, the 10th of
December, when, please God, I shall re-arrive here, on my way to my
Italian bowers. I mean to stay all the Wednesday and all the Thursday in
Paris. One night to see you act (my old delight when you little thought
of such a being in existence), and one night to read to you and Mrs.
Macready (if that scamp of Lincoln's Inn Fields has not anticipated me)
my little Christmas book, in which I have endeavoured to plant an
indignant right-hander on the eye of certain wicked Cant that makes my
blood boil, which I hope will not only cloud that eye with black and
blue, but many a gentle one with crystal of the finest sort. God forgive
me, but I think there are good things in the little story!
I took it for granted you were, as your American friends say, "in full
blast" here, and meant to have sent a card into your dressing-room, with
"Mr. G. S. Hancock Muggridge, United States," upon it. But Paris looks
coldly on me without your eye in its head, and not being able to shake
your hand I shake my own head dolefully, which is but poor satisfaction.
My love to Mrs. Macready. I will swear to the death that it is truly
hers, for her gallantry in your absence if for nothing else, and to you,
my dear Macready, I am ever a devoted friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Catherine%20Dickens/97Charles Dickens
1844-11-28[Sidenote: Mrs. Charles Dickens.]
HOTEL BRISTOL, PARIS, _Thursday Night, Nov. 28th, 1844._
MY DEAREST KATE,
With an intolerable pen and no ink, I am going to write a few lines to
you to report progress.
I got to Strasburg on Monday night, intending to go down the Rhine. But
the weather being foggy, and the season quite over, they could not
insure me getting on for certain beyond Mayence, or our not being
detained by unpropitious weather. Therefore I resolved (the malle poste
being full) to take the diligence hither next day in the afternoon. I
arrived here at half-past five to-night, after fifty hours of it in a
French coach. I was so beastly dirty when I got to this house, that I
had quite lost all sense of my identity, and if anybody had said, "Are
you Charles Dickens?" I should have unblushingly answered, "No; I never
heard of him." A good wash, and a good dress, and a good dinner have
revived me, however; and I can report of this house, concerning which
the brave was so anxious when we were here before, that it is the best I
ever was in. My little apartment, consisting of three rooms and other
conveniences, is a perfect curiosity of completeness. You never saw such
a charming little baby-house. It is infinitely smaller than those first
rooms we had at Meurice's, but for elegance, compactness, comfort, and
quietude, exceeds anything I ever met with at an inn.
The moment I arrived here, I enquired, of course, after Macready. They
said the English theatre had not begun yet, that they thought he was at
Meurice's, where they knew some members of the company to be. I
instantly despatched the porter with a note to say that if he were
there, I would come round and hug him, as soon as I was clean. They
referred the porter to the Hotel Brighton. He came back and told me that
the answer there was: "M. Macready's rooms were engaged, but he had not
arrived. He was expected to-night!" If we meet to-night, I will add a
postscript. Wouldn't it be odd if we met upon the road between this and
Boulogne to-morrow?
I mean, as a recompense for my late sufferings, to get a
hackney-carriage if I can and post that journey, starting from here at
eight to-morrow morning, getting to Boulogne sufficiently early next
morning to cross at once, and dining with Forster that same day--to wit,
Saturday. I have notions of taking you with me on my next journey (if
you would like to go), and arranging for Georgy to come to us by
steamer--under the protection of the English captain, for instance--to
Naples; there I would top and cap all our walks by taking her up to the
crater of Vesuvius with me. But this is dependent on her ability to be
perfectly happy for a fortnight or so in our stately palace with the
children, and such foreign aid as the Simpsons. For I love her too
dearly to think of any project which would involve her being
uncomfortable for that space of time.
You can think this over, and talk it over; and I will join you in doing
so, please God, when I return to our Italian bowers, which I shall be
heartily glad to do.
They tell us that the landlord of this house, going to London some week
or so ago, was detained at Boulogne two days by a high sea, in which the
packet could not put out. So I hope there is the greater chance of no
such bedevilment happening to me.
Paris is better than ever. Oh dear, how grand it was when I came through
it in that caravan to-night! I hope we shall be very hearty here, and
able to say with Wally, "Han't it plassant!"
Love to Charley, Mamey, Katey, Wally, and Chickenstalker. The
last-named, I take it for granted, is indeed prodigious.
Best love to Georgy.
Ever, my dearest Kate,
Affectionately yours.
P.S.--I have been round to Macready's hotel; it is now past ten, and he
has not arrived, nor does it seem at all certain that he seriously
intended to arrive to-night. So I shall not see him, I take it for
granted, until my return.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Catherine%20Dickens/98Charles Dickens
1844-12-02[Sidenote: Mrs. Charles Dickens.]
PIAZZA COFFEE HOUSE, COVENT GARDEN,
_Monday, Dec. 2nd, 1844._
MY DEAREST KATE,
I received, with great delight, your _excellent_ letter of this morning.
Do not regard this as my answer to it. It is merely to say that I have
been at Bradbury and Evans's all day, and have barely time to write more
than that I _will_ write to-morrow. I arrived about seven on Saturday
evening, and rushed into the arms of Mac and Forster. Both of them send
their best love to you and Georgy, with a heartiness not to be
described.
The little book is now, as far as I am concerned, all ready. One cut of
Doyle's and one of Leech's I found so unlike my ideas, that I had them
both to breakfast with me this morning, and with that winning manner
which you know of, got them with the highest good humour to do both
afresh. They are now hard at it. Stanfield's readiness, delight, wonder
at my being pleased with what he has done is delicious. Mac's
frontispiece is charming. The book is quite splendid; the expenses will
be very great, I have no doubt.
Anybody who has heard it has been moved in the most extraordinary
manner. Forster read it (for dramatic purposes) to A'Beckett. He cried
so much and so painfully, that Forster didn't know whether to go on or
stop; and he called next day to say that any expression of his feeling
was beyond his power. But that he believed it, and felt it to be--I
won't say what.
As the reading comes off to-morrow night, I had better not despatch my
letters to you until _Wednesday's_ post. I must close to save this
(heartily tired I am, and I dine at Gore House to-day), so with love to
Georgy, Mamey, Katey, Charley, Wally, and Chickenstalker, ever, believe
me,
Yours, with true affection.
P.S.--If you had seen Macready last night, undisguisedly sobbing and
crying on the sofa as I read, you would have felt, as I did, what a
thing it is to have power.
FOOTNOTES:
[4] T. P. Cooke, the celebrated actor of "William" in Douglas Jerrold's
play of "Black-eyed Susan."http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/99Charles Dickens
1845-02-04[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
ROME, _Tuesday, February 4th, 1845._
MY DEAREST GEORGY,
This is a very short note, but time is still shorter. Come by the first
boat by all means. If there be a good one a day or two before it, come
by that. Don't delay on any account. I am very sorry you are not here.
The Carnival is a very remarkable and beautiful sight. I have been
regretting the having left you at home all the way here.
Kate says, will you take counsel with Charlotte about colour (I put in
my word, as usual, for brightness), and have the darlings' bonnets made
at once, by the same artist as before? Kate would have written, but is
gone with Black to a day performance at the opera, to see Cerito dance.
At two o'clock each day we sally forth in an open carriage, with a large
sack of sugar-plums and at least five hundred little nosegays to pelt
people with. I should think we threw away, yesterday, a thousand of the
latter. We had the carriage filled with flowers three or four times. I
wish you could have seen me catch a swell brigand on the nose with a
handful of very large confetti every time we met him. It was the best
thing I have ever done. "The Chimes" are nothing to it.
Anxiously expecting you, I am ever,
Dear Georgy,
Yours most affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Thomas%20Mitton/100Charles Dickens
1845-02-17[Sidenote: Mr. Thomas Mitton.]
NAPLES, _Monday, February 17th, 1845._
MY DEAR MITTON,
This will be a hasty letter, for I am as badly off in this place as in
America--beset by visitors at all times and seasons, and forced to dine
out every day. I have found, however, an excellent man for me--an
Englishman, who has lived here many years, and is well acquainted with
_the people_, whom he doctored in the bad time of the cholera, when the
priests and everybody else fled in terror.
Under his auspices, I have got to understand the low life of Naples
(among the fishermen and idlers) almost as well as I understand the do.
do. of my own country; always excepting the language, which is very
peculiar and extremely difficult, and would require a year's constant
practice at least. It is no more like Italian than English is to Welsh.
And as they don't say half of what they mean, but make a wink or a kick
stand for a whole sentence, it's a marvel to me how they comprehend each
other. At Rome they speak beautiful Italian (I am pretty strong at that,
I believe); but they are worse here than in Genoa, which I had
previously thought impossible.
It is a fine place, but nothing like so beautiful as people make it out
to be. The famous bay is, to my thinking, as a piece of scenery,
immeasurably inferior to the Bay of Genoa, which is the most lovely
thing I have ever seen. The city, in like manner, will bear no
comparison with Genoa. But there is none in Italy that will, except
Venice. As to houses, there is no palace like the Peschiere for
architecture, situation, gardens, or rooms. It is a great triumph to me,
too, to find how cheap it is. At Rome, the English people live in dirty
little fourth, fifth, and sixth floors, with not one room as large as
your own drawing-room, and pay, commonly, seven or eight pounds a week.
I was a week in Rome on my way here, and saw the Carnival, which is
perfectly delirious, and a great scene for a description. All the
ancient part of Rome is wonderful and impressive in the extreme. Far
beyond the possibility of exaggeration as to the modern part, it might
be anywhere or anything--Paris, Nice, Boulogne, Calais, or one of a
thousand other places.
The weather is so atrocious (rain, snow, wind, darkness, hail, and cold)
that I can't get over into Sicily. But I don't care very much about it,
as I have planned out ten days of excursion into the neighbouring
country. One thing of course--the ascent of Vesuvius, Herculaneum and
Pompeii, the two cities which were covered by its melted ashes, and dug
out in the first instance accidentally, are more full of interest and
wonder than it is possible to imagine. I have heard of some ancient
tombs (quite unknown to travellers) dug in the bowels of the earth, and
extending for some miles underground. They are near a place called
Viterbo, on the way from Rome to Florence. I shall lay in a small stock
of torches, etc., and explore them when I leave Rome. I return there on
the 1st of March, and shall stay there nearly a month.
Saturday, February 22nd.--Since I left off as above, I have been away on
an excursion of three days. Yesterday evening, at four o'clock, we began
(a small party of six) the ascent of Mount Vesuvius, with six
saddle-horses, an armed soldier for a guard, and twenty-two guides. The
latter rendered necessary by the severity of the weather, which is
greater than has been known for twenty years, and has covered the
precipitous part of the mountain with deep snow, the surface of which is
glazed with one smooth sheet of ice from the top of the cone to the
bottom. By starting at that hour I intended to get the sunset about
halfway up, and night at the top, where the fire is raging. It was an
inexpressibly lovely night without a cloud; and when the day was quite
gone, the moon (within a few hours of the full) came proudly up, showing
the sea, and the Bay of Naples, and the whole country, in such majesty
as no words can express. We rode to the beginning of the snow and then
dismounted. Catherine and Georgina were put into two litters, just
chairs with poles, like those in use in England on the 5th of November;
and a fat Englishman, who was of the party, was hoisted into a third,
borne by eight men. I was accommodated with a tough stick, and we began
to plough our way up. The ascent was as steep as this line /--very
nearly perpendicular. We were all tumbling at every stop; and looking up
and seeing the people in advance tumbling over one's very head, and
looking down and seeing hundreds of feet of smooth ice below, was, I
must confess, anything but agreeable. However, I knew there was little
chance of another clear night before I leave this, and gave the word to
get up, somehow or other. So on we went, winding a little now and then,
or we should not have got on at all. By prodigious exertions we passed
the region of snow, and came into that of fire--desolate and awful, you
may well suppose. It was like working one's way through a dry waterfall,
with every mass of stone burnt and charred into enormous cinders, and
smoke and sulphur bursting out of every chink and crevice, so that it
was difficult to breathe. High before us, bursting out of a hill at the
top of the mountain, shaped like this [HW: A], the fire was pouring out,
reddening the night with flames, blackening it with smoke, and spotting
it with red-hot stones and cinders that fell down again in showers. At
every step everybody fell, now into a hot chink, now into a bed of
ashes, now over a mass of cindered iron; and the confusion in the
darkness (for the smoke obscured the moon in this part), and the
quarrelling and shouting and roaring of the guides, and the waiting
every now and then for somebody who was not to be found, and was
supposed to have stumbled into some pit or other, made such a scene of
it as I can give you no idea of. My ladies were now on foot, of course;
but we dragged them on as well as we could (they were thorough game, and
didn't make the least complaint), until we got to the foot of that
topmost hill I have drawn so beautifully. Here we all stopped; but the
head guide, an English gentleman of the name of Le Gros--who has been
here many years, and has been up the mountain a hundred times--and your
humble servant, resolved (like jackasses) to climb that hill to the
brink, and look down into the crater itself. You may form some notion of
what is going on inside it, when I tell you that it is a hundred feet
higher than it was six weeks ago. The sensation of struggling up it,
choked with the fire and smoke, and feeling at every step as if the
crust of ground between one's feet and the gulf of fire would crumble in
and swallow one up (which is the real danger), I shall remember for some
little time, I think. But we did it. We looked down into the flaming
bowels of the mountain and came back again, alight in half-a-dozen
places, and burnt from head to foot. You never saw such devils. And _I_
never saw anything so awful and terrible.
Roche had been tearing his hair like a madman, and crying that we should
all three be killed, which made the rest of the company very
comfortable, as you may suppose. But we had some wine in a basket, and
all swallowed a little of that and a great deal of sulphur before we
began to descend. The usual way, after the fiery part is past--you will
understand that to be all the flat top of the mountain, in the centre
of which, again, rises the little hill I have drawn--is to slide down
the ashes, which, slipping from under you, make a gradually increasing
ledge under your feet, and prevent your going too fast. But when we came
to this steep place last night, we found nothing there but one smooth
solid sheet of ice. The only way to get down was for the guides to make
a chain, holding by each other's hands, and beat a narrow track in it
into the snow below with their sticks. My two unfortunate ladies were
taken out of their litters again, with half-a-dozen men hanging on to
each, to prevent their falling forward; and we began to descend this
way. It was like a tremendous dream. It was impossible to stand, and the
only way to prevent oneself from going sheer down the precipice, every
time one fell, was to drive one's stick into one of the holes the guides
had made, and hold on by that. Nobody could pick one up, or stop one, or
render one the least assistance. Now, conceive my horror, when this Mr.
Le Gros I have mentioned, being on one side of Georgina and I on the
other, suddenly staggers away from the narrow path on to the smooth ice,
gives us a jerk, lets go, and plunges headforemost down the smooth ice
into the black night, five hundred feet below! Almost at the same
instant, a man far behind, carrying a light basket on his head with some
of our spare cloaks in it, misses his footing and rolls down in another
place; and after him, rolling over and over like a black bundle, goes a
boy, shrieking as nobody but an Italian can shriek, until the breath is
tumbled out of him.
The Englishman is in bed to-day, terribly bruised but without any broken
bones. He was insensible at first and a mere heap of rags; but we got
him before the fire, in a little hermitage there is halfway down, and he
so far recovered as to be able to take some supper, which was waiting
for us there. The boy was brought in with his head tied up in a bloody
cloth, about half an hour after the rest of us were assembled. And the
man who had had the basket was not found when we left the mountain at
midnight. What became of the cloaks (mine was among them) I know as
little. My ladies' clothes were so torn off their backs that they would
not have been decent, if there could have been any thought of such
things at such a time. And when we got down to the guides' house, we
found a French surgeon (one of another party who had been up before us)
lying on a bed in a stable, with God knows what horrible breakage about
him, but suffering acutely and looking like death. A pretty unusual trip
for a pleasure expedition, I think!
I am rather stiff to-day but am quite unhurt, except a slight scrape on
my right hand. My clothes are burnt to pieces. My ladies are the wonder
of Naples, and everybody is open-mouthed.
Address me as usual. All letters are forwarded. The children well and
happy. Best regards.
Ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/101Charles Dickens
1845-08-17[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
ALBION HOTEL, BROADSTAIRS, _Sunday, Aug. 17th, 1845._
MY DEAR MACREADY,
I have been obliged to communicate with the _Punch_ men in reference to
Saturday, the 20th, as that day of the week is usually their business
dinner day, and I was not quite sure that it could be conveniently
altered.
Jerrold now assures me that it can for such a purpose, and that it
shall, and therefore consider the play as being arranged to come off on
Saturday, the 20th of next month.
I don't know whether I told you that we have changed the farce; and now
we are to act "Two o'clock in the Morning," as performed by the
inimitable B. at Montreal.
In reference to Bruce Castle school, I think the question set at rest
most probably by the fact of there being no vacancy (it is always full)
until Christmas, when Howitt's two boys and Jerrold's one go in and fill
it up again. But after going carefully through the school, a question
would arise in my mind whether the system--a perfectly admirable one;
the only recognition of education as a broad system of moral and
intellectual philosophy, that I have ever seen in practice--do not
require so much preparation and progress in the mind of the boy, as that
he shall have come there younger and less advanced than Willy; or at all
events without that very different sort of school experience which he
must have acquired at Brighton. I have no warrant for this doubt, beyond
a vague uneasiness suggesting a suspicion of its great probability. On
such slight ground I would not hint it to anyone but you, who I know
will give it its due weight, and no more and no less.
I have the paper setting forth the nature of the higher classical
studies, and the books they read. It is the usual course, and includes
the great books in Greek and Latin. They have a miscellaneous library,
under the management of the boys themselves, of some five or six
thousand volumes, and every means of study and recreation, and every
inducement to self-reliance and self-exertion that can easily be
imagined. As there is no room just now, you can turn it over in your
mind again. And if you would like to see the place yourself, when you
return to town, I shall be delighted to go there with you. I come home
on Wednesday. It is our rehearsal night; and of course the active and
enterprising stage-manager must be at his post.
Ever, my dear Macready,
Affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/George%20Cattermole/102Charles Dickens
1845-08-27[Sidenote: Mr. George Cattermole.]
_August 27th, 1845._
MY DEAR GEORGE,
I write a line to tell you a project we have in view. A little party of
us have taken Miss Kelly's theatre for the night of the 20th of next
month, and we are going to act a play there, with correct and pretty
costume, good orchestra, etc. etc. The affair is strictly private. The
admission will be by cards of invitation; every man will have from
thirty to thirty-five. Nobody can ask any person without the knowledge
and sanction of the rest, my objection being final; and the expense to
each (exclusive of the dress, which every man finds for himself) will
not exceed two guineas. Forster plays, and Stone plays, and I play, and
some of the _Punch_ people play. Stanfield, having the scenery and
carpenters to attend to, cannot manage his part also. It is Downright,
in "Every Man in his Humour," not at all long, but very good; he wants
you to take it. And so help me. We shall have a brilliant audience. The
uphill part of the thing is already done, our next rehearsal is next
Tuesday, and if you will come in you will find everything to your hand,
and all very merry and pleasant.
Let me know what you decide, like a Kittenmolian Trojan. And with love
from all here to all there,
Believe me, ever,
Heartily yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/103Charles Dickens
1845-09-18[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Thursday, Sept. 18th, 1845._
MY DEAR MACREADY,
We have a little supper, sir, after the farce, at No. 9, Powis Place,
Great Ormond Street, in an empty house belonging to one of the company.
There I am requested by my fellows to beg the favour of thy company and
that of Mrs. Macready. The guests are limited to the actors and their
ladies--with the exception of yourselves, and D'Orsay, and George
Cattermole, "or so"--that sounds like Bobadil a little.
I am going to adopt your reading of the fifth act with the worst grace
in the world. It seems to me that you don't allow enough for Bobadil
having been frequently beaten before, as I have no doubt he had been.
The part goes down hideously on this construction, and the end is mere
lees. But never mind, sir, I intend bringing you up with the farce in
the most brilliant manner.
Ever yours affectionately.
N.B.--Observe. I think of changing my present mode of life, and am open
to an engagement.
N.B. No. 2.--I will undertake not to play tragedy, though passion is my
strength.
N.B. No. 3.--I consider myself a chained lion.[5]http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Clarkson%20Stanfield/104Charles Dickens
1845-10-02[Sidenote: Mr. Clarkson Stanfield.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _October 2nd, 1845._
MY DEAR STANNY,
I send you the claret jug. But for a mistake, you would have received
the little remembrance almost immediately after my return from abroad.
I need not say how much I should value another little sketch from your
extraordinary hand in this year's small volume, to which Mac again does
the frontispiece. But I cannot hear of it, and will not have it (though
the gratification of such aid, to me, is really beyond all expression),
unless you will so far consent to make it a matter of business as to
receive, without asking any questions, a cheque in return from the
publishers. Do not misunderstand me--though I am not afraid there is
much danger of your doing so, for between us misunderstanding is, I
hope, not easy. I know perfectly well that nothing can pay you for the
devotion of any portion of your time to such a use of your art. I know
perfectly well that no terms would induce you to go out of your way, in
such a regard, for perhaps anybody else. I cannot, nor do I desire to,
vanquish the friendly obligation which help from you imposes on me. But
I am not the sole proprietor of those little books; and it would be
monstrous in you if you were to dream of putting a scratch into a second
one without some shadowy reference to the other partners, ten thousand
times more monstrous in me if any consideration on earth could induce me
to permit it, which nothing will or shall.
So, see what it comes to. If you will do me a favour on my terms it will
be more acceptable to me, my dear Stanfield, than I can possibly tell
you. If you will not be so generous, you deprive me of the satisfaction
of receiving it at your hands, and shut me out from that possibility
altogether. What a stony-hearted ruffian you must be in such a case!
Ever affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/105Charles Dickens
1845-10-17[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Friday Evening, Oct. 17th, 1845._
MY DEAR MACREADY,
You once--only once--gave the world assurance of a waistcoat. You wore
it, sir, I think, in "Money." It was a remarkable and precious
waistcoat, wherein certain broad stripes of blue or purple disported
themselves as by a combination of extraordinary circumstances, too happy
to occur again. I have seen it on your manly chest in private life. I
saw it, sir, I think, the other day in the cold light of morning--with
feelings easier to be imagined than described. Mr. Macready, sir, are
you a father? If so, lend me that waistcoat for five minutes. I am
bidden to a wedding (where fathers are made), and my artist cannot, I
find (how should he?), imagine such a waistcoat. Let me show it to him
as a sample of my tastes and wishes; and--ha, ha, ha, ha!--eclipse the
bridegroom!
I will send a trusty messenger at half-past nine precisely, in the
morning. He is sworn to secrecy. He durst not for his life betray us, or
swells in ambuscade would have the waistcoat at the cost of his heart's
blood.
Thine,
THE UNWAISTCOATED ONE.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Viscount%20Morpeth/106Charles Dickens
1845-11-28[Sidenote: Viscount Morpeth.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Nov. 28th, 1845._
MY DEAR LORD MORPETH,
I have delayed writing to you until now, hoping I might have been able
to tell you of our dramatic plans, and of the day on which we purpose
playing. But as these matters are still in abeyance, I will give you
that precious information when I come into the receipt of it myself. And
let me heartily assure you, that I had at least as much pleasure in
seeing you the other day as you can possibly have had in seeing me; and
that I shall consider all opportunities of becoming better known to you
among the most fortunate and desirable occasions of my life. And that I
am with your conviction about the probability of our liking each other,
and, as Lord Lyndhurst might say, with "something more."
Ever faithfully yours.
FOOTNOTE:
[5] This alludes to a theatrical story of a second-rate actor, who
described himself as a "chained lion," in a theatre where he had to play
inferior parts to Mr. Macready.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/107Charles Dickens
1846-02-18[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _February 18th, 1846._
MY DEAR MR. WILLS,
Do look at the enclosed from Mrs. What's-her-name. For a surprising
audacity it is remarkable even to me, who am positively bullied, and all
but beaten, by these people. I wish you would do me the favour to write
to her (in your own name and from your own address), stating that you
answered her letter as you did, because if I were the wealthiest
nobleman in England I could not keep pace with one-twentieth part of the
demands upon me, and because you saw no internal evidence in her
application to induce you to single it out for any especial notice.
That the tone of this letter renders you exceedingly glad you did so;
and that you decline, from me, holding any correspondence with her.
Something to that effect, after what flourish your nature will.
Faithfully yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Rev%20James%20White/108Charles Dickens
1846-02-24[Sidenote: Rev. James White.]
1, DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, YORK GATE, REGENT'S PARK,
_February 24th, 1846._
I cannot help telling you, my dear White, for I can think of no formal
use of Mister to such a writer as you, that I have just now read your
tragedy, "The Earl of Gowrie," with a delight which I should in vain
endeavour to express to you. Considered with reference to its story, or
its characters, or its noble poetry, I honestly regard it as a work of
most remarkable genius. It has impressed me powerfully and enduringly. I
am proud to have received it from your hand. And if I have to tell you
what complete possession it has taken of me--that is, if I _could_ tell
you--I do believe you would be glad to know it.
Always faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/109Charles Dickens
1846-03-02[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Monday Morning, March 2nd, 1846._
MY DEAR MR. WILLS,
I really don't know what to say about the New Brunswicker. The idea will
obtrude itself on my mind, that he had no business to come here on such
an expedition; and that it is a piece of the wild conceit for which his
countrymen are so remarkable, and that I can hardly afford to be steward
to such adventurers. On the other hand, your description of him pleases
me. Then that purse which I could never keep shut in my life makes
mouths at me, saying, "See how empty I am." Then I fill it, and it looks
very rich indeed.
I think the best way is to say, that if you think you can do him any
_permanent_ good with five pounds (that is, get him home again) I will
give you the money. But I should be very much indisposed to give it him,
merely to linger on here about town for a little time and then be hard
up again.
As to employment, I do in my soul believe that if I were Lord Chancellor
of England, I should have been aground long ago, for the patronage of a
messenger's place.
Say all that is civil for me to the proprietor of _The Illustrated
London News_, who really seems to be very liberal. "Other engagements,"
etc. etc., "prevent me from entertaining," etc. etc.
Faithfully yours ever.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/110Charles Dickens
1846-03-04[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _March 4th, 1846._
MY DEAR MR. WILLS,
I assure you I am very truly and unaffectedly sensible of your earnest
friendliness, and in proof of my feeling its worth I shall
unhesitatingly trouble you sometimes, in the fullest reliance on your
meaning what you say. The letter from Nelson Square is a very manly and
touching one. But I am more helpless in such a case as that than in any
other, having really fewer means of helping such a gentleman to
employment than I have of firing off the guns in the Tower. Such,
appeals come to me here in scores upon scores.
The letter from Little White Lion Street does not impress me favourably.
It is not written in a simple or truthful manner, I am afraid, and is
_not_ a good reference. Moreover, I think it probable that the writer
may have deserted some pursuit for which he is qualified, for vague and
laborious strivings which he has no pretensions to make. However, I will
certainly act on your impression of him, whatever it may be. And if you
could explain to the gentleman in Nelson Square, that I am not evading
his request, but that I do not know of anything to which I can recommend
him, it would be a great relief to me.
I trust this new printer _is_ a Tartar; and I hope to God he will so
proclaim and assert his Tartar breeding, as to excommunicate ---- from
the "chapel" over which he presides.
Tell Powell (with my regards) that he needn't "deal with" the American
notices of the "Cricket." I never read one word of their abuse, and I
should think it base to read their praises. It is something to know that
one is righted so soon; and knowing that, I can afford to know no more.
Ever faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Clarkson%20Stanfield/111Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. Clarkson Stanfield.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _March 6th, 1846._
MY DEAR STANNY,
In reference to the damage of the candlesticks, I beg to quote (from
"The Cricket on the Hearth," by the highly popular and deservedly so
Dick) this reply:
"I'll damage you if you enquire."
Ever yours,
My block-reeving,
Main-brace splicing,
Lead-heaving,
Ship-conning,
Stun'sail-bending,
Deck-swabbing
Son of a sea-cook,
HENRY BLUFF,
H.M.S. _Timber._http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Charles%20Knight/112Charles Dickens
1846-04-13[Sidenote: Mr. Charles Knight.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Saturday, April 13th, 1846._
MY DEAR SIR,
Do you recollect sending me your biography of Shakespeare last autumn,
and my not acknowledging its receipt? I do, with remorse.
The truth is, that I took it out of town with me, read it with great
pleasure as a charming piece of honest enthusiasm and perseverance, kept
it by me, came home, meant to say all manner of things to you, suffered
the time to go by, got ashamed, thought of speaking to you, never saw
you, felt it heavy on my mind, and now fling off the load by thanking
you heartily, and hoping you will not think it too late.
Always believe me,
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Marion%20Ely/113Charles Dickens
1846-04-19[Sidenote: Miss Ely.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Sunday, April 19th, 1846._
MY DEAR MISS ELY,
A mysterious emissary brought me a note in your always welcome
handwriting at the Athenaeum last night. I enquired of the servant in
attendance whether the bearer of this letter was of my vast
establishment. To which he replied "Yezzir." "Then," said I, "tell him
not to wait."
Maclise was with me. It was then half-past seven. We had been walking,
and were splashed to the eyes. We debated upon the possibility of
getting to Russell Square in reasonable time--decided that it would be
in the worst taste to appear when the performance would be half
over--and very reluctantly decided not to come. You may suppose how
dirty and dismal we were when we went to the Thames Tunnel, of all
places in the world, instead!
When I came home here at midnight I found another letter from you (I
left off in this place to press it dutifully to my lips). Then my mind
misgave me that _you_ must have sent to the Athenaeum. At the apparent
rudeness of my reply, my face, as Hadji Baba says, was turned upside
down, and fifty donkeys sat upon my father's grave--or would have done
so, but for his not being dead yet.
Therefore I send this humble explanation--protesting, however, which I
do most solemnly, against being invited under such untoward
circumstances; and claiming as your old friend and no less old admirer
to be instantly invited to the next performance, if such a thing is ever
contemplated.
Ever, my dear Miss Ely,
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Douglas%20Jerrold/114Charles Dickens
1846-05-26[Sidenote: Mr. Douglas Jerrold.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Tuesday, May 26th, 1846._
MY DEAR JERROLD,
I send you herewith some books belonging to you. A thousand thanks for
the "Hermit." He took my fancy mightily when I first saw him in the
"Illuminated;" and I have stowed him away in the left-hand breast pocket
of my travelling coat, that we may hold pleasant converse together on
the Rhine. You see what confidence I have in him!
I wish you would seriously consider the expediency and feasibility of
coming to Lausanne in the summer or early autumn. I must be at work
myself during a certain part of every day almost, and you could do twice
as much there as here. It is a wonderful place to see--and what sort of
welcome you would find I will say nothing about, for I have vanity
enough to believe that you would be willing to feel yourself as much at
home in my household as in any man's.
Do think it over. I could send you the minutest particular of the
journey. It is really all railroad and steamboat, and the easiest in the
world.
At Macready's on Thursday, we shall meet, please God!
Always, my dear Jerrold,
Cordially yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/115Charles Dickens
1846-10-24[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
GENEVA, _Saturday, October 24th, 1846._
MY DEAR MACREADY,
The welcome sight of your handwriting moves me (though I have nothing to
say) to show you mine, and if I could recollect the passage in Virginius
I would paraphrase it, and say, "Does it seem to tremble, boy? Is it a
loving autograph? Does it beam with friendship and affection?" all of
which I say, as I write, with--oh Heaven!--such a splendid imitation of
you, and finally give you one of those grasps and shakes with which I
have seen you make the young Icilius stagger again.
Here I am, running away from a bad headache as Tristram Shandy ran away
from death, and lodging for a week in the Hotel de l'Ecu de Geneve,
wherein there is a large mirror shattered by a cannon-ball in the late
revolution. A revolution, whatever its merits, achieved by free spirits,
nobly generous and moderate, even in the first transports of victory,
elevated by a splendid popular education, and bent on freedom from all
tyrants, whether their crowns be shaven or golden. The newspapers may
tell you what they please. I believe there is no country on earth but
Switzerland in which a violent change could have been effected in the
Christian spirit shown in this place, or in the same proud, independent,
gallant style. Not one halfpennyworth of property was lost, stolen, or
strayed. Not one atom of party malice survived the smoke of the last
gun. Nothing is expressed in the Government addresses to the citizens
but a regard for the general happiness, and injunctions to forget all
animosities; which they are practically obeying at every turn, though
the late Government (of whose spirit I had some previous knowledge) did
load the guns with such material as should occasion gangrene in the
wounds, and though the wounded _do_ die, consequently, every day, in the
hospital, of sores that in themselves were nothing.
_You_ a mountaineer! _You_ examine (I have seen you do it) the point of
your young son's baton de montagne before he went up into the snow! And
_you_ talk of coming to Lausanne in March! Why, Lord love your heart,
William Tell, times are changed since you lived at Altorf. There is not
a mountain pass open until June. The snow is closing in on all the
panorama already. I was at the Great St. Bernard two months ago, and it
was bitter cold and frosty then. Do you think I could let you hazard
your life by going up any pass worth seeing in bleak March? Never shall
it be said that Dickens sacrificed his friend upon the altar of his
hospitality! Onward! To Paris! (Cue for band. Dickens points off with
truncheon, first entrance P.S. Page delivers gauntlets on one knee.
Dickens puts 'em on and gradually falls into a fit of musing. Mrs.
Dickens lays her hand upon his shoulder. Business. Procession. Curtain.)
It is a great pleasure to me, my dear Macready, to hear from yourself,
as I had previously heard from Forster, that you are so well pleased
with "Dombey," which is evidently a great success and a great hit, thank
God! I felt that Mrs. Brown was strong, but I was not at all afraid of
giving as heavy a blow as I could to a piece of hot iron that lay ready
at my hand. For that is my principle always, and I hope to come down
with some heavier sledge-hammers than that.
I know the lady of whom you write. ---- left there only yesterday. The
story may arise only in her manner, which is extraordinarily free and
careless. He was visiting her here, when I was here last, three weeks
ago. I knew her in Italy. It is not her fault if scandal ever leaves her
alone, for such a braver of all conventionalities never wore petticoats.
But I should be sorry to hear there was anything guilty in her conduct.
She is very clever, really learned, very pretty, much neglected by her
husband, and only four-and-twenty years of age.
Kate and Georgy send their best loves to Mrs. and Miss Macready and all
your house.
Your most affectionate Friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Haldimand/116Charles Dickens
1846-11-00[Sidenote: Mr. Haldimand.]
PARIS, _November, 1846._
Talking of which[6] reminds me to say, that I have written to my
printers, and told them to prefix to "The Battle of Life" a dedication
that is printed in illuminated capitals on my heart. It is only this:
"This Christmas book is cordially inscribed to
my English friends in Switzerland."
I shall trouble you with a little parcel of three or four copies to
distribute to those whose names will be found written in them, as soon
as they can be made ready, and believe me, that there is no success or
approval in the great world beyond the Jura that will be more precious
and delightful to me, than the hope that I shall be remembered of an
evening in the coming winter time, at one or two friends' I could
mention near the Lake of Geneva. It runs with a spring tide, that will
always flow and never ebb, through my memory; and nothing less than the
waters of Lethe shall confuse the music of its running, until it loses
itself in that great sea, for which all the currents of our life are
desperately bent.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Walter%20Savage%20Landor/117Charles Dickens
1846-11-22[Sidenote: Mr. Walter Savage Landor.]
PARIS, _Sunday, November 22nd, 1846._
YOUNG MAN,
I will not go there if I can help it. I have not the least confidence in
the value of your introduction to the Devil. I can't help thinking that
it would be of better use "the other way, the other way," but I won't
try it there, either, at present, if I can help it. Your godson says is
that your duty? and he begs me to enclose a blush newly blushed for you.
As to writing, I have written to you twenty times and twenty more to that,
if you only knew it. I have been writing a little Christmas book, besides,
expressly for you. And if you don't like it, I shall go to the font of
Marylebone Church as soon as I conveniently can and renounce you: I am not
to be trifled with. I write from Paris. I am getting up some French steam.
I intend to proceed upon the longing-for-a-lap-of-blood-at-last principle,
and if you _do_ offend me, look to it.
We are all well and happy, and they send loves to you by the bushel. We
are in the agonies of house-hunting. The people are frightfully civil,
and grotesquely extortionate. One man (with a house to let) told me
yesterday that he loved the Duke of Wellington like a brother. The same
gentleman wanted to hug me round the neck with one hand, and pick my
pocket with the other.
Don't be hard upon the Swiss. They are a thorn in the sides of European
despots, and a good wholesome people to live near Jesuit-ridden kings on
the brighter side of the mountains. My hat shall ever be ready to be
thrown up, and my glove ever ready to be thrown down for Switzerland. If
you were the man I took you for, when I took you (as a godfather) for
better and for worse, you would come to Paris and amaze the weak walls
of the house I haven't found yet with that steady snore of yours, which
I once heard piercing the door of your bedroom in Devonshire Terrace,
reverberating along the bell-wire in the hall, so getting outside into
the street, playing Eolian harps among the area railings, and going down
the New Road like the blast of a trumpet.
I forgive you your reviling of me: there's a shovelful of live coals for
your head--does it burn? And am, with true affection--does it burn
now?--
Ever yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Hon%20Richard%20Watson/118Charles Dickens
1846-11-27[Sidenote: The Hon. Richard Watson.]
PARIS, 48, RUE DE COURCELLES, ST. HONORE,
_Friday, Nov. 27th, 1846._
MY DEAR WATSON,
We were housed only yesterday. I lose no time in despatching this
memorandum of our whereabouts, in order that you may not fail to write
me a line before you come to Paris on your way towards England, letting
me know on what day we are to expect you to dinner.
We arrived here quite happily and well. I don't mean here, but at the
Hotel Brighton, in Paris, on Friday evening, between six and seven
o'clock. The agonies of house-hunting were frightfully severe. It was
one paroxysm for four mortal days. I am proud to express my belief, that
we are lodged at last in the most preposterous house in the world. The
like of it cannot, and so far as my knowledge goes does not, exist in
any other part of the globe. The bedrooms are like opera-boxes. The
dining-rooms, staircases, and passages, quite inexplicable. The
dining-room is a sort of cavern, painted (ceiling and all) to represent
a grove, with unaccountable bits of looking-glass sticking in among the
branches of the trees. There is a gleam of reason in the drawing-room.
But it is approached through a series of small chambers, like the joints
in a telescope, which are hung with inscrutable drapery. The maddest
man in Bedlam, having the materials given him, would be likely to devise
such a suite, supposing his case to be hopeless and quite incurable.
Pray tell Mrs. Watson, with my best regards, that the dance of the two
sisters in the little Christmas book is being done as an illustration by
Maclise; and that Stanfield is doing the battle-ground and the outside
of the Nutmeg Grater Inn. Maclise is also drawing some smaller subjects
for the little story, and they write me that they hope it will be very
pretty, and they think that I shall like it. I shall have been in London
before I see you, probably, and I hope the book itself will then be on
its road to Lausanne to speak for itself, and to speak a word for me
too. I have never left so many friendly and cheerful recollections in
any place; and to represent me in my absence, its tone should be very
eloquent and affectionate indeed.
Well, if I don't turn up again next summer it shall not be my fault. In
the meanwhile, I shall often and often look that way with my mind's eye,
and hear the sweet, clear, bell-like voice of ---- with the ear of my
imagination. In the event of there being any change--but it is not
likely--in the appearance of his cravat behind, where it goes up into
his head, I mean, and frets against his wig--I hope some one of my
English friends will apprise me of it, for the love of the great Saint
Bernard.
I have not seen Lord Normanby yet. I have not seen anything up to this
time but houses and lodgings. There seems to be immense excitement here
on the subject of ---- however, and a perfectly stupendous sensation
getting up. I saw the king the other day coming into Paris. His carriage
was surrounded by guards on horseback, and he sat very far back in it, I
thought, and drove at a great pace. It was strange to see the prefet of
police on horseback some hundreds of yards in advance, looking to the
right and left as he rode, like a man who suspected every twig in every
tree in the long avenue.
The English relations look anything but promising, though I understand
that the Count St. Aulaire is to remain in London, notwithstanding the
newspaper alarms to the contrary. If there be anything like the
sensation in England about ---- that there is here, there will be a
bitter resentment indeed. The democratic society of Paris have
announced, this morning, their intention of printing and circulating
fifty thousand copies of an appeal in every European language. It is a
base business beyond question, and comes at an ill time.
Mrs. Dickens and her sister desire their best regards to be sent to you
and their best loves to Mrs. Watson, in which I join, as nearly as I
may. Believe me, with great truth,
Very sincerely yours.
P.S.--Mrs. Dickens is going to write to Mrs. Watson next week, she says.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/William%20De%20Cerjat/119Charles Dickens
1846-11-27[Sidenote: M. Cerjat.]
PARIS, 48, RUE DE COURCELLES, ST. HONORE,
_Friday, Nov. 27th, 1846._
MY DEAR CERJAT,
When we turned out of your view on that disconsolate Monday, when you so
kindly took horse and rode forth to say good-bye, we went on in a very
dull and drowsy manner, I can assure you. I could have borne a world of
punch in the rumble and been none the worse for it. There was an
uncommonly cool inn that night, and quite a monstrous establishment at
Auxonne the next night, full of flatulent passages and banging doors.
The next night we passed at Montbard, where there is one of the very
best little inns in all France. The next at Sens, and so we got here.
The roads were bad, but not very for French roads. There was no
deficiency of horses anywhere; and after Pontarlier the weather was
really not too cold for comfort. They weighed our plate at the frontier
custom-house, spoon by spoon, and fork by fork, and we lingered about
there, in a thick fog and a hard frost, for three long hours and a half,
during which the officials committed all manner of absurdities, and got
into all sorts of disputes with my brave courier. This was the only
misery we encountered--except leaving Lausanne, and that was enough to
last us and _did_ last us all the way here. We are living on it now. I
felt, myself, much as I should think the murderer felt on that fair
morning when, with his gray-haired victim (those unconscious gray hairs,
soon to be bedabbled with blood), he went so far towards heaven as the
top of that mountain of St. Bernard without one touch of remorse. A
weight is on my breast. The only difference between me and the murderer
is, that his weight was guilt and mine is regret.
I haven't a word of news to tell you. I shouldn't write at all if I were
not the vainest man in the world, impelled by a belief that you will be
glad to hear from me, even though you hear no more than that I have
nothing to say. "Dombey" is doing wonders. It went up, after the
publication of the second number, over the thirty thousand. This is such
a very large sale, so early in the story, that I begin to think it will
beat all the rest. Keeley and his wife are making great preparations
for producing the Christmas story, and I have made them (as an old stage
manager) carry out one or two expensive notions of mine about scenery
and so forth--in particular a sudden change from the inside of the
doctor's house in the midst of the ball to the orchard in the
snow--which ought to tell very well. But actors are so bad, in general,
and the best are spread over so many theatres, that the "cast" is black
despair and moody madness. There is no one to be got for Marion but a
certain Miss ----, I am afraid--a pupil of Miss Kelly's, who acted in
the private theatricals I got up a year ago. Macready took her
afterwards to play Virginia to his Virginius, but she made nothing of
it, great as the chance was. I have promised to show her what I mean, as
near as I can, and if you will look into the English Opera House on the
morning of the 17th, 18th, or 19th of next month, between the hours of
eleven and four, you will find me in a very hot and dusty condition,
playing all the parts of the piece, to the immense diversion of all the
actors, actresses, scene-shifters, carpenters, musicians, chorus people,
tailors, dressmakers, scene-painters, and general ragamuffins of the
theatre.
Moore, the poet, is very ill--I fear dying. The last time I saw him was
immediately before I left London, and I thought him sadly changed and
tamed, but not much more so than such a man might be under the heavy
hand of time. I believe he suffered severe grief in the death of a son
some time ago. The first man I met in Paris was ----, who took hold of
me as I was getting into a coach at the door of the hotel. He hadn't a
button on his shirt (but I don't think he ever has), and you might have
sown what boys call "mustard and cress" in the dust on his coat. I have
not seen Lord Normanby yet, as we have only just got a house (the
queerest house in Europe!) to lay our heads in; but there seems reason
to fear that the growing dissensions between England and France, and the
irritation of the French king, may lead to the withdrawal of the
minister on each side of the Channel.
Have you cut down any more trees, played any more rubbers, propounded
any more teasers to the players at the game of Yes and No? How is the
old horse? How is the gray mare? How is Crab (to whom my respectful
compliments)? Have you tried the punch yet; if yes, did it succeed; if
no, why not? Is Mrs. Cerjat as happy and as well as I would have her,
and all your house ditto ditto? Does Haldimand play whist with any
science yet? Ha, ha, ha! the idea of his saying _I_ hadn't any! And are
those damask-cheeked virgins, the Miss ----, still sleeping on dewy rose
leaves near the English church?
Remember me to all your house, and most of all to its other head, with
all the regard and earnestness that a "numble individual" (as they
always call it in the House of Commons) who once travelled with her in a
car over a smooth country may charge you with. I have added two lines to
the little Christmas book, that I hope both you and she may not dislike.
Haldimand will tell you what they are. Kate and Georgy send their
kindest loves, and Kate is "going" to write "next week." Believe me
always, my dear Cerjat, full of cordial and hearty recollections of this
past summer and autumn, and your part in my part of them,
Very faithfully your Friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Catherine%20Dickens/120Charles Dickens
1846-12-19[Sidenote: Mrs. Charles Dickens.]
58, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS, _Saturday, Dec. 19th, 1846._
MY DEAREST KATE,
I really am bothered to death by this confounded _dramatization_ of the
Christmas book. They were in a state so horrible at Keeley's yesterday
(as perhaps Forster told you when he wrote), that I was obliged to
engage to read the book to them this morning. It struck me that Mrs.
Leigh Murray, Miss Daly, and Vining seemed to understand it best.
Certainly Miss Daly knew best what she was about yesterday. At eight
to-night we have a rehearsal with scenery and band, and everything but
dresses. I see no possibility of escaping from it before one or two
o'clock in the morning. And I was at the theatre all day yesterday.
Unless I had come to London, I do not think there would have been much
hope of the version being more than just tolerated, even that doubtful.
All the actors bad, all the business frightfully behindhand. The very
words of the book confused in the copying into the densest and most
insufferable nonsense. I must exempt, however, from the general
slackness both the Keeleys. I hope they will be very good. I have never
seen anything of its kind better than the manner in which they played
the little supper scene between Clemency and Britain, yesterday. It was
quite perfect, even to me.
The small manager, Forster, Talfourd, Stanny, and Mac dine with me at
the Piazza to-day, before the rehearsal. I have already one or two
uncommonly good stories of Mac. I reserve them for narration. I have
also a dreadful cold, which I would not reserve if I could help it. I
can hardly hold up my head, and fight through from hour to hour, but had
serious thoughts just now of walking off to bed.
Christmas book published to-day--twenty-three thousand copies already
gone!!! Browne's plates for next "Dombey" much better than usual.
I have seen nobody yet, of course. But I sent Roche up to your mother
this morning, to say I am in town and will come shortly. There is a
great thaw here to-day, and it is raining hard. I hope you have the
advantage (if it be one, which I am not sure of) of a similar change in
Paris. Of course I start again on Thursday. We are expecting (Roche and
I) a letter from the malle poste people, to whom we have applied for
places. The journey here was long and cold--twenty-four hours from Paris
to Boulogne. Passage not very bad, and made in two hours.
I find I can't write at all, so I had best leave off. I am looking
impatiently for your letter on Monday morning. Give my best love to
Georgy, and kisses to all the dear children. And believe me, my love,
Most affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Catherine%20Dickens/121Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mrs. Charles Dickens.]
PIAZZA COFFEE-HOUSE, COVENT GARDEN,
_Monday, Dec. 21st, 1846._
MY DEAREST KATE,
In a quiet interval of half an hour before going to dine at Macready's,
I sit down to write you a few words. But I shall reserve my letter for
to-morrow's post, in order that you may hear what _I_ hear of the
"going" of the play to-night. Think of my being there on Saturday, with
a really frightful cold, and working harder than ever I did at the
amateur plays, until two in the morning. There was no supper to be got,
either here or anywhere else, after coming out; and I was as hungry and
thirsty as need be. The scenery and dresses are very good indeed, and
they have spent money on it _liberally_. The great change from the
ball-room to the snowy night is most effective, and both the departure
and the return will tell, I think, strongly on an audience. I have made
them very quick and excited in the passionate scenes, and so have
infused some appearance of life into those parts of the play. But I
can't make a Marion, and Miss ---- is awfully bad. She is a mere nothing
all through. I put Mr. Leigh Murray into such a state, by making him
tear about, that the perspiration ran streaming down his face. They have
a great let. I believe every place in the house is taken. Roche is
going.
_Tuesday Morning._--The play went, as well as I can make out--I hoped to
have had Stanny's report of it, but he is ill--with great effect. There
was immense enthusiasm at its close, and great uproar and shouting for
me. Forster will go on Wednesday, and write you his account of it. I saw
the Keeleys on the stage at eleven o'clock or so, and they were in
prodigious spirits and delight.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/John%20Forster/122Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. John Forster.]
48, RUE DE COURCELLES, PARIS,
_Sunday Night, Dec. 27th, 1846._
MY VERY DEAR FORSTER,
Amen, amen. Many merry Christmases, many happy new years, unbroken
friendship, great accumulation of cheerful recollections, affection on
earth, and heaven at last, for all of us.
I enclose you a letter from Jeffrey, which you may like to read. _Bring
it to me back when you come over._ I have told him all he wants to
know. Is it not a strange example of the hazards of writing in numbers
that a man like him should form his notion of Dombey and Miss Tox on
three months' knowledge? I have asked him the same question, and advised
him to keep his eye on both of them as time rolls on.
We had a cold journey here from Boulogne, but the roads were not very
bad. The malle poste, however, now takes the trains at Amiens. We missed
it by ten minutes, and had to wait three hours--from twelve o'clock
until three, in which interval I drank brandy and water, and slept like
a top. It is delightful travelling for its speed, that malle poste, and
really for its comfort too. But on this occasion it was not remarkable
for the last-named quality. The director of the post at Boulogne told me
a lamentable story of his son at Paris being ill, and implored me to
bring him on. The brave doubted the representations altogether, but I
couldn't find it in my heart to say no; so we brought the director,
bodkinwise, and being a large man, in a great number of greatcoats, he
crushed us dismally until we got to the railroad. For two passengers
(and it never carries more) it is capital. For three, excruciating.
Write to ---- what you have said to me. You need write no more. He is
full of vicious fancies and wrong suspicions, even of Hardwick, and I
would rather he heard it from you than from me, whom he is not likely to
love much in his heart. I doubt it may be but a rusty instrument for
want of use, the ----ish heart.
My most important present news is that I am going to take a jorum of hot
rum and egg in bed immediately, and to cover myself up with all the
blankets in the house. Love from all. I have a sensation in my head, as
if it were "on edge." It is still very cold here, but the snow had
disappeared on my return, both here and on the road, except within ten
miles or so of Boulogne.
Ever affectionately.
FOOTNOTE:
[6] "The Battle of Life."http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Hon%20Mrs%20Watson/123Charles Dickens
1847-01-25[Sidenote: The Hon. Mrs. Watson.]
PARIS, 48, RUE DE COURCELLES, _Jan. 25th, 1847._
MY DEAR MRS. WATSON,
I cannot allow your wandering lord to return to your--I suppose "arms"
is not improper--arms, then, without thanking you in half-a-dozen words
for your letter, and assuring you that I had great interest and pleasure
in its receipt, and that I say Amen to all _you_ say of our happy past
and hopeful future. There is a picture of Lausanne--St. Bernard--the
tavern by the little lake between Lausanne and Vevay, which is kept by
that drunken dog whom Haldimand believes to be so sober--and of many
other such scenes, within doors and without--that rises up to my mind
very often, and in the quiet pleasure of its aspect rather daunts me, as
compared with the reality of a stirring life; but, please God, we will
have some more pleasant days, and go up some more mountains, somewhere,
and laugh together, at somebody, and form the same delightful little
circle again, somehow.
I quite agree with you about the illustrations to the little Christmas
book. I was delighted with yours. Your good lord before-mentioned will
inform you that it hangs up over my chair in the drawing-room here; and
when you come to England (after I have seen you again in Lausanne) I
will show it you in my little study at home, quietly thanking you on the
bookcase. Then we will go and see some of Turner's recent pictures, and
decide that question to Haldimand's utmost confusion.
You will find Watson looking wonderfully well, I think. When he was
first here, on his way to England, he took an extraordinary bath, in
which he was rubbed all over with chemical compounds, and had everything
done to him that could be invented for seven francs. It _may_ be the
influence of this treatment that I see in his face, but I think it's the
prospect of coming back to Elysee. All I can say is, that when _I_ come
that way, and find myself among those friends again, I expect to be
perfectly lovely--a kind of Glorious Apollo, radiant and shining with
joy.
Kate and her sister send all kinds of love in this hasty packet, and I
am always, my dear Mrs. Watson,
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Rev%20Edward%20Tagart/124Charles Dickens
1847-01-28[Sidenote: Rev. Edward Tagart.]
PARIS, 48, RUE DE COURCELLES, ST. HONORE,
_Thursday, Jan. 28th, 1847._
MY DEAR SIR,
Before you read any more, I wish you would take those tablets out of
your drawer, in which you have put a black mark against my name, and
erase it neatly. I don't deserve it, on my word I don't, though
appearances are against me, I unwillingly confess.
I had gone to Geneva, to recover from an uncommon depression of spirits
consequent on too much sitting over "Dombey" and the little Christmas
book, when I received your letter as I was going out walking, one
sunshiny, windy day. I read it on the banks of the Rhone, where it runs,
very blue and swift, between two high green hills, with ranges of snowy
mountains filling up the distance. Its cordial and unaffected tone gave
me the greatest pleasure--did me a world of good--set me up for the
afternoon, and gave me an evening's subject of discourse. For I talked
to "them" (that is, Kate and Georgy) about those bright mornings at the
Peschiere, until bedtime, and threatened to write you such a letter next
day as would--I don't exactly know what it was to do, but it was to be a
great letter, expressive of all kinds of pleasant things, and, perhaps
the most genial letter that ever was written.
From that hour to this, I have again and again and again said, "I'll
write to-morrow," and here I am to-day full of penitence--really sorry
and ashamed, and with no excuse but my writing-life, which makes me get
up and go out, when my morning work is done, and look at pen and ink no
more until I begin again.
Besides which, I have been seeing Paris--wandering into hospitals,
prisons, dead-houses, operas, theatres, concert-rooms, burial-grounds,
palaces, and wine-shops. In my unoccupied fortnight of each month, every
description of gaudy and ghastly sight has been passing before me in a
rapid panorama. Before that, I had to come here from Switzerland, over
frosty mountains in dense fogs, and through towns with walls and
drawbridges, and without population, or anything else in particular but
soldiers and mud. I took a flight to London for four days, and went and
came back over one sheet of snow, sea excepted; and I wish that had been
snow too. Then Forster (who is here now, and begs me to send his kindest
regards) came to see Paris for himself, and in showing it to him, away I
was borne again, like an enchanted rider. In short, I have had no rest
in my play; and on Monday I am going to work again. A fortnight hence
the play will begin once more; a fortnight after that the work will
follow round, and so the letters that I care for go unwritten.
Do you care for French news? I hope not, because I don't know any. There
is a melodrama, called "The French Revolution," now playing at the
Cirque, in the first act of which there is the most tremendous
representation of _a people_ that can well be imagined. There are
wonderful battles and so forth in the piece, but there is a power and
massiveness in the mob which is positively awful. At another theatre,
"Clarissa Harlowe" is still the rage. There are some things in it rather
calculated to astonish the ghost of Richardson, but Clarissa is very
admirably played, and dies better than the original to my thinking; but
Richardson is no great favourite of mine, and never seems to me to take
his top-boots off, whatever he does. Several pieces are in course of
representation, involving rare portraits of the English. In one, a
servant, called "Tom Bob," who wears a particularly English waistcoat,
trimmed with gold lace and concealing his ankles, does very good things
indeed. In another, a Prime Minister of England, who has ruined himself
by railway speculations, hits off some of our national characteristics
very happily, frequently making incidental mention of "Vishmingster,"
"Regeenstreet," and other places with which you are well acquainted.
"Sir Fakson" is one of the characters in another play--"English to the
Core;" and I saw a Lord Mayor of London at one of the small theatres the
other night, looking uncommonly well in a stage-coachman's waistcoat,
the order of the Garter, and a very low-crowned broad-brimmed hat, not
unlike a dustman.
I was at Geneva at the time of the revolution. The moderation and
mildness of the successful party were beyond all praise. Their appeals
to the people of all parties--printed and pasted on the walls--have no
parallel that I know of, in history, for their real good sterling
Christianity and tendency to promote the happiness of mankind. My
sympathy is strongly with the Swiss radicals. They know what Catholicity
is; they see, in some of their own valleys, the poverty, ignorance,
misery, and bigotry it always brings in its train wherever it is
triumphant; and they would root it out of their children's way at any
price. I fear the end of the struggle will be, that some Catholic power
will step in to crush the dangerously well-educated republics (very
dangerous to such neighbours); but there is a spirit in the people, or I
very much mistake them, that will trouble the Jesuits there many years,
and shake their altar steps for them.
This is a poor return (I look down and see the end of the paper) for
your letter, but in its cordial spirit of reciprocal friendship, it is
not so bad a one if you could read it as I do, and it eases my mind and
discharges my conscience. We are coming home, please God, at the end of
March. Kate and Georgy send their best regards to you, and their loves
to Mrs. and Miss Tagart and the children. _Our_ children wish to live
too in _your_ children's remembrance. You will be glad, I know, to hear
that "Dombey" is doing wonders, and that the Christmas book shot far
ahead of its predecessors. I hope you will like _the last chapter of No.
5_. If you can spare me a scrap of your handwriting in token of
forgiveness, do; if not, I'll come and beg your pardon on the 31st of
March.
Ever believe me,
Cordially and truly yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/125Charles Dickens
1847-03-04[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
VICTORIA HOTEL, EUSTON SQUARE,
_Thursday, March 4th, 1847._
MY DEAREST MAMEY,
I have not got much to say, and that's the truth; but I cannot let this
letter go into the post without wishing you many many happy returns of
your birthday, and sending my love to Auntey and to Katey, and to all of
them. We were at Mrs. Macready's last night, where there was a little
party in honour of Mr. Macready's birthday. We had some dancing, and
they wished very much that you and Katey had been there; so did I and
your mamma. We have not got back to Devonshire Terrace yet, but are
living at an hotel until Sir James Duke returns from Scotland, which
will be on Saturday or Monday. I hope when he comes home and finds us
here he will go out of Devonshire Terrace, and let us get it ready for
you. Roche is coming back to you very soon. He will leave here on
Saturday morning. He says he hopes you will have a very happy birthday,
and he means to drink your health on the road to Paris.
Always your affectionate.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/126Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
CHESTER PLACE, _Tuesday Night._
MY DEAREST GEORGY,
So far from having "got through my agonies," as you benevolently hope, I
have not yet begun them. No, on this _ninth of the month_ I have not yet
written a single slip. What could I do; house-hunting at first, and
beleaguered all day to-day and yesterday by furniture that must be
altered, and things that must be put away? My wretchedness, just now, is
inconceivable. Tell Anne, by-the-bye (not with reference to my
wretchedness, but in connection with the arrangements generally), that I
can't get on at all without her.
If Kate has not mentioned it, get Katey and Mamey to write and send a
letter to Charley; of course not hinting at our being here. He wants to
hear from them.
Poor little Hall is dead, as you will have seen, I dare say, in the
paper. This house is very cheerful on the drawing-room floor and above,
looking into the park on one side and Albany Street on the other.
Forster is mild. Maclise, exceedingly bald on the crown of his head.
Roche has just come in to know if he may "blow datter light." Love to
all the darlings. Regards to everybody else. Love to yourself.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens%20and%20Miss%20Katey%20Dickens/127Charles Dickens
1847-05-00[Sidenote: Miss Dickens and Miss Katey Dickens.]
148, KING'S ROAD, BRIGHTON, _Monday, May 24, 1847._
MY DEAR MAMEY AND KATEY,
I was very glad to receive your nice letter. I am going to tell you
something that I hope will please you. It is this: I am coming to London
Thursday, and I mean to bring you both back here with me, to stay until
we all come home together on the Saturday. I hope you like this.
Tell John to come with the carriage to the London Bridge Station, on
Thursday morning at ten o'clock, and to wait there for me. I will then
come home and fetch you.
Mamma and Auntey and Charley send their loves. I send mine too, to
Walley, Spim, and Alfred, and Sydney.
Always, my dears,
Your affectionate Papa.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/William%20Sandys/128Charles Dickens
1847-06-13[Sidenote: Mr. William Sandys.]
1, DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _June 13th, 1847._
DEAR SIR,
Many thanks for your kind note. I shall hope to see you when we return
to town, from which we shall now be absent (with a short interval in
next month) until October. Your account of the Cornishmen gave me great
pleasure; and if I were not sunk in engagements so far, that the crown
of my head is invisible to my nearest friends, I should have asked you
to make me known to them. The new dialogue I will ask you by-and-by to
let me see. I have, for the present, abandoned the idea of sinking a
shaft in Cornwall.
I have sent your Shakesperian extracts to Collier. It is a great
comfort, to my thinking, that so little is known concerning the poet. It
is a fine mystery; and I tremble every day lest something should come
out. If he had had a Boswell, society wouldn't have respected his
grave, but would calmly have had his skull in the phrenological
shop-windows.
Believe me,
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/H%20P%20Smith/129Charles Dickens
1847-06-14[Sidenote: Mr. H. P. Smith.]
CHESTER PLACE, _June 14th, 1847._
MY DEAR SMITH,
Haldimand stayed at No. 7, Connaught Place, Hyde Park, when I saw him
yesterday. But he was going to cross to Boulogne to-day.
The young Pariah seems pretty comfortable. He is of a cosmopolitan
spirit I hope, and stares with a kind of leaden satisfaction at his
spoons, without afflicting himself much about the established church.
Affectionately yours.
P.S.--I think of bringing an action against you for a new sort of breach
of promise, and calling all the bishops to estimate the damage of having
our christening postponed for a fortnight. It appears to me that I shall
get a good deal of money in this way. If you have any compromise to
offer, my solicitors are Dodson and Fogg.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Marguerite%20Power/130Charles Dickens
1847-07-02[Sidenote: Miss Power.]
BROADSTAIRS, KENT, _July 2nd, 1847._
MY DEAR MISS POWER,
Let me thank you, very sincerely, for your kind note and for the little
book. I read the latter on my way down here with the greatest pleasure.
It is a charming story gracefully told, and very gracefully and worthily
translated. I have not been better pleased with a book for a long time.
I cannot say I take very kindly to the illustrations. They are a long
way behind the tale to my thinking. The artist understands it very well,
I dare say, but does not express his understanding of it, in the least
degree, to any sense of mine.
Ah Rosherville! That fated Rosherville, when shall we see it! Perhaps in
one of those intervals when I am up to town from here, and suddenly
appear at Gore House, somebody will propose an excursion there, next
day. If anybody does, somebody else will be ready to go. So this
deponent maketh oath and saith.
I am looking out upon a dark gray sea, with a keen north-east wind
blowing it in shore. It is more like late autumn than midsummer, and
there is a howling in the air as if the latter were in a very hopeless
state indeed. The very Banshee of Midsummer is rattling the windows
drearily while I write. There are no visitors in the place but children,
and they (my own included) have all got the hooping-cough, and go about
the beach choking incessantly. A miserable wanderer lectured in a
library last night about astronomy; but being in utter solitude he
snuffed out the transparent planets he had brought with him in a box and
fled in disgust. A white mouse and a little tinkling box of music that
stops at "come," in the melody of the Buffalo Gals, and can't play "out
to-night," are the only amusements left.
I beg from my solitude to send my love to Lady Blessington, and your
sister, and Count D'Orsay. I think of taming spiders, as Baron Trenck
did. There is one in my cell (with a speckled body and twenty-two very
decided knees) who seems to know me.
Dear Miss Power,
Faithfully yours ever.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/H%20P%20Smith/131Charles Dickens
1847-07-09[Sidenote: Mr. H. P. Smith.]
BROADSTAIRS, _July 9th, 1847._
MY DEAR SMITH,
I am really more obliged to you for your kindness about "The Eagle" (as
I always call your house) than I can say. But when I come to town
to-morrow week, for the Liverpool and Manchester plays, I shall have
Kate and Georgy with me. Moreover I shall be continually going out and
coming in at unholy hours. Item, the timid will come at impossible
seasons to "go over" their parts with the manager. Item, two Jews with
musty sacks of dresses will be constantly coming backwards and forwards.
Item, sounds as of "groans" will be heard while the inimitable Boz is
"getting" his words--which happens all day. Item, Forster will
incessantly deliver an address by Bulwer. Item, one hundred letters per
diem will arrive from Manchester and Liverpool; and five actresses, in
very limp bonnets, with extraordinary veils attached to them, will be
always calling, protected by five mothers.
No, no, my actuary. Some congenial tavern is the fitting scene for these
things, if I don't get into Devonshire Terrace, whereof I have some
spark of hope. Eagles couldn't look the sun in the face and have such
enormities going on in their nests.
I am, for the time, that obscene thing, in short, now chronicled in the
Marylebone Register of Births--
A PLAYER,
Though still yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Marguerite%20Power/132Charles Dickens
1847-07-14[Sidenote: Miss Power.]
BROADSTAIRS, KENT, _Tuesday, July 14th, 1847._
MY DEAR MISS POWER,
Though I am hopeless of Rosherville until after the 28th--for am I not
beckoned, by angels of charity and by local committees, to Manchester
and Liverpool, and to all sorts of bedevilments (if I may be allowed the
expression) in the way of managerial miseries in the meantime--here I
find myself falling into parenthesis within parenthesis, like Lord
Brougham--yet will I joyfully come up to London on Friday, to dine at
your house and meet the Dane, whose Books I honour, and whose--to make
the sentiment complete, I want something that would sound like "Bones, I
love!" but I can't get anything that unites reason with beauty. You, who
have genius and beauty in your own person, will supply the gap in your
kindness.
An advertisement in the newspapers mentioning the dinner-time, will be
esteemed a favour.
Some wild beasts (in cages) have come down here, and involved us in a
whirl of dissipation. A young lady in complete armour--at least, in
something that shines very much, and is exceedingly scaley--goes into
the den of ferocious lions, tigers, leopards, etc., and pretends to go
to sleep upon the principal lion, upon which a rustic keeper, who speaks
through his nose, exclaims, "Behold the abazid power of woobad!" and we
all applaud tumultuously.
Seriously, she beats Van Amburgh. And I think the Duke of Wellington
must have her painted by Landseer.
My penitent regards to Lady Blessington, Count D'Orsay, and my own
Marchioness.
Ever, dear Miss Power,
Very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/133Charles Dickens
1847-08-04[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
BROADSTAIRS, _Wednesday, August 4th, 1847._
MY DEAREST MAMEY,
I am delighted to hear that you are going to improve in your spelling,
because nobody can write properly without spelling well. But I know you
will learn whatever you are taught, because you are always good,
industrious, and attentive. That is what I always say of my Mamey.
The note you sent me this morning is a very nice one, and the spelling
is beautiful.
Always, my dear Mamey,
Your affectionate Papa.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/134Charles Dickens
1847-11-23[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Tuesday Morning, Nov. 23rd, 1847._
MY DEAR MACREADY,
I am in the whirlwind of finishing a number with a crisis in it; but I
can't fall to work without saying, in so many words, that I feel all
words insufficient to tell you what I think of you after a night like
last night. The multitudes of new tokens by which I know you for a great
man, the swelling within me of my love for you, the pride I have in you,
the majestic reflection I see in you of all the passions and affections
that make up our mystery, throw me into a strange kind of transport that
has no expression but in a mute sense of an attachment, which, in truth
and fervency, is worthy of its subject.
What is this to say! Nothing, God knows, and yet I cannot leave it
unsaid.
Ever affectionately yours.
P.S.--I never saw you more gallant and free than in the gallant and free
scenes last night. It was perfectly captivating to behold you. However,
it shall not interfere with my determination to address you as Old Parr
in all future time.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/135Charles Dickens
1847-12-13[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
EDINBURGH, _Thursday, December 13th, 1847._
MY DEAR GEORGY,
I "take up my pen," as the young ladies write, to let you know how we
are getting on; and as I shall be obliged to put it down again very
soon, here goes. We lived with very hospitable people in a very splendid
house near Glasgow, and were perfectly comfortable. The meeting was the
most stupendous thing as to numbers, and the most beautiful as to
colours and decorations I ever saw. The inimitable did wonders. His
grace, elegance, and eloquence, enchanted all beholders. _Kate didn't
go!_ having been taken ill on the railroad between here and Glasgow.
It has been snowing, sleeting, thawing, and freezing, sometimes by turns
and sometimes all together, since the night before last. Lord Jeffrey's
household are in town here, not at Craigcrook, and jogging on in a cosy,
old-fashioned, comfortable sort of way. We have some idea of going to
York on Sunday, passing that night at Alfred's, and coming home on
Monday; but of this, Kate will advise you when she writes, which she
will do to-morrow, after I shall have seen the list of railway trains.
She sends her best love. She is a little poorly still, but nothing to
speak of. She is frightfully anxious that her not having been to the
great demonstration should be kept a secret. But I say that, like
murder, it will out, and that to hope to veil such a tremendous disgrace
from the general intelligence is out of the question. In one of the
Glasgow papers she is elaborately described. I rather think Miss Alison,
who is seventeen, was taken for her, and sat for the portrait.
Best love from both of us, to Charley, Mamey, Katey, Wally,
Chickenstalker, Skittles, and the Hoshen Peck; last, and not least, to
you. We talked of you at the Macreadys' party on Monday night. I hope
---- came out lively, also that ---- was truly amiable. Finally, that
---- took everybody to their carriages, and that ---- wept a good deal
during the festivities? God bless you. Take care of yourself, for the
sake of mankind in general.
Ever affectionately, dear Georgy.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Charles%20Babbage/136Charles Dickens
1848-02-26[Sidenote: Mr. Charles Babbage.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _February 26th, 1848._
MY DEAR SIR,
Pray let me thank you for your pamphlet.
I confess that I am one of the unconvinced grumblers, and that I doubt
the present or future existence of any government in England, strong
enough to convert the people to your income-tax principles. But I do not
the less appreciate the ability with which you advocate them, nor am I
the less gratified by any mark of your remembrance.
Faithfully yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/137Charles Dickens
1848-03-02[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
JUNCTION HOUSE, BRIGHTON, _March 2nd, 1848._
MY DEAR MACREADY,
We have migrated from the Bedford and come here, where we are very
comfortably (not to say gorgeously) accommodated. Mrs. Macready is
certainly better already, and I really have very great hopes that she
will come back in a condition so blooming, as to necessitate the
presentation of a piece of plate to the undersigned trainer.
You mean to come down on Sunday and on Sunday week. If you don't, I
shall immediately take the Victoria, and start Mr. ----, of the Theatre
Royal, Haymarket, as a smashing tragedian. Pray don't impose upon me
this cruel necessity.
I think Lamartine, so far, one of the best fellows in the world; and I
have lively hopes of that great people establishing a noble republic.
Our court had best be careful not to overdo it in respect of sympathy
with ex-royalty and ex-nobility. Those are not times for such displays,
as, it strikes me, the people in some of our great towns would be apt to
express pretty plainly.
However, we'll talk of all this on these Sundays, and Mr. ---- shall
_not_ be raised to the pinnacle of fame.
Ever affectionately yours,
My dear Macready.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Editor%20of%20_The%20Sun_/138Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Editor of _The Sun_.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, YORK GATE, REGENT'S PARK,
_Friday, April 14th, 1848._
_Private._
Mr. Charles Dickens presents his compliments to the Editor of _The Sun_,
and begs that gentleman will have the goodness to convey to the writer
of the notice of "Dombey and Son," in last evening's paper, Mr.
Dickens's warmest acknowledgments and thanks. The sympathy expressed in
it is so very earnestly and unaffectedly stated, that it is particularly
welcome and gratifying to Mr. Dickens, and he feels very desirous indeed
to convey that assurance to the writer of that frank and genial
farewell.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20Charles%20M%20Kent/139Charles Dickens
1848-04-18[Sidenote: Mr. W. Charles M. Kent.]
1, DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, YORK GATE, REGENT'S PARK,
_April 18th, 1848._
DEAR SIR,
Pray let me repeat to you personally what I expressed in my former note,
and allow me to assure you, as an illustration of my sincerity, that I
have never addressed a similar communication to anybody except on one
occasion.
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/John%20Forster/140Charles Dickens
1848-04-22[Sidenote: Mr. John Forster.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Saturday, April 22nd, 1848._
MY DEAR FORSTER,[7]
I finished Goldsmith yesterday, after dinner, having read it from the
first page to the last with the greatest care and attention.
As a picture of the time, I really think it impossible to give it too
much praise. It seems to me to be the very essence of all about the time
that I have ever seen in biography or fiction, presented in most wise
and humane lights, and in a thousand new and just aspects. I have never
liked Johnson half so well. Nobody's contempt for Boswell ought to be
capable of increase, but I have never seen him in my mind's eye half so
plainly. The introduction of him is quite a masterpiece. I should point
to that, if I didn't know the author, as being done by somebody with a
remarkably vivid conception of what he narrated, and a most admirable
and fanciful power of communicating it to another. All about Reynolds is
charming; and the first account of the Literary Club and of Beauclerc as
excellent a piece of description as ever I read in my life. But to read
the book is to be in the time. It lives again in as fresh and lively a
manner as if it were presented on an impossibly good stage by the very
best actors that ever lived, or by the real actors come out of their
graves on purpose.
And as to Goldsmith himself, and _his_ life, and the tracing of it out
in his own writings, and the manful and dignified assertion of him
without any sobs, whines, or convulsions of any sort, it is throughout a
noble achievement, of which, apart from any private and personal
affection for you, I think (and really believe) I should feel proud, as
one who had no indifferent perception of these books of his--to the best
of my remembrance--when little more than a child. I was a little afraid
in the beginning, when he committed those very discouraging imprudences,
that you were going to champion him somewhat indiscriminately; but I
very soon got over that fear, and found reason in every page to admire
the sense, calmness, and moderation with which you make the love and
admiration of the reader cluster about him from his youth, and
strengthen with his strength--and weakness too, which is better still.
I don't quite agree with you in two small respects. First, I question
very much whether it would have been a good thing for every great man to
have had his Boswell, inasmuch as I think that two Boswells, or three at
most, would have made great men extraordinarily false, and would have
set them on always playing a part, and would have made distinguished
people about them for ever restless and distrustful. I can imagine a
succession of Boswells bringing about a tremendous state of falsehood in
society, and playing the very devil with confidence and friendship.
Secondly, I cannot help objecting to that practice (begun, I think, or
greatly enlarged by Hunt) of italicising lines and words and whole
passages in extracts, without some very special reason indeed. It does
appear to be a kind of assertion of the editor over the reader--almost
over the author himself--which grates upon me. The author might almost
as well do it himself to my thinking, as a disagreeable thing; and it is
such a strong contrast to the modest, quiet, tranquil beauty of "The
Deserted Village," for instance, that I would almost as soon hear "the
town crier" speak the lines. The practice always reminds me of a man
seeing a beautiful view, and not thinking how beautiful it is half so
much as what he shall say about it.
In that picture at the close of the third book (a most beautiful one) of
Goldsmith sitting looking out of window at the Temple trees, you speak
of the "gray-eyed" rooks. Are you sure they are "gray-eyed"? The raven's
eye is a deep lustrous black, and so, I suspect, is the rook's, except
when the light shines full into it.
I have reserved for a closing word--though I _don't_ mean to be
eloquent about it, being far too much in earnest--the admirable manner
in which the case of the literary man is stated throughout this book. It
is splendid. I don't believe that any book was ever written, or anything
ever done or said, half so conducive to the dignity and honour of
literature as "The Life and Adventures of Oliver Goldsmith," by J. F.,
of the Inner Temple. The gratitude of every man who is content to rest
his station and claims quietly on literature, and to make no feint of
living by anything else, is your due for evermore. I have often said,
here and there, when you have been at work upon the book, that I was
sure it would be; and I shall insist on that debt being due to you
(though there will be no need for insisting about it) as long as I have
any tediousness and obstinacy to bestow on anybody. Lastly, I never will
hear the biography compared with Boswell's except under vigorous
protest. For I do say that it is mere folly to put into opposite scales
a book, however amusing and curious, written by an unconscious coxcomb
like that, and one which surveys and grandly understands the characters
of all the illustrious company that move in it.
My dear Forster, I cannot sufficiently say how proud I am of what you
have done, or how sensible I am of being so tenderly connected with it.
When I look over this note, I feel as if I had said no part of what I
think; and yet if I were to write another I should say no more, for I
can't get it out. I desire no better for my fame, when my personal
dustiness shall be past the control of my love of order, than such a
biographer and such a critic. And again I say, most solemnly, that
literature in England has never had, and probably never will have, such
a champion as you are, in right of this book.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Mark%20Lemon/141Charles Dickens
1848-05-03[Sidenote: Mr. Mark Lemon.]
_Wednesday, May 3rd, 1848._
MY DEAR LEMON,
Do you think you could manage, before we meet to-morrow, to get from the
musical director of the Haymarket (whom I don't know) a note of the
overtures he purposes playing on our two nights? I am obliged to correct
and send back the bill proofs to-morrow (they are to be brought to Miss
Kelly's)--and should like, for completeness' sake, to put the music in.
Before "The Merry Wives," it must be something Shakespearian. Before
"Animal Magnetism," something very telling and light--like "Fra
Diavolo."
Wednesday night's music in a concatenation accordingly, and jolly little
polkas and quadrilles between the pieces, always beginning the moment
the act-drop is down. If any little additional strength should be really
required in the orchestra, so be it.
Can you come to Miss Kelly's by _three_? I should like to show you
bills, tickets, and so forth, before they are worked. In order that they
may not interfere with or confuse the rehearsal, I have appointed Peter
Cunningham to meet me there at three, instead of half-past.
Faithfully ever.
P.S.--If you should be disposed to chop together early, send me a line
to the Athenaeum. I have engaged to be with Barry at ten, to go over the
Houses of Parliament. When I have done so, I will go to the club on the
chance of a note from you, and would meet you where you chose.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Rev%20James%20White/142Charles Dickens
1848-05-04[Sidenote: Rev. James White.]
ATHENAEUM, _Thursday, May 4th, 1848._
MY DEAR WHITE,
I have not been able to write to you until now. I have lived in hope
that Kate and I might be able to run down to see you and yours for a
day, before our design for enforcing the Government to make Knowles the
first custodian of the Shakespeare house should come off. But I am so
perpetually engaged in drilling the forces, that I see no hope of making
a pleasant expedition to the Isle of Wight until about the twentieth.
Then I shall hope to do so for one day. But of this I will advise you
further, in due course.
My doubts about the house you speak of are twofold, First, I could not
leave town so soon as May, having affairs to arrange for a sick sister.
And secondly, I fear Bonchurch is not sufficiently bracing for my
chickens, who thrive best in breezy and cool places. This has set me
thinking, sometimes of the Yorkshire coast, sometimes of Dover. I would
not have the house at Bonchurch reserved for me, therefore. But if it
should be empty, we will go and look at it in a body. I reserve the more
serious part of my letter until the last, my dear White, because it
comes from the bottom of my heart. None of your friends have thought and
spoken oftener of you and Mrs. White than we have these many weeks past.
I should have written to you, but was timid of intruding on your sorrow.
What you say, and the manner in which you tell me I am connected with it
in your recollection of your dear child, now among the angels of God,
gives me courage to approach your grief--to say what sympathy we have
felt with it, and how we have not been unimaginative of these deep
sources of consolation to which you have had recourse. The traveller
who journeyed in fancy from this world to the next was struck to the
heart to find the child he had lost, many years before, building him a
tower in heaven. Our blessed Christian hopes do not shut out the belief
of love and remembrance still enduring there, but irradiate it and make
it sacred. Who should know that better than you, or who more deeply feel
the touching truths and comfort of that story in the older book, where,
when the bereaved mother is asked, "Is it well with the child?" she
answers, "It _is_ well."
God be with you. Kate and her sister desire their kindest love to
yourself and Mrs. White, in which I heartily join.
Being ever, my dear White,
Your affectionate Friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/143Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Wednesday, May 10th, 1848._
MY DEAR MACREADY,
We are rehearsing at the Haymarket now, and Lemon mentioned to me
yesterday that Webster had asked him if he would sound Forster or me as
to your intention of having a farewell benefit before going to America,
and whether you would like to have it at the Haymarket, and also as to
its being preceded by a short engagement there. I don't know what your
feelings may be on this latter head, but thinking it well that you may
know how the land lies in these seas, send you this; the rather (excuse
Elizabethan phrase, but you know how indispensable it is to me under
existing circumstances)--the rather that I am thereto encouraged by thy
consort, who has just come a-visiting here, with thy fair daughters,
Mistress Nina and the little Kate. Wherefore, most selected friend,
perpend at thy leisure, and so God speed thee!
And no more at present from,
Thine ever.
From my tent in my garden.
ANOTHER "BOBADIL" NOTE.
I must tell you this, sir, I am no general man; but for William
Shakespeare's sake (you may embrace it at what height of favour you
please) I will communicate with you on the twenty-first, and do esteem
you to be a gentleman of some parts--of a good many parts in truth. I
love few words.
[Illustration: HW: Signature: Bobadil]
At Cobb's, a water-bearer,
_October 11th._http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Peter%20Cunningham/144Charles Dickens
1848-06-22[Sidenote: Mr. Peter Cunningham.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Thursday Morning, June 22nd, 1848._
MY DEAR CUNNINGHAM,
I will be at Miss Kelly's to-morrow evening, from seven to eight, and
shall hope to see you there, for a little conversation, touching the
railroad arrangements.
All preparations completed in Edinburgh and Glasgow. There will be a
great deal of money taken, especially at the latter place.
I wish I could persuade you, seriously, to come into training for Nym,
in "The Merry Wives." He is never on by himself, and all he has to do is
good, without being difficult. If you could screw yourself up to the
doing of that part in Scotland, it would prevent our taking some new
man, and would cover you (all over) with glory.
Faithfully yours always.
P.S.--I am fully persuaded that an amateur manager has more
correspondence than the Home Secretary.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Lavinia%20Watson/145Charles Dickens
1848-07-27[Sidenote: The Hon. Mrs. Watson.]
1, DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, REGENT'S PARK,
_July 27th, 1848._
MY DEAR MRS. WATSON,
I thought to have been at Rockingham long ago! It seems a century since
I, standing in big boots on the Haymarket stage, saw you come into a box
upstairs and look down on the humbled Bobadil, since then I have had the
kindest of notes from you, since then the finest of venison, and yet I
have not seen the Rockingham flowers, and they are withering I daresay.
But we have acted at Manchester, Liverpool, Birmingham, Edinburgh, and
Glasgow; and the business of all this--and graver and heavier daily
occupation in going to see a dying sister at Hornsey--has so worried me
that I have hardly had an hour, far less a week. I shall never be quite
happy, in a theatrical point of view, until you have seen me play in an
English version of the French piece, "L'Homme Blase," which fairly
turned the head of Glasgow last Thursday night as ever was; neither
shall I be quite happy, in a social point of view, until I have been to
Rockingham again. When the first event will come about Heaven knows. The
latter will happen about the end of the November fogs and wet weather.
For am I not going to Broadstairs now, to walk about on the sea-shore
(why don't you bring your rosy children there?) and think what is to be
done for Christmas! An idea occurs to me all at once. I must come down
and read you that book before it's published. Shall it be a bargain?
Were you all in Switzerland? I don't believe _I_ ever was. It is such a
dream now. I wonder sometimes whether I ever disputed with a Haldimand;
whether I ever drank mulled wine on the top of the Great St. Bernard, or
was jovial at the bottom with company that have stolen into my
affection; whether I ever was merry and happy in that valley on the Lake
of Geneva, or saw you one evening (when I didn't know you) walking down
among the green trees outside Elysee, arm-in-arm with a gentleman in a
white hat. I am quite clear that there is no foundation for these
visions. But I should like to go somewhere, too, and try it all over
again. I don't know how it is, but the ideal world in which my lot is
cast has an odd effect on the real one, and makes it chiefly precious
for such remembrances. I get quite melancholy over them sometimes,
especially when, as now, those great piled-up semicircles of bright
faces, at which I have lately been looking--all laughing, earnest and
intent--have faded away like dead people. They seem a ghostly moral of
everything in life to me.
Kate sends her best love, in which Georgy would as heartily unite, I
know, but that she is already gone to Broadstairs with the children. We
think of following on Saturday morning, but that depends on my poor
sister. Pray give my most cordial remembrances to Watson, and tell him
they include a great deal. I meant to have written you a letter. I don't
know what this is. There is no word for it. So, if you will still let me
owe you one, I will pay my debt, on the smallest encouragement, from the
seaside. Here, there, and elsewhere, I am, with perfect truth, believe
me,
Very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/146Charles Dickens
1848-08-26[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
BROADSTAIRS, KENT, _Saturday, August 26th, 1848._
MY DEAR MACREADY,
I was about to write to you when I received your welcome letter. You
knew I should come from a somewhat longer distance than this to give you
a hearty God-speed and farewell on the eve of your journey. What do you
say to Monday, the fourth, or Saturday, the second? Fix either day, let
me know which suits you best--at what hour you expect the Inimitable,
and the Inimitable will come up to the scratch like a man and a brother.
Permit me, in conclusion, to nail my colours to the mast. Stars and
stripes are so-so--showy, perhaps; but my colours is THE UNION JACK,
which I am told has the remarkable property of having braved a thousand
years the battle AND the breeze. Likewise, it is the flag of Albion--the
standard of Britain; and Britons, as I am informed, never, never,
never--will--be--slaves!
My sentiment is: Success to the United States as a golden campaigning
ground, but blow the United States to 'tarnal smash as an Englishman's
place of residence. Gentlemen, are you all charged?
Affectionately ever.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/147Charles Dickens
1848-09-08[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Friday, Sept. 8th, 1848._
MY DEAREST MAMEY,
We shall be very glad to see you all again, and we hope you will be very
glad to see us. Give my best love to dear Katey, also to Frankey, Alley,
and the Peck.
I have had a nice note from Charley just now. He says it is expected at
school that when Walter puts on his jacket, all the Miss Kings will fall
in love with him to desperation and faint away.
Ever, my dear Mamey,
Most affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Effingham%20William%20Wilson/148Charles Dickens
1848-11-07[Sidenote: Mr. Effingham William Wilson.]
1, DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, YORK GATE, REGENT'S PARK,
_Nov. 7th, 1848._
"A NATIONAL THEATRE."
SIR,
I beg you to accept my best thanks for your pamphlet and your obliging
note. That such a theatre as you describe would be but worthy of this
nation, and would not stand low upon the list of its instructors, I have
no kind of doubt. I wish I could cherish a stronger faith than I have in
the probability of its establishment on a rational footing within fifty
years.
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Frank%20Stone/149Charles Dickens
1848-11-21[Sidenote: Mr. Frank Stone.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Tuesday, Nov. 21st, 1848._
MY DEAR STONE,
I send you herewith the second part of the book, which I hope may
interest you. If you should prefer to have it read to you by the
Inimitable rather than to read it, I shall be at home this evening (loin
of mutton at half-past five), and happy to do it. The proofs are full
of printers' errors, but with the few corrections I have scrawled upon
it, you will be able to make out what they mean.
I send you, on the opposite side, a list of the subjects already in hand
from this second part. If you should see no other in it that you like (I
think it important that you should keep Milly, as you have begun with
her), I will, in a day or two, describe you an unwritten subject for the
third part of the book.
Ever faithfully.
SUBJECTS IN HAND FOR THE SECOND PART.
1. Illuminated page. Tenniel. Representing Redlaw going upstairs, and
the Tetterby family below.
2. The Tetterby supper. Leech.
3. The boy in Redlaw's room, munching his food and staring at the fire.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Frank%20Stone/150Charles Dickens
1848-11-23[Sidenote: Mr. Frank Stone.]
BRIGHTON, _Thursday Night, Nov. 23rd, 1848._
MY DEAR STONE,
We are unanimous.
The drawing of Milly on the chair is CHARMING. I cannot tell you how
much the little composition and expression please me. Do that, by all
means.
I fear she must have a little cap on. There is something coming in the
last part, about her having had a dead child, which makes it yet more
desirable than the existing text does that she should have that little
matronly sign about her. Unless the artist is obdurate indeed, and then
he'll do as he likes.
I am delighted to hear that you have your eye on her in the students'
room. You will really, pictorially, make the little woman whom I love.
Kate and Georgy send their kindest remembrances. I write hastily to save
the post.
Ever, my dear Stone,
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Frank%20Stone/151Charles Dickens
1848-11-27[Sidenote: Mr. Frank Stone.]
BEDFORD HOTEL, BRIGHTON, _Monday Night, Nov. 27th, 1848._
MY DEAR STONE,
You are a TRUMP, emphatically a TRUMP, and such are my feelings towards
you at this moment that I think (but I am not sure) that if I saw you
about to place a card on a wrong pack at Bibeck (?), I wouldn't breathe
a word of objection.
Sir, there is a subject I have written to-day for the third part, that I
think and hope will just suit you. Scene, Tetterby's. Time, morning. The
power of bringing back people's memories of sorrow, wrong and trouble,
has been given by the ghost to Milly, though she don't know it herself.
As she comes along the street, Mr. and Mrs. Tetterby recover themselves,
and are mutually affectionate again, and embrace, closing _rather_ a
good scene of quarrel and discontent. The moment they do so, Johnny (who
has seen her in the distance and announced her before, from which moment
they begin to recover) cries "Here she is!" and she comes in, surrounded
by the little Tetterbys, the very spirit of morning, gladness,
innocence, hope, love, domesticity, etc. etc. etc. etc.
I would limit the illustration to her and the children, which will make
a fitness between it and your other illustrations, and give them all a
character of their own. The exact words of the passage I endorsed on
another slip of paper. Note. There are six boy Tetterbys present (young
'Dolphus is not there), including Johnny; and in Johnny's arms is
Moloch, the baby, who is a girl. I hope to be back in town next Monday,
and will lose no time in reporting myself to you. Don't wait to send me
the drawing of this. I know how pretty she will be with the children in
your hands, and should be a stupendous jackass if I had any distrust of
it.
The Duke of Cambridge is staying in this house, and they are driving me
mad by having Life Guards bands under our windows, playing _our_
overtures! I have been at work all day, and am going to wander into the
theatre, where (for the comic man's benefit) "two gentlemen of Brighton"
are performing two counts in a melodrama. I was quite addle-headed for
the time being, and think an amateur or so would revive me. No 'Tone! I
don't in the abstract approve of Brighton. I couldn't pass an autumn
here; but it is a gay place for a week or so; and when one laughs and
cries, and suffers the agitation that some men experience over their
books, it's a bright change to look out of window, and see the gilt
little toys on horseback going up and down before the mighty sea, and
thinking nothing of it.
Kate's love and Georgy's. They say you'll contradict every word of this
letter.
Faithfully ever.
[SLIP OF PAPER ENCLOSED.]
"Hurrah! here's Mrs. Williams!" cried Johnny.
So she was, and all the Tetterby children with her; and as she came in,
they kissed her and kissed one another, and kissed the baby and kissed
their father and mother, and then ran back and flocked and danced about
her, trooping on with her in triumph.
(After which, she is going to say: "What, are _you_ all glad to see me
too! Oh, how happy it makes me to find everyone so glad to see me this
bright morning!")http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Mark%20Lemon/152Charles Dickens
1873-05-00[Sidenote: Mr. Mark Lemon.]
BEDFORD HOTEL, BRIGHTON, _Nov. 28th, 1848._
MY DEAR MARK,
I assure you, most unaffectedly and cordially, that the dedication of
that book to Mary and _Kate_ (not Catherine) will be a real delight to
me, and to all of us. I know well that you propose it in "affectionate
regard," and value and esteem it, therefore, in a way not easy of
expression.
You were talking of "coming" down, and now, in a mean and dodging way,
you write about "sending" the second act! I have a propogician to make.
Come down on Friday. There is a train leaves London Bridge at two--gets
here at four. By that time I shall be ready to strike work. We can take
a little walk, dine, discuss, and you can go back in good time next
morning. I really think this ought to be done, and indeed MUST be done.
Write and say it shall be done.
A little management will be required in dramatising the third part,
where there are some things I _describe_ (for effect's sake, and as a
matter of art) which must be _said_ on the stage. Redlaw is in a new
condition of mind, which fact must be shot point-blank at the audience,
I suppose, "as from the deadly level of a gun." By anybody who knew how
to play Milly, I think it might be made very good. Its effect is very
pleasant upon me. I have also given Mr. and Mrs. Tetterby another
innings.
I went to the play last night--fifth act of Richard the Third. Richmond
by a stout _lady_, with a particularly well-developed bust, who finished
all the speeches with the soubrette simper. Also, at the end of the
tragedy she came forward (still being Richmond) and said, "Ladies and
gentlemen, on Wednesday next the entertainments will be for _My_
benefit, when I hope to meet your approbation and support." Then, having
bowed herself into the stage-door, she looked out of it, and said,
winningly, "Won't you come?" which was enormously applauded.
Ever affectionately.
FOOTNOTE:
[7] LETTER OF BARON TAUeCHNITZ.
Having had the privilege to see a letter which the late Mr. Charles
Dickens wrote to the author of this work upon its first appearance, and
which there was no intention to publish in England, it became my lively
wish to make it known to the readers of my edition.
I therefore addressed an earnest request to Mr. Forster, that he would
permit the letter to be prefixed to a reprint not designed for
circulation in England, where I could understand his reluctance to
sanction its publication. Its varied illustration of the subject of the
book, and its striking passages of personal feeling and character, led
me also to request that I might be allowed to present it in facsimile.
Mr. Forster complied; and I am most happy to be thus enabled to give to
my public, on the following pages, so attractive and so interesting a
letter, reproduced in the exact form in which it was written, by the
most popular and admired-of writers--too early gone.
TAUeCHNITZ.
Leipsic, _May 23, 1873._http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Dudley%20Costello/153Charles Dickens
1849-01-26[Sidenote: Mr. Dudley Costello.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Friday Night, Jan. 26th, 1849._
MY DEAR COSTELLO,
I am desperate! Engaged in links of adamant to a "monster in human
form"--a remarkable expression I think I remember to have once met with
in a newspaper--whom I encountered at Franconi's, whence I have just
returned, otherwise I would have done all three things right heartily
and with my accustomed sweetness. Think of me another time when chops
are on the carpet (figuratively speaking), and see if I won't come and
eat 'em!
Ever faithfully yours.
P.S.--I find myself too despondent for the flourish.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/154Charles Dickens
1849-02-27[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Tuesday Night, Feb. 27th, 1849._
MY DEAREST MAMEY,
I am not engaged on the evening of your birthday. But even if I had an
engagement of the most particular kind, I should excuse myself from
keeping it, so that I might have the pleasure of celebrating at home,
and among my children, the day that gave me such a dear and good
daughter as you.
Ever affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Clarkson%20Stanfield/155Charles Dickens
1849-05-25[Sidenote: Mr. Clarkson Stanfield.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _May 25th, 1849._
MY DEAR STANFIELD.
No--no--no! Murder, murder! Madness and misconception! Any _one_ of the
subjects--not the whole. Oh, blessed star of early morning, what do you
think I am made of, that I should, on the part of any man, prefer such a
pig-headed, calf-eyed, donkey-eared, imp-hoofed request!
Says my friend to me, "Will you ask _your_ friend, Mr. Stanfield, what
the damage of a little picture of that size would be, that I may treat
myself with the same, if I can afford it?" Says I, "I will." Says he,
"Will you suggest that I should like it to be _one_ of those subjects?"
Says I, "I will."
I am beating my head against the door with grief and frenzy, and I shall
continue to do so, until I receive your answer.
Ever heartily yours,
THE MISCONCEIVED ONE.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Frank%20Stone/156Charles Dickens
1849-06-04[Sidenote: Mr. Frank Stone.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Monday, June 4th, 1849._
MY DEAR STONE,
Leech and Sparkler having promised their ladies to take them to Ascot,
and having failed in their truths, propoge to take them to Greenwich
instead, next Wednesday. Will that alteration in the usual arrangements
be agreeable to Gaffin, S.? If so, the place of meeting is the
Sparkler's Bower, and the hour, one exactly.
Ever yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Catherine%20Dickens/157Charles Dickens
1849-06-16[Sidenote: Mrs. Charles Dickens.]
SHANKLIN, ISLE OF WIGHT, _Monday Night, June 16th, 1849._
MY DEAR KATE,
I have but a moment. Just got back and post going out. I have taken a
most delightful and beautiful house, belonging to White, at Bonchurch;
cool, airy, private bathing, everything delicious. I think it is the
prettiest place I ever saw in my life, at home or abroad. Anne may
begin to dismantle Devonshire Terrace. I have arranged for carriages,
luggage, and everything.
The man with the post-bag is swearing in the passage.
Ever affectionately.
P.S.--A waterfall on the grounds, which I have arranged with a carpenter
to convert into a perpetual shower-bath.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Mark%20Lemon/158Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. Mark Lemon.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Monday, June 25th, 1849._
MY DEAR LEMON,
I am very unwilling to deny Charley the pleasure you so kindly offer
him. But as it is just the close of the half-year when they are getting
together all the half-year's work--and as that day's pleasure would
weaken the next day's duty, I think I must be "more like an ancient
Roman than a ----" Sparkler, and that it will be wisest in me to say
nothing about it.
Get a clean pocket-handkerchief ready for the close of "Copperfield" No.
3; "simple and quiet, but very natural and touching."--_Evening Bore._
Ever affectionately.
NEW SONG.
TUNE--"Lesbia hath a beaming eye."
1.
Lemon is a little hipped,
And this is Lemon's true position;
He is not pale, he's not white-lipped,
Yet wants a little fresh condition.
Sweeter 'tis to gaze upon
Old ocean's rising, falling billows,
Than on the houses every one,
That form the street called Saint Anne's Willers.
Oh, my Lemon, round and fat,
Oh, my bright, my right, my tight 'un,
Think a little what you're at--
Don't stay at home, but come to Brighton!
2.
Lemon has a coat of frieze,
But all so seldom Lemon wears it,
That it is a prey to fleas,
And ev'ry moth that's hungry tears it.
Oh, that coat's the coat for me,
That braves the railway sparks and breezes,
Leaving every engine free
To smoke it, till its owner sneezes!
Then my Lemon, round and fat,
L., my bright, my right, my tight 'un,
Think a little what you're at--
On Tuesday first, come down to Brighton!
T. SPARKLER.
Also signed,
CATHERINE DICKENS,
ANNIE LEECH,
GEORGINA HOGARTH,
MARY DICKENS,
KATIE DICKENS,
JOHN LEECH.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Rev%20James%20White/159Charles Dickens
1849-09-23[Sidenote: Rev. James White.]
WINTERBOURNE, _Sunday Evening, Sept. 23rd, 1849._
MY DEAR WHITE,
I have a hundred times at least wanted to say to you how good I thought
those papers in "Blackwood"--how excellent their purpose, and how
delicately and charmingly worked out. Their subtle and delightful
humour, and their grasp of the whole question, were something more
pleasant to me than I can possibly express.
"How comes this lumbering Inimitable to say this, on this Sunday night
of all nights in the year?" you naturally ask. Now hear the Inimitable's
honest avowal! I make so bold because I heard that Morning Service
better read this morning than ever I have heard it read in my life. And
because--for the soul of me--I cannot separate the two things, or help
identifying the wise and genial man out of church with the earnest and
unaffected man in it. Midsummer madness, perhaps, but a madness I hope
that will hold us true friends for many and many a year to come. The
madness is over as soon as you have burned this letter (see the history
of the Gunpowder Plot), but let us be friends much longer for these
reasons and many included in them not herein expressed.
Affectionately always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Joll/160Charles Dickens
1849-11-27[Sidenote: Miss Joll.]
ROCKINGHAM CASTLE, NORTHAMPTONSHIRE,
_Nov. 27th, 1849._
Mr. Charles Dickens presents his compliments to Miss Joll. He is, on
principle, opposed to capital punishment, but believing that many
earnest and sincere people who are favourable to its retention in
extreme cases would unite in any temperate effort to abolish the evils
of public executions, and that the consequences of public executions are
disgraceful and horrible, he has taken the course with which Miss Joll
is acquainted as the most hopeful, and as one undoubtedly calculated to
benefit society at large.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Lavinia%20Watson/161Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: The Hon. Mrs. Watson.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Friday Night, Nov. 30th, 1849._
_A Quarter-past Ten._
MY DEAR MRS. WATSON,
Plunged in the deepest gloom, I write these few words to let you know
that, just now, when the bell was striking ten, I drank to
[Illustration: H. E. R.!]
and to all the rest of Rockingham; as the wine went down my throat, I
felt distinctly that it was "changing those thoughts to madness."
On the way here I was a terror to my companions, and I am at present a
blight and mildew on my home.
Think of me sometimes, as I shall long think of our glorious dance last
night. Give my most affectionate regards to Watson, and my kind
remembrances to all who remember me, and believe me,
Ever faithfully yours.
P.S.--I am in such an incapable state, that after executing the
foregoing usual flourish I swooned, and remained for some time
insensible. Ha, ha, ha! Why was I ever restored to consciousness!!!
P.P.S.--"Changing" those thoughts ought to be "driving." But my
recollection is incoherent and my mind wanders.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/William%20De%20Cerjat/162Charles Dickens
1849-12-29[Sidenote: M. Cerjat.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Saturday, Dec. 29th, 1849._
MY DEAR CERJAT,
I received your letter at breakfast-time this morning with a pleasure my
eloquence is unable to express and your modesty unable to conceive. It
is so delightful to be remembered at this time of the year in your house
where we have been so happy, and in dear old Lausanne, that we always
hope to see again, that I can't help pushing away the first page of
"Copperfield" No. 10, now staring at me with what I may literally call a
blank aspect, and plunging energetically into this reply.
What a strange coincidence that is about Blunderstone House! Of all the
odd things I have ever heard (and their name is Legion), I think it is
the oddest. I went down into that part of the country on the 7th of
January last year, when I was meditating the story, and chose
Blunderstone for the sound of its name. I had previously observed much
of what you say about the poor girls. In all you suggest with so much
feeling about their return to virtue being cruelly cut off, I concur
with a sore heart. I have been turning it over in my mind for some time,
and hope, in the history of Little Em'ly (who _must_ fall--there is no
hope for her), to put it before the thoughts of people in a new and
pathetic way, and perhaps to do some good. You will be glad to hear, I
know, that "Copperfield" is a great success. I think it is better liked
than any of my other books.
We had a most delightful time at Watsons' (for both of them we have
preserved and strengthened a real affection), and were the gayest of the
gay. There was a Miss Boyle staying in the house, who is an excellent
amateur actress, and she and I got up some scenes from "The School for
Scandal" and from "Nickleby," with immense success. We played in the old
hall, with the audience filled up and running over with servants. The
entertainments concluded with feats of legerdemain (for the performance
of which I have a pretty good apparatus, collected at divers times and
in divers places), and we then fell to country dances of a most frantic
description, and danced all night. We often spoke of you and Mrs. Cerjat
and of Haldimand, and wished you were all there. Watson and I have some
fifty times "registered a vow" (like O'Connell) to come to Lausanne
together, and have even settled in what month and week. Something or
other has always interposed to prevent us; but I hope, please God, most
certainly to see it again, when my labours-Copperfieldian shall have
terminated.
You have no idea what that hanging of the Mannings really was. The
conduct of the people was so indescribably frightful, that I felt for
some time afterwards almost as if I were living in a city of devils. I
feel, at this hour, as if I never could go near the place again. My
letters have made a great to-do, and led to a great agitation of the
subject; but I have not a confident belief in any change being made,
mainly because the total abolitionists are utterly reckless and
dishonest (generally speaking), and would play the deuce with any such
proposition in Parliament, unless it were strongly supported by the
Government, which it would certainly not be, the Whig motto (in office)
being "_laissez aller_." I think Peel might do it if he came in. Two
points have occurred to me as being a good commentary to the objections
to my idea. The first is that a most terrific uproar was made when the
hanging processions were abolished, and the ceremony shrunk from Tyburn
to the prison door. The second is that, at this very time, under the
British Government in New South Wales, executions take place _within the
prison walls_, with decidedly improved results. (I am waiting to explode
this fact on the first man of mark who gives me the opportunity.)
Unlike you, we have had no marriages or giving in marriage here. We
might have had, but a certain young lady, whom you know, is hard to
please. The children are all well, thank God! Charley is going to Eton
the week after next, and has passed a first-rate examination. Kate is
quite well, and unites with me and Georgina in love to you and Mrs.
Cerjat and Haldimand, whom I would give a good deal (tell him) to have
several hours' contradiction of at his own table. Good heavens, how
obstinate we would both be! I see him leaning back in his chair, with
his right forefinger out, and saying, "Good God!" in reply to some
proposition of mine, and then laughing.
All in a moment a feeling comes over me, as if you and I have been still
talking, smoking cigars outside the inn at Martigny, the piano sounding
inside, and Lady Mary Taylour singing. I look into my garden (which is
covered with snow) rather dolefully, but take heart again, and look
brightly forward to another expedition to the Great St. Bernard, when
Mrs. Cerjat and I shall laugh as I fancy I have never laughed since, in
one of those one-sided cars; and when we shall again learn from
Haldimand, in a little dingy cabaret, at lunch-time, how to secure a
door in travelling (do you remember?) by balancing a chair against it on
its two hind-legs.
I do hope that we may all come together again once more, while there is
a head of hair left among us; and in this hope remain, my dear Cerjat,
Your faithful Friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/David%20Roberts%20RA/163Charles Dickens
1850-01-03[Sidenote: Mr. David Roberts, R.A.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _January 3rd, 1850._
MY DEAR ROBERTS,
I am more obliged to you than I can tell you for the beautiful mark of
your friendly remembrance which you have sent me this morning. I shall
set it up among my household gods with pride. It gives me the highest
gratification, and I beg you to accept my most cordial and sincere
thanks. A little bit of the tissue paper was sticking to the surface of
the picture, and has slightly marked it. It requires but a touch, as one
would dot an "i" or cross a "t," to remove the blemish; but as I cannot
think of a recollection so full of poetry being touched by any hand but
yours, I have told Green the framer, whenever he shall be on his way
with it, to call on you by the road. I enclose a note from Mrs. Dickens,
which I hope will impress you into a country dance, with which we hope
to dismiss Christmas merrily.
Ever, my dear Roberts,
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/James%20Sheridan%20Knowles/164Charles Dickens
1850-01-03[Sidenote: Mr. James Sheridan Knowles.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _January 3rd, 1850._
MY DEAR GOOD KNOWLES,
Many happy New Years to you, and to all who are near and dear to you.
Your generous heart unconsciously exaggerates, I am sure, my merit in
respect of that most honourable gentleman who has been the occasion of
our recent correspondence. I cannot sufficiently admire the dignity of
his conduct, and I really feel indebted to you for giving me the
gratification of observing it.
As to that "cross note," which, rightly considered, was nothing of the
sort, if ever you refer to it again, I'll do--I don't exactly know what,
but something perfectly desperate and ferocious. If I have ever thought
of it, it has only been to remember with delight how soon we came to a
better understanding, and how heartily we confirmed it with a most
expressive shake of the hand, one evening down in that mouldy little den
of Miss Kelly's.
Heartily and faithfully yours.
"Daddy" Knowles.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Elizabeth%20Gaskell/165Charles Dickens
1850-01-31[Sidenote: Mrs. Gaskell.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _January 31st, 1850._
MY DEAR MRS. GASKELL,
You may perhaps have seen an announcement in the papers of my intention
to start a new cheap weekly journal of general literature.
I do not know what your literary vows of temperance or abstinence may
be, but as I do honestly know that there is no living English writer
whose aid I would desire to enlist in preference to the authoress of
"Mary Barton" (a book that most profoundly affected and impressed me), I
venture to ask you whether you can give me any hope that you will write
a short tale, or any number of tales, for the projected pages.
No writer's name will be used, neither my own nor any other; every paper
will be published without any signature, and all will seem to express
the general mind and purpose of the journal, which is the raising up of
those that are down, and the general improvement of our social
condition. I should set a value on your help which your modesty can
hardly imagine; and I am perfectly sure that the least result of your
reflection or observation in respect of the life around you, would
attract attention and do good.
Of course I regard your time as valuable, and consider it so when I ask
you if you could devote any of it to this purpose.
If you could and would prefer to speak to me on the subject, I should be
very glad indeed to come to Manchester for a few hours and explain
anything you might wish to know. My unaffected and great admiration of
your book makes me very earnest in all relating to you. Forgive my
troubling you for this reason, and believe me ever,
Faithfully yours.
P.S.--Mrs. Dickens and her sister send their love.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Rev%20James%20White/166Charles Dickens
1850-02-05[Sidenote: Rev. James White.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Tuesday, Feb. 5th, 1850._
MY DEAR WHITE,
I have been going to write to you for a long time, but have always had
in my mind that you might come here with Lotty any day. As Lotty has
come without you, however (witness a tremendous rampaging and ravaging
now going on upstairs!), I despatch this note to say that I suppose you
have seen the announcement of "the" new weekly thing, and that if you
would ever write anything for it, you would please me better than I can
tell you. We hope to do some solid good, and we mean to be as cheery and
pleasant as we can. (And, putting our hands in our breeches pockets, we
say complacently, that our money is as good as Blackwood's any day in
the week.)
Now the murder's out!
Are you never coming to town any more? Must I come to Bonchurch? Am I
born (for the eight-and-thirtieth time) next Thursday, at half-past
five, and do you mean to say you are _not_ coming to dinner? Well, well,
I can always go over to Puseyism to spite my friends, and that's some
comfort.
Poor dear Jeffrey! I had heard from him but a few days, and the unopened
proof of No. 10 was lying on his table when he died. I believe I have
lost as affectionate a friend as I ever had, or ever shall have, in this
world.
Ever heartily yours, my dear White.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Charles%20Knight/167Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. Charles Knight.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _February 8th, 1850._
MY DEAR KNIGHT,
Let me thank you in the heartiest manner for your most kind and
gratifying mention of me in your able pamphlet. It gives me great
pleasure, and I sincerely feel it.
I quite agree with you in all you say so well of the injustice and
impolicy of this excessive taxation. But when I think of the condition
of the great mass of the people, I fear that I could hardly find the
heart to press for justice in this respect, before the window-duty is
removed. They cannot read without light. They cannot have an average
chance of life and health without it. Much as we feel our wrong, I fear
that they feel their wrong more, and that the things just done in this
wise must bear a new physical existence.
I never see you, and begin to think we must have another play--say in
Cornwall--expressly to bring us together.
Very faithfully yours.
SUGGESTIONS FOR TITLES OF "HOUSEHOLD WORDS."
THE FORGE:
A Weekly Journal,
Conducted by Charles Dickens.
"Thus at the glowing Forge of Life our actions must be wrought,
Thus on its sounding anvil shaped
Each burning deed and thought."--_Longfellow._
THE HEARTH.
THE FORGE.
THE CRUCIBLE.
THE ANVIL OF THE TIME.
CHARLES DICKENS'S OWN.
SEASONABLE LEAVES.
EVERGREEN LEAVES.
HOME.
HOME-MUSIC.
CHANGE.
TIME AND TIDE.
TWOPENCE.
ENGLISH BELLS.
WEEKLY BELLS.
THE ROCKET.
GOOD HUMOUR.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/168Charles Dickens
1850-03-12[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
148, KING'S ROAD, BRIGHTON,
_Tuesday Night, March 12th, 1850._
MY DEAR WILLS,
I have made a correction or two in my part of the post-office article. I
still observe the top-heavy "Household Words" in the title. The title of
"The Amusements of the People" has to be altered as I have marked it. I
would as soon have my hair cut off as an intolerable Scotch shortness
put into my titles by the elision of little words. "The Seasons" wants a
little punctuation. Will the "Incident in the Life of Mademoiselle
Clairon" go into those two pages? I fear not, but one article would be
infinitely better, I am quite certain, than two or three short ones. If
it will go in, in with it.
I shall be back, please God, by dinner-time to-morrow week. I will be
ready for Smithfield either on the following Monday morning at four, or
any other morning you may arrange for.
Would it do to make up No. 2 on Wednesday, the 20th, instead of
Saturday? If so, it would be an immense convenience to me. But if it be
distinctly necessary to make it up on Saturday, say by return, and I am
to be relied upon. Don't fail in this.
I really _can't_ promise to be comic. Indeed, your note put me out a
little, for I had just sat down to begin, "It will last my time." I will
shake my head a little, and see if I can shake a more comic substitute
out of it.
As to _two_ comic articles, or two any sort of articles, out of me,
that's the intensest extreme of no-goism.
Ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Rev%20James%20White/169Charles Dickens
1850-07-13[Sidenote: Rev. James White.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _July 13th, 1850._
MY DEAR WHITE,
Being obliged (sorely against my will) to leave my work this morning and
go out, and having a few spare minutes before I go, I write a hasty
note, to hint how glad I am to have received yours, and how happy and
tranquil we feel it to be for you all, that the end of that long illness
has come.[8] Kate and Georgy send best loves to Mrs. White, and we hope
she will take all needful rest and relief after those arduous, sad, and
weary weeks. I have taken a house at Broadstairs, from early in August
until the end of October, as I don't want to come back to London until I
shall have finished "Copperfield." I am rejoiced at the idea of your
going there. You will find it the healthiest and freshest of places; and
there are Canterbury, and all varieties of what Leigh Hunt calls
"greenery," within a few minutes' railroad ride. It is not very
picturesque ashore, but extremely so seaward; all manner of ships
continually passing close inshore. So come, and we'll have no end of
sports, please God.
I am glad to say, as I know you will be to hear, that there seems a
bright unanimity about "Copperfield." I am very much interested in it
and pleased with it myself. I have carefully planned out the story, for
some time past, to the end, and am making out my purposes with great
care. I should like to know what you see from that tower of yours. I
have little doubt you see the real objects in the prospect.
"Household Words" goes on _thoroughly well_. It is expensive, of course,
and demands a large circulation; but it is taking a great and steady
stand, and I have no doubt already yields a good round profit.
To-morrow week I shall expect you. You shall have a bottle of the
"Twenty." I have kept a few last lingering caskets with the gem
enshrined therein, expressly for you.
Ever, my dear White,
Cordially yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/170Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
HOTEL WINDSOR, PARIS, _Thursday, July 27th, 1850._
_After post-time._
MY DEAR WILLS,
I have had much ado to get to work; the heat here being so intense that
I can do nothing but lie on the bare floor all day. I never felt it
anything like so hot in Italy.
There is nothing doing in the theatres, and the atmosphere is so
horribly oppressive there that one can hardly endure it. I came out of
the Francais last night half dead. I am writing at this moment with
nothing on but a shirt and pair of white trousers, and have been
sitting four hours at this paper, but am as faint with the heat as if I
had been at some tremendous gymnastics; and yet we had a thunderstorm
last night.
I hope we are doing pretty well in Wellington Street. My anxiety makes
me feel as if I had been away a year. I hope to be home on Tuesday
evening, or night at latest. I have picked up a very curious book of
French statistics that will suit us, and an odd proposal for a company
connected with the gambling in California, of which you will also be
able to make something.
I saw a certain "Lord Spleen" mentioned in a playbill yesterday, and
will look after that distinguished English nobleman to-night, if
possible. Rachel played last night for the last time before going to
London, and has not so much in her as some of our friends suppose.
The English people are perpetually squeezing themselves into courtyards,
blind alleys, closed edifices, and other places where they have no sort
of business. The French people, as usual, are making as much noise as
possible about everything that is of no importance, but seem (as far as
one can judge) pretty quiet and good-humoured. They made a mighty
hullabaloo at the theatre last night, when Brutus (the play was
"Lucretia") declaimed about liberty.
Ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/171Charles Dickens
1850-08-09[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _August 9th, 1850._
MY DEAR WILLS,
I shall be obliged to you if you will write to this man, and tell him
that what he asks I never do--firstly, because I have no kind of
connection with any manager or theatre; secondly, because I am asked to
read so many manuscripts, that compliance is impossible, or I should
have no other occupation or relaxation in the world.
[Symbol: right hand] A foreign gentleman, with a beard, name unknown,
but signing himself "A Fellow Man," and dating from nowhere, declined,
twice yesterday, to leave this house for any less consideration than the
insignificant one of "twenty pounds." I have had a policeman waiting for
him all day.
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Catherine%20Dickens/172Charles Dickens
1850-09-03[Sidenote: Mrs. Charles Dickens.]
BROADSTAIRS, _Tuesday, Sept. 3rd, 1850._
MY DEAREST KATE,
I enclose a few lines from Georgy, and write these to say that I purpose
going home at some time on Thursday, but I cannot say precisely when, as
it depends on what work I do to-morrow. Yesterday Charles Knight, White,
Forster, Charley, and I walked to Richborough Castle and back. Knight
dined with us afterwards; and the Whites, the Bicknells, and Mrs. Gibson
came in in the evening and played vingt-et-un.
Having no news I must tell you a story of Sydney. The children, Georgy,
and I were out in the garden on Sunday evening (by-the-bye, I made a
beautiful passage down, and got to Margate a few minutes after one),
when I asked Sydney if he would go to the railroad and see if Forster
was coming. As he answered very boldly "Yes," I opened the garden-gate,
upon which he set off alone as fast as his legs would carry him; and
being pursued, was not overtaken until he was through the Lawn House
Archway, when he was still going on at full speed--I can't conceive
where. Being brought back in triumph, he made a number of fictitious
starts, for the sake of being overtaken again, and we made a regular
game of it. At last, when he and Ally had run away, instead of running
after them, we came into the garden, shut the gate, and crouched down on
the ground. Presently we heard them come back and say to each other with
some alarm, "Why, the gate's shut, and they're all gone!" Ally began in
a dismayed way to cry out, but the Phenomenon shouting, "Open the gate!"
sent an enormous stone flying into the garden (among our heads) by way
of alarming the establishment. I thought it a wonderful piece of
character, showing great readiness of resource. He would have fired a
perfect battery of stones, or very likely have broken the pantry window,
I think, if we hadn't let him in.
They are all in great force, and send their loves. They are all much
excited with the expectation of receiving you on Friday, and would start
me off to fetch you now if I would go.
Our train on Friday will be half-past twelve. I have spoken to Georgy
about the partridges, and hope we may find some.
Ever, my dearest Kate,
Most affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Mary%20Boyle/173Charles Dickens
1850-09-16[Sidenote: Miss Mary Boyle.]
BROADSTAIRS, KENT, _Monday Night, Sept. 16th, 1850._
MY DEAR MISS BOYLE,
Your letter having arrived in time for me to write a line by the evening
post, I came out of a paroxysm of "Copperfield," to say that I am
_perfectly delighted_ to read it, and to know that we are going to act
together in that merry party. We dress "Every Man" in Queen Elizabeth's
time. The acting copy is much altered from the old play, but we still
smooth down phrases when needful. I don't remember anyone that is
changed. Georgina says she can't describe the dress Mrs. Kitely used to
wear. I shall be in town on Saturday, and will then get Maclise to make
me a little sketch, of it, carefully explained, which I will post to
you. At the same time I will send you the book. After consideration of
forces, it has occurred to me (old Ben being, I daresay, rare; but I
_do_ know rather heavy here and there) that Mrs. Inchbald's "Animal
Magnetism," which we have often played, will "go" with a greater laugh
than anything else. That book I will send you on Saturday too. You will
find your part (Lisette, I think it is called, but it is a waiting-maid)
a most admirable one; and I have seen people laugh at the piece until
they have hung over the front of the boxes like ripe fruit. You may
dress the part to please yourself after reading it. We wear powder. I
will take care (bringing a theatrical hairdresser for the company) of
your wig! We will rehearse the two pieces when we go down, or at least
anything with which you have to do, over and over again. You will find
my company so well used to it, and so accustomed to consider it a grave
matter of business, as to make it easy. I am now awaiting the French
books with a view to "Rockingham," and I hope to report of that too,
when I write to you on Saturday.
My dear Miss Boyle, very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Mary%20Boyle/174Charles Dickens
1850-09-20[Sidenote: Miss Mary Boyle.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Friday, Sept. 20th, 1850._
MY DEAR MISS BOYLE,
I enclose you the book of "Animal Magnetism," and the book of "Every Man
in his Humour;" also a sketch by Mr. Maclise of a correct and
picturesque Mrs. Kitely. Mr. Forster is Kitely; Mr. Lemon, Brainworm;
Mr. Leech, Master Matthew; Mr. Jerrold, Master Stephen; Mr. Stone,
Downright. Kitely's dress is a very plain purple gown, like a
Bluecoat-boy's. Downright's dress is also very sober, chiefly brown and
gray. All the rest of us are very bright. I am flaming red. Georgina
will write you about your colour and hers in "Animal Magnetism;" the
gayer the better. I am the Doctor, in black, with red stockings. Mr.
Lemon (an excellent actor), the valet, as far as I can remember, in blue
and yellow, and a chintz waistcoat. Mr. Leech is the Marquis, and Mr.
Egg the one-eyed servant.
What do you think of doing "Animal Magnetism" as the last piece (we may
play three in all, I think) at Rockingham? If so, we might make Quin the
one-eyed servant, and beat up with Mrs. Watson for a Marquis. Will you
tell me what you think of this, addressed to Broadstairs? I have not
heard from Bulwer again. I daresay I have crossed a letter from him by
coming up to-day; but I have every reason to believe that the last week
in October is the time.
Ever very faithfully yours.
P.S.--This is quite a managerial letter, which I write with all manner
of appointments and business discussions going on about me, having my
pen on the paper and my eye on "Household Words," my head on
"Copperfield" and my ear nowhere particularly.
I will let you know about "A Day after the Wedding." I have sent for the
book on Monday.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Lavinia%20Watson/175Charles Dickens
1850-09-24[Sidenote: The Hon. Mrs. Watson.]
BROADSTAIRS, KENT, _September 24th, 1850._
MY DEAR MRS. WATSON,
Coming out of "Copperfield" into a condition of temporary and partial
consciousness, I plunge into histrionic duties, and hold enormous
correspondence with Miss Boyle, between whom and myself the most
portentous packets are continually passing. I send you a piece we
purpose playing last at Rockingham, which "my company" played in London,
Scotland, Manchester, Liverpool, and I don't know where else. It is one
of the most ridiculous things ever done. We purpose, as I have said,
playing it last. Why do I send it to you? Because there is an excellent
part (played in my troupe by George Cruikshank) for your brother in
it--Jeffrey; with a black patch on his eye, and a lame leg, he would be
charming--noble! If he is come home, give him my love and tell him so.
If he is not come home, do me that favour when he does come. And add
that I have a wig for him belonging to the part, which I have an idea of
sending to the Exposition of '51, as a triumph of human ingenuity.
I am the Doctor; Miss Boyle, Lisette; Georgy, the other little woman. We
have nearly arranged our "bill" for Rockingham. We shall want one more
reasonably good actor, besides your brother and Miss Boyle's, to play
the Marquis in this piece. Do you know a being endowed by nature with
the requisite qualities?
There are some things in the next "Copperfield" that I think better than
any that have gone before. After I have been believing such things with
all my heart and soul, two results always ensue: first, I can't write
plainly to the eye; secondly, I can't write sensibly to the mind. So
"Copperfield" is to blame, and I am not, for this wandering note; and if
you like it, you'll forgive me. With my affectionate remembrances to
Watson,
Ever, my dear Mrs. Watson,
Very faithfully yours.
P.S.--I find I am not equal to the flourish.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Mary%20Boyle/176Charles Dickens
1850-10-30[Sidenote: Miss Mary Boyle.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Wednesday, Oct 30th, 1850._
MY DEAR MISS BOYLE,
We are all extremely concerned and distressed to lose you. But we feel
that it cannot be otherwise, and we do not, in our own expectation of
amusement, forget the sad cause of your absence.
Bulwer was here yesterday; and if I were to tell you how earnestly he
and all the other friends whom you don't know have looked forward to the
projected association with you, and in what a friendly spirit they all
express their disappointment, you would be quite moved by it, I think.
Pray don't give yourself the least uneasiness on account of the blank in
our arrangements. I did not write to you yesterday, in the hope that I
might be able to tell you to-day that I had replaced you, in however
poor a way. I cannot do that yet, but I am busily making out some means
of filling the parts before we rehearse to-morrow night, and I trust to
be able to do so in some out-of-the-way manner.
Mrs. Dickens and Bridget send you their kindest remembrances. They are
bitterly disappointed at not seeing you to-day, but we all hope for a
better time.
Dear Miss Boyle,
Faithfully yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Lavinia%20Watson/177Charles Dickens
1850-11-23[Sidenote: The Hon. Mrs. Watson.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Saturday Evening, Nov. 23rd, 1850._
MY DEAR MRS. WATSON,
Being well home from Knebworth, where everything has gone off in a whirl
of triumph and fired the whole length and breadth of the county of
Hertfordshire, I write a short note to say that we are yours any time
after Twelfth-night, and that we look forward to seeing you with the
greatest pleasure. I should have made this reply to your last note
sooner, but that I have been waiting to send you "Copperfield" in a new
waistcoat. His tailor is so slow that it has not yet appeared; but when
the resplendent garment comes home it shall be forwarded.
I have not your note at hand, but I think you said "any time after
Christmas." At all events, and whatever you said, we will conclude a
treaty on any terms you may propose. And if it should include any of
Charley's holidays, perhaps you would allow us to put a brass collar
round his neck, and chain him up in the stable.
Kate and Georgina (who has covered herself with glory) join me in best
remembrances and regards to Watson and you and all the house. I have
stupendous proposals to make concerning Switzerland in the spring.
I promised Bulwer to make enquiry of you about "Miss Watson," whom he
once knew and greatly wished to hear of. He associated her (but was not
clear how) with Lady Palmer.
My dear Mrs. Watson,
Ever faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Henry%20Bicknell/178Charles Dickens
1850-11-28[Sidenote: Mr. Henry Bicknell.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _November 28th, 1850._
MY DEAR MR. BICKNELL,
If I ever did such a thing, believe me I would do it at your request.
But I don't, and if you could see the ramparts of letters from similar
institutions with which my desk bristles every now and then, you would
feel that nothing lies between total abstinence (in this regard) and
utter bewilderment and lecturation.
Mrs. Dickens and her sister unite with me in kind regards to you and
Mrs. Bicknell. The consequences of the accident are fast fading, I am
happy to say. We all hope to hear shortly that Mrs. Bicknell has
recovered that other little accident, which (as you and I know) will
occasionally happen in well-regulated families.
Very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Walter%20Savage%20Landor/179Charles Dickens
1850-12-04[Sidenote: Mr. Walter Savage Landor.]
OFFICE OF "HOUSEHOLD WORDS,"
_Wednesday, Dec. 4th, 1850._
MY DEAR LANDOR,
I have been (a strange thing for me) so very unwell since Sunday, that I
have hardly been able to hold up my head--a bilious attack, I believe,
and a very miserable sort of business. This, my dear friend, is the
reason why I have not sooner written to you in reference to your noble
letter, which I read in _The Examiner_, and for which--as it exalts
me--I cannot, cannot thank you in words.
We had been following up the blow in Kinkel's[9] favour, and I was
growing sanguine, in the hope of getting him out (having enlisted strong
and active sympathy in his behalf), when the news came of his escape.
Since then we have heard nothing of him. I rather incline to the opinion
that the damnable powers that be connived at his escape, but know
nothing. Whether he be retaken or whether he appear (as I am not without
hope he may) in the streets of London, I shall be a party to no step
whatever without consulting you; and if any scrap of intelligence
concerning him shall reach me, it shall be yours immediately.
Horne wrote the article. I shall see him here to-night, and know how he
will feel your sympathy and support. But I do not wait to see him before
writing, lest you should think me slow to feel your generosity. We said
at home when we read your letter, that it was like the opening of your
whole munificent and bare heart.
Ever most affectionately yours,
My dear Landor.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Lavinia%20Watson/180Charles Dickens
1850-12-09[Sidenote: The Hon. Mrs. Watson.]
[Symbol: right hand] THIS IS NO. 2.
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Monday Morning, Dec. 9th, 1850._
MY DEAR MRS. WATSON,
Your note to me of Saturday has crossed mine to you, I find. If you open
both of mine together, please to observe _this is No. 2_.
You may rely on Mr. Tucker's doing his work thoroughly well and charging
a fair price. It is not possible for him to say aforehand, in such a
case, what it will cost, I imagine, as he will have to adapt his work to
the place. Nathan's stage knowledge may be stated in the following
figures: 00000000000. Therefore, I think you had best refer Mr. Tucker
to _me_, and I will apply all needful screws and tortures to him.
I have thought of one or two very ingenious (hem!) little contrivances
for adapting the difficulties of "Used Up" to the small stage. They will
require to be so exactly explained to your carpenter (though very easy
little things in themselves), that I think I had better, before
Christmas, send my servant down for an hour--he is quite an old stager
now--to show him precisely what I mean. It is not a day's work, but it
would be extremely difficult to explain in writing. I developed these
wonderful ideas to the master carpenter at one of the theatres, and he
shook his head with an intensely mournful air, and said, "Ah, sir, it's
a universal observation in the profession, sir, that it was a great loss
to the public when you took to writing books!" which I thought
complimentary to "Copperfield."
Ever faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Lavinia%20Watson/181Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: The same.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Saturday, Dec. 14th, 1850._
MY DEAR MRS. WATSON,
I shall be delighted to come on the seventh instead of the eighth. We
consider it an engagement. Over and above the pleasure of a quiet day
with you, I think I can greatly facilitate the preparations (that's the
way, you see, in which we cheat ourselves into making duties of
pleasures) by being at Rockingham a day earlier. So that's settled.
I was quite certain when that Child of Israel mentioned those
dimensions, that he must be wrong. For which wooden-headedness the Child
shall be taken to task on Monday morning, when I am going to look at his
preparations, by appointment, about the door. Don't you observe, that
the scenery not being made expressly for the room, it may be impossible
to use it as you propose? There is a scene before that wall, and unless
the door in the scene (supposing there to be one, which I am not sure
of) should come exactly into the place of the door of the room, the door
of the room might as well be in Africa. If it could be used it would
still require to be backed (excuse professional technicality) by another
scene in the passage. And if it be rather in the side of the bottom of
the room (as I seem to remember it), it would be shut out of sight, or
partially, by the side scenes. Do you comprehend these stage managerial
sagacities? That piece of additional room in so small a stage would be
of immense service, if we could avail ourselves of it. If we can't, I
have another means (I think) of discovering Leech, Saville, and
Coldstream at table. I am constantly turning over in my mind the
capacities of the place, and hope by one means or other to make
something more than the best of it. As to the fireplace, you will never
be able to use that. The heat of the lamp will be very great, and
ventilation will be the thing wanted. Thirteen feet and a half of depth,
diminished by stage fittings and furniture, is a small space. I think
the doorway could be used in the last scene, with the castle steps and
platform for the staircase running straight through it toward the hall.
_Nous verrons._ I will write again about my visit of inspection,
probably on Monday.
Will you let them know that Messrs. Nathan, of Titchborne Street,
Haymarket, will dress them, please, and that I will engage for their
doing it thoroughly well; also that Mr. Wilson, theatrical hairdresser,
Strand, near St. Clement's Churchyard, will come down with wigs, etc.,
to "make up" everybody; that he has a list of the pieces from me, and
that he will be glad to measure the heads and consult the tastes of all
concerned, if they will give him the opportunity beforehand? I should
like to see Sir Adonis Leech and the Hon. T. Saville if I can. For they
ought to be wonderfully made up, and to be as unlike themselves as
possible, and to contrast well with each other and with me. I rather
grudge _caro sposo_ coming into the company. I should like him so much
to see the play. If we do it all well together it ought to be so very
pleasant. I never saw a great mass of people so charmed with a little
story as when we acted it at the Glasgow Theatre. But I have no other
reason for faltering when I take him to my arms. I feel that he is the
man for the part.[10] I see him with a blue bag, a flaxen wig, and green
spectacles. I know what it will be. I foresee how all that sessional
experience will come out. I reconcile myself to it, in spite of the
selfish consideration of wanting him elsewhere; and while I have a heavy
sense of a light being snuffed out in the audience, perceive a new
luminary shining on the stage!
Your brother[11] would make a capital tiger, too! Very short tight
surtout, doeskins, bright top-boots, white cravat, bouquet in
button-hole, close wig--very good, ve--ry good. It clearly must be so.
The thing is done. I told you we were opening a tremendous
correspondence when we first began to write on such a long subject. But
do let me tell you, once and for all, that I am in the business heart
and soul, and that you cannot trouble me respecting it, and that I
wouldn't willingly or knowingly leave the minutest detail unprovided
for. It cannot possibly be a success if the smallest peppercorn of
arrangement be omitted. And a success it must be! I couldn't go into
such a thing, or help to bring you poorly out of it, for any earthly
consideration. Talking of forgetting, isn't it odd? I doubt if I could
forget words I had learned, so long as I wanted them. But the moment the
necessity goes, they go. I know my place and everybody's place in this
identical piece of "Used Up" perfectly, and could put every little
object on its own square inches of room exactly where it ought to be.
But I have no more recollection of my words now (I took the book up
yesterday) than if I had only seen the play as one of the audience at a
theatre. Perhaps not so much. With cordial remembrances,
Ever, dear Mrs. Watson,
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Lavinia%20Watson/182Charles Dickens
1850-12-19[Sidenote: The Hon. Mrs. Watson.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _December 19th, 1850._
MY DEAR MRS. WATSON,
I am sorry to say that business ("Household Words" business) will keep
me in town to-morrow. But on Monday I propose coming down and returning
the same day. The train for my money appears to be the half-past six
A.M. (horrible initials!), and to that invention for promoting early
rising I design to commit myself.
I am shocked if I also made the mistake of confounding those two (and
too) similar names.[12] But I think Mr. S-T-A-F-F-O-R-D had better do
the Marquis. I am glad to find that we agree, but we always do.
I have closely overhauled the little theatre, and the carpenter and
painter. The whole has been entirely repainted (I mean the proscenium
and scenery) for this especial purpose, and is extremely pretty. I don't
think, the scale considered, that anything better _could_ be done. It is
very elegant. I have brought "the Child" to this. For the hire of the
theatre, fifteen pounds. The carriage to be extra. The Child's fares and
expenses (which will be very moderate) to be extra. The stage
carpenter's wages to be extra--seven shillings a day. I don't think,
when you see the things, that you will consider this too much. It is as
good as the Queen's little theatre at Windsor, raised stage excepted. I
have had an extraction made, which will enable us to use the door. I am
at present breaking my man's heart, by teaching him how to imitate the
sounds of the smashing of the windows and the breaking of the balcony in
"Used Up." In the event of his death from grief, I have promised to do
something for his mother. Thinking it possible that you might not see
the enclosed until next month, and hoping that it is seasonable for
Christmas, I send it. Being, with cordial regards and all seasonable
good wishes,
Ever, dear Mrs. Watson,
Faithfully yours.
P.S.--This [blot] is a tear over the devotion of Captain Boyle, who (as
I learned from the Child of Israel this morning) would not decide upon
Farmer Wurzel's coat, without referring the question of buttons to
managerial approval.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/John%20Poole/183Charles Dickens
1850-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. John Poole.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Tuesday Night, Christmas Eve, 1850._
MY DEAR POOLE,
On the Sunday when I last saw you, I went straight to Lord John's with
the letter you read. He was out of town, and I left it with my card.
On the following Wednesday I received a note from him, saying that he
did not bear in mind exactly what I had told him of you before, and
asking me to tell it again. I immediately replied, of course, and gave
him an exact description of you and your condition, and your way of life
in Paris and everything else; a perfect diorama in little, with you
pervading it. To-day I got a letter from him, announcing that you have a
pension of _a hundred a year_! of which I heartily wish you joy.
He says: "I am happy to say that the Queen has approved of a pension of
one hundred pounds a year to Mr. Poole.
"The Queen, in her gracious answer, informs me that she meant to have
mentioned Mr. Poole to me, and that she had wished to place him in the
Charter House, but found the society there was not such as he could
associate with.
"Be so good as to inform Mr. Poole that directions are given for his
pension, which will date from the end of June last."
I have lost no time in answering this, but you must brace up your
energies to write him a short note too, and another for the Queen.
If you are in Paris, shall I ascertain what authority I shall need from
you to receive the half-year, which I suppose will be shortly due? I can
receive it as usual.
With all good wishes and congratulations, seasonable and unseasonable,
Always faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Lavinia%20Watson/184Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: The Hon. Mrs. Watson.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Monday Morning, Dec. 30th, 1850._
MY DEAR MRS. WATSON,
As your letter is _decided_, the scaffolding shall be re-erected round
Charley's boots (it has been taken down, and the workmen had retired to
their respective homes in various parts of England and Wales) and his
dressing proceeded with. I have been very much pleased with him in the
matter, as he has never made the least demonstration of disappointment
or mortification, and was perfectly contented to give in. (_Here I break
off to go to Boxall._) (_Here I return much exhausted._)
Your time shall be stated in the bills for both nights. I propose to
rehearse on the day, on Thursday and Friday, and in the evening on
Saturday, that we may try our lights. Therefore:
{will come on Tuesday, 7th January, as there must be a
{responsible person to anathematise, and as the company
NATHAN {seem so slow about their dresses, that I foresee the
AND {strong probability of Nathan having a good deal to do
STAGE CARPENTER {at Rockingham without respect.
WILSON will come on Saturday, 11th January.
TUCKER will come on Saturday, 11th January.
I shall be delighted to see your brother, and so no more at present from
Yours ever,
COLDSTREAM FREELOVE DOCTOR DICKENS.
P.S.--As Boxall (with his head very much on one side and his spectacles
on) danced backward from the canvas incessantly with great nimbleness,
and returned, and made little digs at it with his pencil, with a
horrible grin on his countenance, I augur that he pleased himself this
morning.
"Tag" added by Mr. Dickens to "Animal Magnetism," played at Rockingham
Castle.
ANIMAL MAGNETISM.--TAG.
[After LA FLEUR says to the Marquis: "Sir, return him the wand; and
the ladies, I daresay, will fall in love with him again."]
DOCTOR. I'm cheated, robbed! I don't believe! I hate
Wand, Marquis, Doctor, Ward, Lisette, and Fate!
LA FLEUR. Not me?
DOCTOR. _You_ worse, you rascal, than the rest.
LA FLEUR. (_bowing_). To merit it, good sir, I've done my best.
LISETTE. (_sharply_). And I.
CONSTANCE. I fear that I too have a claim
Upon your anger.
LISETTE. Anger, madam? Shame!
He's justly treated, as he might have known.
And if the wand were a divining one
It would have turn'd, within his very hands,
Point-blank to where your handsome husband stands.
CONSTANCE (_glancing at_ DOCTOR). I would it were the wand of
Harlequin,
To change his temper and his favour win.
JEFFREY (_peeping in_). In that case, mistress, you might be
so kind
As wave me back the eye of which I'm blind.
MARQUIS (_laughing and examining it_). 'Tis nothing but a piece
of senseless wood,
And has no influence for harm or good.
Yet stay! It surely draws me towards those
Indulgent, pleasant, smiling, beaming rows!
It surely charms me.
ALL. And us too.
MARQUIS. To bend
Before their gen'rous efforts to commend;
To cheer us on, through these few happy hours,
And strew our mimic way with real flowers.
[_All make obeisance._
Stay yet again. Among us all, I feel
One subtle, all-pervading influence steal,
Stirring one wish within one heart and head,
Bright be the path our host and hostess tread!
Blest be their children, happy be their race,
Long may they live, this ancient hall to grace
Long bear of English virtues noble fruit--
Green-hearted ROCKINGHAM! strike deep thy root
FOOTNOTES:
[8] The last illness of Mrs. White's mother.
[9] Dr. Gottfried Kinkel, a distinguished scholar and Professor in the
University of Bonn, who was at that time undergoing very rigorous State
imprisonment in Prussia, for political reasons. Dr. Kinkel was
afterwards well known as a teacher and lecturer on Art in London, where
he resided for many years.
[10] The part of the lawyer in "Used Up." It was _not_ played after all
by Mr. Watson, but by Mr. (now Sir William) Boxall, R.A., a very old and
intimate friend of Mr. and Mrs. Watson, and of Charles Dickens.
[11] This part, finally, was played by Charles Dickens, junior.
[12] Mr. Stafford and Mr. Stopford, who both acted in the plays at
Rockingham.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Lavinia%20Watson/185Charles Dickens
1851-01-24[Sidenote: The Hon. Mrs. Watson.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _January 24th, 1851._
MY DEAR MRS. WATSON,
Kate will have told you, I daresay, that my despondency on coming to
town was relieved by a talk with Lady John Russell, of which you were
the subject, and in which she spoke of you with an earnestness of old
affection and regard that did me good. I date my recovery (which has
been slow) from that hour. I am still feeble, and liable to sudden
outbursts of causeless rage and demoniacal gloom, but I shall be better
presently. What a thing it is, that we can't be always innocently merry
and happy with those we like best without looking out at the back
windows of life! Well, one day perhaps--after a long night--the blinds
on that side of the house will be down for ever, and nothing left but
the bright prospect in front.
Concerning supper-toast (of which I feel bound to make some mention),
you did, as you always do, right, and exactly what was most agreeable to
me.
My love to your excellent husband (I wonder whether he and the
dining-room have got to rights yet!), and to the jolly little boys and
the calm little girl. Somehow, I shall always think of Lord Spencer as
eternally walking up and down the platform at Rugby, in a high chill
wind, with no apparent hope of a train--as I left him; and somehow I
always think of Rockingham, after coming away, as if I belonged to it
and had left a bit of my heart behind, which it is so very odd to find
wanting twenty times a day.
Ever, dear Mrs. Watson, faithfully yours, and his.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Lavinia%20Watson/186Charles Dickens
1851-01-28[Sidenote: The same.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Tuesday Night, Jan. 28th, 1851._
MY DEAR, DEAR MRS. WATSON,
I presume you mean Mr. Stafford and Mr. Stopford to pay Wilson (as I
have instructed him) a guinea each? Am I right? In that just case I
still owe you a guinea for _my_ part. I was going to send you a
post-office order for that amount, when a faint sense of absurdity
mantled my ingenuous visage with a blush, and I thought it better to owe
you the money until we met. I hope it may be soon!
I believe I may lay claim to the mysterious inkstand, also to a volume
lettered on the back, "Shipwrecks and Disasters at Sea, II.," which I
left when I came down at Christmas. Will you take care of them as
hostages until we effect an exchange?
Charley went back in great spirits, threatening to write to George. It
was a very wet night, and John took him to the railway. He said, on his
return: "Mas'r Charles went off very gay, sir. He found some young
gen'lemen as was his friends in the train, sir." "Come," said I, "I am
glad of that. How many were there? Two or three?" "Oh dear, sir, there
was a matter of forty, sir! All with their heads out o' the
coach-windows, sir, a-hallooing 'Dickens!' all over the station!"
Her ladyship and the ward of the FIZ-ZISH-UN send their best loves, in
which I heartily join. If you and your dear husband come to town before
we bring out Bulwer's comedy, I think we must have a snug reading of it.
Ever, dear Mrs. Watson, faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Mark%20Lemon/187Charles Dickens
1851-01-31[Sidenote: Mr. Mark Lemon.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Friday, Jan. 31st, 1851._
MY DEAR LEMON,
We are deeply sorry to receive the mournful intelligence of your
calamity. But we know you will both have found comfort in that blessed
belief, from which the sacred figure with the child upon His knee is, in
all stages of our lives, inseparable, for of such is the kingdom of God!
We join in affectionate loves to you and your dear wife. She well
deserves your praise, I am sure.
Ever affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/188Charles Dickens
1851-02-10[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Monday, Feb. 10th, 1851._
MY DEAR WILLS,
There is a small part in Bulwer's comedy, but very good what there
is--not much--my servant, who opens the play, which I should be very
glad if you would like to do.
Pray understand that there is no end of men who would do it, and that if
you have the least objection to the trouble, I don't make this the
expression of a wish even. Otherwise, I would like you to be in the
scheme, which is a very great and important one, and which cannot have
too many men who are steadily--not flightily, like some of our
friends--in earnest, and who are not to be lightly discouraged.
If you do the part, I would like to have a talk with you about the
secretarial duties. They must be performed by someone I clearly see, and
will require good business direction. I should like to put some young
fellow, to whom such work and its remuneration would be an object, under
your eye, if we could find one entire and perfect chrysolite anywhere.
Let me know whether I am to rate you on the ship's books or not. If yes,
consider yourself "called" to the reading (by Macready) at Forster's
rooms, on Wednesday, the 19th, at three.
And in the meantime you shall have a proof of the plan.
Ever yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Catherine%20Dickens/189Charles Dickens
1851-02-12[Sidenote: Mrs. Charles Dickens.]
HOTEL WAGRAM, PARIS, _Thursday, Feb. 12th, 1851._
MY DEAREST KATE,
I received your letter this morning (on returning from an expedition to
a market thirteen miles away, which involved the necessity of getting up
at five), and am delighted to have such good accounts of all at home.
We had D'Orsay to dinner yesterday, and I am hurried to dress now, in
order to pay a promised visit to his _atelier_. He was very happy with
us, and is much improved both in spirits and looks. Lord and Lady
Castlereagh live downstairs here, and we went to them in the evening,
and afterwards brought him upstairs to smoke. To-night we are going to
see Lemaitre in the renowned "Belphegor" piece. To-morrow at noon we
leave Paris for Calais (the Boulogne boat does not serve our turn), and
unless the weather for crossing should be absurd, I shall be at home,
please God, early on the evening of Saturday. It continues to be
delightful weather here--gusty, but very clear and fine. Leech and I had
a charming country walk before breakfast this morning at Poissy and
enjoyed it very much. The rime was on the grass and trees, and the
country most delicious.
Spencer Lyttelton is a capital companion on a trip, and a great addition
to the party. We have got on famously and been very facetious. With best
love to Georgina and the darlings,
Ever most affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Mary%20Boyle/190Charles Dickens
1851-02-21[Sidenote: Miss Mary Boyle.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Friday Night, late, Feb. 21st, 1851._
MY DEAR MISS BOYLE,
I have devoted a couple of hours this evening to going very carefully
over your paper (which I had read before) and to endeavouring to bring
it closer, and to lighten it, and to give it that sort of compactness
which a habit of composition, and of disciplining one's thoughts like a
regiment, and of studying the art of putting each soldier into his right
place, may have gradually taught me to think necessary. I hope, when you
see it in print, you will not be alarmed by my use of the pruning-knife.
I have tried to exercise it with the utmost delicacy and discretion, and
to suggest to you, especially towards the end, how this sort of writing
(regard being had to the size of the journal in which it appears)
requires to be compressed, and is made pleasanter by compression. This
all reads very solemnly, but only because I want you to read it (I mean
the article) with as loving an eye as I have truly tried to touch it
with a loving and gentle hand. I propose to call it "My Mahogany
Friend." The other name is too long, and I think not attractive. Until I
go to the office to-morrow and see what is actually in hand, I am not
certain of the number in which it will appear, but Georgy shall write on
Monday and tell you. We are always a fortnight in advance of the public
or the mechanical work could not be done. I think there are many things
in it that are _very pretty_. The Katie part is particularly well done.
If I don't say more, it is because I have a heavy sense, in all cases,
of the responsibility of encouraging anyone to enter on that thorny
track, where the prizes are so few and the blanks so many; where----
But I won't write you a sermon. With the fire going out, and the first
shadows of a new story hovering in a ghostly way about me (as they
usually begin to do, when I have finished an old one), I am in danger of
doing the heavy business, and becoming a heavy guardian, or something of
that sort, instead of the light and airy Joe.
So good-night, and believe that you may always trust me, and never find
a grim expression (towards you) in any that I wear.
Ever yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/David%20Roberts%20RA/191Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. David Roberts, R.A.]
_February 21st, 1851._
Oh my dear Roberts, if you knew the trouble we have had and the money we
pay for Drury Lane for one night for the benefit, you would never dream
of it for the dinner. _There isn't possibility of getting a theatre._
I will do all I can for your charming little daughter, and hope to
squeeze in half-a-dozen ladies at the last; but we must not breathe the
idea or we shall not dare to execute it, there will be such an outcry.
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/192Charles Dickens
1851-02-27[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _February 27th, 1851._
MY DEAR MACREADY,
Forster told me to-day that you wish Tennyson's sonnet to be read after
your health is given on Saturday. I am perfectly certain that it would
not do at that time. I am quite convinced that the audience would not
receive it, under these exciting circumstances, as it ought to be
received. If I had to read it, I would on no account undertake to do so
at that period, in a great room crowded with a dense company. I have an
instinctive assurance that it would fail. Being with Bulwer this
morning, I communicated your wish to him, and he immediately felt as I
do. I could enter into many reasons which induce me to form this
opinion. But I believe that you have that confidence in me that I may
spare you the statement of them.
I want to know one thing from you. As I shall be obliged to be at the
London Tavern in the afternoon of to-morrow, Friday (I write, observe,
on Thursday night), I shall be much helped in the arrangements if you
will send me your answer by a messenger (addressed here) on the receipt
of this. Which would you prefer--that "Auld Lang Syne" should be sung
after your health is given and before you return thanks, or after you
have spoken?
I cannot forbear a word about last night. I think I have told you
sometimes, my much-loved friend, how, when I was a mere boy, I was one
of your faithful and devoted adherents in the pit; I believe as true a
member of that true host of followers as it has ever boasted. As I
improved myself and was improved by favouring circumstances in mind and
fortune, I only became the more earnest (if it were possible) in my
study of you. No light portion of my life arose before me when the quiet
vision to which I am beholden, in I don't know how great a decree, or
for how much--who does?--faded so nobly from my bodily eyes last night.
And if I were to try to tell you what I felt--of regret for its being
past for ever, and of joy in the thought that you could have taken your
leave of _me_ but in God's own time--I should only blot this paper with
some drops that would certainly not be of ink, and give very faint
expression to very strong emotions.
What is all this in writing! It is only some sort of relief to my full
heart, and shows very little of it to you; but that's something, so I
let it go.
Ever, my dearest Macready,
Your most affectionate Friend.
P.S.--My very flourish departs from me for the moment.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/David%20Roberts%20RA/193Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. David Roberts, R.A.]
KNUTSFORD LODGE, GREAT MALVERN, _March 20th, 1851._
MY DEAR ROBERTS,
Mrs. Dickens has been unwell, and I am here with her. I want you to give
a quarter of an hour to the perusal of the enclosed prospectus; to
consider the immense value of the design, if it be successful, to
artists young and old; and then to bestow your favourable consideration
on the assistance I am going to ask of you for the sake and in the name
of the cause.
For the representation of the new comedy Bulwer has written for us, to
start this scheme, I am having an ingenious theatre made by Webster's
people, for erection on certain nights in the Hanover Square Rooms. But
it will first be put up in the Duke of Devonshire's house, where the
first representation will take place before a brilliant company,
including (I believe) the Queen.
Now, will you paint us a scene--the scene of which I enclose Bulwer's
description from the prompter's book? It will be a cloth with a
set-piece. It should be sent to your studio or put up in a theatre
painting-room, as you would prefer. I have asked Stanny to do another
scene, Edwin Landseer, and Louis Haghe. The Devonshire House performance
will probably be on Monday, the 28th of April. I should want to have the
scenery complete by the 20th, as it would require to be elaborately
worked and rehearsed. _You_ could do it in no time after sending in your
pictures, and will you?
What the value of such aid would be I need not say. I say no more of the
reasons that induce me to ask it, because if they are not in the
prospectus they are nowhere.
On Monday and Tuesday nights I shall be in town for rehearsal, but until
then I shall be here. Will you let me have a line from you in reply?
My dear Roberts, ever faithfully yours.
_Description of the Scene proposed:_
STREETS OF LONDON IN THE TIME OF GEORGE I.
In perspective, an alley inscribed DEADMAN'S
LANE; a large, old-fashioned, gloomy,
mysterious house in the corner, marked No. 1.
(_This No. 1, Deadman's Lane, has been
constantly referred to in the play as the abode
of a mysterious female figure, who enters
masked, and passes into this house on the scene
being disclosed._) It is night, and there are
moonlight mediums.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Catherine%20Dickens/194Charles Dickens
1851-03-26[Sidenote: Mrs. Charles Dickens.]
H. W. OFFICE, _Monday, March 26th, 1851._
MY DEAREST KATE,
I reserve all news of the play until I come down. The Queen appoints the
30th of April. There is no end of trouble.
My father slept well last night, and is as well this morning (they send
word) as anyone in such a state, so cut and slashed, can be. I have been
waiting at home for Bulwer all the morning (it is now two), and am now
waiting for Lemon before I go up there. I will not close this note until
I have been.
It is raining here incessantly. The streets are in a most miserable
state. A van, containing the goods of some unfortunate family moving,
has broken down close outside, and the whole scene is a picture of
dreariness.
The children are quite well and very happy. I had Dora down this
morning, who was quite charmed to see me. That Miss Ketteridge appointed
two to-day for seeing the house, and probably she is at this moment
disparaging it.
My father is very weak and low, but not worse, I hope, than might be
expected. I am going home to dine with the children. By working here
late to-night (coming back after dinner) I can finish what I have to do
for the play. Therefore I hope to be with you to-morrow, in good time
for dinner.
Ever affectionately.
P.S.--Love to Georgy.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/195Charles Dickens
1851-04-03[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Thursday Morning, April 3rd, 1851._
MY DEAR WILLS,
I took my threatened walk last night, but it yielded little but
generalities.
However, I thought of something for _to-night_, that I think will make a
splendid paper. I have an idea that it might be connected with the gas
paper (making gas a great agent in an effective police), and made one of
the articles. This is it: "A Night in a Station-house." If you would go
down to our friend Mr. Yardley, at Scotland Yard, and get a letter or
order to the acting chief authority at that station-house in Bow Street,
to enable us to hear the charges, observe the internal economy of the
station-house all night, go round to the cells with the visiting
policeman, etc., I would stay there, say from twelve to-night to four or
five in the morning. We might have a "night-cap," a fire, and some tea
at the office hard by. If you could conveniently borrow an hour or two
from the night we could both go. If not, I would go alone. It would make
a wonderful good paper at a most appropriate time, when the back slums
of London are going to be invaded by all sorts of strangers.
You needn't exactly say that _I_ was going _in propria_ (unless it were
necessary), and, of course, you wouldn't say that I propose to-night,
because I am so worn by the sad arrangements in which I am engaged, and
by what led to them, that I cannot take my natural rest. But to-morrow
night we go to the gas-works. I might not be so disposed for this
station-house observation as I shall be to-night for a long time, and I
see a most singular and admirable chance for us in the descriptive way,
not to be lost.
Therefore, if you will arrange the thing before I come down at four this
afternoon, any of the Scotland Yard people will do it, I should think;
if our friend by any accident should not be there, I will go into it.
If they should recommend any other station-house as better for the
purpose, or would think it better for us to go to more than one under
the guidance of some trustworthy man, of course we will pay any man and
do as they recommend. But I think one topping station-house would be
best.
Faithfully ever.
P.S.--I write from my bed.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/196Charles Dickens
1851-05-24[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
_Saturday, May 24th, 1851._
MY DEAR MACREADY,
We are getting in a good heap of money for the Guild. The comedy has
been very much improved, in many respects, since you read it. The scene
to which you refer is certainly one of the most telling in the play. And
there _is_ a farce to be produced on Tuesday next, wherein a
distinguished amateur will sustain a variety of assumption-parts, and in
particular, Samuel Weller and Mrs. Gamp, of which I say no more. I am
pining for Broadstairs, where the children are at present. I lurk from
the sun, during the best part of the day, in a villainous compound of
darkness, canvas, sawdust, general dust, stale gas (involving a vague
smell of pepper), and disenchanted properties. But I hope to get down on
Wednesday or Thursday.
Ah! you country gentlemen, who live at home at ease, how little do you
think of us among the London fleas! But they tell me you are coming in
for Dorsetshire. You must be very careful, when you come to town to
attend to your parliamentary duties, never to ask your way of people in
the streets. They will misdirect you for what the vulgar call "a lark,"
meaning, in this connection, a jest at your expense. Always go into some
respectable shop or apply to a policeman. You will know him by his being
dressed in blue, with very dull silver buttons, and by the top of his
hat being made of sticking-plaster. You may perhaps see in some odd
place an intelligent-looking man, with a curious little wooden table
before him and three thimbles on it. He will want you to bet, but don't
do it. He really desires to cheat you. And don't buy at auctions where
the best plated goods are being knocked down for next to nothing. These,
too, are delusions. If you wish to go to the play to see real good
acting (though a little more subdued than perfect tragedy should be), I
would recommend you to see ---- at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane. Anybody
will show it to you. It is near the Strand, and you may know it by
seeing no company whatever at any of the doors. Cab fares are eightpence
a mile. A mile London measure is half a Dorsetshire mile, recollect.
Porter is twopence per pint; what is called stout is fourpence. The
Zoological Gardens are in the Regent's Park, and the price of admission
is one shilling. Of the streets, I would recommend you to see Regent
Street and the Quadrant, Bond Street, Piccadilly, Oxford Street, and
Cheapside. I think these will please you after a time, though the tumult
and bustle will at first bewilder you. If I can serve you in any way,
pray command me. And with my best regards to your happy family, so
remote from this Babel,
Believe me, my dear Friend,
Ever affectionately yours.
P.S.--I forgot to mention just now that the black equestrian figure you
will see at Charing Cross, as you go down to the House, is a statue of
_King Charles the First_.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/The%20Earl%20of%20Carlisle/197Charles Dickens
1851-07-08[Sidenote: The Earl of Carlisle.]
BROADSTAIRS, _July 8th, 1851._
MY DEAR LORD CARLISLE,
We shall be delighted to see you, if you will come down on Saturday. Mr.
Lemon may perhaps be here, with his wife, but no one else. And we can
give you a bed that may be surpassed, with a welcome that certainly
cannot be.
The general character of Broadstairs as to size and accommodation was
happily expressed by Miss Eden, when she wrote to the Duke of Devonshire
(as he told me), saying how grateful she felt to a certain sailor, who
asked leave to see her garden, for not plucking it bodily up, and
sticking it in his button-hole.
As we think of putting mignonette-boxes outside the windows, for the
younger children to sleep in by-and-by, I am afraid we should give your
servant the cramp if we hardily undertook to lodge him. But in case you
should decide to bring one, he is easily disposable hard by.
Don't come by the boat. It is rather tedious, and both departs and
arrives at inconvenient hours. There is a railway train from the Dover
terminus to Ramsgate, at half-past twelve in the day, which will bring
you in three hours. Another at half-past four in the afternoon. If you
will tell me by which you come (I hope the former), I will await you at
the terminus with my little brougham.
You will have for a night-light in the room we shall give you, the North
Foreland lighthouse. That and the sea and air are our only lions. It is
a very rough little place, but a very pleasant one, and you will make it
pleasanter than ever to me.
Faithfully yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Lavinia%20Watson/198Charles Dickens
1851-07-11[Sidenote: The Hon. Mrs. Watson.]
BROADSTAIRS, KENT, _July 11th, 1851._
MY DEAR MRS. WATSON,
I am so desperately indignant with you for writing me that short apology
for a note, and pretending to suppose that under any circumstances I
could fail to read with interest anything _you_ wrote to me, that I have
more than half a mind to inflict a regular letter upon you. If I were
not the gentlest of men I should do it!
Poor dear Haldimand, I have thought of him so often. That kind of decay
is so inexpressibly affecting and piteous to me, that I have no words to
express my compassion and sorrow. When I was at Abbotsford, I saw in a
vile glass case the last clothes Scott wore. Among them an old white
hat, which seemed to be tumbled and bent and broken by the uneasy,
purposeless wandering, hither and thither, of his heavy head. It so
embodied Lockhart's pathetic description of him when he tried to write,
and laid down his pen and cried, that it associated itself in my mind
with broken powers and mental weakness from that hour. I fancy Haldimand
in such another, going listlessly about that beautiful place, and
remembering the happy hours we have passed with him, and his goodness
and truth. I think what a dream we live in, until it seems for the
moment the saddest dream that ever was dreamed. Pray tell us if you hear
more of him. We really loved him.
To go to the opposite side of life, let me tell you that a week or so
ago I took Charley and three of his schoolfellows down the river
gipsying. I secured the services of Charley's godfather (an old friend
of mine, and a noble fellow with boys), and went down to Slough,
accompanied by two immense hampers from Fortnum and Mason, on (I
believe) the wettest morning ever seen out of the tropics.
It cleared before we got to Slough; but the boys, who had got up at four
(we being due at eleven), had horrible misgivings that we might not
come, in consequence of which we saw them looking into the carriages
before us, all face. They seemed to have no bodies whatever, but to be
all face; their countenances lengthened to that surprising extent. When
they saw us, the faces shut up as if they were upon strong springs, and
their waistcoats developed themselves in the usual places. When the
first hamper came out of the luggage-van, I was conscious of their
dancing behind the guard; when the second came out with bottles in it,
they all stood wildly on one leg. We then got a couple of flys to drive
to the boat-house. I put them in the first, but they couldn't sit still
a moment, and were perpetually flying up and down like the toy figures
in the sham snuff-boxes. In this order we went on to "Tom Brown's, the
tailor's," where they all dressed in aquatic costume, and then to the
boat-house, where they all cried in shrill chorus for "Mahogany"--a
gentleman, so called by reason of his sunburnt complexion, a waterman by
profession. (He was likewise called during the day "Hog" and "Hogany,"
and seemed to be unconscious of any proper name whatsoever.) We
embarked, the sun shining now, in a galley with a striped awning, which
I had ordered for the purpose, and all rowing hard, went down the river.
We dined in a field; what I suffered for fear those boys should get
drunk, the struggles I underwent in a contest of feeling between
hospitality and prudence, must ever remain untold. I feel, even now, old
with the anxiety of that tremendous hour. They were very good, however.
The speech of one became thick, and his eyes too like lobsters' to be
comfortable, but only temporarily. He recovered, and I suppose outlived
the salad he took. I have heard nothing to the contrary, and I imagine I
should have been implicated on the inquest if there had been one. We had
tea and rashers of bacon at a public-house, and came home, the last five
or six miles in a prodigious thunderstorm. This was the great success of
the day, which they certainly enjoyed more than anything else. The
dinner had been great, and Mahogany had informed them, after a bottle of
light champagne, that he never would come up the river "with ginger
company" any more. But the getting so completely wet through was the
culminating part of the entertainment. You never in your life saw such
objects as they were; and their perfect unconsciousness that it was at
all advisable to go home and change, or that there was anything to
prevent their standing at the station two mortal hours to see me off,
was wonderful. As to getting them to their dames with any sort of sense
that they were damp, I abandoned the idea. I thought it a success when
they went down the street as civilly as if they were just up and newly
dressed, though they really looked as if you could have rubbed them to
rags with a touch, like saturated curl-paper.
I am sorry you have not been able to see our play, which I suppose you
won't now, for I take it you are not going on Monday, the 21st, our last
night in town? It is worth seeing, not for the getting up (which modesty
forbids me to approve), but for the little bijou it is, in the scenery,
dresses, and appointments. They are such as never can be got together
again, because such men as Stanfield, Roberts, Grieve, Haghe, Egg, and
others, never can be again combined in such a work. Everything has been
done at its best from all sorts of authorities, and it is really very
beautiful to look at.
I find I am "used up" by the Exhibition. I don't say "there is nothing
in it"--there's too much. I have only been twice; so many things
bewildered me. I have a natural horror of sights, and the fusion of so
many sights in one has not decreased it. I am not sure that I have seen
anything but the fountain and perhaps the Amazon. It is a dreadful thing
to be obliged to be false, but when anyone says, "Have you seen ----?" I
say, "Yes," because if I don't, I know he'll explain it, and I can't
bear that. ---- took all the school one day. The school was composed of
a hundred "infants," who got among the horses' legs in crossing to the
main entrance from the Kensington Gate, and came reeling out from
between the wheels of coaches undisturbed in mind. They were clinging to
horses, I am told, all over the park.
When they were collected and added up by the frantic monitors, they were
all right. They were then regaled with cake, etc., and went tottering
and staring all over the place; the greater part wetting their
forefingers and drawing a wavy pattern on every accessible object. One
infant strayed. He was not missed. Ninety and nine were taken home,
supposed to be the whole collection, but this particular infant went to
Hammersmith. He was found by the police at night, going round and round
the turnpike, which he still supposed to be a part of the Exhibition. He
had the same opinion of the police, also of Hammersmith workhouse, where
he passed the night. When his mother came for him in the morning, he
asked when it would be over? It was a great Exhibition, he said, but he
thought it long.
As I begin to have a foreboding that you will think the same of this act
of vengeance of mine, this present letter, I shall make an end of it,
with my heartiest and most loving remembrances to Watson. I should have
liked him of all things to have been in the Eton expedition, tell him,
and to have heard a song (by-the-bye, I have forgotten that) sung in the
thunderstorm, solos by Charley, chorus by the friends, describing the
career of a booby who was plucked at college, every verse ending:
I don't care a fig what the people may think,
But what WILL the governor say!
which was shouted with a deferential jollity towards myself, as a
governor who had that day done a creditable action, and proved himself
worthy of all confidence.
With love to the boys and girls,
Ever, dear Mrs. Watson,
Most sincerely yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Frank%20Stone/199Charles Dickens
1851-07-20[Sidenote: Mr. Frank Stone.]
"HOUSEHOLD WORDS," _Sunday, July 20th, 1851._
MY DEAR STONE,
I have been considering the great house question since you kindly called
yesterday evening, and come to the conclusion that I had better not let
it go. I am convinced it is the prudent thing for me to do, and that I
am very unlikely to find the same comforts for the rising generation
elsewhere, for the same money. Therefore, as Robins no doubt understands
that you would come to me yesterday--passing his life as he does amidst
every possible phase of such negotiations--I think it hardly worth while
to wait for the receipt of his coming letter. If you will take the
trouble to call on him in the morning, and offer the L1,450, I shall be
very much obliged to you. If you will receive from me full power to
conclude the purchase (subject of course to my solicitor's approval of
the lease), pray do. I give you _carte blanche_ to L1,500, but I think
the L1,450 ought to win the day.
I don't make any apologies for thrusting this honour upon you, knowing
what a thorough-going old pump you are. Lemon and his wife are coming
here, after the rehearsal, to a gipsy sort of cold dinner. Time,
half-past three. Viands, pickled salmon and cold pigeon-pie. Occupation
afterwards, lying on the carpet as a preparation for histrionic
strength. Will you come with us from the Hanover Square Rooms?
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Charles%20Knight/200Charles Dickens
1851-07-27[Sidenote: Mr. Charles Knight.]
BROADSTAIRS, KENT, _Sunday, July 27th, 1851._
MY DEAR KNIGHT,
A most excellent Shadow![13] I have sent it up to the printer, and Wills
is to send you a proof. Will you look carefully at all the earlier part,
where the use of the past tense instead of the present a little hurts
the picturesque effect? I understand each phase of the thing to be
_always a thing present before the mind's eye_--a shadow passing before
it. Whatever is done, must be _doing_. Is it not so? For example, if I
did the Shadow of Robinson Crusoe, I should not say he _was_ a boy at
Hull, when his father lectured him about going to sea, and so forth; but
he _is_ a boy at Hull. There he is, in that particular Shadow, eternally
a boy at Hull; his life to me is a series of shadows, but there is no
"was" in the case. If I choose to go to his manhood, I can. These
shadows don't change as realities do. No phase of his existence passes
away, if I choose to bring it to this unsubstantial and delightful life,
the only death of which, to me, is _my_ death, and thus he is immortal
to unnumbered thousands. If I am right, will you look at the proof
through the first third or half of the papers, and see whether the
Factor comes before us in that way? If not, it is merely the alteration
of the verb here and there that is requisite.
You say you are coming down to look for a place next week. Now, Jerrold
says he is coming on Thursday, by the cheap express at half-past twelve,
to return with me for the play early on Monday morning. Can't you make
that holiday too? I have promised him our only spare bed, but we'll find
you a bed hard by, and shall be delighted "to eat and drink you," as an
American once wrote to me. We will make expeditions to Herne Bay,
Canterbury, where not? and drink deep draughts of fresh air. Come! They
are beginning to cut the corn. You will never see the country so pretty.
If you stay in town these days, you'll do nothing. I feel convinced
you'll not buy the "Memoirs of a Man of Quality." Say you'll come!
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Frank%20Stone/201Charles Dickens
1851-08-23[Sidenote: Mr. Frank Stone.]
BROADSTAIRS, KENT, _Saturday, August 23rd, 1851._
MY DEAR STONE,
A "dim vision" occurs to me, arising out of your note; also presents
itself to the brains of my other half.
Supposing you should find, on looking onward, a possibility of your
being houseless at Michaelmas, what do you say to using Devonshire
Terrace as a temporary encampment? It will not be in its usual order,
but we would take care that there should be as much useful furniture of
all sorts there, as to render it unnecessary for you to move a stick. If
you should think this a convenience, then I should propose to you to
pile your furniture in the middle of the rooms at Tavistock House, and
go out to Devonshire Terrace two or three weeks _before_ Michaelmas, to
enable my workmen to commence their operations. This might be to our
mutual convenience, and therefore I suggest it. Certainly the sooner I
can begin on Tavistock House the better. And possibly your going into
Devonshire Terrace might relieve you from a difficulty that would
otherwise be perplexing.
I make this suggestion (I need not say to _you_) solely on the chance of
its being useful to both of us. If it were merely convenient to me, you
know I shouldn't dream of it. Such an arrangement, while it would cost
you nothing, would perhaps enable you to get your new house into order
comfortably, and do exactly the same thing for me.
Ever affectionately.
P.S.--I anticipated your suggestion some weeks ago, when I found I
couldn't build a stable. I said I ought to have permission to take the
piece of ground into my garden, which was conceded. Loaden writes me
this morning that he thinks he can get permission to build a stable one
storey high, without a chimney. I reply that on the whole I would rather
enlarge the garden than build a stable with those restrictions.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Henry%20Austin/202Charles Dickens
1851-09-07[Sidenote: Mr. Henry Austin.]
BROADSTAIRS, _Sunday, September 7th, 1851._
MY DEAR HENRY,
I am in that state of mind which you may (once) have seen described in
the newspapers as "bordering on distraction;" the house given up to me,
the fine weather going on (soon to break, I daresay), the painting
season oozing away, my new book waiting to be born, and
NO WORKMEN ON THE PREMISES,
along of my not hearing from you!! I have torn all my hair off, and
constantly beat my unoffending family. Wild notions have occurred to me
of sending in my own plumber to do the drains. Then I remember that you
have probably written to prepare _your_ man, and restrain my audacious
hand. Then Stone presents himself, with a most exasperatingly mysterious
visage, and says that a rat has appeared in the kitchen, and it's his
opinion (Stone's, not the rat's) that the drains want "compo-ing;" for
the use of which explicit language I could fell him without remorse. In
my horrible desire to "compo" everything, the very postman becomes my
enemy because he brings no letter from you; and, in short, I don't see
what's to become of me unless I hear from you to-morrow, which I have
not the least expectation of doing.
Going over the house again, I have materially altered the
plans--abandoned conservatory and front balcony--decided to make Stone's
painting-room the drawing-room (it is nearly six inches higher than the
room below), to carry the entrance passage right through the house to a
back door leading to the garden, and to reduce the once intended
drawing-room--now school-room--to a manageable size, making a door of
communication between the new drawing-room and the study. Curtains and
carpets, on a scale of awful splendour and magnitude, are already in
preparation, and still--still--
NO WORKMEN ON THE PREMISES.
To pursue this theme is madness. Where are you? When are you coming
home? Where is the man who is to do the work? Does he know that an army
of artificers must be turned in at once, and the whole thing finished
out of hand? O rescue me from my present condition. Come up to the
scratch, I entreat and implore you!
I send this to Laetitia to forward,
Being, as you well know why,
Completely floored by N. W., I
_Sleep_.
I hope you may be able to read this. My state of mind does not admit of
coherence.
Ever affectionately.
P.S.--NO WORKMEN ON THE PREMISES!
Ha! ha! ha! (I am laughing demoniacally.)http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Henry%20Austin/203Charles Dickens
1851-09-21[Sidenote: Mr. Henry Austin.]
BROADSTAIRS, _Sunday, September 21st, 1851._
MY DEAR HENRY,
It is quite clear we could do nothing else with the drains than what you
have done. Will it be at all a heavy item in the estimate?
If there be the _least_ chance of a necessity for the pillar, let us
have it. Let us dance in peace, whatever we do, and only go into the
kitchen by the staircase.
Have they cut the door between the drawing-room and the study yet? The
foreman will let Shoolbred know when the feat is accomplished.
O! and did you tell him of another brass ventilator in the dining-room,
opening into the dining-room flue?
I don't think I shall come to town until you want to show the progress,
whenever that may be. I shall look forward to another dinner, and I
think we must encourage the Oriental, for the goodness of its wine.
I am getting a complete set of a certain distinguished author's works
prepared for a certain distinguished architect, which I hope he will
accept, as a slight, though very inadequate, etc. etc.; affectionate,
etc.; so heartily and kindly taking so much interest, etc. etc.
Love to Laetitia.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Henry%20Austin/204Charles Dickens
1851-10-07[Sidenote: Mr. Henry Austin.]
BROADSTAIRS, KENT, _October 7th, 1851._
MY DEAR HENRY,
O! O! O! D---- the Pantechnicon. O!
I will be at Tavistock House at twelve on Saturday, and then will wait
for you until I see you. If we return together--as I hope we shall--our
express will start at half-past four, and we ought to dine (somewhere
about Temple Bar) at three.
The infamous ---- says the stoves shall be fixed to-morrow.
O! if this were to last long; the distraction of the new book, the
whirling of the story through one's mind, escorted by workmen, the
imbecility, the wild necessity of beginning to write, the not being able
to do so, the, O! I should go---- O!
Ever affectionately.
P.S.--None. I have torn it off.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Mary%20Boyle/205Charles Dickens
1851-10-10[Sidenote: Miss Mary Boyle.]
BROADSTAIRS, KENT, _October 10th, 1851._
ON THE DEATH OF HER MOTHER.
MY DEAR MISS BOYLE,
Your remembrance at such a time--not thrown away upon me, trust me--is a
sufficient assurance that you know how truly I feel towards you, and
with what an earnest sympathy I must think of you now.
God be with you! There is indeed nothing terrible in such a death,
nothing that we would undo, nothing that we may remember otherwise than
with deeply thankful, though with softened hearts.
Kate sends you her affectionate love. I enclose a note from Georgina.
Pray give my kindest remembrances to your brother Cavendish, and believe
me now and ever,
Faithfully your Friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Eeles/206Charles Dickens
1851-10-22[Sidenote: Mr. Eeles.]
"HOUSEHOLD WORDS" OFFICE,
_Wednesday Evening, Oct. 22nd, 1851._
DEAR MR. EELES,
I send you the list I have made for the book-backs. I should like the
"History of a Short Chancery Suit" to come at the bottom of one recess,
and the "Catalogue of Statues of the Duke of Wellington" at the bottom
of the other. If you should want more titles, and will let me know how
many, I will send them to you.
Faithfully yours.
LIST OF IMITATION BOOK-BACKS.
_Tavistock House_, 1851.
Five Minutes in China. 3 vols.
Forty Winks at the Pyramids. 2 vols.
Abernethy on the Constitution. 2 vols.
Mr. Green's Overland Mail. 2 vols.
Captain Cook's Life of Savage. 2 vols.
A Carpenter's Bench of Bishops. 2 vols.
Toot's Universal Letter-Writer. 2 vols.
Orson's Art of Etiquette.
Downeaster's Complete Calculator.
History of the Middling Ages. 6 vols.
Jonah's Account of the Whale.
Captain Parry's Virtues of Cold Tar.
Kant's Ancient Humbugs. 10 vols.
Bowwowdom. A Poem.
The Quarrelly Review. 4 vols.
The Gunpowder Magazine. 4 vols.
Steele. By the Author of "Ion."
The Art of Cutting the Teeth.
Matthew's Nursery Songs. 2 vols.
Paxton's Bloomers. 5 vols.
On the Use of Mercury by the Ancient Poets.
Drowsy's Recollections of Nothing. 3 vols.
Heavyside's Conversations with Nobody. 3 vols.
Commonplace Book of the Oldest Inhabitant. 2 vols.
Growler's Gruffiology, with Appendix. 4 vols.
The Books of Moses and Sons. 2 vols.
Burke (of Edinburgh) on the Sublime and Beautiful. 2 vols.
Teazer's Commentaries.
King Henry the Eighth's Evidences of Christianity. 5 vols.
Miss Biffin on Deportment.
Morrison's Pills Progress. 2 vols.
Lady Godiva on the Horse.
Munchausen's Modern Miracles. 4 vols.
Richardson's Show of Dramatic Literature. 12 vols.
Hansard's Guide to Refreshing Sleep. As many volumes as possible.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Henry%20Austin/207Charles Dickens
1851-10-25[Sidenote: Mr. Henry Austin.]
OFFICE OF "HOUSEHOLD WORDS,"
_Saturday, Oct. 25th, 1851._
MY DEAR HENRY,
On the day of our departure, I thought we were going--backward--at a
most triumphant pace; but yesterday we rather recovered. The painters
still mislaid their brushes every five minutes, and chiefly whistled in
the intervals; and the carpenters (especially the Pantechnicon)
continued to look sideways with one eye down pieces of wood, as if they
were absorbed in the contemplation of the perspective of the Thames
Tunnel, and had entirely relinquished the vanities of this transitory
world; but still there was an improvement, and it is confirmed to-day.
White lime is to be seen in kitchens, the bath-room is gradually
resolving itself from an abstract idea into a fact--youthful, extremely
youthful, but a fact. The drawing-room encourages no hope whatever, nor
the study. Staircase painted. Irish labourers howling in the
school-room, but I don't know why. I see nothing. Gardener vigorously
lopping the trees, and really letting in the light and air. Foreman
sweet-tempered but uneasy. Inimitable hovering gloomily through the
premises all day, with an idea that a little more work is done when he
flits, bat-like, through the rooms, than when there is no one looking
on. Catherine all over paint. Mister McCann, encountering Inimitable in
doorways, fades obsequiously into areas, and there encounters him again,
and swoons with confusion. Several reams of blank paper constantly
spread on the drawing-room walls, and sliced off again, which looks like
insanity. Two men still clinking at the new stair-rails. I think they
must be learning a tune; I cannot make out any other object in their
proceedings.
Since writing the above, I have been up there again, and found the young
paper-hanger putting on his slippers, and looking hard at the walls of
the servants' room at the top of the house, as if he meant to paper it
one of these days. May Heaven prosper his intentions!
When do you come back? I hope soon.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Catherine%20Dickens/208Charles Dickens
1851-11-13[Sidenote: Mrs. Charles Dickens.]
CLIFTON, _November 13th, 1851._
MY DEAREST KATE,
I have just received your second letter, and am quite delighted to find
that all is going on so vigorously, and that you are in such a
methodical, business-like, and energetic state. I shall come home by the
express on Saturday morning, and shall hope to be at home between eleven
and twelve.
We had a noble night last night. The room (which is the largest but one
in England) was crammed in every part. The effect of from thirteen to
fourteen hundred people, all well dressed, and all seated in one
unbroken chamber, except that the floor rose high towards the end of the
hall, was most splendid, and we never played to a better audience. The
enthusiasm was prodigious; the place delightful for speaking in; no end
of gas; another hall for a dressing-room; an immense stage; and every
possible convenience. We were all thoroughly pleased, I think, with the
whole thing, and it was a very great and striking success.
To-morrow-night, having the new Hardman, I am going to try the play with
all kinds of cuts, taking out, among other things, some half-dozen
printed pages of "Wills's Coffee House."
We are very pleasant and cheerful. They are all going to Matthew
Davenport Hill's to lunch this morning, and to see some woods about six
or seven miles off. I prefer being quiet, and shall go out at my leisure
and call on Elliot. We are very well lodged and boarded, and, living
high up on the Downs, are quite out of the filth of Bristol.
I saw old Landor at Bath, who has bronchitis. When he was last in town,
"Kenyon drove him about, by God, half the morning, under a most damnable
pretence of taking him to where Walter was at school, and they never
found the confounded house!" He had in his pocket on that occasion a
souvenir for Walter in the form of a Union shirt-pin, which is now in my
possession, and shall be duly brought home.
I am tired enough, and shall be glad when to-morrow night is over. We
expect a very good house. Forster came up to town after the performance
last night, and promised to report to you that all was well. Jerrold is
in extraordinary force. I don't think I ever knew him so humorous. And
this is all my news, which is quite enough. I am continually thinking of
the house in the midst of all the bustle, but I trust it with such
confidence to you that I am quite at my ease about it.
With best love to Georgy and the girls,
Ever, my dearest Kate, most affectionately yours.
P.S.--I forgot to say that Topham has suddenly come out as a juggler,
and swallows candles, and does wonderful things with the poker very well
indeed, but with a bashfulness and embarrassment extraordinarily
ludicrous.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Eeles/209Charles Dickens
1851-11-17[Sidenote: Mr. Eeles.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, TAVISTOCK SQUARE, _Nov. 17th, 1851._
DEAR MR. EELES,
I must thank you for the admirable manner in which you have done the
book-backs in my room. I feel personally obliged to you, I assure you,
for the interest you have taken in my whim, and the promptitude with
which you have completely carried it out.
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Elizabeth%20Gaskell/210Charles Dickens
1851-12-05[Sidenote: Mrs. Gaskell.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Thursday Afternoon, Dec. 5th, 1851._
MY DEAR MRS. GASKELL,
I write in great haste to tell you that Mr. Wills, in the utmost
consternation, has brought me your letter, just received (four o'clock),
and that it is _too late_ to recall your tale. I was so delighted with
it that I put it first in the number (not hearing of any objection to my
proposed alteration by return of post), and the number is now made up
and in the printer's hands. I cannot possibly take the tale out--it has
departed from me.
I am truly concerned for this, but I hope you will not blame me for what
I have done in perfect good faith. Any recollection of me from your pen
cannot (as I think you know) be otherwise than truly gratifying to me;
but with my name on every page of "Household Words," there would be--or
at least I should feel--an impropriety in so mentioning myself. I was
particular, in changing the author, to make it "Hood's _Poems_" in the
most important place--I mean where the captain is killed--and I hope and
trust that the substitution will not be any serious drawback to the
paper in any eyes but yours. I would do anything rather than cause you a
minute's vexation arising out of what has given me so much pleasure, and
I sincerely beseech you to think better of it, and not to fancy that any
shade has been thrown on your charming writing, by
The unfortunate but innocent.
P.S.--I write at a gallop, not to lose another post.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Elizabeth%20Gaskell/211Charles Dickens
1851-12-21[Sidenote: Mrs. Gaskell.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Sunday, December 21st, 1851._
MY DEAR MRS. GASKELL,
If you were not the most suspicious of women, always looking for soft
sawder in the purest metal of praise, I should call your paper
delightful, and touched in the tenderest and most delicate manner. Being
what you are, I confine myself to the observation that I have called it
"A Love Affair at Cranford," and sent it off to the printer.
Faithfully yours ever.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Peter%20Cunningham/212Charles Dickens
1851-12-26[Sidenote: Mr. Peter Cunningham.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _December 26th, 1851._
MY DEAR CUNNINGHAM,
About the three papers.
1st. With Mr. Plowman of Oxford, Wills will communicate.
2nd. (Now returned.) I have seen, in nearly the same form, before. The
list of names is overwhelming.
3rd. I am not at all earnest in the Savage matter; firstly, because I
think so tremendous a vagabond never could have obtained an honest
living in any station of existence or at any period of time; and
secondly, because I think it of the highest importance that such an
association as our Guild should not appear to resent upon society the
faults of individuals who were flagrantly impracticable.
At its best, it is liable to that suspicion, as all such efforts have
been on the part of many jealous persons, to whom it _must_ look for
aid. And any stop that in the least encourages it is one of a fatal
kind.
I do _not_ think myself, but this is merely an individual opinion, that
Savage _was_ a man of genius, or that anything of his writing would have
attracted much notice but for the bastard's reference to his mother. For
these reasons combined, I should not be inclined to add my subscription
of two guineas to yours, unless the inscription were altered as I have
altered it in pencil. But in that case I should be very glad to respond
to your suggestion, and to snuff out all my smaller disinclination.
Faithfully yours ever.
FOOTNOTE:
[13] Mr. Charles Knight was writing a series of papers in "Household
Words," called "Shadows."http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/213Charles Dickens
1852-01-31[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _January 31st, 1852._
MY DEAR MACREADY,
If the "taxes on knowledge" mean the stamp duty, the paper duty, and the
advertisement duty, they seem to me to be unnecessarily confounded, and
unfairly too.
I have already declined to sign a petition for the removal of the stamp
duty on newspapers. I think the reduced duty is some protection to the
public against the rash and hasty launching of blackguard newspapers. I
think the newspapers are made extremely accessible to the poor man at
present, and that he would not derive the least benefit from the
abolition of the stamp. It is not at all clear to me, supposing he wants
_The Times_ a penny cheaper, that he would get it a penny cheaper if the
tax were taken off. If he supposes he would get in competition two or
three new journals as good to choose from, he is mistaken; not knowing
the immense resources and the gradually perfective machinery necessary
to the production of such a journal. It appears to me to be a fair tax
enough, very little in the way of individuals, not embarrassing to the
public in its mode of being levied, and requiring some small
consideration and pauses from the American kind of newspaper projectors.
Further, a committee has reported in favour of the repeal, and the
subject may be held to need no present launching.
The repeal of the paper duty would benefit the producers of periodicals
immensely. It would make a very large difference to me, in the case of
such a journal as "Household Words." But the gain to the public would be
very small. It would not make the difference of enabling me, for
example, to reduce the price of "Household Words," by its fractional
effect upon a copy, or to increase the quantity of matter. I might, in
putting the difference into my pocket, improve the quality of the paper
a little, but not one man in a thousand would notice it. It _might_
(though I am not sure even of this) remove the difficulties in the way
of a deserving periodical with a small sale. Charles Knight holds that
it would. But the case, on the whole, appeared to me so slight, when I
went to Downing Street with a deputation on the subject, that I said (in
addressing the Chancellor of the Exchequer) I could not honestly
maintain it for a moment as against the soap duty, or any other pressing
on the mass of the poor.
The advertisement duty has this preposterous anomaly, that a footman in
want of a place pays as much in the way of tax for the expression of his
want, as Professor Holloway pays for the whole list of his miraculous
cures.
But I think, at this time especially, there is so much to be considered
in the necessity the country will be under of having money, and the
necessity of justice it is always under, to consider the physical and
moral wants of the poor man's home, as to justify a man in saying: "I
must wait a little, all taxes are more or less objectionable, and so no
doubt are these, but we must have some; and I have not made up my mind
that all these things that are mixed up together _are_ taxes on
knowledge in reality."
Kate and Georgy unite with me in kindest and heartiest love to dear Mrs.
Macready. We are always with you in spirit, and always talking about
you. I am obliged to conclude very hastily, being beset to-day with
business engagements. Saw the lecture and was delighted; thought the
idea admirable. Again, loves upon loves to dear Mrs. Macready and to
Miss Macready also, and Kate and all the house. I saw ---- play (O
Heaven!) "Macbeth," the other night, in three hours and fifty minutes,
which is quick, I think.
Ever and always affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/J%20Crofton%20Croker/214Charles Dickens
1852-03-06[Sidenote: Mr. J. Crofton Croker.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _March 6th, 1852._
MY DEAR SIR,
I have the greatest interest in those gallant men, and should have been
delighted to dine in their company. I feel truly obliged to you for your
kind remembrance on such an occasion.
But I am engaged to Lord Lansdowne on Wednesday, and can only drink to
them in the spirit, which I have often done when they have been farther
off.
I hope you will find occasion to put on your cocked hat, that they may
see how terrific and imposing "a fore-and-after" can be made on shore.
Faithfully yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Lavinia%20Watson/215Charles Dickens
1852-04-06[Sidenote: The Hon. Mrs. Watson.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _April 6th, 1852._
MY DEAR MRS. WATSON,
My "lost character" was one of those awful documents occasionally to be
met with, which WILL be everywhere. It glared upon me from every drawer
I had, fell out of books, lurked under keys, hid in empty inkstands, got
into portfolios, frightened me by inscrutably passing into locked
despatch-boxes, and was not one character, but a thousand. This was when
I didn't want it. I look for it this morning, and it is nowhere!
Probably will never be beheld again.
But it was very unlike this one; and there is no doubt that when these
ventures come out good, it is only by lucky chance and coincidence. She
never mentioned my love of order before, and it is so remarkable (being
almost a _dis_order), that she ought to have fainted with surprise when
my handwriting was first revealed to her.
I was very sorry to leave Rockingham the other day, and came away in
quite a melancholy state. The Birmingham people were very active; and
the Shrewsbury gentry quite transcendent. I hope we shall have a very
successful and dazzling trip. It is delightful to me to think of your
coming to Birmingham; and, by-the-bye, if you will tell me in the
previous week what hotel accommodation you want, Mr. Wills will look to
it with the greatest pleasure.
Your bookseller ought to be cashiered. I suppose "he" (as Rogers calls
everybody's husband) went out hunting with the idea of diverting his
mind from dwelling on its loss. Abortive effort!
Charley brings this with himself.
With kindest regards and remembrances,
Ever, dear Mrs. Watson, most faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Charles%20Knight/216Charles Dickens
1852-06-29[Sidenote: Mr. Charles Knight.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _June 29th, 1852._
MY DEAR KNIGHT,
A thousand thanks for the Shadow, which, is charming. May you often go
(out of town) and do likewise!
I dined with Charles Kemble, yesterday, to meet Emil Devrient, the
German actor. He said (Devrient is my antecedent) that Ophelia _spoke_
the snatches of ballads in their German version of "Hamlet," because
they didn't know the airs. Tom Taylor said that you had published the
airs in your "Shakespeare." I said that if it were so, I knew you would
be happy to place them at the German's service. If you have got them and
will send them to me, I will write to Devrient (who knows no English) a
French explanation and reminder of the circumstance, and will tell him
that you responded like a man and a--I was going to say publisher, but
you are nothing of the sort, except as Tonson. Then indeed you are every
inch a pub.!
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/The%20Lord%20John%20Russell/217Charles Dickens
1852-06-30[Sidenote: The Lord John Russell.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Wednesday, June 30th, 1852._
MY DEAR LORD,
I am most truly obliged to you for your kind note, and for your so
generously thinking of me in the midst of your many occupations. I do
assure you that your ever ready consideration had already attached me to
you in the warmest manner, and made me very much your debtor. I thank
you unaffectedly and very earnestly, and am proud to be held in your
remembrance.
Believe me always, yours faithfully and obliged.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Anonymous/218Charles Dickens
1852-07-09[Sidenote: Anonymous Correspondent.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, TAVISTOCK SQUARE, _July 9th, 1852._
SIR,
I have received your letter of yesterday's date, and shall content
myself with a brief reply.
There was a long time during which benevolent societies were spending
immense sums on missions abroad, when there was no such thing as a
ragged school in England, or any kind of associated endeavour to
penetrate to those horrible domestic depths in which such schools are
now to be found, and where they were, to my most certain knowledge,
neither placed nor discovered by the Society for the Propagation of the
Gospel in Foreign Parts.
If you think the balance between the home mission and the foreign
mission justly held in the present time, I do not. I abstain from
drawing the strange comparison that might be drawn between the sums even
now expended in endeavours to remove the darkest ignorance and
degradation from our very doors, because I have some respect for
mistakes that may be founded in a sincere wish to do good. But I present
a general suggestion of the still-existing anomaly (in such a paragraph
as that which offends you), in the hope of inducing some people to
reflect on this matter, and to adjust the balance more correctly. I am
decidedly of opinion that the two works, the home and the foreign, are
_not_ conducted with an equal hand, and that the home claim is by far
the stronger and the more pressing of the two.
Indeed, I have very grave doubts whether a great commercial country,
holding communication with all parts of the world, can better
Christianise the benighted portions of it than by the bestowal of its
wealth and energy on the making of good Christians at home, and on the
utter removal of neglected and untaught childhood from its streets,
before it wanders elsewhere. For, if it steadily persist in this work,
working downward to the lowest, the travellers of all grades whom it
sends abroad will be good, exemplary, practical missionaries, instead of
undoers of what the best professed missionaries can do.
These are my opinions, founded, I believe, on some knowledge of facts
and some observation. If I could be scared out of them, let me add in
all good humour, by such easily-impressed words as "antichristian" or
"irreligious," I should think that I deserved them in their real
signification.
I have referred in vain to page 312 of "Household Words" for the sneer
to which you call my attention. Nor have I, I assure you, the least idea
where else it is to be found.
I am, Sir, your faithful Servant.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Mary%20Boyle/219Charles Dickens
1852-07-22[Sidenote: Miss Mary Boyle.]
10, CAMDEN CRESCENT, DOVER, _July 22nd, 1852._
MY DEAR MARY,
This is indeed a noble letter. The description of the family is quite
amazing. I _must_ return it myself to say that I HAVE appreciated it.
I am going to do "Used Up" at Manchester on the 2nd of September. O,
think of that! With another Mary!!! How can I ever say, "_Dear_ Joe, if
you like!" The voice may fully frame the falsehood, but the heart--the
heart, Mr. Wurzel--will have no part in it.
My dear Mary, you do scant justice to Dover. It is not quite a place to
my taste, being too bandy (I mean musical, no reference to its legs),
and infinitely too genteel. But the sea is very fine, and the walks are
quite remarkable. There are two ways of going to Folkestone, both lovely
and striking in the highest degree; and there are heights, and downs,
and country roads, and I don't know what, everywhere.
To let you into a secret, I am not quite sure that I ever did like, or
ever shall like, anything quite so well as "Copperfield." But I foresee,
I think, some very good things in "Bleak House." I shouldn't wonder if
they were the identical things that D'Israeli sees looming in the
distance. I behold them in the months ahead and weep.
Watson seemed, when I saw him last, to be holding on as by a
sheet-anchor to theatricals at Christmas. Then, O rapture! but be still,
my fluttering heart.
This is one of what I call my wandering days before I fall to work. I
seem to be always looking at such times for something I have not found
in life, but may possibly come to a few thousands of years hence, in
some other part of some other system. God knows. At all events I won't
put your pastoral little pipe out of tune by talking about it. I'll go
and look for it on the Canterbury road among the hop-gardens and
orchards.
Ever faithfully your Friend,
JOE.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Charles%20Knight/220Charles Dickens
1852-08-01[Sidenote: Mr. Charles Knight.]
10, CAMDEN CRESCENT, DOVER, _Sunday, Aug. 1st, 1852._
MY DEAR KNIGHT,
I don't see why you should go to the Ship, and I won't stand it. The
state apartment will be occupied by the Duke of Middlesex (whom I think
you know), but we can easily get a bed for you hard by. Therefore you
will please to drive here next Saturday evening. Our regular dinner hour
is half-past five. If you are later, you will find something ready for
you.
If you go on in that way about your part, I shall think you want to play
Mr. Gabblewig. Your role, though a small one on the stage, is a large
one off it; and no man is more important to the Guild, both on and off.
My dear friend Watson! Dead after an illness of four days. He dined with
us this day three weeks. I loved him as my heart, and cannot think of
him without tears.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Mark%20Lemon/221Charles Dickens
1852-08-05[Sidenote: Mr. Mark Lemon.]
DOVER, _August 5th, 1852._
MY DEAR MARK,
Poor dear Watson was dead when the paragraph in the paper appeared. He
was buried in his own church yesterday. Last Sunday three weeks (the day
before he went abroad) he dined with us, and was quite well and happy.
She has come home, is at Rockingham with the children, and does not
weakly desert his grave, but sets up her rest by it from the first. He
had been wandering in his mind a little before his death, but recovered
consciousness, and fell asleep (she says) quite gently and peacefully in
her arms.
I loved him very much, and God knows he deserved it.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/The%20Earl%20of%20Carlisle/222Charles Dickens
1852-08-05[Sidenote: The Earl of Carlisle.]
10, CAMDEN CRESCENT, DOVER, _Thursday, Aug. 5th, 1852._
MY DEAR LORD CARLISLE,
'Peared to me (as Uncle Tom would say) until within these last few days,
that I should be able to write to you, joyfully accepting your
Saturday's invitation after Newcastle, in behalf of all whom it
concerned. But the Sunderland people rushed into the field to propose
our acting there on that Saturday, the only possible night. And as it is
the concluding Guild expedition, and the Guild has a paramount claim on
us, I have been obliged to knock my own inclinations on the head, cut
the throat of my own wishes, and bind the Company hand and foot to the
Sunderland lieges. I don't mean to tell them now of your invitation
until we shall have got out of that country. There might be rebellion.
We are staying here for the autumn.
Is there any hope of your repeating your visit to these coasts?
Ever faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Lavinia%20Watson/223Charles Dickens
1852-08-05[Sidenote: The Hon. Mrs. Watson.]
10, CAMDEN CRESCENT, DOVER, _August 5th, 1852._
ON THE DEATH OF MR. WATSON.
MY DEAR, DEAR MRS. WATSON,
I cannot bear to be silent longer, though I know full well--no one
better I think--how your love for him, and your trust in God, and your
love for your children will have come to the help of such a nature as
yours, and whispered better things than any friendship can, however
faithful and affectionate.
We held him so close in our hearts--all of us here--and have been so
happy with him, and so used to say how good he was, and what a gentle,
generous, noble spirit he had, and how he shone out among commoner men
as something so real and genuine, and full of every kind of worthiness,
that it has often brought the tears into my eyes to talk of him; we have
been so accustomed to do this when we looked forward to years of
unchanged intercourse, that now, when everything but truth goes down
into the dust, those recollections which make the sword so sharp pour
balm into the wound. And if it be a consolation to us to know the
virtues of his character, and the reasons that we had for loving him, O
how much greater is your comfort who were so devoted to him, and were
the happiness of his life!
We have thought of you every day and every hour; we think of you now in
the dear old house, and know how right it is, for his dear children's
sake, that you should have bravely set up your rest in the place
consecrated by their father's memory, and within the same summer shadows
that fall upon his grave. We try to look on, through a few years, and to
see the children brightening it, and George a comfort and a pride and an
honour to you; and although it _is_ hard to think of what we have lost,
we know how something of it will be restored by your example and
endeavours, and the blessing that will descend upon them. We know how
the time will come when some reflection of that cordial, unaffected,
most affectionate presence, which we can never forget, and never would
forget if we could--such is God's great mercy--will shine out of your
boy's eyes upon you, his best friend and his last consoler, and fill the
void there is now.
May God, who has received into His rest through this affliction as good
a man as ever I can know and love and mourn for on this earth, be good
to you, dear friends, through these coming years! May all those
compassionate and hopeful lessons of the great Teacher who shed divine
tears for the dead bring their full comfort to you! I have no fear of
that, my confidence is certainty.
I cannot write what I wish; I had so many things to say, I seem to have
said none. It is so with the remembrances we send. I cannot put them
into words.
If you should ever set up a record in the little church, I would try to
word it myself, and God knows out of the fulness of my heart, if you
should think it well.
My dear Friend,
Yours, with the truest affection and sympathy.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/224Charles Dickens
1852-10-05[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
HOTEL DES BAINS, BOULOGNE,
_Tuesday Night, Oct. 5th, 1852._
ON THE DEATH OF MRS. MACREADY.
MY DEAREST MACREADY,
I received your melancholy letter while we were staying at Dover, a few
days after it was written; but I thought it best not to write to you
until you were at home again, among your dear children.
Its tidings were not unexpected to us, had been anticipated in many
conversations, often thought of under many circumstances; but the shock
was scarcely lessened by this preparation. The many happy days we have
passed together came crowding back; all the old cheerful times arose
before us; and the remembrance of what we had loved so dearly and seen
under so many aspects--all natural and delightful and affectionate and
ever to be cherished--was, how pathetic and touching you know best!
But my dear, dear Macready, this is not the first time you have felt
that the recollection of great love and happiness associated with the
dead soothes while it wounds. And while I can imagine that the blank
beside you may grow wider every day for many days to come, I _know_--I
think--that from its depths such comfort will arise as only comes to
great hearts like yours, when they can think upon their trials with a
steady trust in God.
My dear friend, I have known her so well, have been so happy in her
regard, have been so light-hearted with her, have interchanged so many
tender remembrances of you with her when you were far away, and have
seen her ever so simply and truly anxious to be worthy of you, that I
cannot write as I would and as I know I ought. As I would press your
hand in your distress, I let this note go from me. I understand your
grief, I deeply feel the reason that there is for it, yet in that very
feeling find a softening consolation that must spring up a
hundred-thousandfold for you. May Heaven prosper it in your breast, and
the spirits that have gone before, from the regions of mercy to which
they have been called, smooth the path you have to tread alone! Children
are left you. Your good sister (God bless her!) is by your side. You
have devoted friends, and more reasons than most men to be self-reliant
and stedfast. Something is gone that never in this world can be
replaced, but much is left, and it is a part of her life, her death, her
immortality.
Catherine and Georgina, who are with me here, send you their overflowing
love and sympathy. We hope that in a little while, and for a little
while at least, you will come among us, who have known the happiness of
being in this bond with you, and will not exclude us from participation
in your past and future.
Ever, my dearest Macready, with unchangeable affection,
Yours in all love and truth.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/225Charles Dickens
1852-10-12[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
HOTEL DES BAINS, BOULOGNE, _Tuesday, Oct. 12th, 1852._
MY DEAR WILLS,
H. W.
I have thought of the Christmas number, but not very successfully,
because I have been (and still am) constantly occupied with "Bleak
House." I purpose returning home either on Sunday or Monday, as my work
permits, and we will, immediately thereafter, dine at the office and
talk it over, so that you may get all the men to their work.
The fault of ----'s poem, besides its intrinsic meanness as a
composition, is that it goes too glibly with the comfortable ideas (of
which we have had a great deal too much in England since the Continental
commotions) that a man is to sit down and make himself domestic and
meek, no matter what is done to him. It wants a stronger appeal to
rulers in general to let men do this, fairly, by governing them well. As
it stands, it is at about the tract-mark ("Dairyman's Daughter," etc.)
of political morality, and don't think that it is necessary to write
_down_ to any part of our audience. I always hold that to be as great a
mistake as can be made.
I wish you would mention to Thomas, that I think the paper on hops
_extremely well done_. He has quite caught the idea we want, and caught
it in the best way. In pursuing the bridge subject, I think it would be
advisable to look up the _Thames police_. I have a misty notion of some
capital papers coming out of it. Will you see to this branch of the tree
among the other branches?
MYSELF.
To Chapman I will write. My impression is that I shall not subscribe to
the Hood monument, as I am not at all favourable to such posthumous
honours.
Ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/226Charles Dickens
1852-10-13[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
HOTEL DES BAINS, BOULOGNE,
_Wednesday Night, Oct. 13th, 1852._
MY DEAR WILLS,
The number coming in after dinner, since my letter was written and
posted, I have gone over it.
I am grievously depressed by it; it is so exceedingly bad. If you have
anything else to put first, don't put ----'s paper first. (There is
nothing better for a beginning in the number as it stands, but this is
very bad.) It is a mistake to think of it as a first article. The
article itself is in the main a mistake. Firstly, the subject requires
the greatest discretion and nicety of touch. And secondly, it is all
wrong and self-contradictory. Nobody can for a moment suppose that
"sporting" amusements are the sports of the PEOPLE; the whole gist of
the best part of the description is to show that they are the amusements
of a peculiar and limited class. The greater part of them are at a
miserable discount (horse-racing excepted, which has been already
sufficiently done in H. W.), and there is no reason for running amuck at
them at all. I have endeavoured to remove much of my objection (and I
think have done so), but, both in purpose and in any general address, it
is as wide of a first article as anything can well be. It would do best
in the opening of the number.
About Sunday in Paris there is no kind of doubt. Take it out. Such a
thing as that crucifixion, unless it were done in a masterly manner, we
have no business to stagger families with. Besides, the name is a
comprehensive one, and should include a quantity of fine matter. Lord
bless me, what I could write under that head!
Strengthen the number, pray, by anything good you may have. It is a very
dreary business as it stands.
The proofs want a thorough revision.
In haste, going to bed.
Ever faithfully.
P.S.--I want a name for Miss Martineau's paper.
TRIUMPHANT CARRIAGES (or TRIUMPHAL).
DUBLIN STOUTHEARTEDNESS.
PATIENCE AND PREJUDICE.
Take which you like best.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/John%20Watkins/227Charles Dickens
1852-10-18[Sidenote: Mr. John Watkins.]
MONDAY, _October 18th, 1852._
SIR,
On my return to town I find the letter awaiting me which you did me the
favour to address to me, I believe--for it has no date--some days ago.
I have the greatest tenderness for the memory of Hood, as I had for
himself. But I am not very favourable to posthumous memorials in the
monument way, and I should exceedingly regret to see any such appeal as
you contemplate made public, remembering another public appeal that was
made and responded to after Hood's death. I think that I best discharge
my duty to my deceased friend, and best consult the respect and love
with which I remember him, by declining to join in any such public
endeavours as that which you (in all generosity and singleness of
purpose, I am sure) advance. I shall have a melancholy gratification in
privately assisting to place a simple and plain record over the remains
of a great writer that should be as modest as he was himself, but I
regard any other monument in connection with his mortal resting-place as
a mistake.
I am, Sir, your faithful Servant.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Rev%20James%20White/228Charles Dickens
1852-10-19[Sidenote: Rev. James White.]
OFFICE OF "HOUSEHOLD WORDS," _Tuesday, Oct. 19th, 1852._
MY DEAR WHITE,
We are now getting our Christmas extra number together, and I think you
are the boy to do, if you will, one of the stories.
I propose to give the number some fireside name, and to make it consist
entirely of short stories supposed to be told by a family sitting round
the fire. _I don't care about their referring to Christmas at all_; nor
do I design to connect them together, otherwise than by their names, as:
THE GRANDFATHER'S STORY.
THE FATHER'S STORY.
THE DAUGHTER'S STORY.
THE SCHOOLBOY'S STORY.
THE CHILD'S STORY.
THE GUEST'S STORY.
THE OLD NURSE'S STORY.
The grandfather might very well be old enough to have lived in the days
of the highwaymen. Do you feel disposed, from fact, fancy, or both, to
do a good winter-hearth story of a highwayman? If you do, I embrace you
(per post), and throw up a cap I have purchased for the purpose into
mid-air.
Think of it and write me a line in reply. We are all well and blooming.
Are you never coming to town any more? Never going to drink port again,
metropolitaneously, but _always_ with Fielden?
Love to Mrs. White and the children, if Lotty be not out of the list
long ago.
Ever faithfully, my dear White.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Lavinia%20Watson/229Charles Dickens
1852-11-22[Sidenote: The Hon. Mrs. Watson.]
ATHENAEUM, _Monday, November 22nd, 1852._
MY DEAR MRS. WATSON,
Having just now finished my work for the time being, I turn in here in
the course of a rainy walk, to have the gratification of writing a few
lines to you. If my occupations with this same right hand were less
numerous, you would soon be tired of me, I should write to you so often.
You asked Catherine a question about "Bleak House." Its circulation is
half as large again as "Copperfield"! I have just now come to the point
I have been patiently working up to in the writing, and I hope it will
suggest to you a pretty and affecting thing. In the matter of "Uncle
Tom's Cabin," I partly though not entirely agree with Mr. James. No
doubt a much lower art will serve for the handling of such a subject in
fiction, than for a launch on the sea of imagination without such a
powerful bark; but there are many points in the book very admirably
done. There is a certain St. Clair, a New Orleans gentleman, who seems
to me to be conceived with great power and originality. If he had not "a
Grecian outline of face," which I began to be a little tired of in my
earliest infancy, I should think him unexceptionable. He has a sister
too, a maiden lady from New England, in whose person the besetting
weaknesses and prejudices of the Abolitionists themselves, on the
subject of the blacks, are set forth in the liveliest and truest colours
and with the greatest boldness.
I have written for "Household Words" of this next publication-day an
article on the State funeral,[14] showing why I consider it altogether a
mistake, to be temperately but firmly objected to; which I daresay will
make a good many of the admirers of such things highly indignant. It may
have right and reason on its side, however, none the less.
Charley and I had a great talk at Dover about his going into the army,
when I thought it right to set before him fairly and faithfully the
objections to that career, no less than its advantages. The result was
that he asked in a very manly way for time to consider. So I appointed
to go down to Eton on a certain day at the beginning of this month, and
resume the subject. We resumed it accordingly at the White Hart, at
Windsor, and he came to the conclusion that he would rather be a
merchant, and try to establish some good house of business, where he
might find a path perhaps for his younger brothers, and stay at home,
and make himself the head of that long, small procession. I was very
much pleased with him indeed; he showed a fine sense and a fine feeling
in the whole matter. We have arranged, therefore, that he shall leave
Eton at Christmas, and go to Germany after the holidays, to become well
acquainted with that language, now most essential in such a walk of life
as he will probably tread.
And I think this is the whole of my news. We are always talking of you
at home. Mary Boyle dined with us a little while ago. You look out, I
imagine, on a waste of water. When I came from Windsor, I thought I must
have made a mistake and got into a boat (in the dark) instead of a
railway-carriage. Catherine and Georgina send their kindest loves. I am
ever, with the best and truest wishes of my heart, my dear Mrs. Watson,
Your most affectionate Friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Rev%20James%20White/230Charles Dickens
1852-11-22[Sidenote: Rev. James White.]
OFFICE OF "HOUSEHOLD WORDS," _Monday, Nov. 22nd, 1852._
MY DEAR WHITE,
First and foremost, there is no doubt whatever of your story suiting
"Household Words." It is a very good story indeed, and would be
serviceable at any time. I am not quite so clear of its suiting the
Christmas number, for this reason. You know what the spirit of the
Christmas number is. When I suggested the stories being about a
highwayman, I got hold of that idea as being an adventurous one,
including various kinds of wrong, expressing a state of society no
longer existing among us, and pleasant to hear (therefore) from an old
man. Now, your highwayman not being a real highwayman after all, the
kind of suitable Christmas interest I meant to awaken in the story is
not in it. Do you understand? For an ordinary number it is quite
unobjectionable. If you should think of any other idea, narratable by an
old man, which you think would strike the chord of the season; and if
you should find time to work it out during the short remainder of this
month, I should be greatly pleased to have it. In any case, this story
goes straightway into type.
What tremendous weather it is! Our best loves to all at home. (I have
just bought thirty bottles of the most stunning port on earth, which
Ellis of the Star and Garter, Richmond, wrote to me of.)
I think you will find some good going in the next "Bleak House." I write
shortly, having been working my head off.
Ever affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Elizabeth%20Gaskell/231Charles Dickens
1852-12-01[Sidenote: Mrs. Gaskell.]
OFFICE OF "HOUSEHOLD WORDS," _Wednesday, Dec. 1st, 1852._
MY DEAR MRS. GASKELL,
I send you the proof of "The Old Nurse's Story," with my proposed
alteration. I shall be glad to know whether you approve of it. To assist
you in your decision, I send you, also enclosed, the original ending.
And I have made a line with ink across the last slip but one, where the
alteration begins. Of course if you wish to enlarge, explain, or
re-alter, you will do it. Do not keep the proof longer than you can
help, as I want to get to press with all despatch.
I hope I address this letter correctly. I am far from sure. In haste.
Ever faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/232Charles Dickens
1852-12-09[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Thursday, December 9th, 1852._
MY DEAR WILLS,
I am driven mad by dogs, who have taken it into their accursed heads to
assemble every morning in the piece of ground opposite, and who have
barked this morning _for five hours without intermission_; positively
rendering it impossible for me to work, and so making what is really
ridiculous quite serious to me. I wish, between this and dinner, you
would send John to see if he can hire a gun, with a few caps, some
powder, and a few charges of small shot. If you duly commission him with
a card, he can easily do it. And if I get those implements up here
to-night, I'll be the death of some of them to-morrow morning.
Ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Rev%20James%20White/233Charles Dickens
1852-12-09[Sidenote: Rev. James White.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Thursday Evening, Dec. 9th, 1852._
MY DEAR WHITE,
I hear you are not going to poor Macready's. Now, don't you think it
would do you good to come here instead? _I_ say it would, and I ought
to know! We can give you everything but a bed (all ours are occupied in
consequence of the boys being at home), and shall all be delighted to
see you. Leave the bed to us, and we'll find one hard by. I say nothing
of the last day of the old year, and the dancing out of that good old
worthy that will take place here (for you might like to hear the bells
at home); but after the twentieth, I shall be comparatively at leisure,
and good for anything or nothing. Don't you consider it your duty to
your family to come? _I_ do, and I again say that I ought to know.
Our best love to Mrs. White and Lotty--happily so much better, we
rejoice to hear--and all.
So no more at present from
THE INIMITABLE B.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Elizabeth%20Gaskell/234Charles Dickens
1852-12-17[Sidenote: Mrs. Gaskell.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Friday, Dec. 17th, 1852._
MY DEAR MRS. GASKELL,
I received your kind note yesterday morning with the truest
gratification, for I _am_ the writer of "The Child's Story" as well as
of "The Poor Relation's." I assure you, you have given me the liveliest
and heartiest pleasure by what you say of it.
I don't claim for my ending of "The Nurse's Story" that it would have
made it a bit better. All I can urge in its behalf is, that it is what I
should have done myself. But there is no doubt of the story being
admirable as it stands, and there _is_ some doubt (I think) whether
Forster would have found anything wrong in it, if he had not known of my
hammering over the proofs in making up the number, with all the three
endings before me.
With kindest regards to Mr. Gaskell,
Ever faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Wilkie%20Collins/235Charles Dickens
1852-12-20[Sidenote: Mr. W. Wilkie Collins.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Monday, Dec. 20th, 1852._
MY DEAR COLLINS,
If I did not know that you are likely to have a forbearing remembrance
of my occupation, I should be full of remorse for not having sooner
thanked you for "Basil."
Not to play the sage or the critic (neither of which parts, I hope, is
at all in my line), but to say what is the friendly truth, I may assure
you that I have read the book with very great interest, and with a very
thorough conviction that you have a call to this same art of fiction. I
think the probabilities here and there require a little more respect
than you are disposed to show them, and I have no doubt that the
prefatory letter would have been better away, on the ground that a book
(of all things) should speak for and explain itself. But the story
contains admirable writing, and many clear evidences of a very delicate
discrimination of character. It is delightful to find throughout that
you have taken great pains with it besides, and have "gone at it" with a
perfect knowledge of the jolter-headedness of the conceited idiots who
suppose that volumes are to be tossed off like pancakes, and that any
writing can be done without the utmost application, the greatest
patience, and the steadiest energy of which the writer is capable.
For all these reasons, I have made "Basil's" acquaintance with great
gratification, and entertain a high respect for him. And I hope that I
shall become intimate with many worthy descendants of his, who are yet
in the limbo of creatures waiting to be born.
Always faithfully yours.
P.S.--I am open to any proposal to go anywhere any day or days this
week. Fresh air and change in any amount I am ready for. If I could only
find an idle man (this is a general observation), he would find the
warmest recognition in this direction.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Frank%20Stone%20ARA/236Charles Dickens
1852-12-20[Sidenote: Mr. Frank Stone, A.R.A.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Monday Evening, Dec. 20th, 1852._
MY DEAR STONE,
Every appearance of brightness! Shall I expect you to-morrow morning? If
so, at what hour?
I think of taking train afterwards, and going down for a walk on Chatham
lines. If you can spare the day for fresh air and an impromptu bit of
fish and chop, I can recommend you one of the most delightful of men for
a companion. O, he is indeed refreshing!!!
Ever affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/237Charles Dickens
1852-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
OFFICE OF "HOUSEHOLD WORDS," _Christmas Eve, 1852._
MY DEAR WILLS,
I have gone carefully through the number--an awful one for the amount of
correction required--and have made everything right. If my mind could
have been materialised, and drawn along the tops of all the spikes on
the outside of the Queen's Bench prison, it could not have been more
agonised than by the ----, which, for imbecility, carelessness, slovenly
composition, relatives without antecedents, universal chaos, and one
absorbing whirlpool of jolter-headedness, beats anything in print and
paper I have ever "gone at" in my life.
I shall come and see how you are to-morrow. Meantime everything is in
perfect trim in these parts, and I have sent down to Stacey to come here
and top up with a final interview before I go.
Just after I had sent the messenger off to you, yesterday, concerning
the toll-taker memoranda, the other idea came into my head, and in the
most obliging manner came out of it.
Ever faithfully yours.
P.S.--Here is ---- perpetually flitting about Brydges Street, and
hovering in the neighbourhood, with a veil of secrecy drawn down over
his chin, so ludicrously transparent, that I can't help laughing while
he looks at me.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/G%20Linnaeus%20Banks/238Charles Dickens
1852-12-26[Sidenote: Mr. G. Linnaeus Banks.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Sunday, Dec. 26th, 1852._
MY DEAR SIR,
I will not attempt to tell you how affected and gratified I am by the
intelligence your kind letter conveys to me. Nothing would be more
welcome to me than such a mark of confidence and approval from such a
source, nothing more precious, or that I could set a higher worth upon.
I hasten to return the gauges, of which I have marked one as the size of
the finger, from which this token will never more be absent as long as I
live.
With feelings of the liveliest gratitude and cordiality towards the many
friends who so honour me, and with many thanks to you for the genial
earnestness with which you represent them,
I am, my dear Sir, very faithfully yours.
P.S.--Will you do me the favour to inform the dinner committee that a
friend of mine, Mr. Clement, of Shrewsbury, is very anxious to purchase
a ticket for the dinner, and that if they will be so good as to forward
one for him to me I shall feel much obliged.
FOOTNOTE:
[14] The great Duke of Wellington's funeral.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/239Charles Dickens
[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
"A curiosity from _him_. No date. No signature."--W. H. H.
MY DEAR WILLS,
I have not a shadow of a doubt about Miss Martineau's story. It is
certain to tell. I think it very effectively, admirably done; a fine
plain purpose in it; quite a singular novelty. For the last story in the
Christmas number it will be great. I couldn't wish for a better.
Mrs. Gaskell's ghost story I have got this morning; have not yet read.
It is long.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Clarkson%20Stanfield/240Charles Dickens
1853-01-02[Sidenote: Mr. Clarkson Stanfield.]
H.M.S. _Tavistock, January 2nd, 1853._
Yoho, old salt! Neptun' ahoy! You don't forget, messmet, as you was to
meet Dick Sparkler and Mark Porpuss on the fok'sle of the good ship
_Owssel Words_, Wednesday next, half-past four? Not you; for when did
Stanfell ever pass his word to go anywheers and not come! Well. Belay,
my heart of oak, belay! Come alongside the _Tavistock_ same day and
hour, 'stead of _Owssel Words_. Hail your shipmets, and they'll drop
over the side and join you, like two new shillings a-droppin' into the
purser's pocket. Damn all lubberly boys and swabs, and give me the lad
with the tarry trousers, which shines to me like di'mings bright!http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/241Charles Dickens
1853-01-14[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Friday Night, Jan. 14th, 1853._
MY DEAREST MACREADY,
I have been much affected by the receipt of your kindest and best of
letters; for I know out of the midst of what anxieties it comes to me,
and I appreciate such remembrance from my heart. You and yours are
always with us, however. It is no new thing for you to have a part in
any scene of my life. It very rarely happens that a day passes without
our thoughts and conversation travelling to Sherborne. We are so much
there that I cannot tell you how plainly I see you as I write.
I know you would have been full of sympathy and approval if you had been
present at Birmingham, and that you would have concurred in the tone I
tried to take about the eternal duties of the arts to the people. I took
the liberty of putting the court and that kind of thing out of the
question, and recognising nothing _but_ the arts and the people. The
more we see of life and its brevity, and the world and its varieties,
the more we know that no exercise of our abilities in any art, but the
addressing of it to the great ocean of humanity in which we are drops,
and not to bye-ponds (very stagnant) here and there, ever can or ever
will lay the foundations of an endurable retrospect. Is it not so? _You_
should have as much practical information on this subject, now, my dear
friend, as any man.
My dearest Macready, I cannot forbear this closing word. I still look
forward to our meeting as we used to do in the happy times we have
known together, so far as your old hopefulness and energy are concerned.
And I think I never in my life have been more glad to receive a sign,
than I have been to hail that which I find in your handwriting.
Some of your old friends at Birmingham are full of interest and enquiry.
Kate and Georgina send their dearest loves to you, and to Miss Macready,
and to all the children. I am ever, and no matter where I am--and quite
as much in a crowd as alone--my dearest Macready,
Your affectionate and most attached Friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Elizabeth%20Gaskell/242Charles Dickens
1853-05-03[Sidenote: Mrs. Gaskell.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _May 3rd, 1853._
MY DEAR MRS. GASKELL,
The subject is certainly not too serious, so sensibly treated. I have no
doubt that you may do a great deal of good by pursuing it in "Household
Words." I thoroughly agree in all you say in your note, have similar
reasons for giving it some anxious consideration, and shall be greatly
interested in it. Pray decide to do it. Send the papers, as you write
them, to me. Meanwhile I will think of a name for them, and bring it to
bear upon yours, if I think yours improvable. I am sure you may rely on
being widely understood and sympathised with.
Forget that I called those two women my dear friends! Why, if I told you
a fiftieth part of what I have thought about them, you would write me
the most suspicious of notes, refusing to receive the fiftieth part of
that. So I don't write, particularly as you laid your injunctions on me
concerning Ruth. In revenge, I will now mention one word that I wish you
would take out whenever you reprint that book. She would never--I am
ready to make affidavit before any authority in the land--have called
her seducer "Sir," when they were living at that hotel in Wales. A girl
pretending to be what she really was would have done it, but she--never!
Ever most faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Monsieur%20Regnier/243Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Monsieur Regnier.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Monday, May 9th, 1853._
MY DEAR REGNIER,
I meant to have spoken to you last night about a matter in which I hope
you can assist me, but I forgot it. I think I must have been quite
_bouleverse_ by your supposing (as you pretended to do, when you went
away) that it was not a great pleasure and delight to me to see you act!
There is a certain Miss Kelly, now sixty-two years old, who was once one
of the very best of English actresses, in the greater and better days of
the English theatre. She has much need of a benefit, and I am exerting
myself to arrange one for her, on about the 9th of June, if possible, at
the St. James's Theatre. The first piece will be an entertainment of her
own, and she will act in the last. Between these two (and at the best
time of the night), it would be a great attraction to the public, and a
great proof of friendship to me, if you would act. If we could manage,
through your influence and with your assistance, to present a little
French vaudeville, such as "_Le bon Homme jadis_," it would make the
night a grand success.
Mitchell's permission, I suppose, would be required. That I will
undertake to apply for, if you will tell me that you are willing to help
us, and that you could answer for the other necessary actors in the
little French piece, whatever the piece might be, that you would choose
for the purpose. Pray write me a short note in answer, on this point.
I ought to tell you that the benefit will be "under distinguished
patronage." The Duke of Devonshire, the Duke of Leinster, the Duke of
Beaufort, etc. etc., are members of the committee with me, and I have no
doubt that the audience will be of the _elite_.
I have asked Mr. Chapman to come to me to-morrow, to arrange for the
hiring of the theatre. Mr. Harley (a favourite English comedian whom you
may know) is our secretary. And if I could assure the committee
to-morrow afternoon of your co-operation, I am sure they would be
overjoyed.
_Votre tout devoue._http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Monsieur%20Regnier/244Charles Dickens
1853-05-20[Sidenote: Monsieur Regnier.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _May 20th, 1853._
MY DEAR REGNIER,
I am heartily obliged to you for your kind letter respecting Miss
Kelly's benefit. It is to take place _on Thursday, the 16th June_;
Thursday the 9th (the day originally proposed) being the day of Ascot
Races, and therefore a bad one for the purpose.
Mitchell, like a brave _garcon_ as he is, most willingly consents to
your acting for us. Will you think what little French piece it will be
best to do, in order that I may have it ready for the bills?
Ever faithfully yours, my dear Regnier.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/245Charles Dickens
1853-06-13[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
BOULOGNE, _Monday, June 13th, 1853._
MY DEAR WILLS,
You will be glad, I know, to hear that we had a delightful passage
yesterday, and that I made a perfect phenomenon of a dinner. It is
raining hard to-day, and my back feels the draught; but I am otherwise
still mending.
I have signed, sealed, and delivered a contract for a house (once
occupied for two years by a man I knew in Switzerland), which is not a
large one, but stands in the middle of a great garden, with what the
landlord calls a "forest" at the back, and is now surrounded by flowers,
vegetables, and all manner of growth. A queer, odd, French place, but
extremely well supplied with all table and other conveniences, and
strongly recommended.
The address is:
Chateau des Moulineaux,
Rue Beaurepaire, Boulogne.
There is a coach-house, stabling for half-a-dozen horses, and I don't
know what.
We take possession this afternoon, and I am now laying in a good stock
of creature comforts. So no more at present from
Yours ever faithfully.
P.S.--Mrs. Dickens and her sister unite in kindest regards.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/246Charles Dickens
1853-06-18[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
CHATEAU DES MOULINEAUX, BOULOGNE,
_Saturday Night, June 18th, 1853._
MY DEAR WILLS,
"BLEAK HOUSE."
Thank God, I have done half the number with great care, and hope to
finish on Thursday or Friday next. O how thankful I feel to be able to
have done it, and what a relief to get the number out!
GENERAL MOVEMENTS OF INIMITABLE.
_I don't think_ (I am not sure) I shall come to London until after the
completion of "Bleak House," No. 18--the number after this now in
hand--for it strikes me that I am better here at present. I have picked
up in the most extraordinary manner, and I believe you would never
suppose to look at me that I had had that week or barely an hour of it.
If there should be any occasion for our meeting in the meantime, a run
over here would do you no harm, and we should be delighted to see you at
any time. If you suppose this place to be in a street, you are much
mistaken. It is in the country, though not more than ten minutes' walk
from the post-office, and is the best doll's-house of many rooms, in the
prettiest French grounds, in the most charming situation I have ever
seen; the best place I have ever lived in abroad, except at Genoa. You
can scarcely imagine the beauty of the air in this richly-wooded
hill-side. As to comforts in the house, there are all sorts of things,
beginning with no end of the coldest water and running through the most
beautiful flowers down to English foot-baths and a Parisian
liqueur-stand. Your parcel (frantic enclosures and all) arrived quite
safely last night. This will leave by steamer to-morrow, Sunday evening.
There is a boat in the morning, but having no one to send to-night I
can't reach it, and to-morrow being Sunday it will come to much the same
thing.
I think that's all at present.
Ever, my dear Wills, faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Frank%20Stone%20ARA/247Charles Dickens
1853-06-23[Sidenote: Mr. Frank Stone, A.R.A.]
CHATEAU DES MOULINEAUX, RUE BEAUREPAIRE, BOULOGNE,
_Thursday, June 23rd, 1853._
MY DEAR PUMPION,
I take the earliest opportunity, after finishing my number--ahem!--to
write you a line, and to report myself (thank God) brown, well, robust,
vigorous, open to fight any man in England of my weight, and growing a
moustache. Any person of undoubted pluck, in want of a customer, may
hear of me at the bar of Bleak House, where my money is down.
I think there is an abundance of places here that would suit you well
enough; and Georgina is ready to launch on voyages of discovery and
observation with you. But it is necessary that you should consider for
how long a time you want it, as the folks here let much more
advantageously for the tenant when they know the term--don't like to let
without. It seems to me that the best thing you can do is to get a paper
of the South Eastern tidal trains, fix your day for coming over here in
five hours (when you will pay through to Boulogne at London Bridge), let
me know the day, and come and see how you like the place. _I_ like it
better than ever. We can give you a bed (two to spare, at a pinch
three), and show you a garden and a view or so. The town is not so cheap
as places farther off, but you get a great deal for your money, and by
far the best wine at tenpence a bottle that I have ever drank anywhere.
I really desire no better.
I may mention for your guidance (for I count upon your coming to
overhaul the general aspect of things), that you have nothing on earth
to do with your luggage when it is once in the boat, _until after you
have walked ashore_. That you will be filtered with the rest of the
passengers through a hideous, whitewashed, quarantine-looking
custom-house, where a stern man of a military aspect will demand your
passport. That you will have nothing of the sort, but will produce your
card with this addition: "Restant a Boulogne, chez M. Charles Dickens,
Chateau des Moulineaux." That you will then be passed out at a little
door, like one of the ill-starred prisoners on the bloody September
night, into a yelling and shrieking crowd, cleaving the air with the
names of the different hotels, exactly seven thousand six hundred and
fifty-four in number. And that your heart will be on the point of
sinking with dread, then you will find yourself in the arms of the
Sparkler of Albion. All unite in kindest regards.
Ever affectionately.
P.S.--I thought you might like to see the flourish again.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/248Charles Dickens
1853-07-27[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
BOULOGNE, _Wednesday, July 27th, 1853._
MY DEAR WILLS,
I have thought of another article to be called "Frauds upon the
Fairies," _a propos_ of George Cruikshank's editing. Half playfully and
half seriously, I mean to protest most strongly against alteration, for
any purpose, of the beautiful little stories which are so tenderly and
humanly useful to us in these times, when the world is too much with us,
early and late; and then to re-write "Cinderella" according to Total
Abstinence, Peace Society, and Bloomer principles, and expressly for
their propagation.
I shall want his book of "Hop o' my Thumb" (Forster noticed it in the
last _Examiner_), and the most simple and popular version of
"Cinderella" you can get me. I shall not be able to do it until after
finishing "Bleak House," but I shall do it the more easily for having
the books by me. So send them, if convenient, in your next parcel.
Ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/249Charles Dickens
1853-08-24[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
CHATEAU DES MOULINEAUX, BOULOGNE,
_Sunday, Aug. 24th, 1853._
MY DEAREST MACREADY,
Some unaccountable delay in the transmission here of the parcel which
contained your letter, caused me to come into the receipt of it a whole
week after its date. I immediately wrote to Miss Coutts, who has written
to you, and I hope some good may come of it. I know it will not be her
fault if none does. I was very much concerned to read your account of
poor Mrs. Warner, and to read her own plain and unaffected account of
herself. Pray assure her of my cordial sympathy and remembrance, and of
my earnest desire to do anything in my power to help to put her mind at
ease.
We are living in a beautiful little country place here, where I have
been hard at work ever since I came, and am now (after an interval of a
week's rest) going to work again to finish "Bleak House." Kate and
Georgina send their kindest loves to you, and Miss Macready, and all the
rest. They look forward, I assure you, to their Sherborne visit, when
I--a mere forlorn wanderer--shall be roaming over the Alps into Italy. I
saw "The Midsummer Night's Dream" of the Opera Comique, done here (very
well) last night. The way in which a poet named Willyim Shay Kes Peer
gets drunk in company with Sir John Foll Stayffe, fights with a noble
'night, Lor Latimeer (who is in love with a maid-of-honour you may have
read of in history, called Mees Oleevia), and promises not to do so any
more on observing symptoms of love for him in the Queen of England, is
very remarkable. Queen Elizabeth, too, in the profound and impenetrable
disguise of a black velvet mask, two inches deep by three broad,
following him into taverns and worse places, and enquiring of persons of
doubtful reputation for "the sublime Williams," was inexpressibly
ridiculous. And yet the nonsense was done with a sense quite admirable.
I have been very much struck by the book you sent me. It is one of the
wisest, the manliest, and most serviceable I ever read. I am reading it
again with the greatest pleasure and admiration.
Ever most affectionately yours,
My dear Macready.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Lavinia%20Watson/250Charles Dickens
1853-08-27[Sidenote: The Hon. Mrs. Watson.]
VILLA DES MOULINEAUX, BOULOGNE,
_Saturday, Aug. 27th, 1853._
MY DEAR MRS. WATSON,
I received your letter--most welcome and full of interest to me--when I
was hard at work finishing "Bleak House." We are always talking of you;
and I had said but the day before, that one of the first things I would
do on my release would be to write to you. To finish the topic of "Bleak
House" at once, I will only add that I like the conclusion very much
and think it _very pretty indeed_. The story has taken extraordinarily,
especially during the last five or six months, when its purpose has been
gradually working itself out. It has retained its immense circulation
from the first, beating dear old "Copperfield" by a round ten thousand
or more. I have never had so many readers. We had a little reading of
the final double number here the night before last, and it made a great
impression I assure you.
We are all extremely well, and like Boulogne very much indeed. I laid
down the rule before we came, that we would know nobody here, and we
_do_ know nobody here. We evaded callers as politely as we could, and
gradually came to be understood and left to ourselves. It is a fine
bracing air, a beautiful open country, and an admirable mixture of town
and country. We live on a green hill-side out of the town, but are in
the town (on foot) in ten minutes. Things are tolerably cheap, and
exceedingly good; the people very cheerful, good-looking, and obliging;
the houses very clean; the distance to London short, and easily
traversed. I think if you came to know the place (which I never did
myself until last October, often as I have been through it), you could
be but in one mind about it.
Charley is still at Leipzig. I shall take him up somewhere on the Rhine,
to bring him home for Christmas, as I come back on my own little tour.
He has been in the Hartz Mountains on a walking tour, and has written a
journal thereof, which he has sent home in portions. It has cost about
as much in postage as would have bought a pair of ponies.
I contemplate starting from here on Monday, the 10th of October;
Catherine, Georgina, and the rest of them will then go home. I shall go
first by Paris and Geneva to Lausanne, for it has a separate place in my
memory. If the autumn should be very fine (just possible after such a
summer), I shall then go by Chamonix and Martigny, over the Simplon to
Milan, thence to Genoa, Leghorn, Pisa, and Naples, thence, I hope, to
Sicily. Back by Bologna, Florence, Rome, Verona, Mantua, etc., to
Venice, and home by Germany, arriving in good time for Christmas Day.
Three nights in Christmas week, I have promised to read in the Town Hall
at Birmingham, for the benefit of a new and admirable institution for
working men projected there. The Friday will be the last night, and I
shall read the "Carol" to two thousand working people, stipulating that
they shall have that night entirely to themselves.
It just occurs to me that I mean to engage, for the two months odd, a
travelling servant. I have not yet got one. If you should happen to be
interested in any good foreigner, well acquainted with the countries and
the languages, who would like such a master, how delighted I should be
to like _him_!
Ever since I have been here, I have been very hard at work, often
getting up at daybreak to write through many hours. I have never had the
least return of illness, thank God, though I was so altered (in a week)
when I came here, that I doubt if you would have known me. I am redder
and browner than ever at the present writing, with the addition of a
rather formidable and fierce moustache. 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. We imagined the Captain's
ecstasies when we saw the birth of his child in the papers. In some of
the descriptions of Chesney Wold, I have taken many bits, chiefly about
trees and shadows, from observations made at Rockingham. I wonder
whether you have ever thought so! I shall hope to hear from you again
soon, and shall not fail to write again before I go away. There seems to
be nothing but "I" in this letter; but "I" know, my dear friend, that
you will be more interested in that letter in the present connection,
than in any other I could take from the alphabet.
Catherine and Georgina send their kindest loves, and more messages than
this little sheet would hold. If I were to give you a hint of what we
feel at the sight of your handwriting, and at the receipt of a word from
yourself about yourself, and the dear boys, and the precious little
girls, I should begin to be sorrowful, which is rather the tendency of
my mind at the close of another long book. I heard from Cerjat two or
three days since. Goff, by-the-bye, lived in this house two years.
Ever, my dear Mrs. Watson,
Yours, with true affection and regard.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Peter%20Cunningham/251Charles Dickens
[Sidenote: Mr. Peter Cunningham.]
CHATEAU DES MOULINEAUX, RUE BEAUREPAIRE, BOULOGNE.
MY DEAR CUNNINGHAM,
A note--Cerberus-like--of three heads.
First. I know you will be glad to hear that the manager is himself
again. Vigorous, brown, energetic, muscular; the pride of Albion and the
admiration of Gaul.
Secondly. I told Wills when I left home, that I was quite pained to see
the end of your excellent "Bowl of Punch" altered. I was unaffectedly
touched and gratified by the heartiness of the original; and saw no
earthly, celestial, or subterranean objection to its remaining, as it
did not so unmistakably apply to me as to necessitate the observance of
my usual precaution in the case of such references, by any means.
Thirdly. If you ever have a holiday that you don't know what to do with,
_do_ come and pass a little time here. We live in a charming garden in a
very pleasant country, and should be delighted to receive you. Excellent
light wines on the premises, French cookery, millions of roses, two cows
(for milk punch), vegetables cut for the pot, and handed in at the
kitchen window; five summer-houses, fifteen fountains (with no water in
'em), and thirty-seven clocks (keeping, as I conceive, Australian time;
having no reference whatever to the hours on this side of the globe).
I know, my dear Cunningham, that the British nation can ill afford to
lose you; and that when the Audit Office mice are away, the cats of that
great public establishment will play. But pray consider that the bow may
be sometimes bent too long, and that ever-arduous application, even in
patriotic service, is to be avoided. No one can more highly estimate
your devotion to the best interests of Britain than I. But I wish to see
it tempered with a wise consideration for your own amusement,
recreation, and pastime. All work and no play may make Peter a dull boy
as well as Jack. And (if I may claim the privilege of friendship to
remonstrate) I would say that you do not take enough time for your
meals. Dinner, for instance, you habitually neglect. Believe me, this
rustic repose will do you good. Winkles also are to be obtained in these
parts, and it is well remarked by Poor Richard, that a bird in the
handbook is worth two in the bush.
Ever cordially yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Walter%20Savage%20Landor/252Charles Dickens
1853-09-08[Sidenote: Mr. Walter Savage Landor.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, LONDON, _Sept. 8th, 1853._
MY DEAR LANDOR,
I am in town for a day or two, and Forster tells me I may now write to
thank you for the happiness you have given me by honouring my name with
such generous mention, on such a noble place, in your great book. I
believe he has told you already that I wrote to him from Boulogne, not
knowing what to do, as I had not received the precious volume, and
feared you might have some plan of sending it to me, with which my
premature writing would interfere.
You know how heartily and inexpressibly I prize what you have written to
me, or you never would have selected me for such a distinction. I could
never thank you enough, my dear Landor, and I will not thank you in
words any more. Believe me, I receive the dedication like a great
dignity, the worth of which I hope I thoroughly know. The Queen could
give me none in exchange that I wouldn't laughingly snap my fingers at.
We are staying at Boulogne until the 10th of October, when I go into
Italy until Christmas, and the rest come home.
Kate and Georgina would send you their best loves if they were here, and
would never leave off talking about it if I went back and told them I
had written to you without such mention of them. Walter is a very good
boy, and comes home from school with honourable commendation. He passed
last Sunday in solitary confinement (in a bath-room) on bread and water,
for terminating a dispute with the nurse by throwing a chair in her
direction. It is the very first occasion of his ever having got into
trouble, for he is a great favourite with the whole house, and one of
the most amiable boys in the boy world. (He comes out on birthdays in a
blaze of shirt-pin).
If I go and look at your old house, as I shall if I go to Florence, I
shall bring you back another leaf from the same tree as I plucked the
last from.
Ever, my dear Landor,
Heartily and affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/John%20Delane/253Charles Dickens
1853-09-12[Sidenote: Mr. John Delane.]
VILLA DES MOULINEAUX, BOULOGNE,
_Monday, Sept. 12th, 1853._
MY DEAR DELANE,
I am very much obliged to you, I assure you, for your frank and full
reply to my note. Nothing could be more satisfactory, and I have to-day
seen Mr. Gibson and placed my two small representatives under his
charge. His manner is exactly what you describe him. I was greatly
pleased with his genuineness altogether.
We remain here until the tenth of next month, when I am going to desert
my wife and family and run about Italy until Christmas. If I can execute
any little commission for you or Mrs. Delane--in the Genoa street of
silversmiths, or anywhere else--I shall be delighted to do so. I have
been in the receipt of several letters from Macready lately, and
rejoice to find him quite himself again, though I have great misgivings
that he will lose his eldest boy before he can be got to India.
Mrs. Dickens and her sister are proud of your message, and beg their
kind regards to be forwarded in return; my other half being particularly
comforted and encouraged by your account of Mr. Gibson. In this charge I
am to include Mrs. Delane, who, I hope, will make an exchange of
remembrances, and give me hers for mine.
I never saw anything so ridiculous as this place at present. They
expected the Emperor ten or twelve days ago, and put up all manner of
triumphal arches made of evergreens, which look like tea-leaves now, and
will take a withered and weird appearance hardly to be foreseen, long
before the twenty-fifth, when the visit is vaguely expected to come off.
In addition to these faded garlands all over the leading streets, there
are painted eagles hoisted over gateways and sprawling across a hundred
ways, which have been washed out by the rain and are now being blistered
by the sun, until they look horribly ludicrous. And a number of our
benighted compatriots who came over to see a perfect blaze of _fetes_,
go wandering among these shrivelled preparations and staring at ten
thousand flag-poles without any flags upon them, with a kind of
indignant curiosity and personal injury quite irresistible. With many
thanks,
Very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/254Charles Dickens
1853-09-18[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
BOULOGNE, _Sunday, Sept. 18th, 1853._
MY DEAR WILLS,
COURIER.
Edward Kaub will bring this. He turned up yesterday, accounting for his
delay by waiting for a written recommendation, and having at the last
moment (as a foreigner, not being an Englishman) a passport to get. I
quite agree with you as to his appearance and manner, and have engaged
him. It strikes me that it would be an excellent beginning if you would
deliver him a neat and appropriate address, telling him what in your
conscience you can find to tell of me favourably as a master, and
particularly impressing upon him _readiness and punctuality_ on his part
as the great things to be observed. I think it would have a much better
effect than anything I could say in this stage, if said from yourself.
But I shall be much obliged to you if you will act upon this hint
forthwith.
W. H. WILLS.
No letter having arrived from the popular author of "The Larboard
Fin,"[15] by this morning's post, I rather think one must be on the way
in the pocket of Gordon's son. If Kaub calls for this before young
Scotland arrives, you will understand if I do not herein refer to an
unreceived letter. But I shall leave this open, until Kaub comes for it.
Ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/The%20Lord%20John%20Russell/255Charles Dickens
1853-09-21[Sidenote: The Lord John Russell.]
VILLA DES MOULINEAUX, BOULOGNE,
_Wednesday, Sept. 21st, 1853._
MY DEAR LORD,
Your note having been forwarded to me here, I cannot forbear thanking
you with all my heart for your great kindness. Mr. Forster had
previously sent me a copy of your letter to him, together with the
expression of the high and lasting gratification he had in your handsome
response. I know he feels it most sincerely.
I became the prey of a perfect spasm of sensitive twinges, when I found
that the close of "Bleak House" had not penetrated to "the wilds of the
North" when your letter left those parts. I was so very much interested
in it myself when I wrote it here last month, that I have a fond sort of
faith in its interesting its readers. But for the hope that you may have
got it by this time, I should refuse comfort. That supports me.
The book has been a wonderful success. Its audience enormous.
I fear there is not much chance of my being able to execute any little
commission for Lady John anywhere in Italy. But I am going across the
Alps, leaving here on the tenth of next month, and returning home to
London for Christmas Day, and should indeed be happy if I could do her
any dwarf service.
You will be interested, I think, to hear that Poole lives happily on his
pension, and lives within it. He is quite incapable of any mental
exertion, and what he would have done without it I cannot imagine. I
send it to him at Paris every quarter. It is something, even amid the
estimation in which you are held, which is but a foreshadowing of what
shall be by-and-by as the people advance, to be so gratefully remembered
as he, with the best reason, remembers you. Forgive my saying this. But
the manner of that transaction, no less than the matter, is always fresh
in my memory in association with your name, and I cannot help it.
My dear Lord,
Yours very faithfully and obliged.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Lavinia%20Watson/256Charles Dickens
1853-09-21[Sidenote: The Hon. Mrs. Watson.]
BOULOGNE, _Wednesday, Sept. 21st, 1853._
MY DEAR MRS. WATSON,
The courier was unfortunately engaged. He offered to recommend another,
but I had several applicants, and begged Mr. Wills to hold a grand
review at the "Household Words" office, and select the man who is to
bring me down as his victim. I am extremely sorry the man you recommend
was not to be had. I should have been so delighted to take him.
I am finishing "The Child's History," and clearing the way through
"Household Words," in general, before I go on my trip. I forget whether
I told you that Mr. Egg the painter and Mr. Collins are going with me.
The other day I was in town. In case you should not have heard of the
condition of that deserted village, I think it worth mentioning. All the
streets of any note were unpaved, mountains high, and all the omnibuses
were sliding down alleys, and looking into the upper windows of small
houses. At eleven o'clock one morning I was positively _alone_ in Bond
Street. I went to one of my tailors, and he was at Brighton. A
smutty-faced woman among some gorgeous regimentals, half finished, had
not the least idea when he would be back. I went to another of my
tailors, and he was in an upper room, with open windows and surrounded
by mignonette boxes, playing the piano in the bosom of his family. I
went to my hosier's, and two of the least presentable of "the young men"
of that elegant establishment were playing at draughts in the back shop.
(Likewise I beheld a porter-pot hastily concealed under a Turkish
dressing-gown of a golden pattern.) I then went wandering about to look
for some ingenious portmanteau, and near the corner of St. James's
Street saw a solitary being sitting in a trunk-shop, absorbed in a book
which, on a close inspection, I found to be "Bleak House." I thought
this looked well, and went in. And he really was more interested in
seeing me, when he knew who I was, than any face I had seen in any
house, every house I knew being occupied by painters, including my own.
I went to the Athenaeum that same night, to get my dinner, and it was
shut up for repairs. I went home late, and had forgotten the key and was
locked out.
Preparations were made here, about six weeks ago, to receive the
Emperor, who is not come yet. Meanwhile our countrymen (deluded in the
first excitement) go about staring at these arrangements, with a
personal injury upon them which is most ridiculous. And they _will_
persist in speaking an unknown tongue to the French people, who _will_
speak English to them.
Kate and Georgina send their kindest loves. We are all quite well. Going
to drop two small boys here, at school with a former Eton tutor highly
recommended to me. Charley was heard of a day or two ago. He says his
professor "is very short-sighted, always in green spectacles, always
drinking weak beer, always smoking a pipe, and always at work." The last
qualification seems to appear to Charley the most astonishing one.
Ever, my dear Mrs. Watson,
Most affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/257Charles Dickens
1853-10-25[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
HOTEL DE LA VILLA, MILAN, _Tuesday, Oct. 25th, 1853._
MY DEAR GEORGY,
I have walked to that extent in Switzerland (walked over the Simplon on
Sunday, as an addition to the other feats) that one pair of the new
strong shoes has gone to be mended this morning, and the other is in but
a poor way; the snow having played the mischief with them.
On the Swiss side of the Simplon, we slept at the beastliest little
town, in the wildest kind of house, where some fifty cats tumbled into
the corridor outside our bedrooms all at once in the middle of the
night--whether through the roof or not, I don't know; for it was dark
when we got up--and made such a horrible and terrific noise that we
started out of our beds in a panic. I strongly objected to opening the
door lest they should get into the room and tear at us; but Edward
opened his, and laid about him until he dispersed them. At Domo D'Ossola
we had three immense bedrooms (Egg's bed twelve feet wide!), and a sala
of imperceptible extent in the dim light of two candles and a wood fire;
but were very well and very cheaply entertained. Here, we are, as you
know, housed in the greatest comfort.
We continue to get on very well together. We really do admirably. I lose
no opportunity of inculcating the lesson that it is of no use to be out
of temper in travelling, and it is very seldom wanted for any of us. Egg
is an excellent fellow, and full of good qualities; I am sure a generous
and staunch man at heart, and a good and honourable nature.
I shall send Catherine from Genoa a list of the places where letters
will find me. I shall hope to hear from you too, and shall be very glad
indeed to do so. No more at present.
Ever most affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/258Charles Dickens
1853-10-29[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
CROCE DI MALTA, GENOA, _Saturday, Oct. 29th, 1853._
MY DEAREST GEORGY,
We had thirty-one hours consecutively on the road between this and
Milan, and arrived here in a rather damaged condition. We live at the
top of this immense house, overlooking the port and sea, pleasantly and
airily enough, though it is no joke to get so high, and though the
apartment is rather vast and faded.
The old walks are pretty much the same as ever, except that they have
built behind the Peschiere on the San Bartolomeo hill, and changed the
whole town towards San Pietro d'Arena, where we seldom went. The Bisagno
looks just the same, strong just now, and with very little water in it.
Vicoli stink exactly as they used to, and are fragrant with the same old
flavour of very rotten cheese kept in very hot blankets. The Mezzaro
pervades them as before. The old Jesuit college in the Strada Nuova is
under the present government the Hotel de Ville, and a very splendid
caffe with a terrace garden has arisen between it and Palavicini's old
palace. Another new and handsome caffe has been built in the Piazza
Carlo Felice, between the old caffe of the Bei Arti (where Fletcher
stopped for the bouquets in the green times, when we went to the ----'s
party), and the Strada Carlo Felice. The old beastly gate and guardhouse
on the Albaro road are still in their dear old beastly state, and the
whole of that road is just as it was. The man without legs is still in
the Strada Nuova; but the beggars in general are all cleared off, and
our old one-armed Belisario made a sudden evaporation a year or two ago.
I am going to the Peschiere to-day. The puppets are here, and the opera
is open, but only with a buffo company, and without a buffet. We went to
the Scala, where they did an opera of Verdi's, called "Il Trovatore,"
and a poor enough ballet. The whole performance miserable indeed. I wish
you were here to take some of the old walks. It is quite strange to walk
about alone. Good-bye, my dear Georgy. Pray tell me how Kate is. I
rather fancy from her letter, though I scarcely know why, that she is
not quite as well as she was at Boulogne. I was charmed with your
account of the Plornishghenter and everything and everybody else. Kiss
them all for me.
Ever most affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/259Charles Dickens
1853-11-04[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
HOTEL DES ETRANGERS, NAPLES,
_Friday Night, Nov. 4th, 1853._
MY DEAREST GEORGY,
Instead of embarking on Monday at Genoa, we were delayed (in consequence
of the boat's being a day later when there are thirty-one days in the
month) until Tuesday. Going aboard that morning at half-past nine, we
found the steamer more than full of passengers from Marseilles, and in a
state of confusion not to be described. We could get no places at the
table, got our dinners how we could on deck, had no berths or sleeping
accommodation of any kind, and had paid heavy first-class fares! To add
to this, we got to Leghorn too late to steam away again that night,
getting the ship's papers examined first--as the authorities said so,
not being favourable to the new express English ship, English
officered--and we lay off the lighthouse all night long. The scene on
board beggars description. Ladies on the tables, gentlemen under the
tables, and ladies and gentlemen lying indiscriminately on the open
deck, arrayed like spoons on a sideboard. No mattresses, no blankets,
nothing. Towards midnight, attempts were made by means of an awning and
flags to make this latter scene remotely approach an Australian
encampment; and we three lay together on the bare planks covered with
overcoats. We were all gradually dozing off when a perfectly tropical
rain fell, and in a moment drowned the whole ship. The rest of the night
was passed upon the stairs, with an immense jumble of men and women.
When anybody came up for any purpose we all fell down; and when anybody
came down we all fell up again. Still, the good-humour in the English
part of the passengers was quite extraordinary. There were excellent
officers aboard, and the first mate lent me his cabin to wash in in the
morning, which I afterwards lent to Egg and Collins. Then we and the
Emerson Tennents (who were aboard) and the captain, the doctor, and the
second officer went off on a jaunt together to Pisa, as the ship was to
lie at Leghorn all day.
The captain was a capital fellow, but I led him, facetiously, such a
life all day, that I got almost everything altered at night. Emerson
Tennent, with the greatest kindness, turned his son out of his state
room (who, indeed, volunteered to go in the most amiable manner), and I
got a good bed there. The store-room down by the hold was opened for Egg
and Collins, and they slept with the moist sugar, the cheese in cut, the
spices, the cruets, the apples and pears--in a perfect chandler's shop;
in company with what the ----'s would call a "hold gent"--who had been
so horribly wet through overnight that his condition frightened the
authorities--a cat, and the steward--who dozed in an arm-chair, and all
night long fell headforemost, once in every five minutes, on Egg, who
slept on the counter or dresser. Last night I had the steward's own
cabin, opening on deck, all to myself. It had been previously occupied
by some desolate lady, who went ashore at Civita Vecchia. There was
little or no sea, thank Heaven, all the trip; but the rain was heavier
than any I have ever seen, and the lightning very constant and vivid. We
were, with the crew, some two hundred people; with boats, at the utmost
stretch, for one hundred, perhaps. I could not help thinking what would
happen if we met with any accident; the crew being chiefly Maltese, and
evidently fellows who would cut off alone in the largest boat on the
least alarm. The speed (it being the crack express ship for the India
mail) very high; also the running through all the narrow rocky channels.
Thank God, however, here we are. Though the more sensible and
experienced part of the passengers agreed with me this morning that it
was not a thing to try often. We had an excellent table after the first
day, the best wines and so forth, and the captain and I swore eternal
friendship. Ditto the first officer and the majority of the passengers.
We got into the bay about seven this morning, but could not land until
noon. We towed from Civita Vecchia the entire Greek navy, I believe,
consisting of a little brig-of-war, with great guns, fitted as a
steamer, but disabled by having burst the bottom of her boiler in her
first run. She was just big enough to carry the captain and a crew of
six or so, but the captain was so covered with buttons and gold that
there never would have been room for him on board to put these valuables
away if he hadn't worn them, which he consequently did, all night.
Whenever anything was wanted to be done, as slackening the tow-rope or
anything of that sort, our officers roared at this miserable potentate,
in violent English, through a speaking-trumpet, of which he couldn't
have understood a word under the most favourable circumstances, so he
did all the wrong things first, and the right things always last. The
absence of any knowledge of anything not English on the part of the
officers and stewards was most ridiculous. I met an Italian gentleman on
the cabin steps, yesterday morning, vainly endeavouring to explain that
he wanted a cup of tea for his sick wife. And when we were coming out of
the harbour at Genoa, and it was necessary to order away that boat of
music you remember, the chief officer (called aft for the purpose, as
"knowing something of Italian,") delivered himself in this explicit and
clear manner to the principal performer: "Now, signora, if you don't
sheer off, you'll be run down; so you had better trice up that guitar of
yours, and put about."
We get on as well as possible, and it is extremely pleasant and
interesting, and I feel that the change is doing me great and real
service, after a long continuous strain upon the mind; but I am pleased
to think that we are at our farthest point, and I look forward with joy
to coming home again, to my old room, and the old walks, and all the old
pleasant things.
I wish I had arranged, or could have done so--for it would not have been
easy--to find some letters here. It is a blank to stay for five days in
a place without any.
I don't think Edward knows fifty Italian words; but much more French is
spoken in Italy now than when we were here, and he stumbles along
somehow.
I am afraid this is a dull letter, for I am very tired. You must take
the will for the deed, my dear, and good night.
Ever most affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/260Charles Dickens
1853-11-13[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
ROME, _Sunday Night, Nov. 13th, 1853._
MY DEAREST GEORGY,
We arrived here yesterday afternoon, at between three and four. On
sending to the post-office this morning, I received your pleasant little
letter, and one from Miss Coutts, who is still at Paris. But to my
amazement there was none from Catherine! You mention her writing, and I
cannot but suppose that your two letters must have been posted together.
However, I received none from her, and I have all manner of doubts
respecting the plainness of its direction. They will not produce the
letters here as at Genoa, but persist in looking them out at the
post-office for you. I shall send again to-morrow, and every day until
Friday, when we leave here. If I find no letter from her _to-morrow_, I
shall write to her nevertheless by that post which brings this, so that
you may both hear from me together.
One night, at Naples, Edward came in, open-mouthed, to the table d'hote
where we were dining with the Tennents, to announce "The Marchese
Garofalo." I at first thought it must be the little parrot-marquess who
was once your escort from Genoa; but I found him to be a man (married to
an Englishwoman) whom we used to meet at Ridgway's. He was very glad to
see me, and I afterwards met him at dinner at Mr. Lowther's, our charge
d'affaires. Mr. Lowther was at the Rockingham play, and is a very
agreeable fellow. We had an exceedingly pleasant dinner of eight,
preparatory to which I was near having the ridiculous adventure of not
being able to find the house and coming back dinnerless. I went in an
open carriage from the hotel in all state, and the coachman, to my
surprise, pulled up at the end of the Chiaja. "Behold the house," says
he, "of Il Signor Larthoor!"--at the same time pointing with his whip
into the seventh heaven, where the early stars were shining. "But the
Signor Larthoor," returns the Inimitable darling, "lives at Pausilippo."
"It is true," says the coachman (still pointing to the evening star),
"but he lives high up the Salita Sant' Antonio, where no carriage ever
yet ascended, and that is the house" (evening star as aforesaid), "and
one must go on foot. Behold the Salita Sant' Antonio!" I went up it, a
mile and a half I should think. I got into the strangest places, among
the wildest Neapolitans--kitchens, washing-places, archways, stables,
vineyards--was baited by dogs, answered in profoundly unintelligible
Neapolitan, from behind lonely locked doors, in cracked female voices,
quaking with fear; could hear of no such Englishman or any Englishman.
By-and-by I came upon a Polenta-shop in the clouds, where an old
Frenchman, with an umbrella like a faded tropical leaf (it had not
rained for six weeks) was staring at nothing at all, with a snuff-box in
his hand. To him I appealed concerning the Signor Larthoor. "Sir," said
he, with the sweetest politeness, "can you speak French?" "Sir," said I,
"a little." "Sir," said he, "I presume the Signor Loothere"--you will
observe that he changed the name according to the custom of his
country--"is an Englishman." I admitted that he was the victim of
circumstances and had that misfortune. "Sir," said he, "one word more.
_Has_ he a servant with a wooden leg?" "Great Heaven, sir," said I, "how
do I know! I should think not, but it is possible." "It is always," said
the Frenchman, "possible. Almost all the things of the world are always
possible." "Sir," said I--you may imagine my condition and dismal sense
of my own absurdity, by this time--"that is true." He then took an
immense pinch of snuff, wiped the dust off his umbrella, led me to an
arch commanding a wonderful view of the bay of Naples, and pointed deep
into the earth from which I had mounted. "Below there, near the lamp,
one finds an Englishman, with a servant with a wooden leg. It is always
possible that he is the Signor Loothere." I had been asked at six, and
it was now getting on for seven. I went down again in a state of
perspiration and misery not to be described, and without the faintest
hope of finding the place. But as I was going down to the lamp, I saw
the strangest staircase up a dark corner, with a man in a
white-waistcoat (evidently hired) standing on the top of it, fuming. I
dashed in at a venture, found it was the place, made the most of the
whole story, and was indescribably popular. The best of it was, that as
nobody ever did find the place, he had put a servant at the bottom of
the Salita, to "wait for an English gentleman." The servant (as he
presently pleaded), deceived by the moustache, had allowed the English
gentleman to pass unchallenged.
The night before we left Naples we were at the San Carlo, where, with
the Verdi rage of our old Genoa time, they were again doing the
"Trovatore." It seemed rubbish on the whole to me, but was very fairly
done. I think "La Tenco," the prima donna, will soon be a great hit in
London. She is a very remarkable singer and a fine actress, to the best
of my judgment on such premises. There seems to be no opera here, at
present. There was a Festa in St. Peter's to-day, and the Pope passed to
the Cathedral in state. We were all there.
We leave here, please God, on Friday morning, and post to Florence in
three days and a half. We came here by Vetturino. Upon the whole, the
roadside inns are greatly improved since our time. Half-past three and
half-past four have been, however, our usual times of rising on the
road.
I was in my old place at the Coliseum this morning, and it was as grand
as ever. With that exception the ruined part of Rome--the real original
Rome--looks smaller than my remembrance made it. It is the only place on
which I have yet found that effect. We are in the old hotel.
You are going to Bonchurch I suppose? will be there, perhaps, when this
letter reaches you? I shall be pleased to think of you as at home again,
and making the commodious family mansion look natural and home-like. I
don't like to think of my room without anybody to peep into it now and
then. Here is a world of travelling arrangements for me to settle, and
here are Collins and Egg looking sideways at me with an occasional
imploring glance as beseeching me to settle it. So I leave off.
Good-night.
Ever, my dearest Georgy,
Most affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Sir%20James%20Emerson%20Tennent/261Charles Dickens
1853-11-14[Sidenote: Sir James Emerson Tennent.]
HOTEL DES ILES BRITANNIQUES, PIAZZA DEL POPOLO, ROME,
_Monday, Nov. 14th, 1853._
MY DEAR TENNENT,
As I never made a good bargain in my life--except once, when, on going
abroad, I let my house on excellent terms to an admirable tenant, who
never paid anything--I sent Edward into the Casa Dies yesterday morning,
while I invested the premises from the outside, and carefully surveyed
them. It is a very clean, large, bright-looking house at the corner of
the Via Gregoriana; not exactly in a part of Rome I should pick out for
living in, and on what I should be disposed to call the wrong side of
the street. However, this is not to the purpose. Signor Dies has no idea
of letting an apartment for a short time--scouted the idea of a
month--signified that he could not be brought to the contemplation of
two months--was by no means clear that he could come down to the
consideration of three. This of course settled the business speedily.
This hotel is no longer kept by the Melloni I spoke of, but is even
better kept than in his time, and is a very admirable house. I have
engaged a small apartment for you to be ready on Thursday afternoon (at
two piastres and a half--two-and-a-half per day--sitting-room and three
bedrooms, one double-bedded and two not). If you would like to change to
ours, which is a very good one, on Friday morning, you can of course do
so. As our dining-room is large, and there is no table d'hote here, I
will order dinner in it for our united parties at six on Thursday. You
will be able to decide how to arrange for the remainder of your stay,
after being here and looking about you--two really necessary
considerations in Rome.
Pray make my kind regards to Lady Tennent, and Miss Tennent, and your
good son, who became homeless for my sake. Mr. Egg and Mr. Collins
desire to be also remembered.
It has been beautiful weather since we left Naples, until to-day, when
it rains in a very dogged, sullen, downcast, and determined manner. We
have been speculating at breakfast on the possibility of its raining in
a similar manner at Naples, and of your wandering about the hotel,
refusing consolation.
I grieve to report the Orvieto considerably damaged by the general vine
failure, but still far from despicable. Montefiascone (the Est wine you
know) is to be had here; and we have had one bottle in the very finest
condition, and one in a second-rate state.
The Coliseum, in its magnificent old decay, is as grand as ever; and
with the electric telegraph darting through one of its ruined arches
like a sunbeam and piercing direct through its cruel old heart, is even
grander.
Believe me always, very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Catherine%20Dickens/262Charles Dickens
1853-11-14[Sidenote: Mrs. Charles Dickens.]
ROME, _Monday, Nov. 14th, 1853._
MY DEAREST CATHERINE,
As I have mentioned in my letter to Georgy (written last night but
posted with this), I received her letter without yours, to my unbounded
astonishment. This morning, on sending again to the post-office, I at
last got yours, and most welcome it is with all its contents.
I found Layard at Naples, who went up Vesuvius with us, and was very
merry and agreeable. He is travelling with Lord and Lady Somers, and
Lord Somers being laid up with an attack of malaria fever, Layard had a
day to spare. Craven, who was Lord Normanby's Secretary of Legation in
Paris, now lives at Naples, and is married to a French lady. He is very
hospitable and hearty, and seemed to have vague ideas that something
might be done in a pretty little private theatre he has in his house. He
told me of Fanny Kemble and the Sartoris's being here. I have also heard
of Thackeray's being here--I don't know how truly. Lockhart is here,
and, I fear, very ill. I mean to go and see him.
We are living in the old hotel, which is not now kept by Meloni, who has
retired. I don't know whether you recollect an apartment at the top of
the house, to which we once ran up with poor Roche to see the horses
start in the race at the Carnival time? That is ours, in which I at
present write. We have a large back dining-room, a handsome front
drawing-room, looking into the Piazza del Popolo, and three front
bedrooms, all on a floor. The whole costs us about four shillings a day
each. The hotel is better kept than ever. There is a little kitchen to
each apartment where the dinner is kept hot. There is no house
comparable to it in Paris, and it is better than Mivart's. We start for
Florence, post, on Friday morning, and I am bargaining for a carriage to
take us on to Venice.
Edward is an excellent servant, and always cheerful and ready for his
work. He knows no Italian, except the names of a few things, but French
is far more widely known here now than in our time. Neither is he an
experienced courier as to roads and so forth; but he picks up all that I
want to know, here and there, somehow or other. I am perfectly pleased
with him, and would rather have him than an older hand. Poor dear Roche
comes back to my mind though, often.
I have written to engage the courier from Turin into France, from
_Tuesday, the 6th December_. This will bring us home some two days after
the tenth, probably. I wrote to Charley from Naples, giving him his
choice of meeting me at Lyons, in Paris, or at Boulogne. I gave him full
instructions what to do if he arrived before me, and he will write to me
at Turin saying where I shall find him. I shall be a day or so later
than I supposed as the nearest calculation I could make when I wrote to
him; but his waiting for me at an hotel will not matter.
We have had delightful weather, with one day's exception, until to-day,
when it rained very heavily and suddenly. Egg and Collins have gone to
the Vatican, and I am "going" to try whether I can hit out anything for
the Christmas number. Give my love to Forster, and tell him I won't
write to him until I hear from him.
I have not come across any English whom I know except Layard and the
Emerson Tennents, who will be here on Thursday from Civita Vecchia, and
are to dine with us. The losses up to this point have been two pairs of
shoes (one mine and one Egg's), Collins's snuff-box, and Egg's
dressing-gown.
We observe the managerial punctuality in all our arrangements, and have
not had any difference whatever.
I have been reserving this side all through my letter, in the conviction
that I had something else to tell you. If I had, I cannot remember what
it is. I introduced myself to Salvatore at Vesuvius, and reminded him of
the night when poor Le Gros fell down the mountains. He was full of
interest directly, remembered the very hole, put on his gold-banded
cap, and went up with us himself. He did not know that Le Gros was dead,
and was very sorry to hear it. He asked after the ladies, and hoped they
were very happy, to which I answered, "Very." The cone is completely
changed since our visit, is not at all recognisable as the same place;
and there is no fire from the mountain, though there is a great deal of
smoke. Its last demonstration was in 1850.
I shall be glad to think of your all being at home again, as I suppose
you will be soon after the receipt of this. Will you see to the
invitations for Christmas Day, and write to Laetitia? I shall be very
happy to be at home again myself, and to embrace you; for of course I
miss you _very much_, though I feel that I could not have done a better
thing to clear my mind and freshen it up again, than make this
expedition. If I find Charley much ahead of me, I shall start on through
a night or so to meet him, and leave the others to catch us up. I look
upon the journey as almost closed at Turin. My best love to Mamey, and
Katey, and Sydney, and Harry, and the darling Plornishghenter. We often
talk about them, and both my companions do so with interest. They always
send all sorts of messages to you, which I never deliver. God bless you!
Take care of yourself.
Ever most affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/263Charles Dickens
1853-11-17[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
ROME, _Thursday Afternoon, Nov. 17th, 1853._
MY DEAR WILLS,
Just as I wrote the last words of the enclosed little story for the
Christmas number just now, Edward brought in your letter. Also one from
Forster (tell him) which I have not yet opened. I will write again--and
write to him--from Florence. I am delighted to have news of you.
The enclosed little paper for the Christmas number is in a character
that nobody else is likely to hit, and which is pretty sure to be
considered pleasant. Let Forster have the MS. with the proof, and I know
he will correct it to the minutest point. I have a notion of another
little story, also for the Christmas number. If I can do it at Venice, I
will, and send it straight on. But it is not easy to work under these
circumstances. In travelling we generally get up about three; and in
resting we are perpetually roaming about in all manner of places. Not to
mention my being laid hold of by all manner of people.
KEEP "HOUSEHOLD WORDS" IMAGINATIVE! is the solemn and continual
Conductorial Injunction. Delighted to hear of Mrs. Gaskell's
contributions.
Yes by all manner of means to Lady Holland. Will you ask her whether she
has Sydney Smith's letters to me, which I placed (at Mrs. Smith's
request) either in Mrs. Smith's own hands or in Mrs. Austin's? I cannot
remember which, but I think the latter.
In making up the Christmas number, don't consider my paper or papers,
with any reference saving to where they will fall best. I have no
liking, in the case, for any particular place.
All perfectly well. Companion moustaches (particularly Egg's) dismal in
the extreme. Kindest regards to Mrs. Wills.
Ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/264Charles Dickens
1853-11-21[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
FLORENCE, _Monday, Nov. 21st, 1853._
H. W.
MY DEAR WILLS,
I sent you by post from Rome, on Wednesday last, a little story for the
Christmas number, called "The Schoolboy's Story." I have an idea of
another short one, to be called "Nobody's Story," which I hope to be
able to do at Venice, and to send you straight home before this month is
out. I trust you have received the first safely.
Edward continues to do extremely well. He is always, early and late,
what you have seen him. He is a very steady fellow, a little too bashful
for a courier even; settles prices of everything now, as soon as we come
into an hotel; and improves fast. His knowledge of Italian is painfully
defective, and, in the midst of a howling crowd at a post-house or
railway station, this deficiency perfectly stuns him. I was obliged last
night to get out of the carriage, and pluck him from a crowd of porters
who were putting our baggage into wrong conveyances--by cursing and
ordering about in all directions. I should think about ten substantives,
the names of ten common objects, form his whole Italian stock. It
matters very little at the hotels, where a great deal of French is
spoken now; but, on the road, if none of his party knew Italian, it
would be a very serious inconvenience indeed.
Will you write to Ryland if you have not heard from him, and ask him
what the Birmingham reading-nights are really to be? For it is
ridiculous enough that I positively don't know. Can't a Saturday Night
in a Truck District, or a Sunday Morning among the Ironworkers (a fine
subject) be knocked out in the course of the same visit?
If you should see any managing man you know in the Oriental and
Peninsular Company, I wish you would very gravely mention to him from me
that if they are not careful what they are about with their steamship
_Valetta_, between Marseilles and Naples, they will suddenly find that
they will receive a blow one fine day in _The Times_, which it will be
a very hard matter for them ever to recover. When I sailed in her from
Genoa, there had been taken on board, _with no caution in most cases
from the agent, or hint of discomfort_, at least forty people of both
sexes for whom there was no room whatever. I am a pretty old traveller
as you know, but I never saw anything like the manner in which pretty
women were compelled to lie among the men in the great cabin and on the
bare decks. The good humour was beyond all praise, but the natural
indignation very great; and I was repeatedly urged to stand up for the
public in "Household Words," and to write a plain description of the
facts to _The Times_. If I had done either, and merely mentioned that
all these people paid heavy first-class fares, I will answer for it that
they would have been beaten off the station in a couple of months. I did
neither, because I was the best of friends with the captain and all the
officers, and never saw such a fine set of men; so admirable in the
discharge of their duty, and so zealous to do their best by everybody.
It is impossible to praise them too highly. But there is a strong desire
at all the ports along the coast to throw impediments in the way of the
English service, and to favour the French and Italian boats. In those
boats (which I know very well) great care is taken of the passengers,
and the accommodation is very good. If the Peninsula and Oriental add to
all this the risk of such an exposure as they are _certain_ to get (if
they go on so) in _The Times_, they are dead sure to get a blow from the
public which will make them stagger again. I say nothing of the number
of the passengers and the room in the ship's boats, though the frightful
consideration the contrast presented must have been in more minds than
mine. I speak only of the taking people for whom there is no sort of
accommodation as the most decided swindle, and the coolest, I ever did
with my eyes behold.
Kindest regards from fellow-travellers.
Ever, my dear Wills, faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/265Charles Dickens
1853-11-25[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
VENICE, _Friday, November 25th, 1853._
MY DEAREST GEORGY,
We found an English carriage from Padua at Florence, and hired it to
bring it back again. We travelled post with four horses all the way
(from Padua to this place there is a railroad) and travelled all night.
We left Florence at half-past six in the morning, and got to Padua at
eleven next day--yesterday. The cold at night was most intense. I don't
think I have ever felt it colder. But our carriage was very comfortable,
and we had some wine and some rum to keep us warm. We came by Bologna
(where we had tea) and Ferrara. You may imagine the delays in the night
when I tell you that each of our passports, after receiving _six vises_
at Florence, received in the course of the one night, _nine more_, every
one of which was written and sealed; somebody being slowly knocked out
of bed to do it every time! It really was excruciating.
Landor had sent me a letter to his son, and on the day before we left
Florence I thought I would go out to Fiesoli and leave it. So I got a
little one-horse open carriage and drove off alone. We were within half
a mile of the Villa Landoro, and were driving down a very narrow lane
like one of those at Albaro, when I saw an elderly lady coming towards
us, very well dressed in silk of the Queen's blue, and walking freshly
and briskly against the wind at a good round pace. It was a bright,
cloudless, very cold day, and I thought she walked with great spirit, as
if she enjoyed it. I also thought (perhaps that was having him in my
mind) that her ruddy face was shaped like Landor's. All of a sudden the
coachman pulls up, and looks enquiringly at me. "What's the matter?"
says I. "Ecco la Signora Landoro?" says he. "For the love of Heaven,
don't stop," says I. "_I_ don't know her, I am only going to the house
to leave a letter--go on!" Meanwhile she (still coming on) looked at me,
and I looked at her, and we were both a good deal confused, and so went
our several ways. Altogether, I think it was as disconcerting a meeting
as I ever took part in, and as odd a one. Under any other circumstances
I should have introduced myself, but the separation made the
circumstances so peculiar that "I didn't like."
The Plornishghenter is evidently the greatest, noblest, finest,
cleverest, brightest, and most brilliant of boys. Your account of him is
most delightful, and I hope to find another letter from you somewhere on
the road, making me informed of his demeanour on your return. On which
occasion, as on every other, I have no doubt he will have distinguished
himself as an irresistibly attracting, captivating May-Roon-Ti-Groon-Ter.
Give him a good many kisses for me. I quite agree with Syd as to his
ideas of paying attention to the old gentleman. It's not bad, but
deficient in originality. The usual deficiency of an inferior intellect
with so great a model before him. I am very curious to see whether the
Plorn remembers me on my reappearance.
I meant to have gone to work this morning, and to have tried a second
little story for the Christmas number of "Household Words," but my
letters have (most pleasantly) put me out, and I defer all such wise
efforts until to-morrow. Egg and Collins are out in a gondola with a
servitore di piazza.
You will find this but a stupid letter, but I really have no news. We go
to the opera, whenever there is one, see sights, eat and drink, sleep
in a natural manner two or three nights, and move on again. Edward was a
little crushed at Padua yesterday. He had been extraordinarily cold all
night in the rumble, and had got out our clothes to dress, and I think
must have been projecting a five or six hours' sleep, when I announced
that he was to come on here in an hour and a half to get the rooms and
order dinner. He fell into a sudden despondency of the profoundest kind,
but was quite restored when we arrived here between eight and nine. We
found him waiting at the Custom House with a gondola in his usual brisk
condition.
It is extraordinary how few English we see. With the exception of a
gentlemanly young fellow (in a consumption I am afraid), married to the
tiniest little girl, in a brown straw hat, and travelling with his
sister and her sister, and a consumptive single lady, travelling with a
maid and a Scotch terrier christened Trotty Veck, we have scarcely seen
any, and have certainly spoken to none, since we left Switzerland. These
were aboard the _Valetta_, where the captain and I indulged in all
manner of insane suppositions concerning the straw hat--the "Little
Matron" we called her; by which name she soon became known all over the
ship. The day we entered Rome, and the moment we entered it, there was
the Little Matron, alone with antiquity--and Murray--on the wall. The
very first church I entered, there was the Little Matron. On the last
afternoon, when I went alone to St. Peter's, there was the Little Matron
and her party. The best of it is, that I was extremely intimate with
them, invited them to Tavistock House, when they come home in the
spring, and have not the faintest idea of their name.
There was no table d'hote at Rome, or at Florence, but there is one
here, and we dine at it to-day, so perhaps we may stumble upon
somebody. I have heard from Charley this morning, who appoints (wisely)
Paris as our place of meeting. I had a letter from Coote, at Florence,
informing me that his volume of "Household Songs" was ready, and
requesting permission to dedicate it to me. Which of course I gave.
I am beginning to think of the Birmingham readings. I suppose you won't
object to be taken to hear them? This is the last place at which we
shall make a stay of more than one day. We shall stay at Parma one, and
at Turin one, supposing De la Rue to have been successful in taking
places with the courier into France for the day on which we want them
(he was to write to bankers at Turin to do it), and then we shall come
hard and fast home. I feel almost there already, and shall be delighted
to close the pleasant trip, and get back to my own Piccola Camera--if,
being English, you understand what _that_ is. My best love and kisses to
Mamey, Katey, Sydney, Harry, and the noble Plorn. Last, not least, to
yourself, and many of them. I will not wait over to-morrow, tell Kate,
for her letter; but will write then, whether or no.
Ever, my dearest Georgy,
Most affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Marcus%20Stone/266Charles Dickens
1853-12-19[Sidenote: Mr. Marcus Stone.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _December 19th, 1853._
MY DEAR MARCUS,
You made an excellent sketch from a book of mine which I have received
(and have preserved) with great pleasure. Will you accept from me, in
remembrance of it, _this_ little book? I believe it to be true, though
it may be sometimes not as genteel as history has a habit of being.
Faithfully yours.
FOOTNOTE:
[15] Meaning Mr. W. H. Wills himself.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Walter%20Savage%20Landor/267Charles Dickens
1854-01-07[Sidenote: Mr. Walter Savage Landor.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _January 7th, 1854._
MY DEAR LANDOR,
I heartily assure you that to have your name coupled with anything I
have done is an honour and a pleasure to me. I cannot say that I am
sorry that you should have thought it necessary to write to me, for it
is always delightful to me to see your hand, and to know (though I want
no outward and visible sign as an assurance of the fact) that you are
ever the same generous, earnest, gallant man.
Catherine and Georgina send their kind loves. So does Walter Landor, who
came home from school with high judicial commendation and a prize into
the bargain.
Ever, my dear Landor, affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Lavinia%20Watson/268Charles Dickens
1854-01-13[Sidenote: The Hon. Mrs. Watson.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Friday, January 13th, 1854._
MY DEAR MRS. WATSON,
On the very day after I sent the Christmas number to Rockingham, I heard
of your being at Brighton. I should have sent another there, but that I
had a misgiving I might seem to be making too much of it. For, when I
thought of the probability of the Rockingham copy going on to Brighton,
and pictured to myself the advent of two of those very large envelopes
at once at Junction House at breakfast time, a sort of comic modesty
overcame me. I was heartily pleased with the Birmingham audience, which
was a very fine one. I never saw, nor do I suppose anybody ever did,
such an interesting sight as the working people's night. There were two
thousand five hundred of them there, and a more delicately observant
audience it is impossible to imagine. They lost nothing, misinterpreted
nothing, followed everything closely, laughed and cried with most
delightful earnestness, and animated me to that extent that I felt as if
we were all bodily going up into the clouds together. It is an enormous
place for the purpose; but I had considered all that carefully, and I
believe made the most distant person hear as well as if I had been
reading in my own room. I was a little doubtful before I began on the
first night whether it was quite practicable to conceal the requisite
effort; but I soon had the satisfaction of finding that it was, and that
we were all going on together, in the first page, as easily, to all
appearance, as if we had been sitting round the fire.
I am obliged to go out on Monday at five and to dine out; but I will be
at home at any time before that hour that you may appoint. You say you
are only going to stay one night in town; but if you could stay two, and
would dine with us alone on Tuesday, _that_ is the plan that we should
all like best. Let me have one word from you by post on Monday morning.
Few things that I saw, when I was away, took my fancy so much as the
Electric Telegraph, piercing, like a sunbeam, right through the cruel
old heart of the Coliseum at Rome. And on the summit of the Alps, among
the eternal ice and snow, there it was still, with its posts sustained
against the sweeping mountain winds by clusters of great beams--to say
nothing of its being at the bottom of the sea as we crossed the Channel.
With kindest loves,
Ever, my dear Mrs. Watson,
Most faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Mary%20Boyle/269Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Miss Mary Boyle.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Monday, January 16th, 1854._
MY DEAR MARY,
It is all very well to pretend to love me as you do. Ah! If you loved as
_I_ love, Mary! But, when my breast is tortured by the perusal of such a
letter as yours, Falkland, Falkland, madam, becomes my part in "The
Rivals," and I play it with desperate earnestness.
As thus:
FALKLAND (_to Acres_). Then you see her, sir,
sometimes?
ACRES. See her! Odds beams and sparkles, yes.
See her acting! Night after night.
FALKLAND (_aside and furious_). Death and the
devil! Acting, and I not there! Pray, sir
(_with constrained calmness_), what does she
act?
ACRES. Odds, monthly nurses and babbies! Sairey
Gamp and Betsey Prig, "which, wotever it is, my
dear (_mimicking_), I likes it brought reg'lar
and draw'd mild!" _That's_ very like her.
FALKLAND. Confusion! Laceration! Perhaps, sir,
perhaps she sometimes acts--ha! ha! perhaps she
sometimes acts, I say--eh! sir?--a--ha, ha, ha!
a fairy? (_With great bitterness._)
ACRES. Odds, gauzy pinions and spangles, yes!
You should hear her sing as a fairy. You should
see her dance as a fairy. Tol de rol
lol--la--lol--liddle diddle. (_Sings and
dances_). _That's_ very like her.
FALKLAND. Misery! while I, devoted to her
image, can scarcely write a line now and then,
or pensively read aloud to the people of
Birmingham. (_To him._) And they applaud her,
no doubt they applaud her, sir. And she--I see
her! Curtsies and smiles! And they--curses on
them! they laugh and--ha, ha, ha!--and clap
their hands--and say it's very good. Do they
not say it's very good, sir? Tell me. Do they
not?
ACRES. Odds, thunderings and pealings, of
course they do! and the third fiddler, little
Tweaks, of the county town, goes into fits. Ho,
ho, ho, I can't bear it (_mimicking_); take me
out! Ha, ha, ha! O what a one she is! She'll be
the death of me. Ha, ha, ha, ha! _That's_ very
like her!
FALKLAND. Damnation! Heartless Mary! (_Rushes
out._)
Scene opens, and discloses coals of fire, heaped up into form of
letters, representing the following inscription:
When the praise thou meetest
To thine ear is sweetest,
O then
REMEMBER JOE!
(_Curtain falls._)http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/William%20De%20Cerjat/270Charles Dickens
1854-01-16[Sidenote: M. de Cerjat.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Monday, Jan. 16th, 1854._
MY DEAR CERJAT,
Guilty. The accused pleads guilty, but throws himself upon the mercy of
the court. He humbly represents that his usual hour for getting up, in
the course of his travels, was three o'clock in the morning, and his
usual hour for going to bed, nine or ten the next night. That the places
in which he chiefly deviated from these rules of hardship, were Rome and
Venice; and that at those cities of fame he shut himself up in solitude,
and wrote Christmas papers for the incomparable publication known as
"Household Words." That his correspondence at all times, arising out of
the business of the said "Household Words" alone, was very heavy. That
his offence, though undoubtedly committed, was unavoidable, and that a
nominal punishment will meet the justice of the case.
We had only three bad days out of the whole time. After Naples, which
was very hot, we had very cold, clear, bright weather. When we got to
Chamounix, we found the greater part of the inns shut up and the people
gone. No visitors whatsoever, and plenty of snow. These were the very
best circumstances under which to see the place, and we stayed a couple
of days at the Hotel de Londres (hastily re-furbished for our
entertainment), and climbed through the snow to the Mer de Glace, and
thoroughly enjoyed it. Then we went, in mule procession (I walking) to
the old hotel at Martigny, where Collins was ill, and I suppose I bored
Egg to death by talking all the evening about the time when you and I
were there together. Naples (a place always painful to me, in the
intense degradation of the people) seems to have only three classes of
inhabitants left in it--priests, soldiers (standing army one hundred
thousand strong), and spies. Of macaroni we ate very considerable
quantities everywhere; also, for the benefit of Italy, we took our share
of every description of wine. At Naples I found Layard, the Nineveh
traveller, who is a friend of mine and an admirable fellow; so we
fraternised and went up Vesuvius together, and ate more macaroni and
drank more wine. At Rome, the day after our arrival, they were making a
saint at St. Peter's; on which occasion I was surprised to find what an
immense number of pounds of wax candles it takes to make the regular,
genuine article. From Turin to Paris, over the Mont Cenis, we made only
one journey. The Rhone, being frozen and foggy, was not to be navigated,
so we posted from Lyons to Chalons, and everybody else was doing the
like, and there were no horses to be got, and we were stranded at
midnight in amazing little cabarets, with nothing worth mentioning to
eat in them, except the iron stove, which was rusty, and the
billiard-table, which was musty. We left Turin on a Tuesday evening, and
arrived in Paris on a Friday evening; where I found my son Charley,
hot--or I should rather say cold--from Germany, with his arms and legs
so grown out of his coat and trousers, that I was ashamed of him, and
was reduced to the necessity of taking him, under cover of night, to a
ready-made establishment in the Palais Royal, where they put him into
balloon-waisted pantaloons, and increased my confusion. Leaving Calais
on the evening of Sunday, the 10th of December; fact of distinguished
author's being aboard, was telegraphed to Dover; thereupon authorities
of Dover Railway detained train to London for distinguished author's
arrival, rather to the exasperation of British public. D. A. arrived at
home between ten and eleven that night, thank God, and found all well
and happy.
I think you see _The Times_, and if so, you will have seen a very
graceful and good account of the Birmingham readings. It was the most
remarkable thing that England could produce, I think, in the way of a
vast intelligent assemblage; and the success was most wonderful and
prodigious--perfectly overwhelming and astounding altogether. They wound
up by giving my wife a piece of plate, having given me one before; and
when you come to dine here (may it be soon!) it shall be duly displayed
in the centre of the table.
Tell Mrs. Cerjat, to whom my love, and all our loves, that I have highly
excited them at home here by giving them an account in detail of all
your daughters; further, that the way in which Catherine and Georgina
have questioned me and cross-questioned me about you all,
notwithstanding, is maddening. Mrs. Watson has been obliged to pass her
Christmas at Brighton alone with her younger children, in consequence of
her two eldest boys coming home to Rockingham from school with the
whooping-cough. The quarantine expires to-day, however; and she drives
here, on her way back into Northamptonshire, to-morrow.
The sad affair of the Preston strike remains unsettled; and I hear, on
strong authority, that if that were settled, the Manchester people are
prepared to strike next. Provisions very dear, but the people very
temperate and quiet in general. So ends this jumble, which looks like
the index to a chapter in a book, I find, when I read it over.
Ever, my dear Cerjat, heartily your Friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Arthur%20Ryland/271Charles Dickens
1854-01-18[Sidenote: Mr. Arthur Ryland.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _January 18th, 1854._
MY DEAR SIR,
I am quite delighted to find that you are so well satisfied, and that
the enterprise has such a light upon it. I think I never was better
pleased in my life than I was with my Birmingham friends.
That principle of fair representation of all orders carefully carried
out, I believe, will do more good than any of us can yet foresee. Does
it not seem a strange thing to consider that I have never yet seen with
these eyes of mine, a mechanic in any recognised position on the
platform of a Mechanics' Institution?
Mr. Wills may be expected to sink, shortly, under the ravages of letters
from all parts of England, Ireland, and Scotland, proposing readings. He
keeps up his spirits, but I don't see how they are to carry him through.
Mrs. Dickens and Miss Hogarth beg their kindest regards; and I am, my
dear sir, with much regard, too,
Very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Charles%20Knight/272Charles Dickens
1854-01-30[Sidenote: Mr. Charles Knight.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _January 30th, 1854._
MY DEAR KNIGHT,
Indeed there is no fear of my thinking you the owner of a cold heart. I
am more than three parts disposed, however, to be ferocious with you for
ever writing down such a preposterous truism.
My satire is against those who see figures and averages, and nothing
else--the representatives of the wickedest and most enormous vice of
this time--the men who, through long years to come, will do more to
damage the real useful truths of political economy than I could do (if I
tried) in my whole life; the addled heads who would take the average of
cold in the Crimea during twelve months as a reason for clothing a
soldier in nankeens on a night when he would be frozen to death in fur,
and who would comfort the labourer in travelling twelve miles a day to
and from his work, by telling him that the average distance of one
inhabited place from another in the whole area of England, is not more
than four miles. Bah! What have you to do with these?
I shall put the book upon a private shelf (after reading it) by "Once
upon a Time." I should have buried my pipe of peace and sent you this
blast of my war-horn three or four days ago, but that I have been
reading to a little audience of three thousand five hundred at Bradford.
Ever affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Rev%20James%20White/273Charles Dickens
1854-03-07[Sidenote: Rev. James White.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Tuesday, March 7th, 1854._
MY DEAR WHITE,
I am tardy in answering your letter; but "Hard Times," and an immense
amount of enforced correspondence, are my excuse. To you a sufficient
one, I know.
As I should judge from outward and visible appearances, I have exactly
as much chance of seeing the Russian fleet reviewed by the Czar as I
have of seeing the English fleet reviewed by the Queen.
"Club Law" made me laugh very much when I went over it in the proof
yesterday. It is most capitally done, and not (as I feared it might be)
too directly. It is in the next number but one.
Mrs. ---- has gone stark mad--and stark naked--on the spirit-rapping
imposition. She was found t'other day in the street, clothed only in her
chastity, a pocket-handkerchief and a visiting card. She had been
informed, it appeared, by the spirits, that if she went out in that trim
she would be invisible. She is now in a madhouse, and, I fear,
hopelessly insane. One of the curious manifestations of her disorder is
that she can bear nothing black. There is a terrific business to be
done, even when they are obliged to put coals on her fire.
---- has a thing called a Psycho-grapher, which writes at the dictation
of spirits. It delivered itself, a few nights ago, of this
extraordinarily lucid message:
X. Y. Z!
upon which it was gravely explained by the true believers that "the
spirits were out of temper about something." Said ---- had a great party
on Sunday, when it was rumoured "a count was going to raise the dead." I
stayed till the ghostly hour, but the rumour was unfounded, for neither
count nor plebeian came up to the spiritual scratch. It is really
inexplicable to me that a man of his calibre can be run away with by
such small deer.
_A propos_ of spiritual messages comes in Georgina, and, hearing that I
am writing to you, delivers the following enigma to be conveyed to Mrs.
White:
"Wyon of the Mint lives _at_ the Mint."
Feeling my brain going after this, I only trust it with loves from all
to all.
Ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Charles%20Knight/274Charles Dickens
1854-03-17[Sidenote: Mr. Charles Knight.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _March 17th, 1854._
MY DEAR KNIGHT,
I have read the article with much interest. It is most conscientiously
done, and presents a great mass of curious information condensed into a
surprisingly small space.
I have made a slight note or two here and there, with a soft pencil, so
that a touch of indiarubber will make all blank again.
And I earnestly entreat your attention to the point (I have been working
upon it, weeks past, in "Hard Times") which I have jocosely suggested on
the last page but one. The English are, so far as I know, the
hardest-worked people on whom the sun shines. Be content if, in their
wretched intervals of pleasure, they read for amusement and do no worse.
They are born at the oar, and they live and die at it. Good God, what
would we have of them!
Affectionately yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/275Charles Dickens
1854-04-12[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
OFFICE OF "HOUSEHOLD WORDS,"
NO. 16, WELLINGTON STREET, NORTH STRAND,
_Wednesday, April 12th, 1854._
I know all the walks for many and many miles round about Malvern, and
delightful walks they are. I suppose you are already getting very stout,
very red, very jovial (in a physical point of view) altogether.
Mark and I walked to Dartford from Greenwich, last Monday, and found
Mrs. ---- acting "The Stranger" (with a strolling company from the
Standard Theatre) in Mr. Munn's schoolroom. The stage was a little wider
than your table here, and its surface was composed of loose boards laid
on the school forms. Dogs sniffed about it during the performances, and
_the_ carpenter's highlows were ostentatiously taken off and displayed
in the proscenium.
We stayed until a quarter to ten, when we were obliged to fly to the
railroad, but we sent the landlord of the hotel down with the following
articles:
1 bottle superior old port,
1 do. do. golden sherry,
1 do. do. best French brandy,
1 do. do. 1st quality old Tom gin,
1 bottle superior prime Jamaica rum,
1 do. do. small still _Isla_ whiskey,
1 kettle boiling water, two pounds finest white lump sugar,
Our cards,
1 lemon,
and
Our compliments.
The effect we had previously made upon the theatrical company by being
beheld in the first two chairs--there was nearly a pound in the
house--was altogether electrical.
My ladies send their kindest regards, and are disappointed at your not
saying that you drink two-and-twenty tumblers of the limpid element,
every day. The children also unite in "loves," and the Plornishghenter,
on being asked if he would send his, replies "Yes--man," which we
understand to signify cordial acquiescence.
Forster just come back from lecturing at Sherborne. Describes said
lecture as "Blaze of Triumph."
H. W. AGAIN.
Miss--I mean Mrs.--Bell's story very nice. I have sent it to the
printer, and entitled it "The Green Ring and the Gold Ring."
This apartment looks desolate in your absence; but, O Heavens, how tidy!
F. W.
Mrs. Wills supposed to have gone into a convent at Somers Town.
My dear Wills,
Ever faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/B%20W%20Procter/276Charles Dickens
1854-04-15[Sidenote: Mr. B. W. Procter.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Saturday Night, April 15th, 1854._
MY DEAR PROCTER,
I have read the "Fatal Revenge." Don't do what the minor theatrical
people call "despi-ser" me, but I think it's very bad. The concluding
narrative is by far the most meritorious part of the business. Still,
the people are so very convulsive and tumble down so many places, and
are always knocking other people's bones about in such a very irrational
way, that I object. The way in which earthquakes won't swallow the
monsters, and volcanoes in eruption won't boil them, is extremely
aggravating. Also their habit of bolting when they are going to explain
anything.
You have sent me a very different and a much better book; and for that I
am truly grateful. With the dust of "Maturin" in my eyes, I sat down and
read "The Death of Friends," and the dust melted away in some of those
tears it is good to shed. I remember to have read "The Backroom Window"
some years ago, and I have associated it with you ever since. It is a
most delightful paper. But the two volumes are all delightful, and I
have put them on a shelf where you sit down with Charles Lamb again,
with Talfourd's vindication of him hard by.
We never meet. I hope it is not irreligious, but in this strange London
I have an inclination to adapt a portion of the Church Service to our
common experience. Thus:
"We have left unmet the people whom we ought to have met, and we have
met the people whom we ought not to have met, and there seems to be no
help in us."
But I am always, my dear Procter,
(At a distance),
Very cordially yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Elizabeth%20Gaskell/277Charles Dickens
1854-04-21[Sidenote: Mrs. Gaskell.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _April 21st, 1854._
MY DEAR MRS. GASKELL,
I safely received the paper from Mr. Shaen, welcomed it with three
cheers, and instantly despatched it to the printer, who has it in hand
now.
I have no intention of striking. The monstrous claims at domination made
by a certain class of manufacturers, and the extent to which the way is
made easy for working men to slide down into discontent under such
hands, are within my scheme; but I am not going to strike, so don't be
afraid of me. But I wish you would look at the story yourself, and judge
where and how near I seem to be approaching what you have in your mind.
The first two months of it will show that.
I will "make my will" on the first favourable occasion. We were playing
games last night, and were fearfully clever. With kind regards to Mr.
Gaskell, always, my dear Mrs. Gaskell,
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Frank%20Stone%20ARA/278Charles Dickens
1854-05-30[Sidenote: Mr. Frank Stone, A.R.A.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _May 30th, 1854._
MY DEAR STONE,
I can_not_ stand a total absence of ventilation, and I should have liked
(in an amiable and persuasive manner) to have punched ----'s head, and
opened the register stoves. I saw the supper tables, sir, in an empty
state, and was charmed with them. Likewise I recovered myself from a
swoon, occasioned by long contact with an unventilated man of a strong
flavour from Copenhagen, by drinking an unknown species of celestial
lemonade in that enchanted apartment.
I am grieved to say that on Saturday I stand engaged to dine, at three
weeks' notice, with one ----, a man who has read every book that ever
was written, and is a perfect gulf of information. Before exploding a
mine of knowledge he has a habit of closing one eye and wrinkling up his
nose, so that he seems perpetually to be taking aim at you and knocking
you over with a terrific charge. Then he looks again, and takes another
aim. So you are always on your back, with your legs in the air.
How can a man be conversed with, or walked with, in the county of
Middlesex, when he is reviewing the Kentish Militia on the shores of
Dover, or sailing, every day for three weeks, between Dover and Calais?
Ever affectionately.
P.S.--"Humphry Clinker" is certainly Smollett's best. I am rather
divided between "Peregrine Pickle" and "Roderick Random," both
extraordinarily good in their way, which is a way without tenderness;
but you will have to read them both, and I send the first volume of
"Peregrine" as the richer of the two.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Peter%20Cunningham/279Charles Dickens
1854-06-07[Sidenote: Mr. Peter Cunningham.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _June 7th, 1854._
MY DEAR CUNNINGHAM,
I cannot become one of the committee for Wilson's statue, after
entertaining so strong an opinion against the expediency of such a
memorial in poor dear Talfourd's case. But I will subscribe my three
guineas, and will pay that sum to the account at Coutts's when I go
there next week, before leaving town.
"The Goldsmiths" admirably done throughout. It is a book I have long
desired to see done, and never expected to see half so well done. Many
thanks to you for it.
Ever faithfully yours.
P.S.--Please to observe the address at Boulogne: "Villa du Camp de
Droite."http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/280Charles Dickens
1854-06-22[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
VILLA DU CAMP DE DROITE, _Thursday, June 22nd, 1854._
MY DEAR WILLS,
I have nothing to say, but having heard from you this morning, think I
may as well report all well.
We have a most charming place here. It beats the former residence all to
nothing. We have a beautiful garden, with all its fruits and flowers,
and a field of our own, and a road of our own away to the Column, and
everything that is airy and fresh. The great Beaucourt hovers about us
like a guardian genius, and I imagine that no English person in a
carriage could by any possibility find the place.
Of the wonderful inventions and contrivances with which a certain
inimitable creature has made the most of it, I will say nothing, until
you have an opportunity of inspecting the same. At present I will only
observe that I have written exactly seventy-two words of "Hard Times,"
since I have been here.
The children arrived on Tuesday night, by London boat, in every stage
and aspect of sea-sickness.
The camp is about a mile off, and huts are now building for (they say)
sixty thousand soldiers. I don't imagine it to be near enough to bother
us.
If the weather ever should be fine, it might do you good sometimes to
come over with the proofs on a Saturday, when the tide serves well,
before you and Mrs. W. make your annual visit. Recollect there is always
a bed, and no sudden appearance will put us out.
Kind regards.
Ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Wilkie%20Collins/281Charles Dickens
1854-07-12[Sidenote: Mr. W. Wilkie Collins.]
VILLA DU CAMP DE DROITE, BOULOGNE,
_Wednesday Night, July 12th, 1854._
MY DEAR COLLINS,
Bobbing up, corkwise, from a sea of "Hard Times" I beg to report this
tenement--AMAZING!!! Range of view and air, most free and delightful;
hill-side garden, delicious; field, stupendous; speculations in haycocks
already effected by the undersigned, with the view to the keeping up of
a "home" at rounders.
I hope to finish and get to town by next Wednesday night, the 19th; what
do you say to coming back with me on the following Tuesday? The interval
I propose to pass in a career of amiable dissipation and unbounded
license in the metropolis. If you will come and breakfast with me about
midnight--anywhere--any day, and go to bed no more until we fly to these
pastoral retreats, I shall be delighted to have so vicious an associate.
Will you undertake to let Ward know that if he still wishes me to sit to
him, he shall have me as long as he likes, at Tavistock House, on
Monday, the 24th, from ten A.M.?
I have made it understood here that we shall want to be taken the
greatest care of this summer, and to be fed on nourishing meats. Several
new dishes have been rehearsed and have come out very well. I have met
with what they call in the City "a parcel" of the celebrated 1846
champagne. It is a very fine wine, and calculated to do us good when
weak.
The camp is about a mile off. Voluptuous English authors reposing from
their literary fatigues (on their laurels) are expected, when all other
things fail, to lie on straw in the midst of it when the days are sunny,
and stare at the blue sea until they fall asleep. (About one hundred
and fifty soldiers have been at various times billeted on Beaucourt
since we have been here, and he has clinked glasses with them every one,
and read a MS. book of his father's, on soldiers in general, to them
all.)
I shall be glad to hear what you say to these various proposals. I write
with the Emperor in the town, and a great expenditure of tricolour
floating thereabouts, but no stir makes its way to this inaccessible
retreat. It is like being up in a balloon. Lionising Englishmen and
Germans start to call, and are found lying imbecile in the road halfway
up. Ha! ha! ha!
Kindest regards from all. The Plornishghenter adds Mr. and Mrs. Goose's
duty.
Ever faithfully.
P.S.--The cobbler has been ill these many months, and unable to work;
has had a carbuncle in his back, and has it cut three times a week. The
little dog sits at the door so unhappy and anxious to help, that I every
day expect to see him beginning a pair of top boots.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/282Charles Dickens
1854-07-22[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
OFFICE OF "HOUSEHOLD WORDS," _Saturday, July 22nd, 1854._
MY DEAR GEORGINA,
Neither you nor Catherine did justice to Collins's book.[17] I think it
far away the cleverest novel I have ever seen written by a new hand. It
is in some respects masterly. "Valentine Blyth" is as original, and as
well done as anything can be. The scene where he shows his pictures is
full of an admirable humour. Old Mat is admirably done. In short, I call
it a very remarkable book, and have been very much surprised by its
great merit.
Tell Kate, with my love, that she will receive to-morrow in a little
parcel, the complete proofs of "Hard Times." They will not be
corrected, but she will find them pretty plain. I am just now going to
put them up for her. I saw Grisi the night before last in "Lucrezia
Borgia"--finer than ever. Last night I was drinking gin-slings till
daylight, with Buckstone of all people, who saw me looking at the
Spanish dancers, and insisted on being convivial. I have been in a blaze
of dissipation altogether, and have succeeded (I think), in knocking the
remembrance of my work out.
Loves to all the darlings, from the Plornish-Maroon upward. London is
far hotter than Naples.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Elizabeth%20Gaskell/283Charles Dickens
1854-08-17[Sidenote: Mrs. Gaskell.]
VILLA DU CAMP DE DROITE, BOULOGNE,
_Thursday, Aug. 17th, 1854._
MY DEAR MRS. GASKELL,
I sent your MS. off to Wills yesterday, with instructions to forward it
to you without delay. I hope you will have received it before this
notification comes to hand.
The usual festivity of this place at present--which is the blessing of
soldiers by the ten thousand--has just now been varied by the baptising
of some new bells, lately hung up (to my sorrow and lunacy) in a
neighbouring church. An English lady was godmother; and there was a
procession afterwards, wherein an English gentleman carried "the relics"
in a highly suspicious box, like a barrel organ; and innumerable English
ladies in white gowns and bridal wreaths walked two and two, as if they
had all gone to school again.
At a review, on the same day, I was particularly struck by the
commencement of the proceedings, and its singular contrast to the usual
military operations in Hyde Park. Nothing would induce the general
commanding in chief to begin, until chairs were brought for all the
lady-spectators. And a detachment of about a hundred men deployed into
all manner of farmhouses to find the chairs. Nobody seemed to lose any
dignity by the transaction, either.
With kindest regards, my dear Mrs. Gaskell,
Faithfully yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Rev%20William%20Harness/284Charles Dickens
1854-08-19[Sidenote: Rev. William Harness.]
VILLA DU CAMP DE DROITE, BOULOGNE,
_Saturday, Aug. 19th, 1854._
MY DEAR HARNESS,
Yes. The book came from me. I could not put a memorandum to that effect
on the title-page, in consequence of my being here.
I am heartily glad you like it. I know the piece you mention, but am far
from being convinced by it. A great misgiving is upon me, that in many
things (this thing among the rest) too many are martyrs to _our_
complacency and satisfaction, and that we must give up something thereof
for their poor sakes.
My kindest regards to your sister, and my love (if I may send it) to
another of your relations.
Always, very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Henry%20Austin/285Charles Dickens
1854-09-06[Sidenote: Mr. Henry Austin.]
VILLA DU CAMP DE DROITE, BOULOGNE,
_Wednesday, Sept. 6th, 1854._
Any Saturday on which the tide serves your purpose (next Saturday
excepted) will suit me for the flying visit you hint at; and we shall be
delighted to see you. Although the camp is not above a mile from this
gate, we never see or hear of it, unless we choose. If you could come
here in dry weather you would find it as pretty, airy, and pleasant a
situation as you ever saw. We illuminated the whole front of the house
last night--eighteen windows--and an immense palace of light was seen
sparkling on this hill-top for miles and miles away. I rushed to a
distance to look at it, and never saw anything of the same kind half so
pretty.
The town[18] looks like one immense flag, it is so decked out with
streamers; and as the royal yacht approached yesterday--the whole range
of the cliff tops lined with troops, and the artillery matches in hand,
all ready to fire the great guns the moment she made the harbour; the
sailors standing up in the prow of the yacht, the Prince in a blazing
uniform, left alone on the deck for everybody to see--a stupendous
silence, and then such an infernal blazing and banging as never was
heard. It was almost as fine a sight as one could see under a deep blue
sky. In our own proper illumination I laid on all the servants, all the
children now at home, all the visitors (it is the annual "Household
Words" time), one to every window, with everything ready to light up on
the ringing of a big dinner-bell by your humble correspondent. St.
Peter's on Easter Monday was the result.
Best love from all.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Wilkie%20Collins/286Charles Dickens
1854-09-26[Sidenote: Mr. W. Wilkie Collins.]
BOULOGNE, _Tuesday, Sept. 26th, 1854._
MY DEAR COLLINS,
First, I have to report that I received your letter with much pleasure.
Secondly, that the weather has entirely changed. It is so cool that we
have not only a fire in the drawing-room regularly, but another to dine
by. The delicious freshness of the air is charming, and it is generally
bright and windy besides.
Thirdly, that ----'s intellectual faculties appear to have developed
suddenly. He has taken to borrowing money; from which I infer (as
he has no intention whatever of repaying) that his mental powers are
of a high order. Having got a franc from me, he fell upon Mrs. Dickens
for five sous. She declining to enter into the transaction, he
beleaguered that feeble little couple, Harry and Sydney, into paying
two sous each for "tickets" to behold the ravishing spectacle of an
utterly-non-existent-and-there-fore-impossible-to-be-produced toy
theatre. He eats stony apples, and harbours designs upon his
fellow-creatures until he has become light-headed. From the couch
rendered uneasy by this disorder he has arisen with an excessively
protuberant forehead, a dull slow eye, a complexion of a leaden hue, and
a croaky voice. He has become a horror to me, and I resort to the most
cowardly expedients to avoid meeting him. He, on the other hand, wanting
another franc, dodges me round those trees at the corner, and at the
back door; and I have a presentiment upon me that I shall fall a
sacrifice to his cupidity at last.
On the Sunday night after you left, or rather on the Monday morning at
half-past one, Mary was taken _very ill_. English cholera. She was
sinking so fast, and the sickness was so exceedingly alarming, that it
evidently would not do to wait for Elliotson. I caused everything to be
done that we had naturally often thought of, in a lonely house so full
of children, and fell back upon the old remedy; though the difficulty of
giving even it was rendered very great by the frightful sickness. Thank
God, she recovered so favourably that by breakfast time she was fast
asleep. She slept twenty-four hours, and has never had the least
uneasiness since. I heard--of course afterwards--that she had had an
attack of sickness two nights before. I think that long ride and those
late dinners had been too much for her. Without them I am inclined to
doubt whether she would have been ill.
Last Sunday as ever was, the theatre took fire at half-past eleven in
the forenoon. Being close by the English church, it showered hot sparks
into that temple through the open windows. Whereupon the congregation
shrieked and rose and tumbled out into the street; ---- benignly
observing to the only ancient female who would listen to him, "I fear we
must part;" and afterwards being beheld in the street--in his robes and
with a kind of sacred wildness on him--handing ladies over the kennel
into shops and other structures, where they had no business whatever, or
the least desire to go. I got to the back of the theatre, where I could
see in through some great doors that had been forced open, and whence
the spectacle of the whole interior, burning like a red-hot cavern, was
really very fine, even in the daylight. Meantime the soldiers were at
work, "saving" the scenery by pitching it into the next street; and the
poor little properties (one spinning-wheel, a feeble imitation of a
water-mill, and a basketful of the dismalest artificial flowers very
conspicuous) were being passed from hand to hand with the greatest
excitement, as if they were rescued children or lovely women. In four or
five hours the whole place was burnt down, except the outer walls. Never
in my days did I behold such feeble endeavours in the way of
extinguishment. On an average I should say it took ten minutes to throw
half a gallon of water on the great roaring heap; and every time it was
insulted in this way it gave a ferocious burst, and everybody ran off.
Beaucourt has been going about for two days in a clean collar; which
phenomenon evidently means something, but I don't know what. Elliotson
reports that the great conjuror lives at his hotel, has extra wine every
day, and fares expensively. Is he the devil?
I have heard from the Kernel.[19] Wa'al, sir, sayin' as he minded to
locate himself with us for a week, I expected to have heard from him
again this morning, but have not. Beard comes to-morrow.
Kindest regards and remembrances from all. Ward lives in a little street
between the two Tintilleries. The Plornish-Maroon desires his duty. He
had a fall yesterday, through overbalancing himself in kicking his
nurse.
Ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Frank%20Stone%20ARA/287Charles Dickens
1854-10-13[Sidenote: Mr. Frank Stone, A.R.A.]
BOULOGNE, _Friday, Oct. 13th, 1854._
MY DEAR STONE,
Having some little matters that rather press on my attention to see to
in town, I have made up my mind to relinquish the walking project, and
come straight home (by way of Folkestone) on Tuesday. I shall be due in
town at midnight, and shall hope to see you next day, with the top of
your coat-collar mended.
Everything that happens here we suppose to be an announcement of the
taking of Sebastopol. When a church-clock strikes, we think it is the
joy-bell, and fly out of the house in a burst of nationality--to sneak
in again. If they practise firing at the camp, we are sure it is the
artillery celebrating the fall of the Russian, and we become
enthusiastic in a moment. I live in constant readiness to illuminate the
whole house. Whatever anybody says I believe; everybody says, every day,
that Sebastopol is in flames. Sometimes the Commander-in-Chief has blown
himself up, with seventy-five thousand men. Sometimes he has "cut" his
way through Lord Raglan, and has fallen back on the advancing body of
the Russians, one hundred and forty-two thousand strong, whom he is
going to "bring up" (I don't know where from, or how, or when, or why)
for the destruction of the Allies. All these things, in the words of the
catechism, "I steadfastly believe," until I become a mere driveller, a
moonstruck, babbling, staring, credulous, imbecile, greedy, gaping,
wooden-headed, addle-brained, wool-gathering, dreary, vacant, obstinate
civilian.
Ever, my fellow-countryman, affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/John%20Saunders/288Charles Dickens
1854-10-26[Sidenote: Mr. John Saunders.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _October 26th, 1854._
DEAR SIR,
I have had much gratification and pleasure in the receipt of your
obliging communication. Allow me to thank you for it, in the first
place, with great cordiality.
Although I cannot say that I came without any prepossessions to the
perusal of your play (for I had favourable inclinings towards it before
I began), I _can_ say that I read it with the closest attention, and
that it inspired me with a strong interest, and a genuine and high
admiration. The parts that involve some of the greatest difficulties of
your task appear to me those in which you shine most. I would
particularly instance the end of Julia as a very striking example of
this. The delicacy and beauty of her redemption from her weak rash
lover, are very far, indeed beyond the range of any ordinary dramatist,
and display the true poetical strength.
As your hopes now centre in Mr. Phelps, and in seeing the child of your
fancy on his stage, I will venture to point out to you not only what I
take to be very dangerous portions of "Love's Martyrdom" as it stands,
_for presentation on the stage_, but portions which I believe Mr. Phelps
will speedily regard in that light when he sees it before him in the
persons of live men and women on the wooden boards. Knowing him, I think
he will be then as violently discouraged as he is now generously
exalted; and it may be useful to you to be prepared for the
consideration of those passages.
I do not regard it as a great stumbling-block that the play of modern
times best known to an audience proceeds upon the main idea of this,
namely, that there was a hunchback who, because of his deformity,
mistrusted himself. But it is certainly a grain in the balance when the
balance is going the wrong way, and therefore it should be most
carefully trimmed. The incident of the ring is an insignificant one to
look at over a row of gaslights, is difficult to convey to an audience,
and the least thing will make it ludicrous. If it be so well done by Mr.
Phelps himself as to be otherwise than ludicrous, it will be
disagreeable. If it be either, it will be perilous, and doubly so,
because you revert to it. The quarrel scene between the two brothers in
the third act is now so long that the justification of blind passion and
impetuosity--which can alone bear out Franklyn, before the bodily eyes
of a great concourse of spectators, in plunging at the life of his own
brother--is lost. That the two should be parted, and that Franklyn
should again drive at him, and strike him, and then wound him, is a
state of things to set the sympathy of an audience in the wrong
direction, and turn it from the man you make happy to the man you leave
unhappy. I would on no account allow the artist to appear, attended by
that picture, more than once. All the most sudden inconstancy of
Clarence I would soften down. Margaret must act much better than any
actress I have ever seen, if all her lines fall in pleasant places;
therefore, I think she needs compression too.
All this applies solely to the theatre. If you ever revise the sheets
for readers, will you note in the margin the broken laughter and the
appeals to the Deity? If, on summing them up, you find you want them
all, I would leave them as they stand by all means. If not, I would blot
accordingly.
It is only in the hope of being slightly useful to you by anticipating
what I believe Mr. Phelps will discover--or what, if ever he should pass
it, I have a strong conviction the audience will find out--that I have
ventured on these few hints. Your concurrence with them generally, on
reconsideration, or your preference for the poem as it stands, can not
in the least affect my interest in your success. On the other hand, I
have a perfect confidence in your not taking my misgivings ill; they
arise out of my sincere desire for the triumph of your work.
With renewed thanks for the pleasure you have afforded me,
I am, dear Sir, faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/289Charles Dickens
1854-11-01[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _November 1st, 1854._
(And a constitutionally foggy day.)
MY DEAREST MACREADY,
I thought it better not to encumber the address to working men with
details. Firstly, because they would detract from whatever fiery effect
the words may have in them; secondly, because writing and petitioning
and pressing a subject upon members and candidates are now so clearly
understood; and thirdly, because the paper was meant as an opening to a
persistent pressure of the whole question on the public, which would
yield other opportunities of touching on such points.
In the number _for next week_--not this--is one of those following-up
articles called "A Home Question." It is not written by me, but is
generally of my suggesting, and is exceedingly well done by a thorough
and experienced hand. I think you will find in it, generally, what you
want. I have told the printers to send you a proof by post as soon as it
is corrected--that is to say, as soon as some insertions I made in it
last night are in type and in their places.
My dear old Parr, I don't believe a word you write about King John! That
is to say, I don't believe you take into account the enormous difference
between the energy summonable-up in your study at Sherborne and the
energy that will fire up in you (without so much as saying "With your
leave" or "By your leave") in the Town Hall at Birmingham. I know you,
you ancient codger, I know you! Therefore I will trouble you to be so
good as to do an act of honesty after you have been to Birmingham, and
to write to me, "Ingenuous boy, you were correct. I find I could have
read 'em 'King John' with the greatest ease."
In that vast hall in the busy town of Sherborne, in which our
illustrious English novelist is expected to read next month--though he
is strongly of opinion that he is deficient in power, and too old--I
wonder what accommodation there is for reading! because our illustrious
countryman likes to stand at a desk breast-high, with plenty of room
about him, a sloping top, and a ledge to keep his book from tumbling
off. If such a thing should not be there, however, on his arrival, I
suppose even a Sherborne carpenter could knock it up out of a deal
board. _Is_ there a deal board in Sherborne though? I should like to
hear Katey's opinion on that point.
In this week's "Household Words" there is an exact portrait of our
Boulogne landlord, which I hope you will like. I think of opening the
next long book I write with a man of juvenile figure and strong face,
who is always persuading himself that he is infirm. What do you think of
the idea? I should like to have your opinion about it. I would make him
an impetuous passionate sort of fellow, devilish grim upon occasion, and
of an iron purpose. Droll, I fancy?
---- is getting a little too fat, but appears to be troubled by the
great responsibility of directing the whole war. He doesn't seem to be
quite clear that he has got the ships into the exact order he intended,
on the sea point of attack at Sebastopol. We went to the play last
Saturday night with Stanfield, whose "high lights" (as Maclise calls
those knobs of brightness on the top of his cheeks) were more radiant
than ever. We talked of you, and I told Stanny how they are imitating
his "Acis and Galatea" sea in "Pericles," at Phelps's. He didn't half
like it; but I added, in nautical language, that it was merely a
piratical effort achieved by a handful of porpoise-faced swabs, and that
brought him up with a round turn, as we say at sea.
We are looking forward to the twentieth of next month with great
pleasure. All Tavistock House send love and kisses to all Sherborne
House. If there is anything I can bring down for you, let me know in
good course of time.
Ever, my dearest Macready,
Most affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Lavinia%20Watson/290Charles Dickens
1854-11-01[Sidenote: The Hon. Mrs. Watson.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Wednesday, Nov. 1st, 1854._
MY DEAR MRS. WATSON,
I take upon myself to answer your letter to Catherine, as I am referred
to in it.
The "Walk" is not my writing. It is very well done by a close imitator.
Why I found myself so "used up" after "Hard Times" I scarcely know,
perhaps because I intended to do nothing in that way for a year, when
the idea laid hold of me by the throat in a very violent manner, and
because the compression and close condensation necessary for that
disjointed form of publication gave me perpetual trouble. But I really
was tired, which is a result so very incomprehensible that I can't
forget it. I have passed an idle autumn in a beautiful situation, and am
dreadfully brown and big. For further particulars of Boulogne, see "Our
French Watering Place," in this present week of "Household Words," which
contains a faithful portrait of our landlord there.
If you carry out that bright Croydon idea, rely on our glad
co-operation, only let me know all about it a few days beforehand; and
if you feel equal to the contemplation of the moustache (which has been
cut lately) it will give us the heartiest pleasure to come and meet you.
This in spite of the terrific duffery of the Crystal Palace. It is a
very remarkable thing in itself; but to have so very large a building
continually crammed down one's throat, and to find it a new page in "The
Whole Duty of Man" to go there, is a little more than even I (and you
know how amiable I am) can endure.
You always like to know what I am going to do, so I beg to announce that
on the 19th of December I am going to read the "Carol" at Reading, where
I undertook the presidency of the Literary Institution on the death of
poor dear Talfourd. Then I am going on to Sherborne, in Dorsetshire, to
do the like for another institution, which is one of the few remaining
pleasures of Macready's life. Then I am coming home for Christmas Day.
Then I believe I must go to Bradford, in Yorkshire, to read once more to
a little fireside party of four thousand. Then I am coming home again
to get up a new little version of "The Children in the Wood" (yet to be
written, by-the-bye), for the children to act on Charley's birthday.
I am full of mixed feeling about the war--admiration of our valiant men,
burning desires to cut the Emperor of Russia's throat, and something
like despair to see how the old cannon-smoke and blood-mists obscure the
wrongs and sufferings of the people at home. When I consider the
Patriotic Fund on the one hand, and on the other the poverty and
wretchedness engendered by cholera, of which in London alone, an
infinitely larger number of English people than are likely to be slain
in the whole Russian war have miserably and needlessly died--I feel as
if the world had been pushed back five hundred years. If you are reading
new books just now, I think you will be interested with a controversy
between Whewell and Brewster, on the question of the shining orbs about
us being inhabited or no. Whewell's book is called, "On the Plurality of
Worlds;" Brewster's, "More Worlds than One." I shouldn't wonder if you
know all about them. They bring together a vast number of points of
great interest in natural philosophy, and some very curious reasoning on
both sides, and leave the matter pretty much where it was.
We had a fine absurdity in connection with our luggage, when we left
Boulogne. The barometer had within a few hours fallen about a foot, in
honour of the occasion, and it was a tremendous night, blowing a gale of
wind and raining a little deluge. The luggage (pretty heavy, as you may
suppose), in a cart drawn by two horses, stuck fast in a rut in our
field, and couldn't be moved. Our man, made a lunatic by the extremity
of the occasion, ran down to the town to get two more horses to help it
out, when he returned with those horses and carter B, the most beaming
of men; carter A, who had been soaking all the time by the disabled
vehicle, descried in carter B the acknowledged enemy of his existence,
took his own two horses out, and walked off with them! After which, the
whole set-out remained in the field all night, and we came to town,
thirteen individuals, with one comb and a pocket-handkerchief. I was
upside-down during the greater part of the passage.
Dr. Rae's account of Franklin's unfortunate party is deeply interesting;
but I think hasty in its acceptance of the details, particularly in the
statement that they had eaten the dead bodies of their companions, which
I don't believe. Franklin, on a former occasion, was almost starved to
death, had gone through all the pains of that sad end, and lain down to
die, and no such thought had presented itself to any of them. In famous
cases of shipwreck, it is very rare indeed that any person of any
humanising education or refinement resorts to this dreadful means of
prolonging life. In open boats, the coarsest and commonest men of the
shipwrecked party have done such things; but I don't remember more than
one instance in which an officer had overcome the loathing that the idea
had inspired. Dr. Rae talks about their _cooking_ these remains too. I
should like to know where the fuel came from.
Kindest love and best regards.
Ever, my dear Mrs. Watson, affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Clarkson%20Stanfield%20RA/291Charles Dickens
1854-11-03[Sidenote: Mr. Clarkson Stanfield, R.A.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Friday Night, Nov. 3rd, 1854._
MY DEAR STANNY,
First of all, here is enclosed a letter for Mrs. Stanfield, which, if
you don't immediately and faithfully deliver, you will hear of in an
unpleasant way from the station-house at the curve of the hill above
you.
Secondly, this is not to remind you that we meet at the Athenaeum next
Monday at five, because none but a mouldy swab as never broke biscuit or
lay out on the for'sel-yard-arm in a gale of wind ever forgot an
appointment with a messmate.
But what I want you to think of at your leisure is this: when our dear
old Macready was in town last, I saw it would give him so much interest
and pleasure if I promised to go down and read my "Christmas Carol" to
the little Sherborne Institution, which is now one of the few active
objects he has in the life about him, that I came out with that promise
in a bold--I may say a swaggering way. Consequently, on Wednesday, the
20th of December, I am going down to see him, with Kate and Georgina,
returning to town in good time for Christmas, on Saturday, the 23rd. Do
you think you could manage to go and return with us? I really believe
there is scarcely anything in the world that would give him such
extraordinary pleasure as such a visit; and if you would empower me to
send him an intimation that he may expect it, he will have a daily joy
in looking forward to the time (I am seriously sure) which we--whose
light has not gone out, and who are among our old dear pursuits and
associations--can scarcely estimate.
I don't like to broach the idea in a careless way, and so I propose it
thus, and ask you to think of it.
Ever most affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Procter/292Charles Dickens
1854-12-17[Sidenote: Miss Procter.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Sunday, Dec. 17th, 1854._
MY DEAR MISS PROCTER,
You have given me a new sensation. I did suppose that nothing in this
singular world could surprise me, but you have done it.
You will believe my congratulations on the delicacy and talent of your
writing to be sincere. From the first, I have always had an especial
interest in that Miss Berwick, and have over and over again questioned
Wills about her. I suppose he has gone on gradually building up an
imaginary structure of life and adventure for her, but he has given me
the strangest information! Only yesterday week, when we were "making up"
"The Poor Travellers," as I sat meditatively poking the office fire, I
said to him, "Wills, have you got that Miss Berwick's proof back, of the
little sailor's song?" "No," he said. "Well, but why not?" I asked him.
"Why, you know," he answered, "as I have often told you before, she
don't live at the place to which her letters are addressed, and so
there's always difficulty and delay in communicating with her." "Do you
know what age she is?" I said. Here he looked unfathomably profound, and
returned, "Rather advanced in life." "You said she was a governess,
didn't you?" said I; to which he replied in the most emphatic and
positive manner, "A governess."
He then came and stood in the corner of the hearth, with his back to the
fire, and delivered himself like an oracle concerning you. He told me
that early in life (conveying to me the impression of about a quarter of
a century ago) you had had your feelings desperately wounded by some
cause, real or imaginary--"It does not matter which," said I, with the
greatest sagacity--and that you had then taken to writing verses. That
you were of an unhappy temperament, but keenly sensitive to
encouragement. That you wrote after the educational duties of the day
were discharged. That you sometimes thought of never writing any more.
That you had been away for some time "with your pupils." That your
letters were of a mild and melancholy character, and that you did not
seem to care as much as might be expected about money. All this time I
sat poking the fire, with a wisdom upon me absolutely crushing; and
finally I begged him to assure the lady that she might trust me with her
real address, and that it would be better to have it now, as I hoped our
further communications, etc. etc. etc. You must have felt enormously
wicked last Tuesday, when I, such a babe in the wood, was unconsciously
prattling to you. But you have given me so much pleasure, and have made
me shed so many tears, that I can only think of you now in association
with the sentiment and grace of your verses.
So pray accept the blessing and forgiveness of Richard Watts, though I
am afraid you come under both his conditions of exclusion.[20]
Very faithfully yours.
FOOTNOTES:
[16] The poet "Barry Cornwall."
[17] "Hide and Seek."
[18] On the occasion of the Prince Consort's visit to the camp at
Boulogne.
[19] Mr. Egg.
[20] The inscription on the house in Rochester known as "Watts's
Charity" is to the effect that it furnishes a night's lodging for six
poor travellers--"not being Rogues or Proctors."http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/William%20De%20Cerjat/293Charles Dickens
1855-01-03[Sidenote: M. de Cerjat.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _January 3rd, 1855._
MY DEAR CERJAT,
When your Christmas letter did not arrive according to custom, I felt as
if a bit of Christmas had fallen out and there was no supplying the
piece. However, it was soon supplied by yourself, and the bowl became
round and sound again.
The Christmas number of "Household Words," I suppose, will reach
Lausanne about midsummer. The first ten pages or so--all under the head
of "The First Poor Traveller"--are written by me, and I hope you will
find, in the story of the soldier which they contain, something that may
move you a little. It moved me _not_ a little in the writing, and I
believe has touched a vast number of people. We have sold eighty
thousand of it.
I am but newly come home from reading at Reading (where I succeeded poor
Talfourd as the president of an institution), and at Sherborne, in
Dorsetshire, and at Bradford, in Yorkshire. Wonderful audiences! and the
number at the last place three thousand seven hundred. And yet but for
the noise of their laughing and cheering, they "went" like one man.
The absorption of the English mind in the war is, to me, a melancholy
thing. Every other subject of popular solicitude and sympathy goes down
before it. I fear I clearly see that for years to come domestic reforms
are shaken to the root; every miserable red-tapist flourishes war over
the head of every protester against his humbug; and everything connected
with it is pushed to such an unreasonable extent, that, however kind and
necessary it may be in itself, it becomes ridiculous. For all this it is
an indubitable fact, I conceive, that Russia MUST BE stopped, and that
the future peace of the world renders the war imperative upon us. The
Duke of Newcastle lately addressed a private letter to the newspapers,
entreating them to exercise a larger discretion in respect of the
letters of "Our Own Correspondents," against which Lord Raglan protests
as giving the Emperor of Russia information for nothing which would cost
him (if indeed he could get it at all) fifty or a hundred thousand
pounds a year. The communication has not been attended with much effect,
so far as I can see. In the meantime I do suppose we have the
wretchedest Ministry that ever was--in whom nobody not in office of some
sort believes--yet whom there is nobody to displace. The strangest
result, perhaps, of years of Reformed Parliaments that ever the general
sagacity did _not_ foresee.
Let me recommend you, as a brother-reader of high distinction, two
comedies, both Goldsmith's--"She Stoops to Conquer" and "The
Good-natured Man." Both are so admirable and so delightfully written
that they read wonderfully. A friend of mine, Forster, who wrote "The
Life of Goldsmith," was very ill a year or so ago, and begged me to read
to him one night as he lay in bed, "something of Goldsmith's." I fell
upon "She Stoops to Conquer," and we enjoyed it with that wonderful
intensity, that I believe he began to get better in the first scene, and
was all right again in the fifth act.
I am charmed by your account of Haldimand, to whom my love. Tell him
Sydney Smith's daughter has privately printed a life of her father with
selections from his letters, which has great merit, and often presents
him exactly as he used to be. I have strongly urged her to publish it,
and I think she will do so, about March.
My eldest boy has come home from Germany to learn a business life at
Birmingham (I think), first of all. The whole nine are well and happy.
Ditto, Mrs. Dickens. Ditto, Georgina. My two girls are full of interest
in yours; and one of mine (as I think I told you when I was at Elysee)
is curiously like one of yours in the face. They are all agog now about
a great fairy play, which is to come off here next Monday. The house is
full of spangles, gas, Jew theatrical tailors, and pantomime carpenters.
We all unite in kindest and best loves to dear Mrs. Cerjat and all the
blooming daughters. And I am, with frequent thoughts of you and cordial
affection, ever, my dear Cerjat,
Your faithful Friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Mary%20Boyle/294Charles Dickens
1855-01-03[Sidenote: Miss Mary Boyle.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _January 3rd, 1855._
MY DEAR MARY,
This is a word of heartfelt greeting; in exchange for yours, which came
to me most pleasantly, and was received with a cordial welcome. If I had
leisure to write a letter, I should write you, at this point, perhaps
the very best letter that ever was read; but, being in the agonies of
getting up a gorgeous fairy play for the postboys, on Charley's birthday
(besides having the work of half-a-dozen to do as a regular thing), I
leave the merits of the wonderful epistle to your lively fancy.
Enclosing a kiss, if you will have the kindness to return it when done
with.
I have just been reading my "Christmas Carol" in Yorkshire. I should
have lost my heart to the beautiful young landlady of my hotel (age
twenty-nine, dress, black frock and jacket, exquisitely braided) if it
had not been safe in your possession.
Many, many happy years to you! My regards to that obstinate old
Wurzell[21] and his dame, when you have them under lock and key again.
Ever affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Elizabeth%20Gaskell/295Charles Dickens
1855-01-27[Sidenote: Mrs. Gaskell.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _January 27th, 1855._
MY DEAR MRS. GASKELL,
Let me congratulate you on the conclusion of your story; not because it
is the end of a task to which you had conceived a dislike (for I imagine
you to have got the better of that delusion by this time), but because
it is the vigorous and powerful accomplishment of an anxious labour. It
seems to me that you have felt the ground thoroughly firm under your
feet, and have strided on with a force and purpose that MUST now give
you pleasure.
You will not, I hope, allow that not-lucid interval of dissatisfaction
with yourself (and me?), which beset you for a minute or two once upon a
time, to linger in the shape of any disagreeable association with
"Household Words." I shall still look forward to the large sides of
paper, and shall soon feel disappointed if they don't begin to reappear.
I thought it best that Wills should write the business letter on the
conclusion of the story, as that part of our communications had always
previously rested with him. I trust you found it satisfactory? I refer
to it, not as a matter of mere form, but because I sincerely wish
everything between us to be beyond the possibility of misunderstanding
or reservation.
Dear Mrs. Gaskell, very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Arthur%20Ryland/296Charles Dickens
1855-01-29[Sidenote: Mr. Arthur Ryland.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Monday, Jan. 29th, 1855._
MY DEAR MR. RYLAND,
I have been in the greatest difficulty--which I am not yet out of--to
know what to read at Birmingham. I fear the idea of next month is now
impracticable. Which of two other months do you think would be
preferable for your Birmingham objects? Next May, or next December?
Having already read two Christmas books at Birmingham, I should like to
get out of that restriction, and have a swim in the broader waters of
one of my long books. I have been poring over "Copperfield" (which is my
favourite), with the idea of getting a reading out of it, to be called
by some such name as "Young Housekeeping and Little Emily." But there is
still the huge difficulty that I constructed the whole with immense
pains, and have so woven it up and blended it together, that I cannot
yet so separate the parts as to tell the story of David's married life
with Dora, and the story of Mr. Peggotty's search for his niece, within
the time. This is my object. If I could possibly bring it to bear, it
would make a very attractive reading, with, a strong interest in it, and
a certain completeness.
This is exactly the state of the case. I don't mind confiding to you,
that I never can approach the book with perfect composure (it had such
perfect possession of me when I wrote it), and that I no sooner begin to
try to get it into this form, than I begin to read it all, and to feel
that I cannot disturb it. I have not been unmindful of the agreement we
made at parting, and I have sat staring at the backs of my books for an
inspiration. This project is the only one that I have constantly
reverted to, and yet I have made no progress in it!
Faithfully yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Monsieur%20Regnier/297Charles Dickens
1855-02-03[Sidenote: Monsieur Regnier.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, LONDON, _Saturday Evening, Feb. 3rd, 1855._
MY DEAR REGNIER,
I am coming to Paris for a week, with my friend Collins--son of the
English painter who painted our green lanes and our cottage children so
beautifully. Do not tell this to Le Vieux. Unless I have the ill fortune
to stumble against him in the street I shall not make my arrival known
to him.
I purpose leaving here on Sunday, the 11th, but I shall stay that night
at Boulogne to see two of my little boys who are at school there. We
shall come to Paris on Monday, the 12th, arriving there in the evening.
Now, _mon cher_, do you think you can, without inconvenience, engage me
for a week an apartment--cheerful, light, and wholesome--containing a
comfortable _salon et deux chambres a coucher_. I do not care whether it
is an hotel or not, but the reason why I do not write for an apartment
to the Hotel Brighton is, that there they expect one to dine at home (I
mean in the apartment) generally; whereas, as we are coming to Paris
expressly to be always looking about us, we want to dine wherever we
like every day. Consequently, what we want to find is a good apartment,
where we can have our breakfast but where we shall never dine.
Can you engage such accommodation for me? If you can, I shall feel very
much obliged to you. If the apartment should happen to contain a little
bed for a servant I might perhaps bring one, but I do not care about
that at all. I want it to be pleasant and gay, and to throw myself _en
garcon_ on the festive _diableries de Paris_.
Mrs. Dickens and her sister send their kindest regards to Madame Regnier
and you, in which I heartily join. All the children send their loves to
the two brave boys and the Normandy _bonnes_.
I shall hope for a short answer from you one day next week. My dear
Regnier,
Always faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/298Charles Dickens
1855-02-09[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
OFFICE OF "HOUSEHOLD WORDS," _Friday, Feb. 9th, 1855._
MY DEAR WILLS,
I want to alter the arrangements for to-morrow, and put you to some
inconvenience.
When I was at Gravesend t'other day, I saw, at Gad's Hill--just opposite
to the Hermitage, where Miss Lynn used to live--a little freehold to be
sold. The spot and the very house are literally "a dream of my
childhood," and I should like to look at it before I go to Paris. With
that purpose I must go to Strood by the North Kent, at a quarter-past
ten to-morrow morning, and I want you, strongly booted, to go with me!
(I know the particulars from the agent.)
Can you? Let me know. If you can, can you manage so that we can take the
proofs with us? If you can't, will you bring them to Tavistock House at
dinner time to-morrow, half-past five? Forster will dine with us, but no
one else.
I am uncertain of your being in town to-night, but I send John up with
this.
Ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/299Charles Dickens
1855-02-16[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
HOTEL MEURICE, PARIS, _Friday, Feb. 16th, 1855._
MY DEAR GEORGY,
I heard from home last night; but the posts are so delayed and put out
by the snow, that they come in at all sorts of times except the right
times, and utterly defy all calculation. Will you tell Catherine with my
love, that I will write to her again to-morrow afternoon; I hope she may
then receive my letter by Monday morning, and in it I purpose telling
her when I may be expected home. The weather is so severe and the roads
are so bad, that the journey to and from Bordeaux seems out of the
question. We have made up our minds to abandon it for the present, and
to return about Tuesday night or Wednesday. Collins continues in a queer
state, but is perfectly cheerful under the stoppage of his wine and
other afflictions.
We have a beautiful apartment, very elegantly furnished, very thickly
carpeted, and as warm as any apartment in Paris _can_ be in such
weather. We are very well waited on and looked after. We breakfast at
ten, read and write till two, and then I go out walking all over Paris,
while the invalid sits by the fire or is deposited in a cafe. We dine at
five, in a different restaurant every day, and at seven or so go to the
theatre--sometimes to two theatres, sometimes to three. We get home
about twelve, light the fire, and drink lemonade, to which _I_ add rum.
We go to bed between one and two. I live in peace, like an elderly
gentleman, and regard myself as in a negative state of virtue and
respectability.
The theatres are not particularly good, but I have seen Lemaitre act in
the most wonderful and astounding manner. I am afraid we must go to the
Opera Comique on Sunday. To-morrow we dine with Regnier and to-day with
the Olliffes.
"La Joie fait Peur," at the Francais, delighted me. Exquisitely played
and beautifully imagined altogether. Last night we went to the Porte St.
Martin to see a piece (English subject) called "Jane Osborne," which the
characters pronounce "Ja Nosbornnne." The seducer was Lord Nottingham.
The comic Englishwoman's name (she kept lodgings and was a very bad
character) was Missees Christmas. She had begun to get into great
difficulties with a gentleman of the name of Meestair Cornhill, when we
were obliged to leave, at the end of the first act, by the intolerable
stench of the place. The whole theatre must be standing over some vast
cesspool. It was so alarming that I instantly rushed into a cafe and had
brandy.
My ear has gradually become so accustomed to French, that I understand
the people at the theatres (for the first time) with perfect ease and
satisfaction. I walked about with Regnier for an hour and a half
yesterday, and received many compliments on my angelic manner of
speaking the celestial language. There is a winter Franconi's now, high
up on the Boulevards, just like the round theatre on the Champs Elysees,
and as bright and beautiful. A clown from Astley's is all in high favour
there at present. He talks slang English (being evidently an idiot), as
if he felt a perfect confidence that everybody understands him. His
name is Boswell, and the whole cirque rang last night with cries for Boz
Zwilllll! Boz Zweellll! Boz Zwuallll! etc. etc. etc. etc.
I must begin to look out for the box of bon-bons for the noble and
fascinating Plornish-Maroon. Give him my love and a thousand kisses.
Loves to Mamey, Katey, Sydney, Harry, and the following stab to
Anne--she forgot to pack me any shaving soap.
Ever, my dear Georgy, most affectionately yours.
P.S.--Collins sends kind regards.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/300Charles Dickens
1855-02-16[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
HOTEL MEURICE, PARIS, _Friday, Feb. 16th, 1855._
MY DEAR WILLS,
I received your letter yesterday evening. I have not yet seen the lists
of trains and boats, but propose arranging to return about Tuesday or
Wednesday. In the meantime I am living like Gil Blas and doing nothing.
I am very much obliged to you, indeed, for the trouble you have kindly
taken about the little freehold. It is clear to me that its merits
resolve themselves into the view and the spot. If I had more money these
considerations might, with me, overtop all others. But, as it is, I
consider the matter quite disposed of, finally settled in the negative,
and to be thought no more about. I shall not go down and look at it, as
I could add nothing to your report.
Paris is finer than ever, and I go wandering about it all day. We dine
at all manner of places, and go to two or three theatres in the evening.
I suppose, as an old farmer said of Scott, I am "makin' mysel'" all the
time; but I seem to be rather a free-and-easy sort of superior
vagabond.
I live in continual terror of ----, and am strongly fortified within
doors, with a means of retreat into my bedroom always ready. Up to the
present blessed moment, his staggering form has not appeared.
As to yesterday's post from England, I have not, at the present moment,
the slightest idea where it may be. It is under the snow somewhere, I
suppose; but nobody expects it, and _Galignani_ reprints every morning
leaders from _The Times_ of about a fortnight or three weeks old.
Collins, who is not very well, sends his "penitent regards," and says he
is enjoying himself as much as a man with the weight of a broken promise
on his conscience can.
Ever, my dear Wills, faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Arthur%20Ryland/301Charles Dickens
1855-02-26[Sidenote: Mr. Arthur Ryland.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _February 26th, 1855._
MY DEAR MR. RYLAND,
Charley came home, I assure you, perfectly delighted with his visit to
you, and rapturous in his accounts of your great kindness to him.
It appears to me that the first question in reference to my reading (I
have not advanced an inch in my "Copperfield" trials by-the-bye) is,
whether you think you could devise any plan in connection with the room
at Dee's, which would certainly bring my help in money up to five
hundred pounds. That is what I want. If it could be done by a
subscription for two nights, for instance, I would not be chary of my
time and trouble. But if you cannot see your way clearly to that result
in that connection, then I think it would be better to wait until we can
have the Town Hall at Christmas. I have promised to read, about
Christmas time, at Sheffield and at Peterboro'. I _could_ add Birmingham
to the list, then, if need were. But what I want is, to give the
institution in all five hundred pounds. That is my object, and nothing
less will satisfy me.
Will you think it over, taking counsel with whomsoever you please, and
let me know what conclusion you arrive at. Only think of me as
subservient to the institution.
My dear Mr. Ryland, always very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/David%20Roberts%20RA/302Charles Dickens
1855-02-28[Sidenote: Mr. David Roberts, R.A.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _February 28th, 1855._
MY DEAR DAVID ROBERTS,
I hope to make it quite plain to you, in a few words, why I think it
right to stay away from the Lord Mayor's dinner to the club. If I did
not feel a kind of rectitude involved in my non-acceptance of his
invitation, your note would immediately induce me to change my mind.
Entertaining a strong opinion on the subject of the City Corporation as
it stands, and the absurdity of its pretensions in an age perfectly
different, in all conceivable respects, from that to which it properly
belonged as a reality, I have expressed that opinion on more than one
occasion, within a year or so, in "Household Words." I do not think it
consistent with my respect for myself, or for the art I profess, to blow
hot and cold in the same breath; and to laugh at the institution in
print, and accept the hospitality of its representative while the ink is
staring us all in the face. There is a great deal too much of this among
us, and it does not elevate the earnestness or delicacy of literature.
This is my sole consideration. Personally I have always met the present
Lord Mayor on the most agreeable terms, and I think him an excellent
one. As between you, and me, and him, I cannot have the slightest
objection to your telling him the truth. On a more private occasion,
when he was not keeping his state, I should be delighted to interchange
any courtesy with that honourable and amiable gentleman, Mr. Moon.
Believe me always cordially yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Austen%20H%20Layard/303Charles Dickens
1855-04-03[Sidenote: Mr. Austen H. Layard.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Tuesday Evening, April 3rd, 1855._
DEAR LAYARD,
Since I had the pleasure of seeing you again at Miss Coutts's (really a
greater pleasure to me than I could easily tell you), I have thought a
good deal of the duty we all owe you of helping you as much as we can.
Being on very intimate terms with Lemon, the editor of "Punch" (a most
affectionate and true-hearted fellow), I mentioned to him in confidence
what I had at heart. You will find yourself the subject of their next
large cut, and of some lines in an earnest spirit. He again suggested
the point to Mr. Shirley Brookes, one of their regular corps, who will
do what is right in _The Illustrated London News_ and _The Weekly
Chronicle_, papers that go into the hands of large numbers of people. I
have also communicated with Jerrold, whom I trust, and have begged him
not to be diverted from the straight path of help to the most useful man
in England on all possible occasions. Forster I will speak to carefully,
and I have no doubt it will quicken him a little; not that we have
anything to complain of in his direction. If you ever see any new
loophole, cranny, needle's-eye, through which I can present your case to
"Household Words," I most earnestly entreat you, as your staunch friend
and admirer--you _can_ have no truer--to indicate it to me at any time
or season, and to count upon my being Damascus steel to the core.
All this is nothing; because all these men, and thousands of others,
dote upon you. But I know it would be a comfort to me, in your
hard-fighting place, to be assured of such sympathy, and therefore only
I write.
You have other recreations for your Sundays in the session, I daresay,
than to come here. But it is generally a day on which I do not go out,
and when we dine at half-past five in the easiest way in the world, and
smoke in the peacefulest manner. Perhaps one of these Sundays after
Easter you might not be indisposed to begin to dig us out?
And I should like, on a Saturday of your appointing, to get a few of the
serviceable men I know--such as I have mentioned--about you here. Will
you think of this, too, and suggest a Saturday for our dining together?
I am really ashamed and moved that you should do your part so manfully
and be left alone in the conflict. I felt you to be all you are the
first moment I saw you. I know you will accept my regard and fidelity
for what they are worth.
Dear Layard, very heartily yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Austen%20H%20Layard/304Charles Dickens
1855-04-10[Sidenote: Mr. Austen H. Layard.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Tuesday, April 10th, 1855._
DEAR LAYARD,
I shall of course observe the strictest silence, at present, in
reference to your resolutions. It will be a most acceptable occupation
to me to go over them with you, and I have not a doubt of their
producing a strong effect out of doors.
There is nothing in the present time at once so galling and so alarming
to me as the alienation of the people from their own public affairs. I
have no difficulty in understanding it. They have had so little to do
with the game through all these years of Parliamentary Reform, that they
have sullenly laid down their cards, and taken to looking on. The
players who are left at the table do not see beyond it, conceive that
gain and loss and all the interest of the play are in their hands, and
will never be wiser until they and the table and the lights and the
money are all overturned together. And I believe the discontent to be so
much the worse for smouldering, instead of blazing openly, that it is
extremely like the general mind of France before the breaking out of the
first Revolution, and is in danger of being turned by any one of a
thousand accidents--a bad harvest--the last strain too much of
aristocratic insolence or incapacity--a defeat abroad--a mere chance at
home--with such a devil of a conflagration as never has been beheld
since.
Meanwhile, all our English tuft-hunting, toad-eating, and other
manifestations of accursed gentility--to say nothing of the Lord knows
who's defiances of the proven truth before six hundred and fifty
men--ARE expressing themselves every day. So, every day, the disgusted
millions with this unnatural gloom are confirmed and hardened in the
very worst of moods. Finally, round all this is an atmosphere of
poverty, hunger, and ignorant desperation, of the mere existence of
which perhaps not one man in a thousand of those not actually enveloped
in it, through the whole extent of this country, has the least idea.
It seems to me an absolute impossibility to direct the spirit of the
people at this pass until it shows itself. If they begin to bestir
themselves in the vigorous national manner; if they would appear in
political reunion, array themselves peacefully but in vast numbers
against a system that they know to be rotten altogether, make themselves
heard like the sea all round this island, I for one should be in such a
movement heart and soul, and should think it a duty of the plainest kind
to go along with it, and try to guide it by all possible means. But you
can no more help a people who do not help themselves than you can help
a man who does not help himself. And until the people can be got up from
the lethargy, which is an awful symptom of the advanced state of their
disease, I know of nothing that can be done beyond keeping their wrongs
continually before them.
I shall hope to see you soon after you come back. Your speeches at
Aberdeen are most admirable, manful, and earnest. I would have such
speeches at every market-cross, and in every town-hall, and among all
sorts and conditions of men; up in the very balloons, and down in the
very diving-bells.
Ever, cordially yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/John%20Forster/305Charles Dickens
1855-04-14[Sidenote: Mr. John Forster.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Saturday, April 14th, 1855._
MY DEAR FORSTER,
I cannot express to you how very much delighted I am with the "Steele."
I think it incomparably the best of the series. The pleasanter humanity
of the subject may commend it more to one's liking, but that again
requires a delicate handling, which you have given to it in a most
charming manner. It is surely not possible to approach a man with a
finer sympathy, and the assertion of the claims of literature throughout
is of the noblest and most gallant kind.
I don't agree with you about the serious papers in _The Spectator_,
which I think (whether they be Steele's or Addison's) are generally as
indifferent as the humour of _The Spectator_ is delightful. And I have
always had a notion that Prue understood her husband very well, and held
him in consequence, when a fonder woman with less show of caprice must
have let him go. But these are points of opinion. The paper is masterly,
and all I have got to say is, that if ---- had a grain of the honest
sentiment with which it overflows, he never would or could have made so
great a mistake.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Mark%20Lemon/306Charles Dickens
1855-04-26[Sidenote: Mr. Mark Lemon.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Thursday, April 26th, 1855._
ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT.
MY DEAR MARK,
I will call for you at two, and go with you to Highgate, by all means.
Leech and I called on Tuesday evening and left our loves. I have not
written to you since, because I thought it best to leave you quiet for a
day. I have no need to tell you, my dear fellow, that my thoughts have
been constantly with you, and that I have not forgotten (and never shall
forget) who sat up with me one night when a little place in my house was
left empty.
It is hard to lose any child, but there are many blessed sources of
consolation in the loss of a baby. There is a beautiful thought in
Fielding's "Journey from this World to the Next," where the baby he had
lost many years before was found by him all radiant and happy, building
him a bower in the Elysian Fields where they were to live together when
he came.
Ever affectionately yours.
P.S.--Our kindest loves to Mrs. Lemon.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Clarkson%20Stanfield%20RA/307Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. Clarkson Stanfield, R.A.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Sunday, May 20th, 1855._
MY DEAR STANNY,
I have a little lark in contemplation, if you will help it to fly.
Collins has done a melodrama (a regular old-style melodrama), in which
there is a very good notion. I am going to act it, as an experiment, in
the children's theatre here--I, Mark, Collins, Egg, and my daughter
Mary, the whole _dram. pers._; our families and yours the whole
audience; for I want to make the stage large and shouldn't have room for
above five-and-twenty spectators. Now there is only one scene in the
piece, and that, my tarry lad, is the inside of a lighthouse. Will you
come and paint it for us one night, and we'll all turn to and help? It
is a mere wall, of course, but Mark and I have sworn that you must do
it. If you will say yes, I should like to have the tiny flats made,
after you have looked at the place, and not before. On Wednesday in this
week I am good for a steak and the play, if you will make your own
appointment here; or any day next week except Thursday. Write me a line
in reply. We mean to burst on an astonished world with the melodrama,
without any note of preparation. So don't say a syllable to Forster if
you should happen to see him.
Ever affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Clarkson%20Stanfield%20RA/308Charles Dickens
1855-05-22[Sidenote: Mr. Clarkson Stanfield, R.A.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Tuesday Afternoon, Six o'clock, May 22nd, 1855._
MY DEAR STANNY,
Your note came while I was out walking. Even if I had been at home I
could not have managed to dine together to-day, being under a beastly
engagement to dine out. Unless I hear from you to the contrary, I shall
expect you here some time to-morrow, and will remain at home. I only
wait your instructions to get the little canvases made. O, what a pity
it is not the outside of the light'us, with the sea a-rowling agin it!
Never mind, we'll get an effect out of the inside, and there's a storm
and a shipwreck "off;" and the great ambition of my life will be
achieved at last, in the wearing of a pair of very coarse petticoat
trousers. So hoorar for the salt sea, mate, and bouse up!
Ever affectionately,
DICKY.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Mark%20Lemon/309Charles Dickens
1855-05-23[Sidenote: Mr. Mark Lemon.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _May 23rd, 1855._
MY DEAR MARK,
Stanny says he is only sorry it is not the outside of the lighthouse
with a raging sea and a transparent light. He enters into the project
with the greatest delight, and I think we shall make a capital thing of
it.
It now occurs to me that we may as well do a farce too. I should like to
get in a little part for Katey, and also for Charley, if it were
practicable. What do you think of "Animal Mag."? You and I in our old
parts; Collins, Jeffrey; Charley, the Markis; Katey and Mary (or
Georgina), the two ladies? Can you think of anything merry that is
better? It ought to be broad, as a relief to the melodrama, unless we
could find something funny with a story in it too. I rather incline
myself to "Animal Mag." Will you come round and deliver your sentiments?
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Frank%20Stone%20ARA/310Charles Dickens
1855-05-24[Sidenote: Mr. Frank Stone, A.R.A.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Thursday, May 24th, 1855._
MY DEAR STONE,
Great projects are afoot here for a grown-up play in about three weeks'
time. Former schoolroom arrangements to be reversed--large stage and
small audience. Stanfield bent on desperate effects, and all day long
with his coat off, up to his eyes in distemper colours.
Will you appear in your celebrated character of Mr. Nightingale? I want
to wind up with that popular farce, we all playing our old parts.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Frank%20Stone%20ARA/311Charles Dickens
1855-05-24[Sidenote: Mr. Frank Stone, A.R.A.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _May 24th, 1855._
MY DEAR STONE,
That's right! You will find the words come back very quickly. Why, _of
course_ your people are to come, and if Stanfield don't astonish 'em,
I'm a Dutchman. O Heaven, if you could hear the ideas he proposes to me,
making even _my_ hair stand on end!
Will you get Marcus or some similar bright creature to copy out old
Nightingale's part for you, and then return the book? This is the
prompt-book, the only one I have; and Katey and Georgina (being also in
wild excitement) want to write their parts out with all despatch.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Wilkie%20Collins/312Charles Dickens
1855-05-24[Sidenote: Mr. W. Wilkie Collins.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Thursday, May 24th, 1855._
MY DEAR COLLINS,
I shall expect you to-morrow evening at "Household Words." I have
written a little ballad for Mary--"The Story of the Ship's Carpenter and
the Little Boy, in the Shipwreck."
Let us close up with "Mr. Nightingale's Diary." Will you look whether
you have a book of it, or your part.
All other matters and things hereunto belonging when we meet.
Ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Frances%20Trollope/313Charles Dickens
1855-06-19[Sidenote: Mrs. Trollope.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Tuesday Morning, June 19th, 1855._
MY DEAR MRS. TROLLOPE,
I was out of town on Sunday, or I should have answered your note
immediately on its arrival. I cannot have the pleasure of seeing the
famous "medium" to-night, for I have some theatricals at home. But I
fear I shall not in any case be a good subject for the purpose, as I
altogether want faith in the thing.
I have not the least belief in the awful unseen world being available
for evening parties at so much per night; and, although I should be
ready to receive enlightenment from any source, I must say I have very
little hope of it from the spirits who express themselves through
mediums, as I have never yet observed them to talk anything but
nonsense, of which (as Carlyle would say) there is probably enough in
these days of ours, and in all days, among mere mortality.
Very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Clarkson%20Stanfield%20RA/314Charles Dickens
1855-06-20[Sidenote: Mr. Clarkson Stanfield, R.A.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Wednesday, June 20th, 1855._
MY DEAR STANNY,
I write a hasty note to let you know that last night was perfectly
wonderful!!!
Such an audience! Such a brilliant success from first to last! The Queen
had taken it into her head in the morning to go to Chatham, and had
carried Phipps with her. He wrote to me asking if it were possible to
give him a quarter of an hour. I got through that time before the
overture, and he came without any dinner, so influenced by eager
curiosity. Lemon and I did every conceivable absurdity, I think, in the
farce; and they never left off laughing. At supper I proposed your
health, which was drunk with nine times nine, and three cheers over. We
then turned to at Scotch reels (having had no exercise), and danced in
the maddest way until five this morning.
It is as much as I can do to guide the pen.
With loves to Mrs. Stanfield and all,
Ever most affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/315Charles Dickens
1855-06-30[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Saturday, June 30th, 1855._
MY VERY DEAR MACREADY,
I write shortly, after a day's work at my desk, rather than lose a post
in answering your enthusiastic, earnest, and young--how young, in all
the best side of youth--letter.
To tell you the truth, I confidently expected to hear from you. I knew
that if there were a man in the world who would be interested in, and
who would approve of, my giving utterance to whatever was in me at this
time, it would be you. I was as sure of you as of the sun this morning.
The subject is surrounded by difficulties; the Association is sorely in
want of able men; and the resistance of all the phalanx, who have an
interest in corruption and mismanagement, is the resistance of a
struggle against death. But the great, first, strong necessity is to
rouse the people up, to keep them stirring and vigilant, to carry the
war dead into the tent of such creatures as ----, and ring into their
souls (or what stands for them) that the time for dandy insolence is
gone for ever. It may be necessary to come to that law of primogeniture
(I have no love for it), or to come to even greater things; but this is
the first service to be done, and unless it is done, there is not a
chance. For this, and to encourage timid people to come in, I went to
Drury Lane the other night; and I wish you had been there and had seen
and heard the people.
The Association will be proud to have your name and gift. When we sat
down on the stage the other night, and were waiting a minute or two to
begin, I said to Morley, the chairman (a thoroughly fine earnest
fellow), "this reminds me so of one of my dearest friends, with a
melancholy so curious, that I don't know whether the place feels
familiar to me or strange." He was full of interest directly, and we
went on talking of you until the moment of his getting up to open the
business.
They are going to print my speech in a tract-form, and send it all over
the country. I corrected it for the purpose last night. We are all well.
Charley in the City; all the boys at home for the holidays; three prizes
brought home triumphantly (one from the Boulogne waters and one from
Wimbledon); I taking dives into a new book, and runs at leap-frog over
"Household Words;" and Anne going to be married--which is the only bad
news.
Catherine, Georgie, Mary, Katey, Charley, and all the rest, send
multitudes of loves. Ever, my dearest Macready, with unalterable
affection and attachment,
Your faithful Friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Wilkie%20Collins/316Charles Dickens
1855-07-17[Sidenote: Mr. W. Wilkie Collins.]
3, ALBION VILLAS, FOLKESTONE, _Tuesday, July 17th, 1855._
MY DEAR COLLINS,
Walter goes back to school on the 1st of August. Will you come out of
school to this breezy vacation on the same day, or rather _this day
fortnight, July 31st_? for that is the day on which he leaves us, and we
begin (here's a parent!) to be able to be comfortable. Why a boy of that
age should seem to have on at all times a hundred and fifty pair of
double-soled boots, and to be always jumping a bottom stair with the
whole hundred and fifty, I don't know. But the woeful fact is within my
daily experience.
We have a very pleasant little house, overlooking the sea, and I think
you will like the place. It rained, in honour of our arrival, with the
greatest vigour, yesterday. I went out after dinner to buy some nails
(you know the arrangements that would be then in progress), and I
stopped in the rain, about halfway down a steep, crooked street, like a
crippled ladder, to look at a little coachmaker's, where there had just
been a sale. Speculating on the insolvent coachmaker's business, and
what kind of coaches he could possibly have expected to get orders for
in Folkestone, I thought, "What would bring together fifty people now,
in this little street, at this little rainy minute?" On the instant, a
brewer's van, with two mad horses in it, and the harness dangling about
them--like the trappings of those horses you are acquainted with, who
bolted through the starry courts of heaven--dashed by me, and in that
instant, such a crowd as would have accumulated in Fleet Street sprang
up magically. Men fell out of windows, dived out of doors, plunged down
courts, precipitated themselves down steps, came down waterspouts,
instead of rain, I think, and I never saw so wonderful an instance of
the gregarious effect of an excitement.
A man, a woman, and a child had been thrown out on the horses taking
fright and the reins breaking. The child is dead, and the woman very ill
but will probably recover, and the man has a hand broken and other
mischief done to him.
Let me know what Wigan says. If he does not take the play, and readily
too, I would recommend you not to offer it elsewhere. You have gained
great reputation by it, have done your position a deal of good, and (as
I think) stand so well with it, that it is a pity to engender the notion
that you care to stand better.
Ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/317Charles Dickens
1855-09-16[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
FOLKESTONE, _September 16th, 1855._
MY DEAR WILLS,
Scrooge is delighted to find that Bob Cratchit is enjoying his holiday
in such a delightful situation; and he says (with that warmth of nature
which has distinguished him since his conversion), "Make the most of
it, Bob; make the most of it."
[I am just getting to work on No. 3 of the new book, and am in the
hideous state of mind belonging to that condition.]
I have not a word of news. I am steeped in my story, and rise and fall
by turns into enthusiasm and depression.
Ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Lavinia%20Watson/318Charles Dickens
1855-09-16[Sidenote: The Hon. Mrs. Watson.]
FOLKESTONE, _Sunday, Sept. 16th, 1855._
MY DEAR MRS. WATSON,
This will be a short letter, but I hope not unwelcome. If you knew how
often I write to you--in intention--I don't know where you would find
room for the correspondence.
Catherine tells me that you want to know the name of my new book. I
cannot bear that you should know it from anyone but me. It will not be
made public until the end of October; the title is:
"NOBODY'S FAULT."
Keep it as the apple of your eye--an expressive form of speech, though I
have not the least idea of what it means.
Next, I wish to tell you that I have appointed to read at Peterboro', on
Tuesday, the 18th of December. I have told the Dean that I cannot accept
his hospitality, and that I am going with Mr. Wills to the inn,
therefore I shall be absolutely at your disposal, and shall be more than
disappointed if you don't stay with us. As the time approaches will you
let me know your arrangements, and whether Mr. Wills can bespeak any
rooms for you in arranging for me? Georgy will give you our address in
Paris as soon as we shall have settled there. We shall leave here, I
think, in rather less than a month from this time.
You know my state of mind as well as I do, indeed, if you don't know it
much better, it is not the state of mind I take it to be. How I work,
how I walk, how I shut myself up, how I roll down hills and climb up
cliffs; how the new story is everywhere--heaving in the sea, flying with
the clouds, blowing in the wind; how I settle to nothing, and wonder (in
the old way) at my own incomprehensibility. I am getting on pretty well,
have done the first two numbers, and am just now beginning the third;
which egotistical announcements I make to you because I know you will be
interested in them.
All the house send their kindest loves. I think of inserting an
advertisement in _The Times_, offering to submit the Plornishghenter to
public competition, and to receive fifty thousand pounds if such another
boy cannot be found, and to pay five pounds (my fortune) if he can.
Ever, my dear Mrs. Watson, affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Wilkie%20Collins/319Charles Dickens
1855-09-30[Sidenote: Mr. W. Wilkie Collins.]
FOLKESTONE, _Sunday, Sept. 30th, 1855._
MY DEAR COLLINS,
Welcome from the bosom of the deep! If a hornpipe will be acceptable to
you at any time (as a reminder of what the three brothers were always
doing), I shall be, as the chairman says at Mr. Evans's, "happy to
oblige."
I have almost finished No. 3, in which I have relieved my indignant soul
with a scarifier. Sticking at it day after day, I am the incompletest
letter-writer imaginable--seem to have no idea of holding a pen for any
other purpose but that book. My fair Laura has not yet reported
concerning Paris, but I should think will have done so before I see you.
And now to that point. I purpose being in town on _Monday, the 8th_,
when I have promised to dine with Forster. At the office, between
half-past eleven and one that day, I will expect you, unless I hear
from you to the contrary. Of course the H. W. stories are at your
disposition. If you should have completed your idea, we might breakfast
together at the G. on the Tuesday morning and discuss it. Or I shall be
in town after ten on the Monday night. At the office I will tell you the
idea of the Christmas number, which will put you in train, I hope, for a
story. I have postponed the shipwreck idea for a year, as it seemed to
require more force from me than I could well give it with the weight of
a new start upon me.
All here send their kindest remembrances. We missed you very much, and
the Plorn was quite inconsolable. We slide down Caesar occasionally.
They launched the boat, the rapid building of which you remember, the
other day. All the fishermen in the place, all the nondescripts, and all
the boys pulled at it with ropes from six A.M. to four P.M. Every now
and then the ropes broke, and they all fell down in the shingle. The
obstinate way in which the beastly thing wouldn't move was so
exasperating that I wondered they didn't shoot it, or burn it. Whenever
it moved an inch they all cheered; whenever it wouldn't move they all
swore. Finally, when it was quite given over, some one tumbled against
it accidentally (as it appeared to me, looking out at my window here),
and it instantly shot about a mile into the sea, and they all stood
looking at it helplessly.
Kind regards to Pigott, in which all unite.
Ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/320Charles Dickens
1855-10-04[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
FOLKESTONE, _Thursday, Oct. 4th, 1855._
MY DEAREST MACREADY,
I have been hammering away in that strenuous manner at my book, that I
have had leisure for scarcely any letters but such, as I have been
obliged to write; having a horrible temptation when I lay down my
book-pen to run out on the breezy downs here, tear up the hills, slide
down the same, and conduct myself in a frenzied manner, for the relief
that only exercise gives me.
Your letter to Miss Coutts in behalf of little Miss Warner I despatched
straightway. She is at present among the Pyrenees, and a letter from her
crossed that one of mine in which I enclosed yours, last week.
Pray stick to that dim notion you have of coming to Paris! How
delightful it would be to see your aged countenance and perfectly bald
head in that capital! It will renew your youth, to visit a theatre
(previously dining at the Trois Freres) in company with the jocund boy
who now addresses you. Do, do stick to it.
You will be pleased to hear, I know, that Charley has gone into Baring's
house under very auspicious circumstances. Mr. Bates, of that firm, had
done me the kindness to place him at the brokers' where he was. And when
said Bates wrote to me a fortnight ago to say that an excellent opening
had presented itself at Baring's, he added that the brokers gave Charley
"so high a character for ability and zeal" that it would be unfair to
receive him as a volunteer, and he must begin at a fifty-pound salary,
to which I graciously consented.
As to the suffrage, I have lost hope even in the ballot. We appear to me
to have proved the failure of representative institutions without an
educated and advanced people to support them. What with teaching people
to "keep in their stations," what with bringing up the soul and body of
the land to be a good child, or to go to the beershop, to go a-poaching
and go to the devil; what with having no such thing as a middle class
(for though we are perpetually bragging of it as our safety, it is
nothing but a poor fringe on the mantle of the upper); what with
flunkyism, toadyism, letting the most contemptible lords come in for all
manner of places, reading _The Court Circular_ for the New Testament, I
do reluctantly believe that the English people are habitually consenting
parties to the miserable imbecility into which we have fallen, _and
never will help themselves out of it_. Who is to do it, if anybody is,
God knows. But at present we are on the down-hill road to being
conquered, and the people WILL be content to bear it, sing "Rule
Britannia," and WILL NOT be saved.
In No. 3 of my new book I have been blowing off a little of indignant
steam which would otherwise blow me up, and with God's leave I shall
walk in the same all the days of my life; but I have no present
political faith or hope--not a grain.
I am going to read the "Carol" here to-morrow in a long carpenter's
shop, which looks far more alarming as a place to hear in than the Town
Hall at Birmingham.
Kindest loves from all to your dear sister, Kate and the darlings. It is
blowing a gale here from the south-west and raining like mad.
Ever most affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Catherine%20Dickens/321Charles Dickens
1855-10-16[Sidenote: Mrs. Charles Dickens.]
2, RUE ST. FLORENTIN, _Tuesday, Oct. 16th, 1855._
MY DEAREST CATHERINE,
We have had the most awful job to find a place that would in the least
suit us, for Paris is perfectly full, and there is nothing to be got at
any sane price. However, we have found two apartments--an _entresol_ and
a first floor, with a kitchen and servants' room at the top of the
house, at No. 49, Avenue des Champs Elysees.
You must be prepared for a regular Continental abode. There is only one
window in each room, but the front apartments all look upon the main
street of the Champs Elysees, and the view is delightfully cheerful.
There are also plenty of rooms. They are not over and above well
furnished, but by changing furniture from rooms we don't care for to
rooms we _do_ care for, we shall be able to make them home-like and
presentable. I think the situation itself almost the finest in Paris;
and the children will have a window from which to look on the busy life
outside.
We could have got a beautiful apartment in the Rue Faubourg St. Honore
for a very little more, most elegantly furnished; but the greater part
of it was on a courtyard, and it would never have done for the children.
This, that I have taken for six months, is seven hundred francs per
month, and twenty more for the _concierge_. What you have to expect is a
regular French residence, which a little habitation will make pretty and
comfortable, with nothing showy in it, but with plenty of rooms, and
with that wonderful street in which the Barriere de l'Etoile stands
outside. The amount of rooms is the great thing, and I believe it to be
the place best suited for us, at a not unreasonable price in Paris.
Georgina and Lady Olliffe[22] send their loves. Georgina and I add ours
to Mamey, Katey, the Plorn, and Harry.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/322Charles Dickens
1855-10-19[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
49, AVENUE DES CHAMPS ELYSEES, PARIS,
_Friday, Oct. 19th, 1855._
MY DEAR WILLS,
After going through unheard-of bedevilments (of which you shall have
further particulars as soon as I come right side upwards, which may
happen in a day or two), we are at last established here in a series of
closets, but a great many of them, with all Paris perpetually passing
under the windows. Letters may have been wandering after me to that home
in the Rue de Balzac, which is to be the subject of more lawsuits
between the man who let it to me and the man who wouldn't let me have
possession, than any other house that ever was built. But I have had no
letters at all, and have been--ha, ha!--a maniac since last Monday.
I will try my hand at that paper for H. W. to-morrow, if I can get a
yard of flooring to sit upon; but we have really been in that state of
topsy-turvyhood that even that has been an unattainable luxury, and may
yet be for eight-and-forty hours or so, for anything I see to the
contrary.
Ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/323Charles Dickens
1855-10-21[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
49, AVENUE DES CHAMPS ELYSEES, PARIS,
_Sunday Night, Oct. 21st, 1855._
MY DEAR WILLS,
Coming here from a walk this afternoon, I found your letter of yesterday
awaiting me. I send this reply by my brother Alfred, who is here, and
who returns home to-morrow. You should get it at the office early on
Tuesday.
I will go to work to-morrow, and will send you, please God, an article
by Tuesday's post, which you will get on Wednesday forenoon. Look
carefully to the proof, as I shall not have time to receive it for
correction. When you arrange about sending your parcels, will you
ascertain, and communicate to me, the prices of telegraph messages? It
will save me trouble, having no foreign servant (though French is in
that respect a trump), and may be useful on an emergency.
I have two floors here--_entresol_ and first--in a doll's house, but
really pretty within, and the view without astounding, as you will say
when you come. The house is on the Exposition side, about half a quarter
of a mile above Franconi's, of course on the other side of the way, and
close to the Jardin d'Hiver. Each room has but one window in it, but we
have no fewer than six rooms (besides the back ones) looking on the
Champs Elysees, with the wonderful life perpetually flowing up and down.
We have no spare-room, but excellent stowage for the whole family,
including a capital dressing-room for me, and a really slap-up kitchen
near the stairs. Damage for the whole, seven hundred francs a month.
But, sir--but--when Georgina, the servants, and I were here for the
first night (Catherine and the rest being at Boulogne), I heard Georgy
restless--turned out--asked: "What's the matter?" "Oh, it's dreadfully
dirty. I can't sleep for the smell of my room." Imagine all my
stage-managerial energies multiplied at daybreak by a thousand. Imagine
the porter, the porter's wife, the porter's wife's sister, a feeble
upholsterer of enormous age from round the corner, and all his workmen
(four boys), summoned. Imagine the partners in the proprietorship of the
apartment, and martial little man with Francois-Prussian beard, also
summoned. Imagine your inimitable chief briefly explaining that dirt is
not in his way, and that he is driven to madness, and that he devotes
himself to no coat and a dirty face, until the apartment is thoroughly
purified. Imagine co-proprietors at first astounded, then urging that
"it's not the custom," then wavering, then affected, then confiding
their utmost private sorrows to the Inimitable, offering new carpets
(accepted), embraces (not accepted), and really responding like French
bricks. Sallow, unbrushed, unshorn, awful, stalks the Inimitable through
the apartment until last night. Then all the improvements were
concluded, and I do really believe the place to be now worth eight or
nine hundred francs per month. You must picture it as the smallest place
you ever saw, but as exquisitely cheerful and vivacious, clean as
anything human can be, and with a moving panorama always outside, which
is Paris in itself.
You mention a letter from Miss Coutts as to Mrs. Brown's illness, which
you say is "enclosed to Mrs. Charles Dickens."
It is not enclosed, and I am mad to know where she writes from that I
may write to her. Pray set this right, for her uneasiness will be
greatly intensified if she have no word from me.
I thought we were to give L1,700 for the house at Gad's Hill. Are we
bound to L1,800? Considering the improvements to be made, it is a little
too much, isn't it? I have a strong impression that at the utmost we
were only to divide the difference, and not to pass L1,750. You will set
me right if I am wrong. But I don't think I am.
I write very hastily, with the piano playing and Alfred looking for
this.
Ever, my dear Wills, faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/324Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
49, AVENUE DES CHAMPS ELYSEES,
_Wednesday, Oct. 24th, 1855._
MY DEAR WILLS,
In the Gad's Hill matter, I too would like to try the effect of "not
budging." _So do not go beyond the_ L1,700. Considering what I should
have to expend on the one hand, and the low price of stock on the other,
I do not feel disposed to go beyond that mark. They won't let a
purchaser escape for the sake of the L100, I think. And Austin was
strongly of opinion, when I saw him last, that L1,700 was enough.
You cannot think how pleasant it is to me to find myself generally known
and liked here. If I go into a shop to buy anything, and give my card,
the officiating priest or priestess brightens up, and says: "_Ah! c'est
l'ecrivain celebre! Monsieur porte un nom tres-distingue. Mais! je suis
honore et interesse de voir Monsieur Dick-in. Je lis un des livres de
monsieur tous les jours_" (in the _Moniteur_). And a man who brought
some little vases home last night, said: "_On connait bien en France que
Monsieur Dick-in prend sa position sur la dignite de la litterature. Ah!
c'est grande chose! Et ses caracteres_" (this was to Georgina, while he
unpacked) "_sont si spirituellement tournees! Cette Madame Tojare_"
(Todgers), "_ah! qu'elle est drole et precisement comme une dame que je
connais a Calais._"
You cannot have any doubt about this place, if you will only recollect
it is the great main road from the Place de la Concorde to the Barriere
de l'Etoile.
Ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Monsieur%20Regnier/325Charles Dickens
1855-11-21[Sidenote: Monsieur Regnier.]
_Wednesday, November 21st, 1855._
MY DEAR REGNIER,
In thanking you for the box you kindly sent me the day before yesterday,
let me thank you a thousand times for the delight we derived from the
representation of your beautiful and admirable piece. I have hardly ever
been so affected and interested in any theatre. Its construction is in
the highest degree excellent, the interest absorbing, and the whole
conducted by a masterly hand to a touching and natural conclusion.
Through the whole story from beginning to end, I recognise the true
spirit and feeling of an artist, and I most heartily offer you and your
fellow-labourer my felicitations on the success you have achieved. That
it will prove a very great and a lasting one, I cannot for a moment
doubt.
O my friend! If I could see an English actress with but one hundredth
part of the nature and art of Madame Plessy, I should believe our
English theatre to be in a fair way towards its regeneration. But I have
no hope of ever beholding such a phenomenon. I may as well expect ever
to see upon an English stage an accomplished artist, able to write and
to embody what he writes, like you.
Faithfully yours ever.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Madame%20Viardot/326Charles Dickens
1855-12-03[Sidenote: Madame Viardot.]
49, AVENUE DES CHAMPS ELYSEES, _Monday, Dec. 3rd, 1855._
DEAR MADAME VIARDOT,
Mrs. Dickens tells me that you have only borrowed the first number of
"Little Dorrit," and are going to send it back. Pray do nothing of the
sort, and allow me to have the great pleasure of sending you the
succeeding numbers as they reach me. I have had such delight in your
great genius, and have so high an interest in it and admiration of it,
that I am proud of the honour of giving you a moment's intellectual
pleasure.
Believe me, very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Lavinia%20Watson/327Charles Dickens
1855-12-23[Sidenote: The Hon. Mrs. Watson.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Sunday, Dec. 23rd, 1855._
MY DEAR MRS. WATSON,
I have a moment in which to redeem my promise, of putting you in
possession of my Little Friend No. 2, before the general public. It is,
of course, at the disposal of your circle, but until the month is out,
is understood to be a prisoner in the castle.
If I had time to write anything, I should still quite vainly try to
tell you what interest and happiness I had in once more seeing you among
your dear children. Let me congratulate you on your Eton boys. They are
so handsome, frank, and genuinely modest, that they charmed me. A kiss
to the little fair-haired darling and the rest; the love of my heart to
every stone in the old house.
Enormous effect at Sheffield. But really not a better audience
perceptively than at Peterboro', for that could hardly be, but they were
more enthusiastically demonstrative, and they took the line, "and to
Tiny Tim who did NOT die," with a most prodigious shout and roll of
thunder.
Ever, my dear Friend, most faithfully yours.
FOOTNOTES:
[21] Captain Cavendish Boyle was governor of the military prison at
Weedon.
[22] Wife of the late Sir Joseph Olliffe, Physician to the British
Embassy.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/328Charles Dickens
1856-01-06[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
49, CHAMPS ELYSEES, _Sunday, Jan. 6th, 1856._
MY DEAR WILLS,
I should like Morley to do a Strike article, and to work into it the
greater part of what is here. But I cannot represent myself as holding
the opinion that all strikes among this unhappy class of society, who
find it so difficult to get a peaceful hearing, are always necessarily
wrong, because I don't think so. To open a discussion of the question
by saying that the men are "_of course_ entirely and painfully in the
wrong," surely would be monstrous in any one. Show them to be in the
wrong here, but in the name of the eternal heavens show why, upon the
merits of this question. Nor can I possibly adopt the representation
that these men are wrong because by throwing themselves out of work they
throw other people, possibly without their consent. If such a principle
had anything in it, there could have been no civil war, no raising by
Hampden of a troop of horse, to the detriment of Buckinghamshire
agriculture, no self-sacrifice in the political world. And O, good God,
when ---- treats of the suffering of wife and children, can he suppose
that these mistaken men don't feel it in the depths of their hearts, and
don't honestly and honourably, most devoutly and faithfully believe that
for those very children, when they shall have children, they are bearing
all these miseries now!
I hear from Mrs. Fillonneau that her husband was obliged to leave town
suddenly before he could get your parcel, consequently he has not
brought it; and White's sovereigns--unless you have got them back
again--are either lying out of circulation somewhere, or are being spent
by somebody else. I will write again on Tuesday. My article is to begin
the enclosed.
Ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Mark%20Lemon/329Charles Dickens
1856-01-07[Sidenote: Mr. Mark Lemon.]
49, CHAMPS ELYSEES, PARIS, _Monday, Jan. 7th, 1856._
MY DEAR MARK,
I want to know how "Jack and the Beanstalk" goes. I have a notion from a
notice--a favourable notice, however--which I saw in _Galignani_, that
Webster has let down the comic business.
In a piece at the Ambigu, called the "Rentree a Paris," a mere scene in
honour of the return of the troops from the Crimea the other day, there
is a novelty which I think it worth letting you know of, as it is easily
available, either for a serious or a comic interest--the introduction of
a supposed electric telegraph. The scene is the railway terminus at
Paris, with the electric telegraph office on the prompt side, and the
clerks _with their backs to the audience_--much more real than if they
were, as they infallibly would be, staring about the house--working the
needles; and the little bell perpetually ringing. There are assembled to
greet the soldiers, all the easily and naturally imagined elements of
interest--old veteran fathers, young children, agonised mothers, sisters
and brothers, girl lovers--each impatient to know of his or her own
object of solicitude. Enter to these a certain marquis, full of sympathy
for all, who says: "My friends, I am one of you. My brother has no
commission yet. He is a common soldier. I wait for him as well as all
brothers and sisters here wait for _their_ brothers. Tell me whom you
are expecting." Then they all tell him. Then he goes into the
telegraph-office, and sends a message down the line to know how long the
troops will be. Bell rings. Answer handed out on slip of paper. "Delay
on the line. Troops will not arrive for a quarter of an hour." General
disappointment. "But we have this brave electric telegraph, my friends,"
says the marquis. "Give me your little messages, and I'll send them
off." General rush round the marquis. Exclamations: "How's Henri?" "My
love to Georges;" "Has Guillaume forgotten Elise?" "Is my son wounded?"
"Is my brother promoted?" etc. etc. Marquis composes tumult. Sends
message--such a regiment, such a company--"Elise's love to Georges."
Little bell rings, slip of paper handed out--"Georges in ten minutes
will embrace his Elise. Sends her a thousand kisses." Marquis sends
message--such a regiment, such a company--"Is my son wounded?" Little
bell rings. Slip of paper handed out--"No. He has not yet upon him those
marks of bravery in the glorious service of his country which his dear
old father bears" (father being lamed and invalided). Last of all, the
widowed mother. Marquis sends message--such a regiment, such a
company--"Is my only son safe?" Little bell rings. Slip of paper handed
out--"He was first upon the heights of Alma." General cheer. Bell rings
again, another slip of paper handed out. "He was made a sergeant at
Inkermann." Another cheer. Bell rings again, another slip of paper
handed out. "He was made colour-sergeant at Sebastopol." Another cheer.
Bell rings again, another slip of paper handed out. "He was the first
man who leaped with the French banner on the Malakhoff tower."
Tremendous cheer. Bell rings again, another slip of paper handed out.
"But he was struck down there by a musket-ball, and----Troops have
proceeded. Will arrive in half a minute after this." Mother abandons all
hope; general commiseration; troops rush in, down a platform; son only
wounded, and embraces her.
As I have said, and as you will see, this is available for any purpose.
But done with equal distinction and rapidity, it is a tremendous effect,
and got by the simplest means in the world. There is nothing in the
piece, but it was impossible not to be moved and excited by the
telegraph part of it.
I hope you have seen something of Stanny, and have been to pantomimes
with him, and have drunk to the absent Dick. I miss you, my dear old
boy, at the play, woefully, and miss the walk home, and the partings at
the corner of Tavistock Square. And when I go by myself, I come home
stewing "Little Dorrit" in my head; and the best part of _my_ play is
(or ought to be) in Gordon Street.
I have written to Beaucourt about taking that breezy house--a little
improved--for the summer, and I hope you and yours will come there often
and stay there long. My present idea, if nothing should arise to unroot
me sooner, is to stay here until the middle of May, then plant the
family at Boulogne, and come with Catherine and Georgy home for two or
three weeks. When I shall next run across I don't know, but I suppose
next month.
We are up to our knees in mud here. Literally in vehement despair, I
walked down the avenue outside the Barriere de l'Etoile here yesterday,
and went straight on among the trees. I came back with top-boots of mud
on. Nothing will cleanse the streets. Numbers of men and women are for
ever scooping and sweeping in them, and they are always one lake of
yellow mud. All my trousers go to the tailor's every day, and are
ravelled out at the heels every night. Washing is awful.
Tell Mrs. Lemon, with my love, that I have bought her some Eau d'Or, in
grateful remembrance of her knowing what it is, and crushing the tyrant
of her existence by resolutely refusing to be put down when that monster
would have silenced her. You may imagine the loves and messages that are
now being poured in upon me by all of them, so I will give none of them;
though I am pretending to be very scrupulous about it, and am looking (I
have no doubt) as if I were writing them down with the greatest care.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Wilkie%20Collins/330Charles Dickens
1856-01-19[Sidenote: Mr. W. Wilkie Collins.]
49, CHAMPS ELYSEES, _Saturday, Jan. 19th, 1856._
MY DEAR COLLINS,
I had no idea you were so far on with your book, and heartily
congratulate you on being within sight of land.
It is excessively pleasant to me to get your letter, as it opens a
perspective of theatrical and other lounging evenings, and also of
articles in "Household Words." It will not be the first time that we
shall have got on well in Paris, and I hope it will not be by many a
time the last.
I purpose coming over, early in February (as soon, in fact, as I shall
have knocked out No. 5 of "Little D."), and therefore we can return in a
jovial manner together. As soon as I know my day of coming over, I will
write to you again, and (as the merchants--say Charley--would add)
"communicate same" to you.
The lodging, _en garcon_, shall be duly looked up, and I shall of course
make a point of finding it close here. There will be no difficulty in
that. I will have concluded the treaty before starting for London, and
will take it by the month, both because that is the cheapest way, and
because desirable places don't let for shorter terms.
I have been sitting to Scheffer to-day--conceive this, if you please,
with No. 5 upon my soul--four hours!! I am so addleheaded and bored,
that if you were here, I should propose an instantaneous rush to the
Trois Freres. Under existing circumstances I have no consolation.
I think THE portrait[23] is the most astounding thing ever beheld upon
this globe. It has been shrieked over by the united family as "Oh! the
very image!" I went down to the _entresol_ the moment I opened it, and
submitted it to the Plorn--then engaged, with a half-franc musket, in
capturing a Malakhoff of chairs. He looked at it very hard, and gave it
as his opinion that it was Misser Hegg. We suppose him to have
confounded the Colonel with Jollins. I met Madame Georges Sand the other
day at a dinner got up by Madame Viardot for that great purpose. The
human mind cannot conceive any one more astonishingly opposed to all my
preconceptions. If I had been shown her in a state of repose, and asked
what I thought her to be, I should have said: "The Queen's monthly
nurse." _Au reste_, she has nothing of the _bas bleu_ about her, and is
very quiet and agreeable.
The way in which mysterious Frenchmen call and want to embrace me,
suggests to any one who knows me intimately, such infamous lurking,
slinking, getting behind doors, evading, lying--so much mean resort to
craven flights, dastard subterfuges, and miserable poltroonery--on my
part, that I merely suggest the arrival of cards like this:
[Illustration: HW:
Horgues
homme de lettres
or
Drouse
membre de l'Institut
or
Cregibus Patalanternois
Ecole des Beaux arts
--every five minutes. Books also arrive with, on the flyleaf,
Jaubaud
Hommage a l'illustre romancier d'Angleterre
Charles De Kean.]
--and I then write letters of terrific _empressement_, with assurances
of all sorts of profound considerations, and never by any chance become
visible to the naked eye.
At the Porte St. Martin they are doing the "Orestes," put into French
verse by Alexandre Dumas. Really one of the absurdest things I ever saw.
The scene of the tomb, with all manner of classical females, in black,
grouping themselves on the lid, and on the steps, and on each other, and
in every conceivable aspect of obtrusive impossibility, is just like the
window of one of those artists in hair, who address the friends of
deceased persons. To-morrow week a fete is coming off at the Jardin
d'Hiver, next door but one here, which I must certainly go to. The fete
of the company of the Folies Nouvelles! The ladies of the company are to
keep stalls, and are to sell to Messieurs the Amateurs orange-water and
lemonade. Paul le Grand is to promenade among the company, dressed as
Pierrot. Kalm, the big-faced comic singer, is to do the like, dressed as
a Russian Cossack. The entertainments are to conclude with "La Polka des
Betes feroces, par la Troupe entiere des Folies Nouvelles." I wish,
without invasion of the rights of British subjects, or risk of war, ----
could be seized by French troops, brought over, and made to assist.
The _appartement_ has not grown any bigger since you last had the joy of
beholding me, and upon my honour and word I live in terror of asking
---- to dinner, lest she should not be able to get in at the dining-room
door. I _think_ (am not sure) the dining-room would hold her, if she
could be once passed in, but I don't see my way to that. Nevertheless,
we manage our own family dinners very snugly there, and have good ones,
as I think you will say, every day at half-past five.
I have a notion that we may knock out a _series_ of descriptions for H.
W. without much trouble. It is very difficult to get into the
Catacombs, but my name is so well known here that I think I may succeed.
I find that the guillotine can be got set up in private, like Punch's
show. What do you think of _that_ for an article? I find myself
underlining words constantly. It is not my nature. It is mere imbecility
after the four hours' sitting.
All unite in kindest remembrances to you, your mother and brother.
Ever cordially.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Mary%20Boyle/331Charles Dickens
1856-01-28[Sidenote: Miss Mary Boyle.]
49, CHAMPS ELYSEES, PARIS, _Jan. 28th, 1856._
MY DEAR MARY,
I am afraid you will think me an abandoned ruffian for not having
acknowledged your more than handsome warm-hearted letter before now.
But, as usual, I have been so occupied, and so glad to get up from my
desk and wallow in the mud (at present about six feet deep here), that
pleasure correspondence is just the last thing in the world I have had
leisure to take to. Business correspondence with all sorts and
conditions of men and women, O my Mary! is one of the dragons I am
perpetually fighting; and the more I throw it, the more it stands upon
its hind legs, rampant, and throws me.
Yes, on that bright cold morning when I left Peterboro', I felt that the
best thing I could do was to say that word that I would do anything in
an honest way to avoid saying, at one blow, and make off. I was so sorry
to leave you all! You can scarcely imagine what a chill and blank I felt
on that Monday evening at Rockingham. It was so sad to me, and
engendered a constraint so melancholy and peculiar, that I doubt if I
were ever much more out of sorts in my life. Next morning, when it was
light and sparkling out of doors, I felt more at home again. But when I
came in from seeing poor dear Watson's grave, Mrs. Watson asked me to go
up in the gallery, which I had last seen in the days of our merry play.
We went up, and walked into the very part he had made and was so fond
of, and she looked out of one window and I looked out of another, and
for the life of me I could not decide in my own heart whether I should
console or distress her by going and taking her hand, and saying
something of what was naturally in my mind. So I said nothing, and we
came out again, and on the whole perhaps it was best; for I have no
doubt we understood each other very well without speaking a word.
Sheffield was a tremendous success and an admirable audience. They made
me a present of table-cutlery after the reading was over; and I came
away by the mail-train within three-quarters of an hour, changing my
dress and getting on my wrappers partly in the fly, partly at the inn,
partly on the platform. When we got among the Lincolnshire fens it began
to snow. That changed to sleet, that changed to rain; the frost was all
gone as we neared London, and the mud has all come. At two or three
o'clock in the morning I stopped at Peterboro' again, and thought of you
all disconsolately. The lady in the refreshment-room was very hard upon
me, harder even than those fair enslavers usually are. She gave me a cup
of tea, as if I were a hyena and she my cruel keeper with a strong
dislike to me. I mingled my tears with it, and had a petrified bun of
enormous antiquity in miserable meekness.
It is clear to me that climates are gradually assimilating over a great
part of the world, and that in the most miserable part of our year there
is very little to choose between London and Paris, except that London is
not so muddy. I have never seen dirtier or worse weather than we have
had here since I returned. In desperation I went out to the Barrieres
last Sunday on a headlong walk, and came back with my very eyebrows
smeared with mud. Georgina is usually invisible during the walking time
of the day. A turned-up nose may be seen in the midst of splashes, but
nothing more.
I am settling to work again, and my horrible restlessness immediately
assails me. It belongs to such times. As I was writing the preceding
page, it suddenly came into my head that I would get up and go to
Calais. I don't know why; the moment I got there I should want to go
somewhere else. But, as my friend the Boots says (see Christmas number
"Household Words"): "When you come to think what a game you've been up
to ever since you was in your own cradle, and what a poor sort of a chap
you were, and how it's always yesterday with you, or else to-morrow, and
never to-day, that's where it is."
My dear Mary, would you favour me with the name and address of the
professor that taught you writing, for I want to improve myself? Many a
hand have I seen with many characteristics of beauty in it--some loopy,
some dashy, some large, some small, some sloping to the right, some
sloping to the left, some not sloping at all; but what I like in _your_
hand, Mary, is its plainness, it is like print. Them as runs may read
just as well as if they stood still. I should have thought it was
copper-plate if I hadn't known you. They send all sorts of messages from
here, and so do I, with my best regards to Bedgy and pardner and the
blessed babbies. When shall we meet again, I wonder, and go somewhere!
Ah!
Believe me ever, my dear Mary,
Yours truly and affectionately,
Joe.
(That doesn't look plain.)
JOE.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/332Charles Dickens
1856-03-03[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
"HOUSEHOLD WORDS," _Friday, Feb. 8th, 1856._
MY DEAR GEORGY,
I must write this at railroad speed, for I have been at it all day, and
have numbers of letters to cram into the next half-hour. I began the
morning in the City, for the Theatrical Fund; went on to Shepherd's
Bush; came back to leave cards for Mr. Baring and Mr. Bates; ran across
Piccadilly to Stratton Street, stayed there an hour, and shot off here.
I have been in four cabs to-day, at a cost of thirteen shillings. Am
going to dine with Mark and Webster at half-past four, and finish the
evening at the Adelphi.
The dinner was very successful. Charley was in great force, and floored
Peter Cunningham and the Audit Office on a question about some bill
transactions with Baring's. The other guests were B. and E., Shirley
Brooks, Forster, and that's all. The dinner admirable. I never had a
better. All the wine I sent down from Tavistock House. Anne waited, and
looked well and happy, very much brighter altogether. It gave me great
pleasure to see her so improved. Just before dinner I got all the
letters from home. They could not have arrived more opportunely.
The godfather's present looks charming now it is engraved, and John is
just now going off to take it to Mrs. Yates. To-morrow Wills and I are
going to Gad's Hill. It will occupy the whole day, and will just leave
me time to get home to dress for dinner.
And that's all that I have to say, except that the first number of
"Little Dorrit" has gone to forty thousand, and the other one fast
following.
My best love to Catherine, and to Mamey and Katey, and Walter and Harry,
and the noble Plorn. I am grieved to hear about his black eye, and fear
that I shall find it in the green and purple state on my return.
Ever affectionately.
THE HUMBLE PETITION OF CHARLES DICKENS, A DISTRESSED FOREIGNER,
SHEWETH,
That your Petitioner has not been able to write one word to-day, or to
fashion forth the dimmest shade of the faintest ghost of an idea.
That your Petitioner is therefore desirous of being taken out, and is
not at all particular where.
That your Petitioner, being imbecile, says no more. But will ever, etc.
(whatever that may be).
PARIS, _March 3rd, 1856._http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Douglas%20Jerrold/333Charles Dickens
1856-03-06[Sidenote: Mr. Douglas Jerrold.]
"HOUSEHOLD WORDS" OFFICE, _March 6th, 1856._
MY DEAR JERROLD,
Buckstone has been with me to-day in a state of demi-semi-distraction,
by reason of Macready's dreading his asthma so much as to excuse himself
(of necessity, I know) from taking the chair for the fund on the
occasion of their next dinner. I have promised to back Buckstone's
entreaty to you to take it; and although I know that you have an
objection which you once communicated to me, I still hold (as I did
then) that it is a reason _for_ and not against. Pray reconsider the
point. Your position in connection with dramatic literature has always
suggested to me that there would be a great fitness and grace in your
appearing in this post. I am convinced that the public would regard it
in that light, and I particularly ask you to reflect that we never can
do battle with the Lords, if we will not bestow ourselves to go into
places which they have long monopolised. Now pray discuss this matter
with yourself once more. If you can come to a favourable conclusion I
shall be really delighted, and will of course come from Paris to be by
you; if you cannot come to a favourable conclusion I shall be really
sorry, though I of course most readily defer to your right to regard
such a matter from your own point of view.
Ever faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/334Charles Dickens
[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
"HOUSEHOLD WORDS" OFFICE, _Tuesday, March 11th, 1856_.[24]
MY DEAR GEORGY,
I have been in bed half the day with my cold, which is excessively
violent, consequently have to write in a great hurry to save the post.
Tell Catherine that I have the most prodigious, overwhelming, crushing,
astounding, blinding, deafening, pulverising, scarifying secret, of
which Forster is the hero, imaginable by the whole efforts of the whole
British population. It is a thing of that kind that, after I knew it,
(from himself) this morning, I lay down flat as if an engine and tender
had fallen upon me.
Love to Catherine (not a word of Forster before anyone else), and to
Mamey, Katey, Harry, and the noble Plorn. Tell Collins with my kind
regards that Forster has just pronounced to me that "Collins is a
decidedly clever fellow." I hope he is a better fellow in health, too.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/335Charles Dickens
1856-03-14[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
"HOUSEHOLD WORDS," _Friday, March 14th, 1856._
MY DEAR GEORGY,
I am amazed to hear of the snow (I don't know why, but it excited John
this morning beyond measure); though we have had the same east wind
here, and _the_ cold and _my_ cold have both been intense.
Yesterday evening Webster, Mark, Stanny, and I went to the Olympic,
where the Wigans ranged us in a row in a gorgeous and immense private
box, and where we saw "Still Waters Run Deep." I laughed (in a
conspicuous manner) to that extent at Emery, when he received the
dinner-company, that the people were more amused by me than by the
piece. I don't think I ever saw anything meant to be funny that struck
me as so extraordinarily droll. I couldn't get over it at all. After the
piece we went round, by Wigan's invitation, to drink with him. It being
positively impossible to get Stanny off the stage, we stood in the wings
during the burlesque. Mrs. Wigan seemed really glad to see her old
manager, and the company overwhelmed him with embraces. They had nearly
all been at the meeting in the morning.
I have seen Charley only twice since I came to London, having regularly
been in bed until mid-day. To my amazement, my eye fell upon him at the
Adelphi yesterday.
This day I have paid the purchase-money for Gad's Hill Place. After
drawing the cheque, I turned round to give it to Wills (L1,790), and
said: "Now isn't it an extraordinary thing--look at the day--Friday! I
have been nearly drawing it half-a-dozen times, when the lawyers have
not been ready, and here it comes round upon a Friday, as a matter of
course."
Kiss the noble Plorn a dozen times for me, and tell him I drank his
health yesterday, and wished him many happy returns of the day; also
that I hope he will not have broken all his toys before I come back.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/336Charles Dickens
1856-03-22[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
49, CHAMPS ELYSEES, PARIS, _Saturday, March 22nd, 1856._
MY DEAR MACREADY,
I want you--you being quite well again, as I trust you are, and resolute
to come to Paris--so to arrange your order of march as to let me know
beforehand when you will come, and how long you will stay. We owe Scribe
and his wife a dinner, and I should like to pay the debt when you are
with us. Ary Scheffer too would be delighted to see you again. If I
could arrange for a certain day I would secure them. We cannot afford
(you and I, I mean) to keep much company, because we shall have to look
in at a theatre or so, I daresay!
It would suit my work best, if I could keep myself clear until Monday,
the 7th of April. But in case that day should be too late for the
beginning of your brief visit with a deference to any other engagements
you have in contemplation, then fix an earlier one, and I will make
"Little Dorrit" curtsy to it. My recent visit to London and my having
only just now come back have thrown me a little behindhand; but I hope
to come up with a wet sail in a few days.
You should have seen the ruins of Covent Garden Theatre. I went in the
moment I got to London--four days after the fire. Although the audience
part and the stage were so tremendously burnt out that there was not a
piece of wood half the size of a lucifer-match for the eye to rest on,
though nothing whatever remained but bricks and smelted iron lying on a
great black desert, the theatre still looked so wonderfully like its
old self grown gigantic that I never saw so strange a sight. The wall
dividing the front from the stage still remained, and the iron
pass-doors stood ajar in an impossible and inaccessible frame. The
arches that supported the stage were there, and the arches that
supported the pit; and in the centre of the latter lay something like a
Titanic grape-vine that a hurricane had pulled up by the roots, twisted,
and flung down there; this was the great chandelier. Gye had kept the
men's wardrobe at the top of the house over the great entrance
staircase; when the roof fell in it came down bodily, and all that part
of the ruins was like an old Babylonic pavement, bright rays tesselating
the black ground, sometimes in pieces so large that I could make out the
clothes in the "Trovatore."
I should run on for a couple of hours if I had to describe the spectacle
as I saw it, wherefore I will immediately muzzle myself. All here unite
in kindest loves to dear Miss Macready, to Katie, Lillie, Benvenuta, my
godson, and the noble Johnny. We are charmed to hear such happy accounts
of Willy and Ned, and send our loving remembrance to them in the next
letters. All Parisian novelties you shall see and hear for yourself.
Ever, my dearest Macready,
Your affectionate Friend.
P.S.--Mr. F.'s aunt sends her defiant respects.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/337Charles Dickens
1856-03-27[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
49, AVENUE DES CHAMPS ELYSEES, PARIS,
_Thursday Night, March 27th, 1856 (after post time)._
MY DEAREST MACREADY,
If I had had any idea of your coming (see how naturally I use the word
when I am three hundred miles off!) to London so soon, I would never
have written one word about the jump over next week. I am vexed that I
did so, but as I did I will not now propose a change in the
arrangements, as I know how methodical you tremendously old fellows are.
That's your secret I suspect. That's the way in which the blood of the
Mirabels mounts in your aged veins, even at your time of life.
How charmed I shall be to see you, and we all shall be, I will not
attempt to say. On that expected Sunday you will lunch at Amiens but not
dine, because we shall wait dinner for you, and you will merely have to
tell that driver in the glazed hat to come straight here. When the
Whites left I added their little apartment to this little apartment,
consequently you shall have a snug bedroom (is it not waiting expressly
for you?) overlooking the Champs Elysees. As to the arm-chair in my
heart, no man on earth----but, good God! you know all about it.
You will find us in the queerest of little rooms all alone, except that
the son of Collins the painter (who writes a good deal in "Household
Words") dines with us every day. Scheffer and Scribe shall be admitted
for one evening, because they know how to appreciate you. The Emperor we
will not ask unless you expressly wish it; it makes a fuss.
If you have no appointed hotel at Boulogne, go to the Hotel des Bains,
there demand "Marguerite," and tell her that I commended you to her
special care. It is the best house within my experience in France;
Marguerite the best housekeeper in the world.
I shall charge at "Little Dorrit" to-morrow with new spirits. The sight
of you is good for my boyish eyes, and the thought of you for my dawning
mind. Give the enclosed lines a welcome, then send them on to Sherborne.
Ever yours most affectionately and truly.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/338Charles Dickens
1856-04-06[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
49, CHAMPS ELYSEES, PARIS, _Sunday, April 6th, 1856._
MY DEAR WILLS,
CHRISTMAS.
Collins and I have a mighty original notion (mine in the beginning) for
another play at Tavistock House. I propose opening on Twelfth Night the
theatrical season of that great establishment. But now a tremendous
question.
Is
MRS. WILLS!
game to do a Scotch housekeeper, in a supposed country-house, with Mary,
Katey, Georgina, etc.? If she can screw her courage up to saying "Yes,"
that country-house opens the piece in a singular way, and that Scotch
housekeeper's part shall flow from the present pen. If she says "No"
(but she won't), no Scotch housekeeper can be. The Tavistock House
season of four nights pauses for a reply. Scotch song (new and original)
of Scotch housekeeper would pervade the piece.
YOU
had better pause for breath.
Ever faithfully.
POOLE.
I have paid him his money. Here is the proof of life. If you will get me
the receipt to sign, the money can go to my account at Coutts's.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Catherine%20Dickens/339Charles Dickens
1856-05-05[Sidenote: Mrs. Charles Dickens.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Monday, May 5th, 1856._
MY DEAR CATHERINE,
I did nothing at Dover (except for "Household Words"), and have not
begun "Little Dorrit," No. 8, yet. But I took twenty-mile walks in the
fresh air, and perhaps in the long run did better than if I had been at
work. The report concerning Scheffer's portrait I had from Ward. It is
in the best place in the largest room, but I find the _general_
impression of the artists exactly mine. They almost all say that it
wants something; that nobody could mistake whom it was meant for, but
that it has something disappointing in it, etc. etc. Stanfield likes it
better than any of the other painters, I think. His own picture is
magnificent. And Frith, in a "Little Child's Birthday Party," is quite
delightful. There are many interesting pictures. When you see Scheffer,
tell him from me that Eastlake, in his speech at the dinner, referred to
the portrait as "a contribution from a distinguished man of genius in
France, worthy of himself and of his subject."
I did the maddest thing last night, and am deeply penitent this morning.
We stayed at Webster's till any hour, and they wanted me, at last, to
make punch, which couldn't be done when the jug was brought, because (to
Webster's burning indignation) there was only one lemon in the house.
Hereupon I then and there besought the establishment in general to come
and drink punch on Thursday night, after the play; on which occasion it
will become necessary to furnish fully the table with some cold viands
from Fortnum and Mason's. Mark has looked in since I began this note, to
suggest that the great festival may come off at "Household Words"
instead. I am inclined to think it a good idea, and that I shall
transfer the locality to that business establishment. But I am at
present distracted with doubts and torn by remorse.
The school-room and dining-room I have brought into habitable condition
and comfortable appearance. Charley and I breakfast at half-past eight,
and meet again at dinner when he does not dine in the City, or has no
engagement. He looks very well.
The audiences at Gye's are described to me as absolute marvels of
coldness. No signs of emotion can be hammered, out of them. Panizzi sat
next me at the Academy dinner, and took it very ill that I disparaged
----. The amateurs here are getting up another pantomime, but quarrel so
violently among themselves that I doubt its ever getting on the stage.
Webster expounded his scheme for rebuilding the Adelphi to Stanfield and
myself last night, and I felt bound to tell him that I thought it wrong
from beginning to end. This is all the theatrical news I know.
I write by this post to Georgy. Love to Mamey, Katey, Harry, and the
noble Plorn. I should be glad to see him here.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/340Charles Dickens
1856-05-05[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Monday, May 5th, 1856._
MY DEAR GEORGY,
You will not be much surprised to hear that I have done nothing yet
(except for H. W.), and have only just settled down into a corner of the
school-room. The extent to which John and I wallowed in dust for four
hours yesterday morning, getting things neat and comfortable about us,
you may faintly imagine. At four in the afternoon came Stanfield, to
whom I no sooner described the notion of the new play, than he
immediately upset all my new arrangements by making a proscenium of the
chairs, and planning the scenery with walking-sticks. One of the least
things he did was getting on the top of the long table, and hanging over
the bar in the middle window where that top sash opens, as if he had got
a hinge in the middle of his body. He is immensely excited on the
subject. Mark had a farce ready for the managerial perusal, but it won't
do.
I went to the Dover theatre on Friday night, which was a miserable
spectacle. The pit is boarded over, and it is a drinking and smoking
place. It was "for the benefit of Mrs. ----," and the town had been very
extensively placarded with "Don't forget Friday." I made out four and
ninepence (I am serious) in the house, when I went in. We may have
warmed up in the course of the evening to twelve shillings. A Jew played
the grand piano; Mrs. ---- sang no end of songs (with not a bad voice,
poor creature); Mr. ---- sang comic songs fearfully, and danced clog
hornpipes capitally; and a miserable woman, shivering in a shawl and
bonnet, sat in the side-boxes all the evening, nursing Master ----, aged
seven months. It was a most forlorn business, and I should have
contributed a sovereign to the treasury, if I had known how.
I walked to Deal and back that day, and on the previous day walked over
the downs towards Canterbury in a gale of wind. It was better than still
weather after all, being wonderfully fresh and free.
If the Plorn were sitting at this school-room window in the corner, he
would see more cats in an hour than he ever saw in his life. _I_ never
saw so many, I think, as I have seen since yesterday morning.
There is a painful picture of a great deal of merit (Egg has bought it)
in the exhibition, painted by the man who did those little interiors of
Forster's. It is called "The Death of Chatterton." The dead figure is a
good deal like Arthur Stone; and I was touched on Saturday to see that
tender old file standing before it, crying under his spectacles at the
idea of seeing his son dead. It was a very tender manifestation of his
gentle old heart.
This sums up my news, which is no news at all. Kiss the Plorn for me,
and expound to him that I am always looking forward to meeting him
again, among the birds and flowers in the garden on the side of the hill
at Boulogne.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Duke%20of%20Devonshire/341Charles Dickens
1856-06-01[Sidenote: The Duke of Devonshire.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Sunday, June 1st, 1856._
MY DEAR DUKE OF DEVONSHIRE,
Allow me to thank you with all my heart for your kind remembrance of me
on Thursday night. My house was already engaged to Miss Coutts's, and I
to--the top of St. Paul's, where the sight was most wonderful! But
seeing that your cards gave me leave to present some person not named, I
conferred them on my excellent friend Dr. Elliotson, whom I found with
some fireworkless little boys in a desolate condition, and raised to the
seventh heaven of happiness. You are so fond of making people happy,
that I am sure you approve.
Always your faithful and much obliged.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Wilkie%20Collins/342Charles Dickens
1856-06-06[Sidenote: Mr. W. Wilkie Collins.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _June 6th, 1856._
MY DEAR COLLINS,
I have never seen anything about myself in print which has much
correctness in it--any biographical account of myself I mean. I do not
supply such particulars when I am asked for them by editors and
compilers, simply because I am asked for them every day. If you want to
prime Forgues, you may tell him without fear of anything wrong, that I
was born at Portsmouth on the 7th of February, 1812; that my father was
in the Navy Pay Office; that I was taken by him to Chatham when I was
very young, and lived and was educated there till I was twelve or
thirteen, I suppose; that I was then put to a school near London, where
(as at other places) I distinguished myself like a brick; that I was
put in the office of a solicitor, a friend of my father's, and didn't
much like it; and after a couple of years (as well as I can remember)
applied myself with a celestial or diabolical energy to the study of
such things as would qualify me to be a first-rate parliamentary
reporter--at that time a calling pursued by many clever men who were
young at the Bar; that I made my debut in the gallery (at about
eighteen, I suppose), engaged on a voluminous publication no longer in
existence, called _The Mirror of Parliament_; that when _The Morning
Chronicle_ was purchased by Sir John Easthope and acquired a large
circulation, I was engaged there, and that I remained there until I had
begun to publish "Pickwick," when I found myself in a condition to
relinquish that part of my labours; that I left the reputation behind me
of being the best and most rapid reporter ever known, and that I could
do anything in that way under any sort of circumstances, and often did.
(I daresay I am at this present writing the best shorthand writer in the
world.)
That I began, without any interest or introduction of any kind, to write
fugitive pieces for the old "Monthly Magazine," when I was in the
gallery for _The Mirror of Parliament_; that my faculty for descriptive
writing was seized upon the moment I joined _The Morning Chronicle_, and
that I was liberally paid there and handsomely acknowledged, and wrote
the greater part of the short descriptive "Sketches by BOZ" in that
paper; that I had been a writer when I was a mere baby, and always an
actor from the same age; that I married the daughter of a writer to the
signet in Edinburgh, who was the great friend and assistant of Scott,
and who first made Lockhart known to him.
And that here I am.
Finally, if you want any dates of publication of books, tell Wills and
he'll get them for you.
This is the first time I ever set down even these particulars, and,
glancing them over, I feel like a wild beast in a caravan describing
himself in the keeper's absence.
Ever faithfully.
P.S.--I made a speech last night at the London Tavern, at the end of
which all the company sat holding their napkins to their eyes with one
hand, and putting the other into their pockets. A hundred people or so
contributed nine hundred pounds then and there.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Mark%20Lemon/343Charles Dickens
1856-06-15[Sidenote: Mr. Mark Lemon.]
VILLA DES MOULINEAUX, BOULOGNE,
_Sunday, June 15th 1856._
MY DEAR OLD BOY,
This place is beautiful--a burst of roses. Your friend Beaucourt (who
_will not_ put on his hat), has thinned the trees and greatly improved
the garden. Upon my life, I believe there are at least twenty distinct
smoking-spots expressly made in it.
And as soon as you can see your day in next month for coming over with
Stanny and Webster, will you let them both know? I should not be very
much surprised if I were to come over and fetch you, when I know what
your day is. Indeed, I don't see how you could get across properly
without me.
There is a fete here to-night in honour of the Imperial baptism, and
there will be another to-morrow. The Plorn has put on two bits of ribbon
(one pink and one blue), which he calls "companys," to celebrate the
occasion. The fact that the receipts of the fetes are to be given to the
sufferers by the late floods reminds me that you will find at the
passport office a tin-box, condescendingly and considerately labelled in
English:
FOR THE OVERFLOWINGS,
which the chief officer clearly believes to mean, for the sufferers from
the inundations.
I observe more Mingles in the laundresses' shops, and one inscription,
which looks like the name of a duet or chorus in a playbill, "Here they
mingle."
Will you congratulate Mrs. Lemon, with our loves, on her gallant victory
over the recreant cabman?
Walter has turned up, rather brilliant on the whole; and that (with
shoals of remembrances and messages which I don't deliver) is all my
present intelligence.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Mark%20Lemon/344Charles Dickens
1856-07-02[Sidenote: Mr. Mark Lemon.]
H. W. OFFICE, _July 2nd, 1856._
MY DEAR MARK,
I am concerned to hear that you are ill, that you sit down before fires
and shiver, and that you have stated times for doing so, like the demons
in the melodramas, and that you mean to take a week to get well in.
Make haste about it, like a dear fellow, and keep up your spirits,
because I have made a bargain with Stanny and Webster that they shall
come to Boulogne to-morrow week, Thursday the 10th, and stay a week. And
you know how much pleasure we shall all miss if you are not among us--at
least for some part of the time.
If you find any unusually light appearance in the air at Brighton, it is
a distant refraction (I have no doubt) of the gorgeous and shining
surface of Tavistock House, now transcendently painted. The theatre
partition is put up, and is a work of such terrific solidity, that I
suppose it will be dug up, ages hence, from the ruins of London, by
that Australian of Macaulay's who is to be impressed by its ashes. I
have wandered through the spectral halls of the Tavistock mansion two
nights, with feelings of the profoundest depression. I have breakfasted
there, like a criminal in Pentonville (only not so well). It is more
like Westminster Abbey by midnight than the lowest-spirited man--say you
at present for example--can well imagine.
There has been a wonderful robbery at Folkestone, by the new manager of
the Pavilion, who succeeded Giovannini. He had in keeping L16,000 of a
foreigner's, and bolted with it, as he supposed, but in reality with
only L1,400 of it. The Frenchman had previously bolted with the whole,
which was the property of his mother. With him to England the Frenchman
brought a "lady," who was, all the time and at the same time,
endeavouring to steal all the money from him and bolt with it herself.
The details are amazing, and all the money (a few pounds excepted) has
been got back.
They will be full of sympathy and talk about you when I get home, and I
shall tell them that I send their loves beforehand. They are all
enclosed. The moment you feel hearty, just write me that word by post. I
shall be so delighted to receive it.
Ever, my dear Boy, your affectionate Friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Walter%20Savage%20Landor/345Charles Dickens
1856-07-05[Sidenote: Mr. Walter Savage Landor.]
VILLA DES MOULINEAUX, BOULOGNE,
_Saturday Evening, July 5th, 1856._
MY DEAR LANDOR,
I write to you so often in my books, and my writing of letters is
usually so confined to the numbers that I _must_ write, and in which I
have no kind of satisfaction, that I am afraid to think how long it is
since we exchanged a direct letter. But talking to your namesake this
very day at dinner, it suddenly entered my head that I would come into
my room here as soon as dinner should be over, and write, "My dear
Landor, how are you?" for the pleasure of having the answer under your
own hand. That you _do_ write, and that pretty often, I know beforehand.
Else why do I read _The Examiner_?
We were in Paris from October to May (I perpetually flying between that
city and London), and there we found out, by a blessed accident, that
your godson was horribly deaf. I immediately consulted the principal
physician of the Deaf and Dumb Institution there (one of the best
aurists in Europe), and he kept the boy for three months, and took
unheard-of pains with him. He is now quite recovered, has done extremely
well at school, has brought home a prize in triumph, and will be
eligible to "go up" for his India examination soon after next Easter.
Having a direct appointment, he will probably be sent out soon after he
has passed, and so will fall into that strange life "up the country,"
before he well knows he is alive, which indeed seems to be rather an
advanced stage of knowledge.
And there in Paris, at the same time, I found Marguerite Power and
Little Nelly, living with their mother and a pretty sister, in a very
small, neat apartment, and working (as Marguerite told me) hard for a
living. All that I saw of them filled me with respect, and revived the
tenderest remembrances of Gore House. They are coming to pass two or
three weeks here for a country rest, next month. We had many long talks
concerning Gore House, and all its bright associations; and I can
honestly report that they hold no one in more gentle and affectionate
remembrance than you. Marguerite is still handsome, though she had the
smallpox two or three years ago, and bears the traces of it here and
there, by daylight. Poor little Nelly (the quicker and more observant of
the two) shows some little tokens of a broken-off marriage in a face too
careworn for her years, but is a very winning and sensible creature.
We are expecting Mary Boyle too, shortly.
I have just been propounding to Forster if it is not a wonderful
testimony to the homely force of truth, that one of the most popular
books on earth has nothing in it to make anyone laugh or cry? Yet I
think, with some confidence, that you never did either over any passage
in "Robinson Crusoe." In particular, I took Friday's death as one of the
least tender and (in the true sense) least sentimental things ever
written. It is a book I read very much; and the wonder of its prodigious
effect on me and everyone, and the admiration thereof, grows on me the
more I observe this curious fact.
Kate and Georgina send you their kindest loves, and smile approvingly on
me from the next room, as I bend over my desk. My dear Landor, you see
many I daresay, and hear from many I have no doubt, who love you
heartily; but we silent people in the distance never forget you. Do not
forget us, and let us exchange affection at least.
Ever your Admirer and Friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Duke%20of%20Devonshire/346Charles Dickens
1856-07-05[Sidenote: The Duke of Devonshire.]
VILLA DES MOULINEAUX, NEAR BOULOGNE,
_Saturday Night, July 5th, 1856._
MY DEAR DUKE OF DEVONSHIRE,
From this place where I am writing my way through the summer, in the
midst of rosy gardens and sea airs, I cannot forbear writing to tell you
with what uncommon pleasure I received your interesting letter, and how
sensible I always am of your kindness and generosity. You were always in
the mind of my household during your illness; and to have so beautiful,
and fresh, and manly an assurance of your recovery from it, under your
own hand, is a privilege and delight that I will say no more of.
I am so glad you like Flora. It came into my head one day that we have
all had our Floras, and that it was a half-serious, half-ridiculous
truth which had never been told. It is a wonderful gratification to me
to find that everybody knows her. Indeed, some people seem to think I
have done them a personal injury, and that their individual Floras (God
knows where they are, or who!) are each and all Little Dorrit's.
We were all grievously disappointed that you were ill when we played Mr.
Collins's "Lighthouse" at my house. If you had been well, I should have
waited upon you with my humble petition that you would come and see it;
and if you had come I think you would have cried, which would have
charmed me. I hope to produce another play at home next Christmas, and
if I can only persuade you to see it from a special arm-chair, and can
only make you wretched, my satisfaction will be intense. May I tell you,
to beguile a moment, of a little "Tag," or end of a piece, I saw in
Paris this last winter, which struck me as the prettiest I had ever met
with? The piece was not a new one, but a revival at the Vaudeville--"Les
Memoires du Diable." Admirably constructed, very interesting, and
extremely well played. The plot is, that a certain M. Robin has come
into possession of the papers of a deceased lawyer, and finds some
relating to the wrongful withholding of an estate from a certain
baroness, and to certain other frauds (involving even the denial of the
marriage to the deceased baron, and the tarnishing of his good name)
which are so very wicked that he binds them up in a book and labels them
"Memoires du Diable." Armed with this knowledge he goes down to the
desolate old chateau in the country--part of the wrested-away
estate--from which the baroness and her daughter are going to be
ejected. He informs the mother that he can right her and restore the
property, but must have, as his reward, her daughter's hand in marriage.
She replies: "I cannot promise my daughter to a man of whom I know
nothing. The gain would be an unspeakable happiness, but I resolutely
decline the bargain." The daughter, however, has observed all, and she
comes forward and says: "Do what you have promised my mother you can do,
and I am yours." Then the piece goes on to its development, in an
admirable way, through the unmasking of all the hypocrites. Now, M.
Robin, partly through his knowledge of the secret ways of the old
chateau (derived from the lawyer's papers), and partly through his going
to a masquerade as the devil--the better to explode what he knows on the
hypocrites--is supposed by the servants at the chateau really to be the
devil. At the opening of the last act he suddenly appears there before
the young lady, and she screams, but, recovering and laughing, says:
"You are not really the ----?" "Oh dear no!" he replies, "have no
connection with him. But these people down here are so frightened and
absurd! See this little toy on the table; I open it; here's a little
bell. They have a notion that whenever this bell rings I shall appear.
Very ignorant, is it not?" "Very, indeed," says she. "Well," says M.
Robin, "if you should want me very much to appear, try the bell, if only
for a jest. Will you promise?" Yes, she promises, and the play goes on.
At last he has righted the baroness completely, and has only to hand
her the last document, which proves her marriage and restores her good
name. Then he says: "Madame, in the progress of these endeavours I have
learnt the happiness of doing good for its own sake. I made a necessary
bargain with you; I release you from it. I have done what I undertook to
do. I wish you and your amiable daughter all happiness. Adieu! I take my
leave." Bows himself out. People on the stage astonished. Audience
astonished--incensed. The daughter is going to cry, when she looks at
the box on the table, remembers the bell, runs to it and rings it, and
he rushes back and takes her to his heart; upon which we all cry with
pleasure, and then laugh heartily.
This looks dreadfully long, and perhaps you know it already. If so, I
will endeavour to make amends with Flora in future numbers.
Mrs. Dickens and her sister beg to present their remembrances to your
Grace, and their congratulations on your recovery. I saw Paxton now and
then when you were ill, and always received from him most encouraging
accounts. I don't know how heavy he is going to be (I mean in the
scale), but I begin to think Daniel Lambert must have been in his
family.
Ever your Grace's faithful and obliged.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/347Charles Dickens
1856-07-08[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
VILLA DES MOULINEAUX, BOULOGNE,
_Tuesday, July 8th, 1856._
MY DEAREST MACREADY,
I perfectly agree with you in your appreciation of Katie's poem, and
shall be truly delighted to publish it in "Household Words." It shall go
into the very next number we make up. We are a little in advance (to
enable Wills to get a holiday), but as I remember, the next number made
up will be published in three weeks.
We are pained indeed to read your reference to my poor boy. God keep him
and his father. I trust he is not conscious of much suffering himself.
If that be so, it is, in the midst of the distress, a great comfort.
"Little Dorrit" keeps me pretty busy, as you may suppose. The beginning
of No. 10--the first line--now lies upon my desk. It would not be easy
to increase upon the pains I take with her anyhow.
We are expecting Stanfield on Thursday, and Peter Cunningham and his
wife on Monday. I would we were expecting you! This is as pretty and odd
a little French country house as could be found anywhere; and the
gardens are most beautiful.
In "Household Words," next week, pray read "The Diary of Anne Rodway"
(in two not long parts). It is by Collins, and I think possesses great
merit and real pathos.
Being in town the other day, I saw Gye by accident, and told him, when
he praised ---- to me, that she was a very bad actress. "Well!" said he,
"_you_ may say anything, but if anybody else had told me that I should
have stared." Nevertheless, I derived an impression from his manner that
she had not been a profitable speculation in respect of money. That very
same day Stanfield and I dined alone together at the Garrick, and drank
your health. We had had a ride by the river before dinner (of course he
_would_ go and look at boats), and had been talking of you. It was this
day week, by-the-bye.
I know of nothing of public interest that is new in France, except that
I am changing my moustache into a beard. We all send our most tender
loves to dearest Miss Macready and all the house. The Hammy boy is
particularly anxious to have his love sent to "Misr Creedy."
Ever, my dearest Macready,
Most affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Wilkie%20Collins/348Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. W. Wilkie Collins.]
VILLA DES MOULINEAUX, BOULOGNE, _Sunday, July 13th, 1856._
MY DEAR COLLINS,
We are all sorry that you are not coming until the middle of next month,
but we hope that you will then be able to remain, so that we may all
come back together about the 10th of October. I think (recreation
allowed, etc.), that the play will take that time to write. The ladies
of the _dram. pers._ are frightfully anxious to get it under way, and to
see you locked up in the pavilion; apropos of which noble edifice I have
omitted to mention that it is made a more secluded retreat than it used
to be, and is greatly improved by the position of the door being
changed. It is as snug and as pleasant as possible; and the Genius of
Order has made a few little improvements about the house (at the rate of
about tenpence apiece), which the Genius of Disorder will, it is hoped,
appreciate.
I think I must come over for a small spree, and to fetch you. Suppose I
were to come on the 9th or 10th of August to stay three or four days in
town, would that do for you? Let me know at the end of this month.
I cannot tell you what a high opinion I have of Anne Rodway. I took
"Extracts" out of the title because it conveyed to the many-headed an
idea of incompleteness--of something unfinished--and is likely to stall
some readers off. I read the first part at the office with strong
admiration, and read the second on the railway coming back here, being
in town just after you had started on your cruise. My behaviour before
my fellow-passengers was weak in the extreme, for I cried as much as you
could possibly desire. Apart from the genuine force and beauty of the
little narrative, and the admirable personation of the girl's identity
and point of view, it is done with an amount of honest pains and
devotion to the work which few men have better reason to appreciate than
I, and which no man can have a more profound respect for. I think it
excellent, feel a personal pride and pleasure in it which is a
delightful sensation, and know no one else who could have done it.
Of myself I have only to report that I have been hard at it with "Little
Dorrit," and am now doing No. 10. This last week I sketched out the
notion, characters, and progress of the farce, and sent it off to Mark,
who has been ill of an ague. It ought to be very funny. The cat business
is too ludicrous to be treated of in so small a sheet of paper, so I
must describe it _viva voce_ when I come to town. French has been so
insufferably conceited since he shot tigerish cat No. 1 (intent on the
noble Dick, with green eyes three inches in advance of her head), that I
am afraid I shall have to part with him. All the boys likewise (in new
clothes and ready for church) are at this instant prone on their
stomachs behind bushes, whooshing and crying (after tigerish cat No. 2):
"French!" "Here she comes!" "There she goes!" etc. I dare not put my
head out of window for fear of being shot (it is as like a _coup d'etat_
as possible), and tradesmen coming up the avenue cry plaintively: "_Ne
tirez pas, Monsieur Fleench; c'est moi--boulanger. Ne tirez pas, mon
ami._"
Likewise I shall have to recount to you the secret history of a robbery
at the Pavilion at Folkestone, which you will have to write.
Tell Piggot, when you see him, that we shall all be much pleased if he
will come at his own convenience while you are here, and stay a few days
with us.
I shall have more than one notion of future work to suggest to you while
we are beguiling the dreariness of an arctic winter in these parts. May
they prosper!
Kind regards from all to the Dramatic Poet of the establishment, and to
the D. P.'s mother and brother.
Ever yours.
P.S.--If the "Flying Dutchman" should be done again, pray do go and see
it. Webster expressed his opinion to me that it was "a neat piece." I
implore you to go and see a neat piece.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/349Charles Dickens
1856-08-07[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
BOULOGNE, _Thursday, August 7th, 1856._
MY DEAR WILLS,
I do not feel disposed to record those two Chancery cases; firstly,
because I would rather have no part in engendering in the mind of any
human creature, a hopeful confidence in that den of iniquity.
And secondly, because it seems to me that the real philosophy of the
facts is altogether missed in the narrative. The wrong which chanced to
be set right in these two cases was done, as all such wrong is, mainly
because these wicked courts of equity, with all their means of evasion
and postponement, give scoundrels confidence in cheating. If justice
were cheap, sure, and speedy, few such things could be. It is because it
has become (through the vile dealing of those courts and the vermin they
have called into existence) a positive precept of experience that a man
had better endure a great wrong than go, or suffer himself to be taken,
into Chancery, with the dream of setting it right. It is because of
this that such nefarious speculations are made.
Therefore I see nothing at all to the credit of Chancery in these cases,
but everything to its discredit. And as to owing it to Chancery to bear
testimony to its having rendered justice in two such plain matters, I
have no debt of the kind upon my conscience.
In haste, ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/350Charles Dickens
1856-08-08[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
BOULOGNE, _Friday, August 8th, 1856._
MY DEAREST MACREADY,
I like the second little poem very much indeed, and think (as you do)
that it is a great advance upon the first. Please to note that I make it
a rule to pay for everything that is inserted in "Household Words,"
holding it to be a part of my trust to make my fellow-proprietors
understand that they have no right to unrequited labour. Therefore, when
Wills (who has been ill and is gone for a holiday) does his invariable
spiriting gently, don't make Katey's case different from Adelaide
Procter's.
I am afraid there is no possibility of my reading Dorsetshirewards. I
have made many conditional promises thus: "I am very much occupied; but
if I read at all, I will read for your institution in such an order on
my list." Edinburgh, which is No. 1, I have been obliged to put as far
off as next Christmas twelvemonth. Bristol stands next. The working men
at Preston come next. And so, if I were to go out of the record and read
for your people, I should bring such a house about my ears as would
shake "Little Dorrit" out of my head.
Being in town last Saturday, I went to see Robson in a burlesque of
"Medea." It is an odd but perfectly true testimony to the extraordinary
power of his performance (which is of a very remarkable kind indeed),
that it points the badness of ----'s acting in a most singular manner,
by bringing out what she might do and does not. The scene with Jason is
perfectly terrific; and the manner in which the comic rage and jealousy
does not pitch itself over the floor at the stalls is in striking
contrast to the manner in which the tragic rage and jealousy does. He
has a frantic song and dagger dance, about ten minutes long altogether,
which has more passion in it than ---- could express in fifty years.
We all unite in kindest love to Miss Macready and all your dear ones;
not forgetting my godson, to whom I send his godfather's particular love
twice over. The Hammy boy is so brown that you would scarcely know him.
Ever, my dear Macready, affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/351Charles Dickens
1856-09-28[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Sunday Morning, Sept. 28th, 1856._
MY DEAR WILLS,
I suddenly remember this morning that in Mr. Curtis's article, "Health
and Education," I left a line which must come out. It is in effect that
the want of healthy training leaves girls in a fit state to be the
subjects of mesmerism. I would not on any condition hurt Elliotson's
feelings (as I should deeply) by leaving that depreciatory kind of
reference in any page of H. W. He has suffered quite enough without a
stab from a friend. So pray, whatever the inconvenience may be in what
Bradbury calls "the Friars," take that passage out. By some
extraordinary accident, after observing it, I forgot to do it.
Ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/352Charles Dickens
1856-10-04[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Saturday, Oct. 4th, 1856._
MY DEAR MAMEY,
The preparations for the play are already beginning, and it is
christened (this is a great dramatic secret, which I suppose you know
already) "The Frozen Deep."
Tell Katey, with my best love, that if she fail to come back six times
as red, hungry, and strong as she was when she went away, I shall give
her part to somebody else.
We shall all be very glad to see you both back again; when I say "we" I
include the birds (who send their respectful duty) and the Plorn.
Kind regards to all at Brighton.
Ever, my dear Mamey, your affectionate Father.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Lavinia%20Watson/353Charles Dickens
1856-10-07[Sidenote: The Hon. Mrs. Watson.]
Tavistock House, _Tuesday, Oct. 7th, 1856._
MY DEAR MRS. WATSON,
I _did_ write it for you; and I hoped in writing it, that you would
think so. All those remembrances are fresh in my mind, as they often
are, and gave me an extraordinary interest in recalling the past. I
should have been grievously disappointed if you had not been pleased,
for I took aim at you with a most determined intention.
Let me congratulate you most heartily on your handsome Eddy having
passed his examination with such credit. I am sure there is a spirit
shining out of his eyes, which will do well in that manly and generous
pursuit. You will naturally feel his departure very much, and so will
he; but I have always observed within my experience, that the men who
have left home young have, many long years afterwards, had the tenderest
love for it, and for all associated with it. That's a pleasant thing to
think of, as one of the wise and benevolent adjustments in these lives
of ours.
I have been so hard at work (and shall be for the next eight or nine
months), that sometimes I fancy I have a digestion, or a head, or
nerves, or some odd encumbrance of that kind, to which I am altogether
unaccustomed, and am obliged to rush at some other object for relief; at
present the house is in a state of tremendous excitement, on account of
Mr. Collins having nearly finished the new play we are to act at
Christmas, which is very interesting and extremely clever. I hope this
time you will come and see it. We purpose producing it on Charley's
birthday, Twelfth Night; but we shall probably play four nights
altogether--"The Lighthouse" on the last occasion--so that if you could
come for the two last nights, you would see both the pieces. I am going
to try and do better than ever, and already the school-room is in the
hands of carpenters; men from underground habitations in theatres, who
look as if they lived entirely upon smoke and gas, meet me at unheard-of
hours. Mr. Stanfield is perpetually measuring the boards with a chalked
piece of string and an umbrella, and all the elder children are wildly
punctual and business-like to attract managerial commendation. If you
don't come, I shall do something antagonistic--try to unwrite No. 11, I
think. I should particularly like you to see a new and serious piece so
done. Because I don't think you know, without seeing, how good it is!!!
None of the children suffered, thank God, from the Boulogne risk. The
three little boys have gone back to school there, and are all well.
Katey came away ill, but it turned out that she had the whooping-cough
for the second time. She has been to Brighton, and comes home to-day. I
hear great accounts of her, and hope to find her quite well when she
arrives presently. I am afraid Mary Boyle has been praising the Boulogne
life too highly. Not that I deny, however, our having passed some very
pleasant days together, and our having had great pleasure in her visit.
You will object to me dreadfully, I know, with a beard (though not a
great one); but if you come and see the play, you will find it necessary
there, and will perhaps be more tolerant of the fearful object
afterwards. I need not tell you how delighted we should be to see
George, if you would come together. Pray tell him so, with my kind
regards. I like the notion of Wentworth and his philosophy of all
things. I remember a philosophical gravity upon him, a state of
suspended opinion as to myself, it struck me, when we last met, in which
I thought there was a great deal of oddity and character.
Charley is doing very well at Baring's, and attracting praise and reward
to himself. Within this fortnight there turned up from the West Indies,
where he is now a chief justice, an old friend of mine, of my own age,
who lived with me in lodgings in the Adelphi, when I was just Charley's
age. He had a great affection for me at that time, and always supposed I
was to do some sort of wonders. It was a very pleasant meeting indeed,
and he seemed to think it so odd that I shouldn't be Charley!
This is every atom of no-news that will come out of my head, and I
firmly believe it is all I have in it--except that a cobbler at
Boulogne, who had the nicest of little dogs, that always sat in his
sunny window watching him at work, asked me if I would bring the dog
home, as he couldn't afford to pay the tax for him. The cobbler and the
dog being both my particular friends, I complied. The cobbler parted
with the dog heart-broken. When the dog got home here, my man, like an
idiot as he is, tied him up and then untied him. The moment the gate was
open, the dog (on the very day after his arrival) ran out. Next day,
Georgy and I saw him lying, all covered with mud, dead, outside the
neighbouring church. How am I ever to tell the cobbler? He is too poor
to come to England, so I feel that I must lie to him for life, and say
that the dog is fat and happy. Mr. Plornish, much affected by this
tragedy, said: "I s'pose, pa, I shall meet the cobbler's dog" (in
heaven).
Georgy and Catherine send their best love, and I send mine. Pray write
to me again some day, and I can't be too busy to be happy in the sight
of your familiar hand, associated in my mind with so much that I love
and honour.
Ever, my dear Mr. Watson, most faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Horne/354Charles Dickens
1856-10-20[Sidenote: Mrs. Horne.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, TAVISTOCK SQUARE, _Oct. 20th, 1856._
MY DEAR MRS. HORNE,
I answer your note by return of post, in order that you may know that
the Stereoscopic Nottage has not written to me yet. Of course I will not
lose a moment in replying to him when he does address me.
We shall be greatly pleased to see you again. You have been very, very
often in our thoughts and on our lips, during this long interval.
And "she" is near you, is she? O I remember her well! And I am still of
my old opinion! Passionately devoted to her sex as I am (they are the
weakness of my existence), I still consider her a failure. She had some
extraordinary christian-name, which I forget. Lashed into verse by my
feelings, I am inclined to write:
My heart disowns
Ophelia Jones;
only I think it was a more sounding name.
Are these the tones--
Volumnia Jones?
No. Again it seems doubtful.
God bless her bones,
Petronia Jones!
I think not.
Carve I on stones
Olympia Jones?
Can _that_ be the name? Fond memory favours it more than any other. My
love to her.
Ever, my dear Mrs. Horne, very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Duke%20of%20Devonshire/355Charles Dickens
1856-12-01[Sidenote: The Duke of Devonshire.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _December 1st, 1856._
MY DEAR DUKE OF DEVONSHIRE,
The moment the first bill is printed for the first night of the new play
I told you of, I send it to you, in the hope that you will grace it with
your presence. There is not one of the old actors whom you will fail to
inspire as no one else can; and I hope you will see a little result of a
friendly union of the arts, that you may think worth seeing, and that
you can see nowhere else.
We propose repeating it on Thursday, the 8th; Monday, the 12th; and
Wednesday, the 14th of January. I do not encumber this note with so many
bills, and merely mention those nights in case any one of them should be
more convenient to you than the first.
But I shall hope for the first, unless you dash me (N. B.--I put Flora
into the current number on purpose that this might catch you softened
towards me, and at a disadvantage). If there is hope of your coming, I
will have the play clearly copied, and will send it to you to read
beforehand. With the most grateful remembrances, and the sincerest good
wishes for your health and happiness,
I am ever, my dear Duke of Devonshire,
Your faithful and obliged.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Thomas%20Mitton/356Charles Dickens
1856-12-03[Sidenote: Mr. Thomas Mitton.]
Tavistock House, _Wednesday, Dec. 3rd, 1856._
MY DEAR MITTON,
The inspector from the fire office--surveyor, by-the-bye, they called
him--duly came. Wills described him as not very pleasant in his manners.
I derived the impression that he was so exceedingly dry, that if _he_
ever takes fire, he must burn out, and can never otherwise be
extinguished.
Next day, I received a letter from the secretary, to say that the said
surveyor had reported great additional risk from fire, and that the
directors, at their meeting next Tuesday, would settle the extra amount
of premium to be paid.
Thereupon I thought the matter was becoming complicated, and wrote a
common-sense note to the secretary (which I begged might be read to the
directors), saying that I was quite prepared to pay any extra premium,
but setting forth the plain state of the case. (I did not say that the
Lord Chief Justice, the Chief Baron, and half the Bench were coming;
though I felt a temptation to make a joke about burning them all.)
Finally, this morning comes up the secretary to me (yesterday having
been the great Tuesday), and says that he is requested by the directors
to present their compliments, and to say that they could not think of
charging for any additional risk at all; feeling convinced that I would
place the gas (which they considered to be the only danger) under the
charge of one competent man. I then explained to him how carefully and
systematically that was all arranged, and we parted with drums beating
and colours flying on both sides.
Ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/357Charles Dickens
[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Saturday Evening, Dec. 13th_, 1856.
MY DEAREST MACREADY,
We shall be charmed to squeeze Willie's friend in, and it shall be done
by some undiscovered power of compression on the second night, Thursday,
the 14th. Will you make our compliments to his honour, the Deputy
Fiscal, present him with the enclosed bill, and tell him we shall be
cordially glad to see him? I hope to entrust him with a special shake of
the hand, to be forwarded to our dear boy (if a hoary sage like myself
may venture on that expression) by the next mail.
I would have proposed the first night, but that is too full. You may
faintly imagine, my venerable friend, the occupation of these also gray
hairs, between "Golden Marys," "Little Dorrits," "Household Wordses,"
four stage-carpenters entirely boarding on the premises, a carpenter's
shop erected in the back garden, size always boiling over on all the
lower fires, Stanfield perpetually elevated on planks and splashing
himself from head to foot, Telbin requiring impossibilities of smart
gasmen, and a legion of prowling nondescripts for ever shrinking in and
out. Calm amidst the wreck, your aged friend glides away on the "Dorrit"
stream, forgetting the uproar for a stretch of hours, refreshes himself
with a ten or twelve miles walk, pitches headforemost into foaming
rehearsals, placidly emerges for editorial purposes, smokes over buckets
of distemper with Mr. Stanfield aforesaid, again calmly floats upon the
"Dorrit" waters.
With very best love to Miss Macready and all the rest,
Ever, my dear Macready, most affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Marguerite%20Power/358Charles Dickens
1856-12-15[Sidenote: Miss Power.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _December 15th, 1856._
MY DEAR MARGUERITE,
I am not _quite_ clear about the story; not because it is otherwise than
exceedingly pretty, but because I am rather in a difficult position as
to stories just now. Besides beginning a long one by Collins with the
new year (which will last five or six months), I have, as I always have
at this time, a considerable residue of stories written for the
Christmas number, not suitable to it, and yet available for the general
purposes of "Household Words." This limits my choice for the moment to
stories that have some decided specialties (or a great deal of story) in
them.
But I will look over the accumulation before you come, and I hope you
will never see your little friend again but in print.
You will find us expecting you on the night of the twenty-fourth, and
heartily glad to welcome you. The most terrific preparations are in hand
for the play on Twelfth Night. There has been a carpenter's shop in the
garden for six weeks; a painter's shop in the school-room; a gasfitter's
shop all over the basement; a dressmaker's shop at the top of the house;
a tailor's shop in my dressing-room. Stanfield has been incessantly on
scaffoldings for two months; and your friend has been writing "Little
Dorrit," etc. etc., in corners, like the sultan's groom, who was turned
upside-down by the genie.
Kindest love from all, and from me.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/William%20Charles%20Kent/359Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. William Charles Kent.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Christmas Eve, 1856._
MY DEAR SIR,
I cannot leave your letter unanswered, because I am really anxious that
you should understand why I cannot comply with your request.
Scarcely a week passes without my receiving requests from various
quarters to sit for likenesses, to be taken by all the processes ever
invented. Apart from my having an invincible objection to the
multiplication of my countenance in the shop-windows, I have not,
between my avocations and my needful recreation, the time to comply with
these proposals. At this moment there are three cases out of a vast
number, in which I have said: "If I sit at all, it shall be to you
first, to you second, and to you third." But I assure you, I consider
myself almost as unlikely to go through these three conditional
achievements as I am to go to China. Judge when I am likely to get to
Mr. Watkins!
I highly esteem and thank you for your sympathy with my writings. I
doubt if I have a more genial reader in the world.
Very faithfully yours.
FOOTNOTES:
[23] Of Mr. Wilkie Collins.
[24] This note was written after hearing from Mr. Forster of his
intended marriage.
PROLOGUE TO "THE LIGHTHOUSE."
(Spoken by CHARLES DICKENS.)
_Slow music all the time, unseen speaker, curtain down._
A story of those rocks where doomed ships come
To cast them wreck'd upon the steps of home,
Where solitary men, the long year through--
The wind their music and the brine their view--
Warn mariners to shun the beacon-light;
A story of those rocks is here to-night.
Eddystone lighthouse
[_Exterior view discovered._
In its ancient form;
Ere he who built it wish'd for the great storm
That shiver'd it to nothing; once again
Behold outgleaming on the angry main!
Within it are three men; to these repair
In our frail bark of Fancy, swift as air!
They are but shadows, as the rower grim
Took none but shadows in his boat with him.
So be _ye_ shades, and, for a little space,
The real world a dream without a trace.
Return is easy. It will have ye back
Too soon to the old beaten dusty track;
For but one hour forget it. Billows rise,
Blow winds, fall rain, be black ye midnight skies;
And you who watch the light, arise! arise!
[_Exterior view rises and discovers the scene._
THE SONG OF THE WRECK.
I.
The wind blew high, the waters raved,
A ship drove on the land,
A hundred human creatures saved,
Kneeled down upon the sand.
Threescore were drowned, threescore were thrown
Upon the black rocks wild,
And thus among them, left alone,
They found one helpless child.
II.
A seaman rough, to shipwreck bred,
Stood out from all the rest,
And gently laid the lonely head
Upon his honest breast.
And travelling o'er the desert wide,
It was a solemn joy,
To see them, ever side by side,
The sailor and the boy.
III.
In famine, sickness, hunger, thirst,
The two were still but one,
Until the strong man drooped the first,
And felt his labours done.
Then to a trusty friend he spake,
"Across the desert wide,
O take this poor boy for my sake!"
And kissed the child and died.
IV.
Toiling along in weary plight,
Through heavy jungle, mire,
These two came later every night
To warm them at the fire.
Until the captain said one day,
"O seaman good and kind,
To save thyself now come away,
And leave the boy behind!"
V.
The child was slumb'ring near the blaze,
"O captain, let him rest
Until it sinks, when God's own ways
Shall teach us what is best!"
They watched the whitened ashy heap,
They touched the child in vain;
They did not leave him there asleep,
He never woke again.
This song was sung to the music of "Little Nell," a ballad composed by
the late Mr. George Linley, to the words of Miss Charlotte Young, and
dedicated to Charles Dickens. He was very fond of it, and his eldest
daughter had been in the habit of singing it to him constantly since she
was quite a child.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/None/360Charles Dickens
[Sidenotehttp://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/B%20W%20Procter/361Charles Dickens
1857-01-02[Sidenote: Mr. B. W. Procter.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _January 2nd, 1857._
MY DEAR PROCTER,
I have to thank you for a delightful book, which has given me unusual
pleasure. My delight in it has been a little dashed by certain farewell
verses, but I have made up my mind (and you have no idea of the
obstinacy of my character) not to believe them.
Perhaps it is not taking a liberty--perhaps it is--to congratulate you
on Kenyon's remembrance. Either way I can't help doing it with all my
heart, for I know no man in the world (myself excepted) to whom I would
rather the money went.
Affectionately yours ever.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Sir%20James%20Emerson%20Tennent/362Charles Dickens
1857-01-09[Sidenote: Sir James Emerson Tennent.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _January 9th, 1857._
MY DEAR TENNENT,
I must thank you for your earnest and affectionate letter. It has given
me the greatest pleasure, mixing the play in my mind confusedly and
delightfully with Pisa, the Valetta, Naples, Herculanæum--God knows what
not.
As to the play itself; when it is made as good as my care can make it, I
derive a strange feeling out of it, like writing a book in company; a
satisfaction of a most singular kind, which has no exact parallel in my
life; a something that I suppose to belong to the life of a labourer in
art alone, and which has to me a conviction of its being actual truth
without its pain, that I never could adequately state if I were to try
never so hard.
You touch so kindly and feelingly on the pleasure such little pains
give, that I feel quite sorry you have never seen this drama in progress
during the last ten weeks here. Every Monday and Friday evening during
that time we have been at work upon it. I assure you it has been a
remarkable lesson to my young people in patience, perseverance,
punctuality, and order; and, best of all, in that kind of humility which
is got from the earned knowledge that whatever the right hand finds to
do must be done with the heart in it, and in a desperate earnest.
When I changed my dress last night (though I did it very quickly), I was
vexed to find you gone. I wanted to have secured you for our green-room
supper, which was very pleasant. If by any accident you should be free
next Wednesday night (our last), pray come to that green-room supper. It
would give me cordial pleasure to have you there.
Ever, my dear Tennent, very heartily yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/William%20De%20Cerjat/363Charles Dickens
1857-01-17[Sidenote: M. de Cerjat.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Monday Night, Jan, 17th, 1857._
MY DEAR CERJAT,
So wonderfully do good (epistolary) intentions become confounded with
bad execution, that I assure you I laboured under a perfect and most
comfortable conviction that I had answered your Christmas Eve letter of
1855. More than that, in spite of your assertions to the contrary, I
still strenuously believe that I did so! I have more than half a mind
("Little Dorrit" and my other occupations notwithstanding) to charge you
with having forgotten my reply!! I have even a wild idea that Townshend
reproached me, when the last old year was new, with writing to you
instead of to him!!! We will argue it out, as well as we can argue
anything without poor dear Haldimand, when I come back to Elysée. In any
case, however, don't discontinue your annual letter, because it has
become an expected and a delightful part of the season to me.
With one of the prettiest houses in London, and every conceivable (and
inconceivable) luxury in it, Townshend is voluntarily undergoing his own
sentence of transportation in Nervi, a beastly little place near Genoa,
where you would as soon find a herd of wild elephants in any villa as
comfort. He has a notion that he _must_ be out of England in the winter,
but I believe him to be altogether wrong (as I have just told him in a
letter), unless he could just take his society with him.
Workmen are now battering and smashing down my theatre here, where we
have just been acting a new play of great merit, done in what I may call
(modestly speaking of the getting-up, and not of the acting) an
unprecedented way. I believe that anything so complete has never been
seen. We had an act at the North Pole, where the slightest and greatest
thing the eye beheld were equally taken from the books of the Polar
voyagers. Out of thirty people, there were certainly not two who might
not have gone straight to the North Pole itself, completely furnished
for the winter! It has been the talk of all London for these three
weeks. And now it is a mere chaos of scaffolding, ladders, beams,
canvases, paint-pots, sawdust, artificial snow, gas-pipes, and
ghastliness. I have taken such pains with it for these ten weeks in all
my leisure hours, that I feel now shipwrecked--as if I had never been
without a play on my hands before. A third topic comes up as this
ceases.
Down at Gad's Hill, near Rochester, in Kent--Shakespeare's Gad's Hill,
where Falstaff engaged in the robbery--is a quaint little country-house
of Queen Anne's time. I happened to be walking past, a year and a half
or so ago, with my sub-editor of "Household Words," when I said to him:
"You see that house? It has always a curious interest for me, because
when I was a small boy down in these parts I thought it the most
beautiful house (I suppose because of its famous old cedar-trees) ever
seen. And my poor father used to bring me to look at it, and used to say
that if I ever grew up to be a clever man perhaps I might own that
house, or such another house. In remembrance of which, I have always in
passing looked to see if it was to be sold or let, and it has never been
to me like any other house, and it has never changed at all." We came
back to town, and my friend went out to dinner. Next morning he came to
me in great excitement, and said: "It is written that you were to have
that house at Gad's Hill. The lady I had allotted to me to take down to
dinner yesterday began to speak of that neighbourhood. 'You know it?' I
said; 'I have been there to-day.' 'O yes,' said she, 'I know it very
well. I was a child there, in the house they call Gad's Hill Place. My
father was the rector, and lived there many years. He has just died, has
left it to me, and I want to sell it.' 'So,' says the sub-editor, 'you
must buy it. Now or never!'" I did, and hope to pass next summer there,
though I may, perhaps, let it afterwards, furnished, from time to time.
All about myself I find, and the little sheet nearly full! But I know,
my dear Cerjat, the subject will have its interest for you, so I give it
its swing. Mrs. Watson was to have been at the play, but most
unfortunately had three children sick of gastric fever, and could not
leave them. She was here some three weeks before, looking extremely well
in the face, but rather thin. I have not heard of your friend Mr.
Percival Skelton, but I much misdoubt an amateur artist's success in
this vast place. I hope you detected a remembrance of our happy visit to
the Great St. Bernard in a certain number of "Little Dorrit"? Tell Mrs.
Cerjat, with my love, that the opinions I have expressed to her on the
subject of cows have become matured in my mind by experience and
venerable age; and that I denounce the race as humbugs, who have been
getting into poetry and all sorts of places without the smallest reason.
Haldimand's housekeeper is an awful woman to consider. Pray give him our
kindest regards and remembrances, if you ever find him in a mood to take
it. "Our" means Mrs. Dickens's, Georgie's, and mine. We often, often
talk of our old days at Lausanne, and send loving regard to Mrs. Cerjat
and all your house.
Adieu, my dear fellow; ever cordially yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/364Charles Dickens
1857-01-28[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _January 28th, 1857._
MY DEAREST MACREADY,
Your friend and servant is as calm as Pecksniff, saving for his knitted
brows now turning into cordage over Little Dorrit. The theatre has
disappeared, the house is restored to its usual conditions of order, the
family are tranquil and domestic, dove-eyed peace is enthroned in this
study, fire-eyed radicalism in its master's breast.
I am glad to hear that our poetess is at work again, and shall be very
much pleased to have some more contributions from her.
Love from all to your dear sister, and to Katie, and to all the house.
We dined yesterday at Frederick Pollock's. I begged an amazing
photograph of you, and brought it away. It strikes me as one of the most
ludicrous things I ever saw in my life. I think of taking a
public-house, and having it copied larger, for the size. You may
remember it? Very square and big--the Saracen's Head with its hair cut,
and in modern gear? Staring very hard? As your particular friend, I
would not part with it on any consideration. I will never get such a
wooden head again.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Mary%20Boyle/365Charles Dickens
1857-02-07[Sidenote: Miss Mary Boyle.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _February 7th, 1857._
MY DEAR MARY,
Half-a-dozen words on this, my birthday, to thank you for your kind and
welcome remembrance, and to assure you that your Joseph is proud of it.
For about ten minutes after his death, on each occasion of that event
occurring, Richard Wardour was in a floored condition. And one night, to
the great terror of Devonshire, the Arctic Regions, and Newfoundland
(all of which localities were afraid to speak to him, as his ghost sat
by the kitchen fire in its rags), he very nearly did what he never did,
went and fainted off, dead, again. But he always plucked up, on the turn
of ten minutes, and became facetious.
Likewise he chipped great pieces out of all his limbs (solely, as I
imagine, from moral earnestness and concussion of passion, for I never
know him to hit himself in any way) and terrified Aldersley[1] to that
degree, by lunging at him to carry him into the cave, that the said
Aldersley always shook like a mould of jelly, and muttered, "By G----,
this is an awful thing!"
Ever affectionately.
P.S.--I shall never cease to regret Mrs. Watson's not having been there.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Rev%20James%20White/366Charles Dickens
1857-02-08[Sidenote: Rev. James White.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Sunday, Feb. 8th, 1857._
MY DEAR WHITE,
I send these lines by Mary and Katey, to report my love to all.
Your note about the _Golden Mary_ gave me great pleasure; though I don't
believe in one part of it; for I honestly believe that your story, as
really belonging to the rest of the narrative, had been generally
separated from the other stories, and greatly liked. I had not that
particular shipwreck that you mention in my mind (indeed I doubt if I
know it), and John Steadiman merely came into my head as a staunch sort
of name that suited the character. The number has done "Household Words"
great service, and has decidedly told upon its circulation.
You should have come to the play. I much doubt if anything so complete
will ever be seen again. An incredible amount of pains and ingenuity was
expended on it, and the result was most remarkable even to me.
When are you going to send something more to H. W.? Are you lazy??
Low-spirited??? Pining for Paris????
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/C%20W%20Dilke/367Charles Dickens
1857-03-19[Sidenote: Mr. C. W. Dilke.]
OFFICE OF "HOUSEHOLD WORDS," _Thursday, March 19th, 1857._
MY DEAR MR. DILKE,
Forster has another notion about the Literary Fund. Will you name a day
next week--that day being neither Thursday nor Saturday--when we shall
hold solemn council there at half-past four?
For myself, I beg to report that I have my war-paint on, that I have
buried the pipe of peace, and am whooping for committee scalps.
Ever faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/The%20Earl%20of%20Carlisle/368Charles Dickens
1857-04-15[Sidenote: The Earl of Carlisle.]
GRAVESEND, KENT, _Wednesday, April 15th, 1857._
MY DEAR LORD CARLISLE,
I am writing by the river-side for a few days, and at the end of last
week ---- appeared here with your note of introduction. I was not in the
way; but as ---- had come express from London with it, Mrs. Dickens
opened it, and gave her (in the limited sense which was of no use to
her) an audience. She did not quite seem to know what she wanted of me.
But she said she had understood at Stafford House that I had a theatre
in which she could read; with a good deal of modesty and diffidence she
at last got so far. Now, my little theatre turns my house out of window,
costs fifty pounds to put up, and is only two months taken down;
therefore, is quite out of the question. This Mrs. Dickens explained,
and also my profound inability to do anything for ---- readings which
they could not do for themselves. She appeared fully to understand the
explanation, and indeed to have anticipated for herself how powerless I
must be in such a case.
She described herself as being consumptive, and as being subject to an
effusion of blood from the lungs; about the last condition, one would
think, poor woman, for the exercise of public elocution as an art.
Between ourselves, I think the whole idea a mistake, and have thought so
from its first announcement. It has a fatal appearance of trading upon
Uncle Tom, and am I not a man and a brother? which you may be by all
means, and still not have the smallest claim to my attention as a public
reader. The town is over-read from all the white squares on the
draught-board; it has been considerably harried from all the black
squares--now with the aid of old banjoes, and now with the aid of Exeter
Hall; and I have a very strong impression that it is by no means to be
laid hold of from this point of address. I myself, for example, am the
meekest of men, and in abhorrence of slavery yield to no human creature,
and yet I don't admit the sequence that I want Uncle Tom (or Aunt
Tomasina) to expound "King Lear" to me. And I believe my case to be the
case of thousands.
I trouble you with this much about it, because I am naturally desirous
you should understand that if I could possibly have been of any service,
or have suggested anything to this poor lady, I would not have lost the
opportunity. But I cannot help her, and I assure you that I cannot
honestly encourage her to hope. I fear her enterprise has no hope in it.
In your absence I have always followed you through the papers, and felt
a personal interest and pleasure in the public affection in which you
are held over there.[2] At the same time I must confess that I should
prefer to have you here, where good public men seem to me to be dismally
wanted. I have no sympathy with demagogues, but am a grievous Radical,
and think the political signs of the times to be just about as bad as
the spirit of the people will admit of their being. In all other
respects I am as healthy, sound, and happy as your kindness can wish. So
you will set down my political despondency as my only disease.
On the tip-top of Gad's Hill, between this and Rochester, on the very
spot where Falstaff ran away, I have a pretty little old-fashioned
house, which I shall live in the hope of showing to you one day. Also I
have a little story respecting the manner in which it became mine, which
I hope (on the same occasion in the clouds) to tell you. Until then and
always, I am, dear Lord Carlisle,
Yours very faithfully and obliged.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/John%20Forster/369Charles Dickens
1857-05-13[Sidenote: Mr. John Forster.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _May 13th, 1857._
MY DEAR FORSTER,
I have gone over Dilke's memoranda, and I think it quite right and
necessary that those points should be stated. Nor do I see the least
difficulty in the way of their introduction into the pamphlet. But I do
not deem it possible to get the pamphlet written and published before
the dinner. I have so many matters pressing on my attention, that I
cannot turn to it immediately on my release from my book just finished.
It shall be done and distributed early next month.
As to anything being lost by its not being in the hands of the people
who dine (as you seem to think), I have not the least misgiving on that
score. They would say, if it were issued, just what they will say
without it.
Lord Granville is committed to taking the chair, and will make the best
speech he can in it. The pious ---- will cram him with as many
distortions of the truth as his stomach may be strong enough to receive.
----, with Bardolphian eloquence, will cool his nose in the modest
merits of the institution. ---- will make a neat and appropriate speech
on both sides, round the corner and over the way. And all this would be
done exactly to the same purpose and in just the same strain, if twenty
thousand copies of the pamphlet had been circulated.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Rev%20James%20White/370Charles Dickens
1857-05-22[Sidenote: Rev. James White.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Friday, May 22nd, 1857._
MY DEAR WHITE,
My emancipation having been effected on Saturday, the ninth of this
month, I take some shame to myself for not having sooner answered your
note. But the host of things to be done as soon as I was free, and the
tremendous number of ingenuities to be wrought out at Gad's Hill, have
kept me in a whirl of their own ever since.
We purpose going to Gad's Hill for the summer on the 1st of June; as,
apart from the master's eye being a necessary ornament to the spot, I
clearly see that the workmen yet lingering in the yard must be squeezed
out by bodily pressure, or they will never go. How will this suit you
and yours? If you will come down, we can take you all in, on your way
north; that is to say, we shall have that ample verge and room enough,
until about the eighth; when Hans Christian Andersen (who has been
"coming" for about three years) will come for a fortnight's stay in
England. I shall like you to see the little old-fashioned place. It
strikes me as being comfortable.
So let me know your little game. And with love to Mrs. White, Lotty, and
Clara,
Believe me, ever affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Frank%20Stone%20ARA/371Charles Dickens
1857-06-01[Sidenote: Mr. Frank Stone, A.R.A.]
OFFICE OF "HOUSEHOLD WORDS," _Monday, June 1st, 1857._
MY DEAR STONE,
I know that what I am going to say will not be agreeable; but I rely on
the authoress's good sense; and say it, knowing it to be the truth.
These "Notes" are destroyed by too much smartness. It gives the
appearance of perpetual effort, stabs to the heart the nature that is in
them, and wearies by the manner and not by the matter. It is the
commonest fault in the world (as I have constant occasion to observe
here), but it is a very great one. Just as you couldn't bear to have an
épergne or a candlestick on your table, supported by a light figure
always on tiptoe and evidently in an impossible attitude for the
sustainment of its weight, so all readers would be more or less
oppressed and worried by this presentation of everything in one smart
point of view, when they know it must have other, and weightier, and
more solid properties. Airiness and good spirits are always delightful,
and are inseparable from notes of a cheerful trip; but they should
sympathise with many things as well as see them in a lively way. It is
but a word or a touch that expresses this humanity, but without that
little embellishment of good nature there is no such thing as humour. In
this little MS. everything is too much patronised and condescended to,
whereas the slightest touch of feeling for the rustic who is of the
earth earthy, or of sisterhood with the homely servant who has made her
face shine in her desire to please, would make a difference that the
writer can scarcely imagine without trying it. The only relief in the
twenty-one slips is the little bit about the chimes. It _is_ a relief,
simply because it is an indication of some kind of sentiment. You don't
want any sentiment laboriously made out in such a thing. You don't want
any maudlin show of it. But you do want a pervading suggestion that it
is there. It makes all the difference between being playful and being
cruel. Again I must say, above all things--especially to young people
writing: For the love of God don't condescend! Don't assume the attitude
of saying, "See how clever I am, and what fun everybody else is!" Take
any shape but that.
I observe an excellent quality of observation throughout, and think the
boy at the shop, and all about him, particularly good. I have no doubt
whatever that the rest of the journal will be much better if the writer
chooses to make it so. If she considers for a moment within herself, she
will know that she derived pleasure from everything she saw, because she
saw it with innumerable lights and shades upon it, and bound to humanity
by innumerable fine links; she cannot possibly communicate anything of
that pleasure to another by showing it from one little limited point
only, and that point, observe, the one from which it is impossible to
detach the exponent as the patroness of a whole universe of inferior
souls. This is what everybody would mean in objecting to these notes
(supposing them to be published), that they are too smart and too
flippant.
As I understand this matter to be altogether between us three, and as I
think your confidence, and hers, imposes a duty of friendship on me, I
discharge it to the best of my ability. Perhaps I make more of it than
you may have meant or expected; if so, it is because I am interested and
wish to express it. If there had been anything in my objection not
perfectly easy of removal, I might, after all, have hesitated to state
it; but that is not the case. A very little indeed would make all this
gaiety as sound and wholesome and good-natured in the reader's mind as
it is in the writer's.
Affectionately always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Anonymous/372Charles Dickens
1857-06-04[Sidenote: Anonymous.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM, _Thursday, June 4th, 1857._
MY DEAR ----
Coming home here last night, from a day's business in London, I found
your most excellent note awaiting me, in which I have had a pleasure to
be derived from none but good and natural things. I can now honestly
assure you that I believe you will write _well_, and that I have a
lively hope that I may be the means of showing you yourself in print one
day. Your powers of graceful and light-hearted observation need nothing
but the little touches on which we are both agreed. And I am perfectly
sure that they will be as pleasant to you as to anyone, for nobody can
see so well as you do, without feeling kindly too.
To confess the truth to you, I was half sorry, yesterday, that I had
been so unreserved; but not half as sorry, yesterday, as I am glad
to-day. You must not mind my adding that there is a noble candour and
modesty in your note, which I shall never be able to separate from you
henceforth.
Affectionately yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Henry%20Austin/373Charles Dickens
1857-06-06[Sidenote: Mr. Henry Austin.]
GAD'S HILL, _Saturday, June 6th, 1857._
MY DEAR HENRY,
Here is a very serious business on the great estate respecting the water
supply. Last night, they had pumped the well dry merely in raising the
family supply for the day; and this morning (very little water having
been got into the cisterns) it is dry again! It is pretty clear to me
that we must look the thing in the face, and at once bore deeper, dig,
or do some beastly thing or other, to secure this necessary in
abundance. Meanwhile I am in a most plaintive and forlorn condition
without your presence and counsel. I raise my voice in the wilderness
and implore the same!!!
Wild legends are in circulation among the servants how that Captain
Goldsmith on the knoll above--the skipper in that crow's-nest of a
house--has millions of gallons of water always flowing for him. Can he
have damaged my well? Can we imitate him, and have our millions of
gallons? Goldsmith or I must fall, so I conceive.
If you get this, send me a telegraph message informing me when I may
expect comfort. I am held by four of the family while I write this, in
case I should do myself a mischief--it certainly won't be taking to
drinking water.
Ever affectionately (most despairingly).http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/374Charles Dickens
1857-07-13[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Monday, July 13th, 1857._
MY DEAREST MACREADY,
Many thanks for your Indian information. I shall act upon it in the most
exact manner. Walter sails next Monday. Charley and I go down with him
to Southampton next Sunday. We are all delighted with the prospect of
seeing you at Gad's Hill. These are my Jerrold engagements: On Friday,
the 24th, I have to repeat my reading at St. Martin's Hall; on Saturday,
the 25th, to repeat "The Frozen Deep" at the Gallery of Illustration for
the last time. On Thursday, the 30th, or Friday, the 31st, I shall
probably read at Manchester. Deane, the general manager of the
Exhibition, is going down to-night, and will arrange all the
preliminaries for me. If you and I went down to Manchester together, and
were there on a Sunday, he would give us the whole Exhibition to
ourselves. It is probable, I think (as he estimates the receipts of a
night at about seven hundred pounds), that we may, in about a fortnight
or so after the reading, play "The Frozen Deep" at Manchester. But of
this contingent engagement I at present know no more than you do.
Now, will you, upon this exposition of affairs, choose your own time for
coming to us, and, when you have made your choice, write to me at Gad's
Hill? I am going down this afternoon for rest (which means violent
cricket with the boys) after last Saturday night; which was a teaser,
but triumphant. The St. Martin's Hall audience was, I must confess, a
very extraordinary thing. The two thousand and odd people were like one,
and their enthusiasm was something awful.
Yet I have seen that before, too. Your young remembrance cannot recall
the man; but he flourished in my day--a great actor, sir--a noble
actor--thorough artist! I have seen him do wonders in that way. He
retired from the stage early in life (having a monomaniacal delusion
that he was old), and is said to be still living in your county.
All join in kindest love to your dear sister and all the rest.
Ever, my dearest Macready,
Most affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Edmund%20Yates/375Charles Dickens
1857-07-19[Sidenote: Mr. Edmund Yates.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Sunday, July 19th, 1857._
MY DEAR YATES,
Although I date this ashore, I really write it from Southampton (don't
notice this fact in your reply, for I shall be in town on Wednesday). I
have come here on an errand which will grow familiar to you before you
know that Time has flapped his wings over your head. Like me, you will
find those babies grow to be young men before you are quite sure they
are born. Like me, you will have great teeth drawn with a wrench, and
will only then know that you ever cut them. I am here to send Walter
away over what they call, in Green Bush melodramas, "the Big Drink," and
I don't at all know this day how he comes to be mine, or I his.
I don't write to say this--or to say how seeing Charley, and he going
aboard the ship before me just now, I suddenly came into possession of a
photograph of my own back at sixteen and twenty, and also into a
suspicion that I had doubled the last age. I merely write to mention
that Telbin and his wife are going down to Gad's Hill with us, about
mid-day next Sunday, and that if you and Mrs. Yates will come too, we
shall be delighted to have you. We can give you a bed, and you can be in
town (if you have such a savage necessity) by twenty minutes before ten
on Monday morning.
I was very much pleased (as I had reason to be) with your account of the
reading in _The Daily News_. I thank you heartily.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/T%20P%20Cooke/376Charles Dickens
1857-07-30[Sidenote: Mr. T. P. Cooke.]
IN REMEMBRANCE OF THE LATE MR. DOUGLAS JERROLD.
COMMITTEE'S OFFICE, GALLERY OF ILLUSTRATION,
REGENT STREET, _Thursday, July 30th, 1857._
MY DEAR MR. COOKE,
I cannot rest satisfied this morning without writing to congratulate you
on your admirable performance of last night. It was so fresh and
vigorous, so manly and gallant, that I felt as if it splashed against my
theatre-heated face along with the spray of the breezy sea. What I felt
everybody felt; I should feel it quite an impertinence to take myself
out of the crowd, therefore, if I could by any means help doing so. But
I can't; so I hope you will feel that you bring me on yourself, and have
only yourself to blame.
Always faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Compton/377Charles Dickens
1857-08-02[Sidenote: Mrs. Compton.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER,
_Sunday Night, Aug 2nd, 1857._
MY DEAR MRS. COMPTON,
We are going to play "The Frozen Deep" (pursuant to requisition from
town magnates, etc.) at Manchester, at the New Free Trade Hall, on the
nights of Friday and Saturday, the 21st and 22nd August.
The place is out of the question for my girls. Their action could not be
seen, and their voices could not be heard. You and I have played, there
and elsewhere, so sociably and happily, that I am emboldened to ask you
whether you would play my sister-in-law Georgina's part (Compton and
babies permitting).
We shall go down in the old pleasant way, and shall have the Art
Treasures Exhibition to ourselves on the Sunday; when even "he" (as
Rogers always called every pretty woman's husband) might come and join
us.
What do you say? What does he say? and what does baby say? When I use
the term "baby," I use it in two tenses--present and future.
Answer me at this address, like the Juliet I saw at Drury Lane--when was
it?--yesterday. And whatever your answer is, if you will say that you
and Compton will meet us at the North Kent Station, London Bridge, next
Sunday at a quarter before one, and will come down here for a breath of
sweet air and stay all night, you will give your old friends great
pleasure. Not least among them,
Yours faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/378Charles Dickens
1857-08-03[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER,
_Monday, Aug. 3rd, 1857._
MY DEAREST MACREADY,
I write to you in reference to your last note, as soon as I positively
know our final movements in the Jerrold matter.
We are going to wind up by acting at Manchester (on solemn requisition)
on the evenings of Friday and Saturday, the 21st and 22nd (actresses
substituted for the girls, of course). We shall have to leave here on
the morning of the 20th. You thought of coming on the 16th; can't you
make it a day or two earlier, so as to be with us a whole week? Decide
and pronounce. Again, cannot you bring Katey with you? Decide and
pronounce thereupon, also.
I read at Manchester last Friday. As many thousand people were there as
you like to name. The collection of pictures in the Exhibition is
wonderful. And the power with which the modern English school asserts
itself is a very gratifying and delightful thing to behold. The care for
the common people, in the provision made for their comfort and
refreshment, is also admirable and worthy of all commendation. But they
want more amusement, and particularly (as it strikes me) _something in
motion_, though it were only a twisting fountain. The thing is too still
after their lives of machinery, and art flies over their heads in
consequence.
I hope you have seen my tussle with the "Edinburgh." I saw the chance
last Friday week, as I was going down to read the "Carol" in St.
Martin's Hall. Instantly turned to, then and there, and wrote half the
article. Flew out of bed early next morning, and finished it by noon.
Went down to Gallery of Illustration (we acted that night), did the
day's business, corrected the proofs in Polar costume in dressing-room,
broke up two numbers of "Household Words" to get it out directly, played
in "Frozen Deep" and "Uncle John," presided at supper of company, made
no end of speeches, went home and gave in completely for four hours,
then got sound asleep, and next day was as fresh as you used to be in
the far-off days of your lusty youth.
All here send kindest love to your dear good sister and all the house.
Ever and ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Frank%20Stone%20ARA/379Charles Dickens
1857-08-09[Sidenote: Mr. Frank Stone, A.R.A.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Sunday Afternoon, Aug. 9th, 1857._
MY DEAR STONE,
Now here, without any preface, is a good, confounding, stunning question
for you--would you like to play "Uncle John" on the two nights at
Manchester?
It is not a long part. You could have a full rehearsal on the Friday,
and I could sit in the wing at night and pull you through all the
business. Perhaps you might not object to being in the thing in your own
native place, and the relief to me would be enormous.
This is what has come into my head lying in bed to-day (I have been in
bed all day), and this is just my plain reason for writing to you.
It's a capital part, and you are a capital old man. You know the play as
we play it, and the Manchester people don't. Say the word, and I'll send
you my own book by return of post.
The agitation and exertion of Richard Wardour are so great to me, that I
cannot rally my spirits in the short space of time I get. The strain is
so great to make a show of doing it, that I want to be helped out of
"Uncle John" if I can. Think of yourself far more than me; but if you
half think you are up to the joke, and half doubt your being so, then
give me the benefit of the doubt and play the part.
Answer me at Gad's Hill.
Ever affectionately.
P.S.--If you play, I shall immediately announce it to all concerned. If
you don't, I shall go on as if nothing had happened, and shall say
nothing to anyone.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Henry%20Austin/380Charles Dickens
1857-08-15[Sidenote: Mr. Henry Austin.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, _Saturday, Aug. 15th, 1857._
MY DEAR HENRY,
At last, I am happy to inform you, we have got at a famous spring!! It
rushed in this morning, ten foot deep. And our friends talk of its
supplying "a ton a minute for yourself and your family, sir, for
nevermore."
They ask leave to bore ten feet lower, to prevent the possibility of
what they call "a choking with sullage." Likewise, they are going to
insert "a rose-headed pipe;" at the mention of which implement, I am
(secretly) well-nigh distracted, having no idea of what it means. But I
have said "Yes," besides instantly standing a bottle of gin. Can you
come back, and can you get down on Monday morning, to advise and
endeavour to decide on the mechanical force we shall use for raising the
water? I would return with you, as I shall have to be in town until
Thursday, and then to go to Manchester until the following Tuesday.
I send this by hand to John, to bring to you.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Frank%20Stone%20ARA/381Charles Dickens
1857-08-17[Sidenote: Mr. Frank Stone, A.R.A.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, _Monday, Aug. 17th, 1857._
MY DEAR STONE,
I received your kind note this morning, and write this reply here to
take to London with me and post in town, being bound for that village
and three days' drill of the professional ladies who are to succeed the
Tavistock girls.
My book I enclose. There is a slight alteration (which does not affect
you) at the end of the first act, in order that the piece may be played
through without having the drop curtain down. You will not find the
situations or business difficult, with me on the spot to put you right.
Now, as to the dress. You will want a pair of pumps, and a pair of white
silk socks; these you can get at Manchester. The extravagantly and
anciently-frilled shirts that I have had got up for the part, I will
bring you down; large white waistcoat, I will bring you down; large
white hat, I will bring you down; dressing-gown, I will bring you down;
white gloves and ditto choker you can get at Manchester. There then
remain only a pair of common nankeen tights, to button below the calf,
and blue wedding-coat. The nankeen tights you had best get made at once;
my "Uncle John" coat I will send you down in a parcel by to-morrow's
train, to have altered in Manchester to your shape and figure. You will
then be quite independent of Christian chance and Jewish Nathan, which
latter potentate is now at Canterbury with the cricket amateurs, and
might fail.
A Thursday's rehearsal is (unfortunately) now impracticable, the passes
for the railway being all made out, and the company's sailing orders
issued. But, as I have already suggested, with a careful rehearsal on
Friday morning, and with me at the wing at night to put you right, you
will find yourself sliding through it easily. There is nothing in the
least complicated in the business. As to the dance, you have only to
knock yourself up for a twelvemonth and it will go nobly.
After all, too, if you _should_, through any unlucky breakdown, come to
be afraid of it, I am no worse off than I was before, if I have to do it
at last. Keep your pecker up with that.
I am heartily obliged to you, my dear old boy, for your affectionate and
considerate note, and I wouldn't have you do it, really and
sincerely--immense as the relief will be to me--unless you are quite
comfortable in it, and able to enjoy it.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Frank%20Stone%20ARA/382Charles Dickens
1857-08-18[Sidenote: Mr. Frank Stone, A.R.A.]
OFFICE OF "HOUSEHOLD WORDS," _Tuesday, Aug. 18th, 1857._
MY DEAR STONE,
I sent you a telegraph message last night, in total contradiction of the
letter you received from me this morning.
The reason was simply this: Arthur Smith and the other business men,
both in Manchester and here, urged upon me, in the strongest manner,
that they were afraid of the change; that it was well known in
Manchester that I had done the part in London; that there was a danger
of its being considered disrespectful in me to give it up; also that
there was a danger that it might be thought that I did so at the last
minute, after an immense let, whereas I might have done it at first,
etc. etc. etc. Having no desire but for the success of our object, and a
becoming recognition on my part of the kind Manchester public's
cordiality, I gave way, and thought it best to go on.
I do so against the grain, and against every inclination, and against
the strongest feeling of gratitude to you. My people at home will be
miserable too when they hear I am going to do it. If I could have heard
from you sooner, and got the bill out sooner, I should have been firmer
in considering my own necessity of relief. As it is, I sneak under; and
I hope you will feel the reasons, and approve.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Henry%20Austin/383Charles Dickens
1857-09-02[Sidenote: Mr. Henry Austin.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, _Wednesday, Sept. 2nd, 1857._
MY DEAR HENRY,
The second conspirator has been here this morning to ask whether you
wish the windlass to be left in the yard, and whether you will want him
and his mate any more, and, if so, when? Of course he says (rolling
something in the form of a fillet in at one broken tooth all the while,
and rolling it out at another) that they could wish fur to have the
windlass if it warn't any ways a hill conwenience fur to fetch her away.
I have told him that if he will come back on Friday he shall have your
reply. Will you, therefore, send it me by return of post? He says he'll
"look up" (as if he was an astronomer) "a Friday arterdinner."
On Monday I am going away with Collins for ten days or a fortnight, on a
"tour in search of an article" for "Household Words." We have not the
least idea where we are going; but _he_ says, "Let's look at the Norfolk
coast," and _I_ say, "Let's look at the back of the Atlantic." I don't
quite know what I mean by that; but have a general impression that I
mean something knowing.
I am horribly used up after the Jerrold business. Low spirits, low
pulse, low voice, intense reaction. If I were not like Mr. Micawber,
"falling back for a spring" on Monday, I think I should slink into a
corner and cry.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/384Charles Dickens
1857-09-09[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
ALLONBY, CUMBERLAND, _Wednesday Night, Sept. 9th, 1857._
MY DEAR GEORGY,
Think of Collins's usual luck with me! We went up a Cumberland mountain
yesterday--a huge black hill, fifteen hundred feet high. We took for a
guide a capital innkeeper hard by. It rained in torrents--as it only
does rain in a hill country--the whole time. At the top, there were
black mists and the darkness of night. It then came out that the
innkeeper had not been up for twenty years, and he lost his head and
himself altogether; and we couldn't get down again! What wonders the
Inimitable performed with his compass until it broke with the heat and
wet of his pocket no matter; it did break, and then we wandered about,
until it was clear to the Inimitable that the night must be passed
there, and the enterprising travellers probably die of cold. We took our
own way about coming down, struck, and declared that the guide might
wander where he would, but we would follow a watercourse we lighted
upon, and which must come at last to the river. This necessitated
amazing gymnastics; in the course of which performances, Collins fell
into the said watercourse with his ankle sprained, and the great
ligament of the foot and leg swollen I don't know how big.
How I enacted Wardour over again in carrying him down, and what a
business it was to get him down; I may say in Gibbs's words: "Vi lascio
a giudicare!" But he was got down somehow, and we got off the mountain
somehow; and now I carry him to bed, and into and out of carriages,
exactly like Wardour in private life. I don't believe he will stand for
a month to come. He has had a doctor, and can wear neither shoe nor
stocking, and has his foot wrapped up in a flannel waistcoat, and has a
breakfast saucer of liniment, and a horrible dabbling of lotion
incessantly in progress. We laugh at it all, but I doubt very much
whether he can go on to Doncaster. It will be a miserable blow to our H.
W. scheme, and I say nothing about it as yet; but he is really so
crippled that I doubt the getting him there. We have resolved to fall
to work to-morrow morning and begin our writing; and there, for the
present, that point rests.
This is a little place with fifty houses, five bathing-machines, five
girls in straw hats, five men in straw hats, and no other company. The
little houses are all in half-mourning--yellow stone on white stone, and
black; and it reminds me of what Broadstairs might have been if it had
not inherited a cliff, and had been an Irishman. But this is a capital
little homely inn, looking out upon the sea; and we are really very
comfortably lodged. I can just stand upright in my bedroom. Otherwise,
it is a good deal like one of Ballard's top-rooms. We have a very
obliging and comfortable landlady; and it is a clean nice place in a
rough wild country. We came here haphazard, but could not have done
better.
We lay last night at a place called Wigton--also in half-mourning--with
the wonderful peculiarity that it had no population, no business, no
streets to speak of; but five linendrapers within range of our small
windows, one linendraper's next door, and five more linendrapers round
the corner. I ordered a night-light in my bedroom. A queer little old
woman brought me one of the common Child's night-lights, and seeming to
think that I looked at it with interest, said: "It's joost a vara
keeyourious thing, sir, and joost new coom oop. It'll burn awt hoors a'
end, an no gootther, nor no waste, nor ony sike a thing, if you can
creedit what I say, seein' the airticle."
Of course _I_ shall go to Doncaster, whether or no (please God), and my
postage directions to you remain unchanged. Love to Mamey, Katey,
Charley, Harry, and the darling Plorn.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/385Charles Dickens
1857-09-12[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
LANCASTER, _Saturday Night, Sept. 12th, 1857._
MY DEAR GEORGY,
I received your letter at Allonby yesterday, and was delighted to get
it. We came back to Carlisle last night (to a capital inn, kept by
Breach's brother), and came on here to-day. We are on our way to
Doncaster; but Sabbath observance throws all the trains out; and
although it is not a hundred miles from here, we shall have, as well as
I can make out the complicated lists of trains, to sleep at Leeds--which
I particularly detest as an odious place--to-morrow night.
Accustomed as you are to the homage which men delight to render to the
Inimitable, you would be scarcely prepared for the proportions it
assumes in this northern country. Station-masters assist him to alight
from carriages, deputations await him in hotel entries, innkeepers bow
down before him and put him into regal rooms, the town goes down to the
platform to see him off, and Collins's ankle goes into the newspapers!!!
It is a great deal better than it was, and he can get into new hotels
and up the stairs with two thick sticks, like an admiral in a farce. His
spirits have improved in a corresponding degree, and he contemplates
cheerfully the keeping house at Doncaster. I thought (as I told you) he
would never have gone there, but he seems quite up to the mark now. Of
course he can never walk out, or see anything of any place. We have done
our first paper for H. W., and sent it up to the printer's.
The landlady of the little inn at Allonby lived at Greta Bridge, in
Yorkshire, when I went down there before "Nickleby," and was smuggled
into the room to see me, when I was secretly found out. She is an
immensely fat woman now. "But I could tuck my arm round her waist then,
Mr. Dickens," the landlord said when she told me the story as I was
going to bed the night before last. "And can't you do it now," I said,
"you insensible dog? Look at me! Here's a picture!" Accordingly, I got
round as much of her as I could; and this gallant action was the most
successful I have ever performed, on the whole. I think it was the
dullest little place I ever entered; and what with the monotony of an
idle sea, and what with the monotony of another sea in the room
(occasioned by Collins's perpetually holding his ankle over a pail of
salt water, and laving it with a milk jug), I struck yesterday, and came
away.
We are in a very remarkable old house here, with genuine old rooms and
an uncommonly quaint staircase. I have a state bedroom, with two
enormous red four-posters in it, each as big as Charley's room at Gad's
Hill. Bellew is to preach here to-morrow. "And we know he is a friend of
yours, sir," said the landlord, when he presided over the serving of the
dinner (two little salmon trout; a sirloin steak; a brace of partridges;
seven dishes of sweets; five dishes of dessert, led off by a bowl of
peaches; and in the centre an enormous bride-cake--"We always have it
here, sir," said the landlord, "custom of the house.") (Collins turned
pale, and estimated the dinner at half a guinea each.)
This is the stupidest of letters, but all description is gone, or going,
into "The Lazy Tour of Two Idle Apprentices."
Kiss the darling Plorn, who is often in my thoughts. Best love to
Charley, Mamey, and Katie. I will write to you again from Doncaster,
where I shall be rejoiced to find another letter from you.
Ever affectionately, my dearest Georgy.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/386Charles Dickens
1857-09-15[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
ANGEL HOTEL, DONCASTER, _Tuesday, Sept. 15th, 1857._
MY DEAR GEORGY,
I found your letter here on my arrival yesterday. I had hoped that the
wall would have been almost finished by this time, and the additions to
the house almost finished too--but patience, patience!
We have very good, clean, and quiet apartments here, on the second
floor, looking down into the main street, which is full of horse
jockeys, bettors, drunkards, and other blackguards, from morning to
night--and all night. The races begin to-day and last till Friday, which
is the Cup Day. I am not going to the course this morning, but have
engaged a carriage (open, and pair) for to-morrow and Friday.
"The Frozen Deep's" author gets on as well as could be expected. He can
hobble up and down stairs when absolutely necessary, and limps to his
bedroom on the same floor. He talks of going to the theatre to-night in
a cab, which will be the first occasion of his going out, except to
travel, since the accident. He sends his kind regards and thanks for
enquiries and condolence. I am perpetually tidying the rooms after him,
and carrying all sorts of untidy things which belong to him into his
bedroom, which is a picture of disorder. You will please to imagine
mine, airy and clean, little dressing-room attached, eight water-jugs (I
never saw such a supply), capital sponge-bath, perfect arrangement, and
exquisite neatness. We breakfast at half-past eight, and fall to work
for H. W. afterwards. Then I go out, and--hem! look for subjects.
The mayor called this morning to do the honours of the town, whom it
pleased the Inimitable to receive with great courtesy and affability. He
propounded invitation to public _déjeûner_, which it did _not_ please
the Inimitable to receive, and which he graciously rejected.
That's all the news. Everything I can describe by hook or by crook, I
describe for H. W. So there is nothing of that sort left for letters.
Best love to dear Mamey and Katey, and to Charley, and to Harry. Any
number of kisses to the noble Plorn.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Arthur%20Ryland/387Charles Dickens
1857-10-03[Sidenote: Mr. Arthur Ryland.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, _Saturday Evening, Oct. 3rd, 1857._
MY DEAR SIR,
I have had the honour and pleasure of receiving your letter of the 28th
of last month, informing me of the distinction that has been conferred
upon me by the Council of the Birmingham and Midland Institute.
Allow me to assure you with much sincerity, that I am highly gratified
by having been elected one of the first honorary members of that
establishment. Nothing could have enhanced my interest in so important
an undertaking; but the compliment is all the more welcome to me on that
account.
I accept it with a due sense of its worth, with many acknowledgments and
with all good wishes.
I am ever, my dear Sir, very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Edmund%20Yates/388Charles Dickens
1857-11-16[Sidenote: Mr. Edmund Yates.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Monday Night, Nov. 16th, 1857._
MY DEAR YATES,
I retain the story with pleasure; and I need not tell you that you are
not mistaken in the last lines of your note.
Excuse me, on that ground, if I say a word or two as to what I think (I
mention it with a view to the future) might be better in the paper. The
opening is excellent. But it passes too completely into the Irishman's
narrative, does not light it up with the life about it, or the
circumstances under which it is delivered, and does not carry through
it, as I think it should with a certain indefinable subtleness, the
thread with which you begin your weaving. I will tell Wills to send me
the proof, and will try to show you what I mean when I shall have gone
over it carefully.
Faithfully yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Frank%20Stone%20ARA/389Charles Dickens
1857-12-13[Sidenote: Mr. Frank Stone, A.R.A.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Wednesday, Dec. 13th, 1857._
MY DEAR STONE,
I find on enquiry that the "General Theatrical Fund" has relieved
non-members in one or two instances; but that it is exceedingly
unwilling to do so, and would certainly not do so again, saving on some
very strong and exceptional case. As its trustee, I could not represent
to it that I think it ought to sail into those open waters, for I very
much doubt the justice of such cruising, with a reference to the
interests of the patient people who support it out of their small
earnings.
Affectionately ever.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] The part played in "The Frozen Deep" by its author, Mr. Wilkie
Collins.
[2] The Earl of Carlisle was at this time Viceroy of Ireland.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Wilkie%20Collins/390Charles Dickens
1858-01-17[Sidenote: Mr. W. Wilkie Collins.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Sunday, Jan. 17th, 1858._
MY DEAR WILKIE,
I am very sorry to receive so bad an account of the foot. But I hope it
is all in the past tense now.
I met with an incident the other day, which I think is a good deal in
your way, for introduction either into a long or short story. Dr.
Sutherland and Dr. Monro went over St. Luke's with me (only last
Friday), to show me some distinctly and remarkably developed types of
insanity. Among other patients, we passed a deaf and dumb man, now
afflicted with incurable madness too, of whom they said that it was only
when his madness began to develop itself in strongly-marked mad actions,
that it began to be suspected. "Though it had been there, no doubt, some
time." This led me to consider, suspiciously, what employment he had
been in, and so to ask the question. "Aye," says Dr. Sutherland, "that
is the most remarkable thing of all, Mr. Dickens. He was employed in the
transmission of electric-telegraph messages; and it is impossible to
conceive what delirious despatches that man may have been sending about
all over the world!"
Rejoiced to hear such good report of the play.
Ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Edmund%20Yates/391Charles Dickens
1858-02-02[Sidenote: Mr. Edmund Yates.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Tuesday, Feb. 2nd, 1858._
MY DEAR YATES,
Your quotation is, as I supposed, all wrong. The text is _not_ "which
his 'owls was organs." When Mr. Harris went into an empty dog-kennel, to
spare his sensitive nature the anguish of overhearing Mrs. Harris's
exclamations on the occasion of the birth of her first child (the
Princess Royal of the Harris family), "he never took his hands away from
his ears, or came out once, till he was showed the baby." On
encountering that spectacle, he was (being of a weakly constitution)
"took with fits." For this distressing complaint he was medically
treated; the doctor "collared him, and laid him on his back upon the
airy stones"--please to observe what follows--"and she was told, to ease
her mind, his 'owls was organs."
That is to say, Mrs. Harris, lying exhausted on her bed, in the first
sweet relief of freedom from pain, merely covered with the counterpane,
and not yet "put comfortable," hears a noise apparently proceeding from
the back-yard, and says, in a flushed and hysterical manner: "What 'owls
are those? Who is a-'owling? Not my ugebond?" Upon which the doctor,
looking round one of the bottom posts of the bed, and taking Mrs.
Harris's pulse in a reassuring manner, says, with much admirable
presence of mind: "Howls, my dear madam?--no, no, no! What are we
thinking of? Howls, my dear Mrs. Harris? Ha, ha, ha! Organs, ma'am,
organs. Organs in the streets, Mrs. Harris; no howls."
Yours faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20M%20Thackeray/392Charles Dickens
1858-02-02[Sidenote: Mr. W. M. Thackeray.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Tuesday, Feb. 2nd, 1858._
MY DEAR THACKERAY,
The wisdom of Parliament, in that expensive act of its greatness which
constitutes the Guild, prohibits that corporation _from doing anything_
until it shall have existed in a perfectly useless condition for seven
years. This clause (introduced by some private-bill magnate of official
might) seemed so ridiculous, that nobody could believe it to have this
meaning; but as I felt clear about it when we were on the very verge of
granting an excellent literary annuity, I referred the point to counsel,
and my construction was confirmed without a doubt.
It is therefore needless to enquire whether an association in the nature
of a provident society could address itself to such a case as you
confide to me. The prohibition has still two or three years of life in
it.
But, assuming the gentleman's title to be considered as an "author" as
established, there is no question that it comes within the scope of the
Literary Fund. They would habitually "lend" money if they did what I
consider to be their duty; as it is they only give money, but they give
it in such instances.
I have forwarded the envelope to the Society of Arts, with a request
that they will present it to Prince Albert, approaching H.R.H. in the
Siamese manner.
Ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/John%20Forster/393Charles Dickens
1858-02-03[Sidenote: Mr. John Forster.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Wednesday Night, Feb. 3rd, 1858._
MY DEAR FORSTER,
I beg to report two phenomena:
1. An excellent little play in one act, by Marston, at the Lyceum;
title, "A Hard Struggle;" as good as "La Joie fait Peur," though not at
all like it.
2. Capital acting in the same play, by Mr. Dillon. Real good acting, in
imitation of nobody, and honestly made out by himself!!
I went (at Marston's request) last night, and cried till I sobbed again.
I have not seen a word about it from Oxenford. But it is as wholesome
and manly a thing altogether as I have seen for many a day. (I would
have given a hundred pounds to have played Mr. Dillon's part).
Love to Mrs. Forster.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Dr%20Westland%20Marston/394Charles Dickens
1858-02-03[Sidenote: Dr. Westland Marston.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Wednesday, Feb. 3rd, 1858._
MY DEAR MARSTON,
I most heartily and honestly congratulate you on your charming little
piece. It moved me more than I could easily tell you, if I were to try.
Except "La Joie fait Peur," I have seen nothing nearly so good, and
there is a subtlety in the comfortable presentation of the child who is
to become a devoted woman for Reuben's sake, which goes a long way
beyond Madame de Girardin. I am at a loss to let you know how much I
admired it last night, or how heartily I cried over it. A touching idea,
most delicately conceived and wrought out by a true artist and poet, in
a spirit of noble, manly generosity, that no one should be able to study
without great emotion.
It is extremely well acted by all concerned; but Mr. Dillon's
performance is really admirable, and deserving of the highest
commendation. It is good in these days to see an actor taking such
pains, and expressing such natural and vigorous sentiment. There is only
one thing I should have liked him to change. I am much mistaken if any
man--least of all any such man--would crush a letter written by the hand
of the woman he loved. Hold it to his heart unconsciously and look about
for it the while, he might; or he might do any other thing with it that
expressed a habit of tenderness and affection in association with the
idea of her; but he would never crush it under any circumstances. He
would as soon crush her heart.
You will see how closely I went with him, by my minding so slight an
incident in so fine a performance. There is no one who could approach
him in it; and I am bound to add that he surprised me as much as he
pleased me.
I think it might be worth while to try the people at the Français with
the piece. They are very good in one-act plays; such plays take well
there, and this seems to me well suited to them. If you would like
Samson or Regnier to read the play (in English), I know them well, and
would be very glad indeed to tell them that I sent it with your sanction
because I had been so much struck by it.
Faithfully yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Monsieur%20Regnier/395Charles Dickens
1858-02-11[Sidenote: Monsieur Regnier.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, LONDON, W.C., _Thursday, Feb. 11th, 1858._
MY DEAR REGNIER,
I want you to read the enclosed little play. You will see that it is in
one act--about the length of "La Joie fait Pour." It is now acting at
the Lyceum Theatre here, with very great success. The author is Mr.
Westland Marston, a dramatic writer of reputation, who wrote a very
well-known tragedy called "The Patrician's Daughter," in which Macready
and Miss Faucit acted (under Macready's management at Drury Lane) some
years ago.
This little piece is so very powerful on the stage, its interest is so
simple and natural, and the part of Reuben is such a very fine one, that
I cannot help thinking you might make one grand _coup_ with it, if with
your skilful hand you arranged it for the Français. I have communicated
this idea of mine to the author, "_et là-dessus je vous écris_." I am
anxious to know your opinion, and shall expect with much interest to
receive a little letter from you at your convenience.
Mrs. Dickens, Miss Hogarth, and all the house send a thousand kind loves
and regards to Madame Regnier and the dear little boys. You will bring
them to London when you come, with all the force of the Français--will
you not?
Ever, my dear Regnier, faithfully your Friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Monsieur%20Regnier/396Charles Dickens
1858-02-20[Sidenote: Monsieur Regnier.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Saturday, Feb. 20th, 1858._
MY DEAR REGNIER,
Let me thank you with all my heart for your most patient and kind
letter. I made its contents known to Mr. Marston, and I enclose you his
reply. You will see that he cheerfully leaves the matter in your hands,
and abides by your opinion and discretion.
You need not return his letter, my friend. There is great excitement
here this morning, in consequence of the failure of the Ministry last
night to carry the bill they brought in to please your Emperor and his
troops. _I_, for one, am extremely glad of their defeat.
"Le vieux P----," I have no doubt, will go staggering down the Rue de la
Paix to-day, with his stick in his hand and his hat on one side,
predicting the downfall of everything, in consequence of this event. His
handwriting shakes more and more every quarter, and I think he mixes a
great deal of cognac with his ink. He always gives me some astonishing
piece of news (which is never true), or some suspicious public prophecy
(which is never verified), and he always tells me he is dying (which he
never is).
Adieu, my dear Regnier, accept a thousand thanks from me, and believe
me, now and always,
Your affectionate and faithful Friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/397Charles Dickens
1858-03-15[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _March 15th, 1858._
MY DEAREST MACREADY,
I have safely received your cheque this morning, and will hand it over
forthwith to the honorary secretary of the hospital. I hope you have
read the little speech in the hospital's publication of it. They had it
taken by their own shorthand-writer, and it is done verbatim.
You may be sure that it is a good and kind charity. It is amazing to me
that it is not at this day ten times as large and rich as it is. But I
hope and trust that I have happily been able to give it a good thrust
onward into a great course. We all send our most affectionate love to
all the house. I am devising all sorts of things in my mind, and am in a
state of energetic restlessness incomprehensible to the calm
philosophers of Dorsetshire. What a dream it is, this work and strife,
and how little we do in the dream after all! Only last night, in my
sleep, I was bent upon getting over a perspective of barriers, with my
hands and feet bound. Pretty much what we are all about, waking, I
think?
But, Lord! (as I said before) you smile pityingly, not bitterly, at this
hubbub, and moralise upon it, in the calm evenings when there is no
school at Sherborne.
Ever affectionately and truly.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Hogge/398Charles Dickens
1858-04-14[Sidenote: Mrs Hogge.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, TAVISTOCK SQUARE, LONDON, W.C.,
_Wednesday, April 14th, 1858._
MY DEAR MRS. HOGGE,
After the profoundest cogitation, I come reluctantly to the conclusion
that I do not know that orphan. If you were the lady in want of him, I
should certainly offer _myself_. But as you are not, I will not hear of
the situation.
It is wonderful to think how many charming little people there must be,
to whom this proposal would be like a revelation from Heaven. Why don't
I know one, and come to Kensington, boy in hand, as if I had walked (I
wish to God I had) out of a fairy tale! But no, I do _not_ know that
orphan. He is crying somewhere, by himself, at this moment. I can't dry
his eyes. He is being neglected by some ogress of a nurse. I can't
rescue him.
I will make a point of going to the Athenæum on Monday night; and if I
had five hundred votes to give, Mr. Macdonald should have them all, for
your sake.
I grieve to hear that you have been ill, but I hope that the spring,
when it comes, will find you blooming with the rest of the flowers.
Very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Edmund%20Yates/399Charles Dickens
1858-04-28[Sidenote: Mr. Edmund Yates.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, TAVISTOCK SQUARE, LONDON, W.C.,
_Wednesday, April 28th, 1858._
MY DEAR YATES,
For a good many years I have suffered a great deal from charities, but
never anything like what I suffer now. The amount of correspondence they
inflict upon me is really incredible. But this is nothing. Benevolent
men get behind the piers of the gates, lying in wait for my going out;
and when I peep shrinkingly from my study-windows, I see their
pot-bellied shadows projected on the gravel. Benevolent bullies drive up
in hansom cabs (with engraved portraits of their benevolent institutions
hanging over the aprons, like banners on their outward walls), and stay
long at the door. Benevolent area-sneaks get lost in the kitchens and
are found to impede the circulation of the knife-cleaning machine. My
man has been heard to say (at The Burton Arms) "that if it was a
wicious place, well and good--_that_ an't door work; but that wen all
the Christian wirtues is always a-shoulderin' and a-helberin' on you in
the 'all, a-tryin' to git past you and cut upstairs into master's room,
why no wages as you couldn't name wouldn't make it up to you."
Persecuted ever.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Elizabeth%20Yates/400Charles Dickens
1858-05-15[Sidenote: Mrs Yates.]
(THE CHARMING ACTRESS, THE MOTHER OF MR. EDMUND YATES.)
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, TAVISTOCK SQUARE, W.C.,
_Saturday Evening, May 15th, 1858._
MY DEAR MRS. YATES,
Pray believe that I was sorry with all my heart to miss you last
Thursday, and to learn the occasion of your absence; also that, whenever
you can come, your presence will give me a new interest in that evening.
No one alive can have more delightful associations with the lightest
sound of your voice than I have; and to give you a minute's interest and
pleasure, in acknowledgment of the uncountable hours of happiness you
gave me when you were a mysterious angel to me, would honestly gratify
my heart.
Very faithfully and gratefully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/William%20De%20Cerjat/401Charles Dickens
1858-07-07[Sidenote: M. de Cerjat.]
GAD'S HILL, _Wednesday, July 7th, 1858._
MY DEAR CERJAT,
I should vainly try to tell you--so I _won't_ try--how affected I have
been by your warm-hearted letter, or how thoroughly well convinced I
always am of the truth and earnestness of your friendship. I thank you,
my dear, dear fellow, with my whole soul. I fervently return that
friendship and I highly cherish it.
You want to know all about me? I am still reading in London every
Thursday, and the audiences are very great, and the success immense. On
the 2nd of August I am going away on a tour of some four months in
England, Ireland, and Scotland. I shall read, during that time, not
fewer than four or five times a week. It will be sharp work; but
probably a certain musical clinking will come of it, which will mitigate
the hardship.
At this present moment I am on my little Kentish freehold (_not_ in
top-boots, and not particularly prejudiced that I know of), looking on
as pretty a view out of my study window as you will find in a long day's
English ride. My little place is a grave red brick house (time of George
the First, I suppose), which I have added to and stuck bits upon in all
manner of ways, so that it is as pleasantly irregular, and as violently
opposed to all architectural ideas, as the most hopeful man could
possibly desire. It is on the summit of Gad's Hill. The robbery was
committed before the door, on the man with the treasure, and Falstaff
ran away from the identical spot of ground now covered by the room in
which I write. A little rustic alehouse, called The Sir John Falstaff,
is over the way--has been over the way, ever since, in honour of the
event. Cobham Woods and Park are behind the house; the distant Thames in
front; the Medway, with Rochester, and its old castle and cathedral, on
one side. The whole stupendous property is on the old Dover Road, so
when you come, come by the North Kent Railway (not the South-Eastern) to
Strood or Higham, and I'll drive over to fetch you.
The blessed woods and fields have done me a world of good, and I am
quite myself again. The children are all as happy as children can be. My
eldest daughter, Mary, keeps house, with a state and gravity becoming
that high position; wherein she is assisted by her sister Katie, and by
her aunt Georgina, who is, and always has been, like another sister. Two
big dogs, a bloodhound and a St. Bernard, direct from a convent of that
name, where I think you once were, are their principal attendants in the
green lanes. These latter instantly untie the neckerchiefs of all tramps
and prowlers who approach their presence, so that they wander about
without any escort, and drive big horses in basket-phaetons through
murderous bye-ways, and never come to grief. They are very curious about
your daughters, and send all kinds of loves to them and to Mrs. Cerjat,
in which I heartily join.
You will have read in the papers that the Thames in London is most horrible.
I have to cross Waterloo or London Bridge to get to the railroad when I
come down here, and I can certify that the offensive smells, even in
that short whiff, have been of a most head-and-stomach-distending
nature. Nobody knows what is to be done; at least everybody knows a
plan, and everybody else knows it won't do; in the meantime cartloads of
chloride of lime are shot into the filthy stream, and do something I
hope. You will know, before you get this, that the American telegraph
line has parted again, at which most men are sorry, but very few
surprised. This is all the news, except that there is an Italian Opera
at Drury Lane, price eighteenpence to the pit, where Viardot, by far the
greatest artist of them all, sings, and which is full when the dear
opera can't let a box; and except that the weather has been
exceptionally hot, but is now quite cool. On the top of this hill it has
been cold, actually cold at night, for more than a week past.
I am going over to Rochester to post this letter, and must write another
to Townshend before I go. My dear Cerjat, I have written lightly
enough, because I want you to know that I am becoming cheerful and
hearty. God bless you! I love you, and I know that you love me.
Ever your attached and affectionate.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/402Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
WEST HOE, PLYMOUTH, _Thursday, Aug. 5th, 1858._
MY DEAREST GEORGY,
I received your letter this morning with the greatest pleasure, and read
it with the utmost interest in all its domestic details.
We had a most wonderful night at Exeter. It is to be regretted that we
cannot take the place again on our way back. It was a prodigious cram,
and we turned away no end of people. But not only that, I think they
were the finest audience I have ever read to. I don't think I ever read,
in some respects, so well; and I never beheld anything like the personal
affection which they poured out upon me at the end. It was really a very
remarkable sight, and I shall always look back upon it with pleasure.
Last night here was not so bright. There are quarrels of the strangest
kind between the Plymouth people and the Stonehouse people. The room is
at Stonehouse (Tracy says the wrong room; there being a Plymouth room in
this hotel, and he being a Plymouthite). We had a fair house, but not at
all a great one. All the notabilities come this morning to "Little
Dombey," for which we have let one hundred and thirty stalls, which
local admiration of local greatness considers very large. For "Mrs. Gamp
and the Boots," to-night, we have also a very promising let. But the
races are on, and there are two public balls to-night, and the yacht
squadron are all at Cherbourg to boot. Arthur is of opinion that "Two
Sixties" will do very well for us. I doubt the "Two Sixties" myself.
_Mais nous verrons._
The room is a very handsome one, but it is on the top of a windy and
muddy hill, leading (literally) to nowhere; and it looks (except that it
is new and _mortary_) as if the subsidence of the waters after the
Deluge might have left it where it is. I have to go right through the
company to get to the platform. Big doors slam and resound when anybody
comes in; and all the company seem afraid of one another. Nevertheless
they were a sensible audience last night, and much impressed and
pleased.
Tracy is in the room (wandering about, and never finishing a sentence),
and sends all manner of sea-loves to you and the dear girls. I send all
manner of land-loves to you from myself, out of my heart of hearts, and
also to my dear Plorn and the boys.
Arthur sends his kindest love. He knows only two characters. He is
either always corresponding, like a Secretary of State, or he is
transformed into a rout-furniture dealer of Rathbone Place, and drags
forms about with the greatest violence, without his coat.
I have no time to add another word.
Ever, dearest Georgy, your most affectionate.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/403Charles Dickens
1858-08-07[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
LONDON, _Saturday, Aug. 7th, 1858._
MY DEAREST MAMEY,
The closing night at Plymouth was a very great scene, and the morning
there was exceedingly good too. You will be glad to hear that at Clifton
last night, a torrent of five hundred shillings bore Arthur away,
pounded him against the wall, flowed on to the seats over his body,
scratched him, and damaged his best dress suit. All to his unspeakable
joy.
This is a very short letter, but I am going to the Burlington Arcade,
desperately resolved to have all those wonderful instruments put into
operation on my head, with a view to refreshing it.
Kindest love to Georgy and to all.
Ever your affectionate.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/404Charles Dickens
1858-08-12[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
SHREWSBURY, _Thursday, Aug. 12th, 1858._
A wonderful audience last night at Wolverhampton. If such a thing can
be, they were even quicker and more intelligent than the audience I had
in Edinburgh. They were so wonderfully good and were so much on the
alert this morning by nine o'clock for another reading, that we are
going back there at about our Bradford time. I never saw such people.
And the local agent would take no money, and charge no expenses of his
own.
This place looks what Plorn would call "ortily" dull. Local agent
predicts, however, "great satisfaction to Mr. Dickens, and excellent
attendance." I have just been to look at the hall, where everything was
wrong, and where I have left Arthur making a platform for me out of
dining-tables.
If he comes back in time, I am not quite sure but that he is himself
going to write to Gad's Hill. We talk of coming up from Chester _in the
night to-morrow, after the reading_; and of showing our precious selves
at an apparently impossibly early hour in the Gad's Hill breakfast-room
on Saturday morning.
I have not felt the fatigue to any extent worth mentioning; though I
get, every night, into the most violent heats. We are going to dine at
three o'clock (it wants a quarter now) and have not been here two
hours, so I have seen nothing of Clement.
Tell Georgy with my love, that I read in the same room in which we
acted, but at the end opposite to that where our stage was. We are not
at the inn where the amateur company put up, but at The Lion, where the
fair Miss Mitchell was lodged alone. We have the strangest little rooms
(sitting-room and two bed-rooms all together), the ceilings of which I
can touch with my hand. The windows bulge out over the street, as if
they were little stern-windows in a ship. And a door opens out of the
sitting-room on to a little open gallery with plants in it, where one
leans over a queer old rail, and looks all downhill and slant-wise at
the crookedest black and yellow old houses, all manner of shapes except
straight shapes. To get into this room we come through a china closet;
and the man in laying the cloth has actually knocked down, in that
repository, two geraniums and Napoleon Bonaparte.
I think that's all I have to say, except that at the Wolverhampton
theatre they played "Oliver Twist" last night (Mr. Toole the Artful
Dodger), "in consequence of the illustrious author honouring the town
with his presence." We heard that the device succeeded very well, and
that they got a good many people.
John's spirits have been equable and good since we rejoined him. Berry
has always got something the matter with his digestion--seems to me the
male gender of Maria Jolly, and ought to take nothing but Revalenta
Arabica. Bottled ale is not to be got in these parts, and Arthur is
thrown upon draught.
My dearest love to Georgy and to Katey, also to Marguerite. Also to all
the boys and the noble Plorn.
Ever your affectionate Father.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/405Charles Dickens
1858-08-18[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, TAVISTOCK SQUARE, LONDON, W.C.,
_Wednesday Morning, Aug. 18th, 1858._
I write this hurried line before starting, to report that my cold is
decidedly better, thank God (though still bad), and that I hope to be
able to stagger through to-night. After dinner yesterday I began to
recover my voice, and I think I sang half the Irish Melodies to myself,
as I walked about to test it. I got home at half-past ten, and
mustard-poulticed and barley-watered myself tremendously.
Love to the dear girls, and to all.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/406Charles Dickens
1858-08-20[Sidenote: The same.]
ADELPHI HOTEL, LIVERPOOL, _Friday Night, Aug. 20th, 1858._
I received your welcome and interesting letter to-day, and I write you a
very hurried and bad reply; but it is _after the reading_, and you will
take the will for the deed under these trying circumstances, I know.
We have had a tremendous night; the largest house I have ever had since
I first began--two thousand three hundred people. To-morrow afternoon,
at three, I read again.
My cold has been oppressive, and is not yet gone. I have been very hard
to sleep too, and last night I was all but sleepless. This morning I was
very dull and seedy; but I got a good walk, and picked up again. It has
been blowing all day, and I fear we shall have a sick passage over to
Dublin to-morrow night.
Tell Mamie (with my dear love to her and Katie) that I will write to her
from Dublin--probably on Sunday. Tell her too that the stories she told
me in her letter were not only capital stories in themselves, but
_excellently told_ too.
What Arthur's state has been to-night--he, John, Berry, and Boylett, all
taking money and going mad together--you _cannot_ imagine. They turned
away hundreds, sold all the books, rolled on the ground of my room
knee-deep in checks, and made a perfect pantomime of the whole thing. He
has kept quite well, I am happy to say, and sends a hundred loves.
In great haste and fatigue.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/407Charles Dickens
1858-08-23[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
MORRISON'S HOTEL, DUBLIN, _Monday, Aug. 23rd, 1858._
We had a nasty crossing here. We left Holyhead at one in the morning,
and got here at six. Arthur was incessantly sick the whole way. I was
not sick at all, but was in as healthy a condition otherwise as humanity
need be. We are in a beautiful hotel. Our sitting-room is exactly like
the drawing-room at the Peschiere in all its dimensions. I never saw two
rooms so exactly resembling one another in their proportions. Our
bedrooms too are excellent, and there are baths and all sorts of
comforts.
The Lord Lieutenant is away, and the place looks to me as if its
professional life were away too. Nevertheless, there are numbers of
people in the streets. Somehow, I hardly seem to think we are going to
do enormously here; but I have scarcely any reason for supposing so
(except that a good many houses are shut up); and I _know_ nothing about
it, for Arthur is now gone to the agent and to the room. The men came by
boat direct from Liverpool. They had a rough passage, were all ill, and
did not get here till noon yesterday. Donnybrook Fair, or what remains
of it, is going on, within two or three miles of Dublin. They went out
there yesterday in a jaunting-car, and John described it to us at
dinner-time (with his eyebrows lifted up, and his legs well asunder), as
"Johnny Brooks's Fair;" at which Arthur, who was drinking bitter ale,
nearly laughed himself to death. Berry is always unfortunate, and when I
asked what had happened to Berry on board the steamboat, it appeared
that "an Irish gentleman which was drunk, and fancied himself the
captain, wanted to knock Berry down."
I am surprised by finding this place very much larger than I had
supposed it to be. Its bye-parts are bad enough, but cleaner, too, than
I had supposed them to be, and certainly very much cleaner than the old
town of Edinburgh. The man who drove our jaunting-car yesterday hadn't a
piece in his coat as big as a penny roll, and had had his hat on
(apparently without brushing it) ever since he was grown up. But he was
remarkably intelligent and agreeable, with something to say about
everything. For instance, when I asked him what a certain building was,
he didn't say "courts of law" and nothing else, but: "Av you plase, sir,
it's the foor coorts o' looyers, where Misther O'Connell stood his trial
wunst, ye'll remimber, sir, afore I tell ye of it." When we got into the
Phoenix Park, he looked round him as if it were his own, and said:
"THAT'S a park, sir, av yer plase." I complimented it, and he said:
"Gintlemen tills me as they'r bin, sir, over Europe, and never see a
park aqualling ov it. 'Tis eight mile roond, sir, ten mile and a half
long, and in the month of May the hawthorn trees are as beautiful as
brides with their white jewels on. Yonder's the vice-regal lodge, sir;
in them two corners lives the two sicretirries, wishing I was them, sir.
There's air here, sir, av yer plase! There's scenery here, sir! There's
mountains--thim, sir! Yer coonsider it a park, sir? It is that, sir!"
You should have heard John in my bedroom this morning endeavouring to
imitate a bath-man, who had resented his interference, and had said as
to the shower-bath: "Yer'll not be touching _that_, young man. Divil a
touch yer'll touch o' that insthrument, young man!" It was more
ridiculously unlike the reality than I can express to you, yet he was so
delighted with his powers that he went off in the absurdest little
gingerbeery giggle, backing into my portmanteau all the time.
My dear love to Katie and to Georgy, also to the noble Plorn and all the
boys. I shall write to Katie next, and then to Aunty. My cold, I am
happy to report, is very much better. I lay in the wet all night on
deck, on board the boat, but am not as yet any the worse for it. Arthur
was quite insensible when we got to Dublin, and stared at our luggage
without in the least offering to claim it. He left his kindest love for
all before he went out. I will keep the envelope open until he comes in.
Ever, my dearest Mamie,
Your most affectionate Father.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/408Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
MORRISON'S HOTEL, DUBLIN, _Wednesday, Aug. 25th, 1858._
I begin my letter to you to-day, though I don't know when I may send it
off. We had a very good house last night, after all, that is to say, a
great rush of shillings and good half-crowns, though the stalls were
comparatively few. For "Little Dombey," this morning, we have an immense
stall let--already more than two hundred--and people are now fighting in
the agent's shop to take more. Through some mistake of our printer's,
the evening reading for this present Wednesday was dropped, in a great
part of the announcements, and the agent opened no plan for it. I have
therefore resolved not to have it at all. Arthur Smith has waylaid me
in all manner of ways, but I remain obdurate. I am frightfully tired,
and really relieved by the prospect of an evening--overjoyed.
They were a highly excitable audience last night, but they certainly did
not comprehend--internally and intellectually comprehend--"The Chimes"
as a London audience do. I am quite sure of it. I very much doubt the
Irish capacity of receiving the pathetic; but of their quickness as to
the humorous there can be no doubt. I shall see how they go along with
Little Paul, in his death, presently.
While I was at breakfast this morning, a general officer was announced
with great state--having a staff at the door--and came in, booted and
plumed, and covered with Crimean decorations. It was Cunninghame, whom
we knew in Genoa--then a captain. He was very hearty indeed, and came to
ask me to dinner. Of course I couldn't go. Olliffe has a brother at
Cork, who has just now (noon) written to me, proposing dinners and
excursions in that neighbourhood which would fill about a week; I being
there a day and a half, and reading three times. The work will be very
severe here, and I begin to feel depressed by it. (By "here," I mean
Ireland generally, please to observe.)
We meant, as I said in a letter to Katie, to go to Queenstown yesterday
and bask on the seashore. But there is always so much to do that we
couldn't manage it after all. We expect a tremendous house to-morrow
night as well as to-day; and Arthur is at the present instant up to his
eyes in business (and seats), and, between his regret at losing
to-night, and his desire to make the room hold twice as many as it
_will_ hold, is half distracted. I have become a wonderful
Irishman--must play an Irish part some day--and his only relaxation is
when I enact "John and the Boots," which I consequently do enact all day
long. The papers are full of remarks upon my white tie, and describe it
as being of enormous size, which is a wonderful delusion, because, as
you very well know, it is a small tie. Generally, I am happy to report,
the Emerald press is in favour of my appearance, and likes my eyes. But
one gentleman comes out with a letter at Cork, wherein he says that
although only forty-six I look like an old man. _He_ is a rum customer,
I think.
The Rutherfords are living here, and wanted me to dine with them, which,
I needn't say, could not be done; all manner of people have called, but
I have seen only two. John has given it up altogether as to rivalry with
the Boots, and did not come into my room this morning at all. Boots
appeared triumphant and alone. He was waiting for me at the hotel-door
last night. "Whaa't sart of a hoose, sur?" he asked me. "Capital." "The
Lard be praised fur the 'onor o' Dooblin!"
Arthur buys bad apples in the streets and brings them home and doesn't
eat them, and then I am obliged to put them in the balcony because they
make the room smell faint. Also he meets countrymen with honeycomb on
their heads, and leads them (by the buttonhole when they have one) to
this gorgeous establishment and requests the bar to buy honeycomb for
his breakfast; then it stands upon the sideboard uncovered and the flies
fall into it. He buys owls, too, and castles, and other horrible
objects, made in bog-oak (that material which is not appreciated at
Gad's Hill); and he is perpetually snipping pieces out of newspapers and
sending them all over the world. While I am reading he conducts the
correspondence, and his great delight is to show me seventeen or
eighteen letters when I come, exhausted, into the retiring-place. Berry
has not got into any particular trouble for forty-eight hours, except
that he is all over boils. I have prescribed the yeast, but
ineffectually. It is indeed a sight to see him and John sitting in
pay-boxes, and surveying Ireland out of pigeon-holes.
_Same Evening before Bed-time._
Everybody was at "Little Dombey" to-day, and although I had some little
difficulty to work them up in consequence of the excessive crowding of
the place, and the difficulty of shaking the people into their seats,
the effect was unmistakable and profound. The crying was universal, and
they were extraordinarily affected. There is no doubt we could stay here
a week with that one reading, and fill the place every night. Hundreds
of people have been there to-night, under the impression that it would
come off again. It was a most decided and complete success.
Arthur has been imploring me to stop here on the Friday after Limerick,
and read "Little Dombey" again. But I have positively said "No." The
work is too hard. It is not like doing it in one easy room, and always
the same room. With a different place every night, and a different
audience with its own peculiarity every night, it is a tremendous
strain. I was sick of it to-day before I began, then got myself into
wonderful train.
Here follows a dialogue (but it requires imitation), which I had
yesterday morning with a little boy of the house--landlord's son, I
suppose--about Plorn's age. I am sitting on the sofa writing, and find
him sitting beside me.
INIMITABLE. Holloa, old chap.
YOUNG IRELAND. Hal-loo!
INIMITABLE (_in his delightful way_). What a
nice old fellow you are. I am very fond of
little boys.
YOUNG IRELAND. Air yer? Ye'r right.
INIMITABLE. What do you learn, old fellow?
YOUNG IRELAND (_very intent on Inimitable, and
always childish, except in his brogue_). I
lairn wureds of three sillibils, and wureds of
two sillibils, and wureds of one sillibil.
INIMITABLE (_gaily_). Get out, you humbug! You
learn only words of one syllable.
YOUNG IRELAND (_laughs heartily_). You may say
that it is mostly wureds of one sillibil.
INIMITABLE. Can you write?
YOUNG IRELAND. Not yet. Things comes by
deegrays.
INIMITABLE. Can you cipher?
YOUNG IRELAND (_very quickly_). Wha'at's that?
INIMITABLE. Can you make figures?
YOUNG IRELAND. I can make a nought, which is
not asy, being roond.
INIMITABLE. I say, old boy, wasn't it you I saw
on Sunday morning in the hall, in a soldier's
cap? You know--in a soldier's cap?
YOUNG IRELAND (_cogitating deeply_). Was it a
very good cap?
INIMITABLE. Yes.
YOUNG IRELAND. Did it fit unkommon?
INIMITABLE. Yes.
YOUNG IRELAND. Dat was me!
There are two stupid old louts at the room, to show people into their
places, whom John calls "them two old Paddies," and of whom he says,
that he "never see nothing like them (snigger) hold idiots" (snigger).
They bow and walk backwards before the grandees, and our men hustle them
while they are doing it.
We walked out last night, with the intention of going to the theatre;
but the Piccolomini establishment (they were doing the "Lucia") looked
so horribly like a very bad jail, and the Queen's looked so
blackguardly, that we came back again, and went to bed. I seem to be
always either in a railway carriage, or reading, or going to bed. I get
so knocked up, whenever I have a minute to remember it, that then I go
to bed as a matter of course.
I send my love to the noble Plorn, and to all the boys. To dear Mamie
and Katie, and to yourself of course, in the first degree. I am looking
forward to the last Irish reading on Thursday, with great impatience.
But when we shall have turned this week, once knocked off Belfast, I
shall see land, and shall (like poor Timber in the days of old) "keep up
a good heart." I get so wonderfully hot every night in my dress clothes,
that they positively won't dry in the short interval they get, and I
have been obliged to write to Doudney's to make me another suit, that I
may have a constant change.
Ever, my dearest Georgy, most affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/409Charles Dickens
1858-08-28[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
BELFAST, _Saturday, Aug. 28th, 1858._
When I went down to the Rotunda at Dublin on Thursday night, I said to
Arthur, who came rushing at me: "You needn't tell me. I know all about
it." The moment I had come out of the door of the hotel (a mile off), I
had come against the stream of people turned away. I had struggled
against it to the room. There, the crowd in all the lobbies and passages
was so great, that I had a difficulty in getting in. They had broken all
the glass in the pay-boxes. They had offered frantic prices for stalls.
Eleven bank-notes were thrust into that pay-box (Arthur saw them) at one
time, for eleven stalls. Our men were flattened against walls, and
squeezed against beams. Ladies stood all night with their chins against
my platform. Other ladies sat all night upon my steps. You never saw
such a sight. And the reading went tremendously! It is much to be
regretted that we troubled ourselves to go anywhere else in Ireland. We
turned away people enough to make immense houses for a week.
We arrived here yesterday at two. The room will not hold more than from
eighty to ninety pounds. The same scene was repeated with the additional
feature, that the people are much rougher here than in Dublin, and that
there was a very great uproar at the opening of the doors, which, the
police in attendance being quite inefficient and only looking on, it was
impossible to check. Arthur was in the deepest misery because shillings
got into stalls, and half-crowns got into shillings, and stalls got
nowhere, and there was immense confusion. It ceased, however, the moment
I showed myself; and all went most brilliantly, in spite of a great
piece of the cornice of the ceiling falling with a great crash within
four or five inches of the head of a young lady on my platform (I was
obliged to have people there), and in spite of my gas suddenly going out
at the time of the game of forfeits at Scrooge's nephew's, through some
Belfastian gentleman accidentally treading on the flexible pipe, and
needing to be relighted.
We shall not get to Cork before mid-day on Monday; it being difficult to
get from here on a Sunday. We hope to be able to start away to-morrow
morning to see the Giant's Causeway (some sixteen miles off), and in
that case we shall sleep at Dublin to-morrow night, leaving here by the
train at half-past three in the afternoon. Dublin, you must understand,
is on the way to Cork. This is a fine place, surrounded by lofty hills.
The streets are very wide, and the place is very prosperous. The whole
ride from Dublin here is through a very picturesque and various country;
and the amazing thing is, that it is all particularly neat and orderly,
and that the houses (outside at all events) are all brightly whitewashed
and remarkably clean. I want to climb one of the neighbouring hills
before this morning's "Dombey." I am now waiting for Arthur, who has
gone to the bank to remit his last accumulation of treasure to London.
Our men are rather indignant with the Irish crowds, because in the
struggle they don't sell books, and because, in the pressure, they can't
force a way into the room afterwards to sell them. They are deeply
interested in the success, however, and are as zealous and ardent as
possible. I shall write to Katie next. Give her my best love, and kiss
the darling Plorn for me, and give my love to all the boys.
Ever, my dearest Mamie,
Your most affectionate Father.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/410Charles Dickens
1858-08-29[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
MORRISON'S HOTEL, DUBLIN, _Sunday Night, Aug. 29th, 1858._
I am so delighted to find your letter here to-night (eleven o'clock),
and so afraid that, in the wear and tear of this strange life, I have
written to Gad's Hill in the wrong order, and have not written to you,
as I should, that I resolve to write this before going to bed. You will
find it a wretchedly stupid letter; but you may imagine, my dearest
girl, that I am tired.
The success at Belfast has been equal to the success here. Enormous! We
turned away half the town. I think them a better audience, on the whole,
than Dublin; and the personal affection there was something
overwhelming. I wish you and the dear girls could have seen the people
look at me in the street; or heard them ask me, as I hurried to the
hotel after reading last night, to "do me the honour to shake hands,
Misther Dickens, and God bless you, sir; not ounly for the light you've
been to me this night, but for the light you've been in mee house, sir
(and God love your face), this many a year." Every night, by-the-bye,
since I have been in Ireland, the ladies have beguiled John out of the
bouquet from my coat. And yesterday morning, as I had showered the
leaves from my geranium in reading "Little Dombey," they mounted the
platform, after I was gone, and picked them all up as keepsakes!
I have never seen _men_ go in to cry so undisguisedly as they did at
that reading yesterday afternoon. They made no attempt whatever to hide
it, and certainly cried more than the women. As to the "Boots" at night,
and "Mrs. Gamp" too, it was just one roar with me and them; for they
made me laugh so that sometimes I _could not_ compose my face to go on.
You must not let the new idea of poor dear Landor efface the former
image of the fine old man. I wouldn't blot him out, in his tender
gallantry, as he sat upon that bed at Forster's that night, for a
million of wild mistakes at eighty years of age.
I hope to be at Tavistock House before five o'clock next Saturday
morning, and to lie in bed half the day, and come home by the 10.50 on
Sunday.
Tell the girls that Arthur and I have each ordered at Belfast a trim,
sparkling, slap-up _Irish jaunting-car_!!! I flatter myself we shall
astonish the Kentish people. It is the oddest carriage in the world, and
you are always falling off. But it is gay and bright in the highest
degree. Wonderfully Neapolitan.
What with a sixteen mile ride before we left Belfast, and a sea-beach
walk, and a two o'clock dinner, and a seven hours' railway ride since, I
am--as we say here--"a thrifle weary." But I really am in wonderful
force, considering the work. For which I am, as I ought to be, very
thankful.
Arthur was exceedingly unwell last night--could not cheer up at all. He
was so very unwell that he left the hall(!) and became invisible after
my five minutes' rest. I found him at the hotel in a jacket and
slippers, and with a hot bath just ready. He was in the last stage of
prostration. The local agent was with me, and proposed that he (the
wretched Arthur) should go to his office and balance the accounts then
and there. He went, in the jacket and slippers, and came back in twenty
minutes, _perfectly well_, in consequence of the admirable balance. He
is now sitting opposite to me ON THE BAG OF SILVER, forty pounds (it
must be dreadfully hard), writing to Boulogne.
I suppose it is clear that the next letter I write is Katie's. Either
from Cork or from Limerick, it shall report further. At Limerick I read
in the theatre, there being no other place.
Best love to Mamie and Katie, and dear Plorn, and all the boys left when
this comes to Gad's Hill; also to my dear good Anne, and her little
woman.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Wilkie%20Collins/411Charles Dickens
1858-09-06[Sidenote: Mr. W. Wilkie Collins.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Monday, Sept. 6th, 1858._
MY DEAR WILKIE,
First, let me report myself here for something less than eight-and-forty
hours. I come last (and direct--a pretty hard journey) from Limerick.
The success in Ireland has been immense.
The work is very hard, sometimes overpowering; but I am none the worse
for it, and arrived here quite fresh.
Secondly, will you let me recommend the enclosed letter from Wigan, as
the groundwork of a capital article, in your way, for H. W.? There is
not the least objection to a plain reference to him, or to Phelps, to
whom the same thing happened a year or two ago, near Islington, in the
case of a clever and capital little daughter of his. I think it a
capital opportunity for a discourse on gentility, with a glance at those
other schools which advertise that the "sons of gentlemen only" are
admitted, and a just recognition of the greater liberality of our public
schools. There are tradesmen's sons at Eton, and Charles Kean was at
Eton, and Macready (also an actor's son) was at Rugby. Some such title
as "Scholastic Flunkeydom," or anything infinitely contemptuous, would
help out the meaning. Surely such a schoolmaster must swallow all the
silver forks that the pupils are expected to take when they come, and
are not expected to take away with them when they go. And of course he
could not exist, unless he had flunkey customers by the dozen.
Secondly--no, this is thirdly now--about the Christmas number. I have
arranged so to stop my readings, as to be available for it on _the 15th
of November_, which will leave me time to write a good article, if I
clear my way to one. Do you see your way to our making a Christmas
number of this idea that I am going very briefly to hint? Some
disappointed person, man or woman, prematurely disgusted with the world,
for some reason or no reason (the person should be young, I think)
retires to an old lonely house, or an old lonely mill, or anything you
like, with one attendant, resolved to shut out the world, and hold no
communion with it. The one attendant sees the absurdity of the idea,
pretends to humour it, but really thus to slaughter it. Everything that
happens, everybody that comes near, every breath of human interest that
floats into the old place from the village, or the heath, or the four
cross-roads near which it stands, and from which belated travellers
stray into it, shows beyond mistake that you can't shut out the world;
that you are in it, to be of it; that you get into a false position the
moment you try to sever yourself from it; and that you must mingle with
it, and make the best of it, and make the best of yourself into the
bargain.
If we could plot out a way of doing this together, I would not be afraid
to take my part. If we could not, could we plot out a way of doing it,
and taking in stories by other hands? If we could not do either (but I
think we could), shall we fall back upon a round of stories again? That
I would rather not do, if possible. Will you think about it?
And can you come and dine at Tavistock House _on Monday, the 20th
September, at half-past five_? I purpose being at home there with the
girls that day.
Answer this, according to my printed list for the week. I am off to
Huddersfield on Wednesday morning.
I think I will now leave off; merely adding that I have got a splendid
brogue (it really is exactly like the people), and that I think of
coming out as the only legitimate successor of poor Power.
Ever, my dear Wilkie, affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Mary%20Boyle/412Charles Dickens
1858-09-10[Sidenote: Miss Mary Boyle.]
STATION HOTEL, YORK, _Friday, Sept. 10th, 1858._
DEAREST MEERY,
First let me tell you that all the magicians and spirits in your employ
have fulfilled the instructions of their wondrous mistress to
admiration. Flowers have fallen in my path wherever I have trod; and
when they rained upon me at Cork I was more amazed than you ever saw me.
Secondly, receive my hearty and loving thanks for that same. (Excuse a
little Irish in the turn of that sentence, but I can't help it).
Thirdly, I have written direct to Mr. Boddington, explaining that I am
bound to be in Edinburgh on the day when he courteously proposes to do
me honour.
I really cannot tell you how truly and tenderly I feel your letter, and
how gratified I am by its contents. Your truth and attachment are
always so precious to me that I can_not_ get my heart out on my sleeve
to show it you. It is like a child, and, at the sound of some familiar
voices, "goes and hides."
You know what an affection I have for Mrs. Watson, and how happy it made
me to see her again--younger, much, than when I first knew her in
Switzerland.
God bless you always!
Ever affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/413Charles Dickens
1858-09-11[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
ROYAL HOTEL, SCARBOROUGH, _Sunday, Sept. 11th, 1858._
MY DEAREST GEORGY,
We had a very fine house indeed at York. All kinds of applications have
been made for another reading there, and no doubt it would be
exceedingly productive; but it cannot be done. At Harrogate yesterday;
the queerest place, with the strangest people in it, leading the oddest
lives of dancing, newspaper reading, and tables d'hote. The piety of
York obliging us to leave that place for this at six this morning, and
there being no night train from Harrogate, we had to engage a special
engine. We got to bed at one, and were up again before five; which,
after yesterday's fatigues, leaves me a little worn out at this present.
I have no accounts of this place as yet, nor have I received any letter
here. But the post of this morning is not yet delivered, I believe. We
have a charming room, overlooking the sea. Leech is here (living within
a few doors), with the partner of his bosom, and his young family. I
write at ten in the morning, having been here two hours; and you will
readily suppose that I have not seen him.
Of news, I have not the faintest breath. I seem to have been doing
nothing all my life but riding in railway-carriages and reading. The
railway of the morning brought us through Castle Howard, and under the
woods of Easthorpe, and then just below Malton Abbey, where I went to
poor Smithson's funeral. It was a most lovely morning, and, tired as I
was, I couldn't sleep for looking out of window.
Yesterday, at Harrogate, two circumstances occurred which gave Arthur
great delight. Firstly, he chafed his legs sore with his black bag of
silver. Secondly, the landlord asked him as a favour, "If he could
oblige him with a little silver." He obliged him directly with some
forty pounds' worth; and I suspect the landlord to have repented of
having approached the subject. After the reading last night we walked
over the moor to the railway, three miles, leaving our men to follow
with the luggage in a light cart. They passed us just short of the
railway, and John was making the night hideous and terrifying the
sleeping country, by _playing the horn_ in prodigiously horrible and
unmusical blasts.
My dearest love, of course, to the dear girls, and to the noble Plorn.
Apropos of children, there was one gentleman at the "Little Dombey"
yesterday morning, who exhibited, or rather concealed, the profoundest
grief. After crying a good deal without hiding it, he covered his face
with both his hands, and laid it down on the back of the seat before
him, and really shook with emotion. He was not in mourning, but I
supposed him to have lost some child in old time. There was a remarkably
good fellow of thirty or so, too, who found something so very ludicrous
in "Toots," that he _could not_ compose himself at all, but laughed
until he sat wiping his eyes with his handkerchief. And whenever he felt
"Toots" coming again he began to laugh and wipe his eyes afresh, and
when he came he gave a kind of cry, as if it were too much for him. It
was uncommonly droll, and made me laugh heartily.
Ever, dear Georgy, your most affectionate.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/414Charles Dickens
1858-09-15[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
SCARBOROUGH ARMS, LEEDS, _Wednesday, Sept. 15th, 1858._
MY DEAREST MAMIE,
I have added a pound to the cheque. I would recommend your seeing the
poor railway man again and giving him ten shillings, and telling him to
let you see him again in about a week. If he be then still unable to
lift weights and handle heavy things, I would then give him another ten
shillings, and so on.
Since I wrote to Georgy from Scarborough, we have had, thank God,
nothing but success. The Hull people (not generally considered
excitable, even on their own showing) were so enthusiastic, that we were
obliged to promise to go back there for two readings. I have positively
resolved not to lengthen out the time of my tour, so we are now
arranging to drop some small places, and substitute Hull again and York
again. But you will perhaps have heard this in the main from Arthur. I
know he wrote to you after the reading last night. This place I have
always doubted, knowing that we should come here when it was recovering
from the double excitement of the festival and the Queen. But there is a
very large hall let indeed, and the prospect of to-night consequently
looks bright.
Arthur told you, I suppose, that he had his shirt-front and waistcoat
torn off last night? He was perfectly enraptured in consequence. Our men
got so knocked about that he gave them five shillings apiece on the
spot. John passed several minutes upside down against a wall, with his
head amongst the people's boots. He came out of the difficulty in an
exceedingly touzled condition, and with his face much flushed. For all
this, and their being packed as you may conceive they would be packed,
they settled down the instant I went in, and never wavered in the
closest attention for an instant. It was a very high room, and required
a great effort.
Oddly enough, I slept in this house three days last year with Wilkie.
Arthur has the bedroom I occupied then, and I have one two doors from
it, and Gordon has the one between. Not only is he still with us, but he
_has_ talked of going on to Manchester, going on to London, and coming
back with us to Darlington next Tuesday!!!
These streets look like a great circus with the season just finished.
All sorts of garish triumphal arches were put up for the Queen, and they
have got smoky, and have been looked out of countenance by the sun, and
are blistered and patchy, and half up and half down, and are hideous to
behold. Spiritless men (evidently drunk for some time in the royal
honour) are slowly removing them, and on the whole it is more like the
clearing away of "The Frozen Deep" at Tavistock House than anything
within your knowledge--with the exception that we are not in the least
sorry, as we were then. Vague ideas are in Arthur's head that when we
come back to Hull, we are to come here, and are to have the Town Hall (a
beautiful building), and read to the million. I can't say yet. That
depends. I remember that when I was here before (I came from Rockingham
to make a speech), I thought them a dull and slow audience. I hope I may
have been mistaken. I never saw better audiences than the Yorkshire
audiences generally.
I am so perpetually at work or asleep, that I have not a scrap of news.
I saw the Leech family at Scarboro', both in my own house (that is to
say, hotel) and in theirs. They were not at either reading. Scarboro' is
gay and pretty, and I think Gordon had an idea that we were always at
some such place.
Kiss the darling Plorn for me, and give him my love; dear Katie too,
giving her the same. I feel sorry that I cannot get down to Gad's Hill
this next time, but I shall look forward to our being there with Georgy,
after Scotland. Tell the servants that I remember them, and hope they
will live with us many years.
Ever, my dearest Mamie,
Your most affectionate Father.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/415Charles Dickens
1858-09-17[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
KING'S HEAD, SHEFFIELD, _Friday, Sept. 17th, 1858._
I write you a few lines to Tavistock House, thinking you may not be
sorry to find a note from me there on your arrival from Gad's Hill.
Halifax was too small for us. I never saw such an audience though. They
were really worth reading to for nothing, though I didn't do exactly
that. It is as horrible a place as I ever saw, I think.
The run upon the tickets here is so immense that Arthur is obliged to
get great bills out, signifying that no more can be sold. It will be by
no means easy to get into the place the numbers who have already paid.
It is the hall we acted in. Crammed to the roof and the passages. We
must come back here towards the end of October, and are again altering
the list and striking out small places.
The trains are so strange and unintelligible in this part of the country
that we were obliged to leave Halifax at eight this morning, and
breakfast on the road--at Huddersfield again, where we had an hour's
wait. Wills was in attendance on the platform, and took me (here at
Sheffield, I mean) out to Frederick Lehmann's house to see Mrs. Wills.
She looked pretty much the same as ever, I thought, and was taking care
of a very pretty little boy. The house and grounds are as nice as
anything _can_ be in this smoke. A heavy thunderstorm is passing over
the town, and it is raining hard too.
This is a stupid letter, my dearest Georgy, but I write in a hurry, and
in the thunder and lightning, and with the crowd of to-night before me.
Ever most affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/416Charles Dickens
1858-09-26[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
STATION HOTEL, NEWCASTLE-ON-TYNE,
_Sunday, Sept. 26th, 1858._
EXTRACT.
The girls (as I have no doubt they have already told you for themselves)
arrived here in good time yesterday, and in very fresh condition. They
persisted in going to the room last night, though I had arranged for
their remaining quiet.
We have done a vast deal here. I suppose you know that we are going to
Berwick, and that we mean to sleep there and go on to Edinburgh on
Monday morning, arriving there before noon? If it be as fine to-morrow
as it is to-day, the girls will see the coast piece of railway between
Berwick and Edinburgh to great advantage. I was anxious that they
should, because that kind of pleasure is really almost the only one they
are likely to have in their present trip.
Stanfield and Roberts are in Edinburgh, and the Scottish Royal Academy
gave them a dinner on Wednesday, to which I was very pressingly
invited. But, of course, my going was impossible. I read twice that day.
Remembering what you do of Sunderland, you will be surprised that our
profit there was very considerable. I read in a beautiful new theatre,
and (I thought to myself) quite wonderfully. Such an audience I never
beheld for rapidity and enthusiasm. The room in which we acted
(converted into a theatre afterwards) was burnt to the ground a year or
two ago. We found the hotel, so bad in our time, really good. I walked
from Durham to Sunderland, and from Sunderland to Newcastle.
Don't you think, as we shall be at home at eleven in the forenoon this
day fortnight, that it will be best for you and Plornish to come to
Tavistock House for that Sunday, and for us all to go down to Gad's Hill
next day? My best love to the noble Plornish. If he is quite reconciled
to the postponement of his trousers, I should like to behold his first
appearance in them. But, if not, as he is such a good fellow, I think it
would be a pity to disappoint and try him.
And now, my dearest Georgy, I think I have said all I have to say before
I go out for a little air. I had a very hard day yesterday, and am
tired.
Ever your most affectionate.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/John%20Forster/417Charles Dickens
1858-10-10[Sidenote: Mr. John Forster.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, TAVISTOCK SQUARE, LONDON,
_Sunday, Oct. 10th, 1858._
MY DEAR FORSTER,
As to the truth of the readings, I cannot tell you what the
demonstrations of personal regard and respect are. How the densest and
most uncomfortably-packed crowd will be hushed in an instant when I show
my face. How the youth of colleges, and the old men of business in the
town, seem equally unable to get near enough to me when they cheer me
away at night. How common people and gentlefolks will stop me in the
streets and say: "Mr. Dickens, will you let me touch the hand that has
filled my home with so many friends?" And if you saw the mothers, and
fathers, and sisters, and brothers in mourning, who invariably come to
"Little Dombey," and if you studied the wonderful expression of comfort
and reliance with which they hang about me, as if I had been with them,
all kindness and delicacy, at their own little death-bed, you would
think it one of the strangest things in the world.
As to the mere effect, of course I don't go on doing the thing so often
without carefully observing myself and the people too in every little
thing, and without (in consequence) greatly improving in it.
At Aberdeen, we were crammed to the street twice in one day. At Perth
(where I thought when I arrived there literally could be nobody to
come), the nobility came posting in from thirty miles round, and the
whole town came and filled an immense hall. As to the effect, if you had
seen them after Lilian died, in "The Chimes," or when Scrooge woke and
talked to the boy outside the window, I doubt if you would ever have
forgotten it. And at the end of "Dombey" yesterday afternoon, in the
cold light of day, they all got up, after a short pause, gentle and
simple, and thundered and waved their hats with that astonishing
heartiness and fondness for me, that for the first time in all my public
career they took me completely off my legs, and I saw the whole eighteen
hundred of them reel on one side as if a shock from without had shaken
the hall.
The dear girls have enjoyed themselves immensely, and their trip has
been a great success. I hope I told you (but I forget whether I did or
no) how splendidly Newcastle[4] came out. I am reminded of Newcastle at
the moment because they joined me there.
I am anxious to get to the end of my readings, and to be at home again,
and able to sit down and think in my own study. But the fatigue, though
sometimes very great indeed, hardly tells upon me at all. And although
all our people, from Smith downwards, have given in, more or less, at
times, I have never been in the least unequal to the work, though
sometimes sufficiently disinclined for it. My kindest and best love to
Mrs. Forster.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/418Charles Dickens
1858-10-22[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
ROYAL HOTEL, DERBY, _Friday, Oct. 22nd, 1858._
MY DEAREST MAMIE,
I am writing in a very poor condition; I have a bad cold all over me,
pains in my back and limbs, and a very sensitive and uncomfortable
throat. There was a great draught up some stone steps near me last
night, and I daresay that caused it.
The weather on my first two nights at Birmingham was so intolerably
bad--it blew hard, and never left off raining for one single
moment--that the houses were not what they otherwise would have been. On
the last night the weather cleared, and we had a grand house.
Last night at Nottingham was almost, if not quite, the most amazing we
have had. It is not a very large place, and the room is by no means a
very large one, but three hundred and twenty stalls were let, and all
the other tickets were sold.
Here we have two hundred and twenty stalls let for to-night, and the
other tickets are gone in proportion. It is a pretty room, but not
large.
I have just been saying to Arthur that if there is not a large let for
York, I would rather give it up, and get Monday at Gad's Hill. We have
telegraphed to know. If the answer comes (as I suppose it will) before
post time, I will tell you in a postscript what we decide to do. Coming
to London in the night of to-morrow (Saturday), and having to see Mr.
Ouvry on Sunday, and having to start for York early on Monday, I fear I
should not be able to get to Gad's Hill at all. You won't expect me till
you see me.
Arthur and I have considered Plornish's joke in all the immense number
of aspects in which it presents itself to reflective minds. We have come
to the conclusion that it is the best joke ever made. Give the dear boy
my love, and the same to Georgy, and the same to Katey, and take the
same yourself. Arthur (excessively low and inarticulate) mutters that he
"unites."
[We knocked up Boylett, Berry, and John so frightfully yesterday, by
tearing the room to pieces and altogether reversing it, as late as four
o'clock, that we gave them a supper last night. They shine all over
to-day, as if it had been entirely composed of grease.]
Ever, my dearest Mamie,
Your most affectionate Father.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/419Charles Dickens
1858-11-03[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
WOLVERHAMPTON, _Wednesday, Nov. 3rd, 1858._
Little Leamington came out in the most amazing manner yesterday--turned
away hundreds upon hundreds of people. They are represented as the
dullest and worst of audiences. I found them very good indeed, even in
the morning.
There awaited me at the hotel, a letter from the Rev. Mr. Young,
Wentworth Watson's tutor, saying that Mrs. Watson wished her boy to
shake hands with me, and that he would bring him in the evening. I
expected him at the hotel before the readings. But he did not come. He
spoke to John about it in the room at night. The crowd and confusion,
however, were very great, and I saw nothing of him. In his letter he
said that Mrs. Watson was at Paris on her way home, and would be at
Brighton at the end of this week. I suppose I shall see her there at the
end of next week.
We find a let of two hundred stalls here, which is very large for this
place. The evening being fine too, and blue being to be seen in the sky
beyond the smoke, we expect to have a very full hall. Tell Mamey and
Katey that if they had been with us on the railway to-day between
Leamington and this place, they would have seen (though it is only an
hour and ten minutes by the express) fires and smoke indeed. We came
through a part of the Black Country that you know, and it looked at its
blackest. All the furnaces seemed in full blast, and all the coal-pits
to be working.
It is market-day here, and the ironmasters are standing out in the
street (where they always hold high change), making such an iron hum and
buzz, that they confuse me horribly. In addition, there is a bellman
announcing something--not the readings, I beg to say--and there is an
excavation being made in the centre of the open place, for a statue, or
a pump, or a lamp-post, or something or other, round which all the
Wolverhampton boys are yelling and struggling.
And here is Arthur, begging to have dinner at half-past three instead of
four, because he foresees "a wiry evening" in store for him. Under which
complication of distractions, to which a waitress with a tray at this
moment adds herself, I sink, and leave off.
My best love to the dear girls, and to the noble Plorn, and to you.
Marguerite and Ellen Stone not forgotten. All yesterday and to-day I
have been doing everything to the tune of:
And the day is dark and dreary.
Ever, dearest Georgy,
Your most affectionate and faithful.
P.S.--I hope the brazier is intolerably hot, and half stifles all the
family. Then, and not otherwise, I shall think it in satisfactory work.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Rev%20James%20White/420Charles Dickens
1858-11-05[Sidenote: Rev. James White.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, TAVISTOCK SQUARE, LONDON, W. C.,
_Friday, Nov. 5th, 1858._
MY DEAR WHITE,
May I entreat you to thank Mr. Carter very earnestly and kindly in my
name, for his proffered hospitality; and, further, to explain to him
that since my readings began, I have known them to be incompatible with
all social enjoyments, and have neither set foot in a friend's house nor
sat down to a friend's table in any one of all the many places I have
been to, but have rigidly kept myself to my hotels. To this resolution I
must hold until the last. There is not the least virtue in it. It is a
matter of stern necessity, and I submit with the worst grace possible.
Will you let me know, either at Southampton or Portsmouth, whether any
of you, and how many of you, if any, are coming over, so that Arthur
Smith may reserve good seats? Tell Lotty I hope she does not contemplate
coming to the morning reading; I always hate it so myself.
Mary and Katey are down at Gad's Hill with Georgy and Plornish, and they
have Marguerite Power and Ellen Stone staying there. I am sorry to say
that even my benevolence descries no prospect of their being able to
come to my native place.
On Saturday week, the 13th, my tour, please God, ends.
My best love to Mrs. White, and to Lotty, and to Clara.
Ever, my dear White, affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Frank%20Stone%20ARA/421Charles Dickens
1858-12-13[Sidenote: Mr. Frank Stone, A.R.A.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, TAVISTOCK SQUARE, LONDON, W.C.,
_Monday, Dec. 13th, 1858._
MY DEAR STONE,
Many thanks for these discourses. They are very good, I think, as
expressing what many men have felt and thought; otherwise not specially
remarkable. They have one fatal mistake, which is a canker at the foot
of their ever being widely useful. Half the misery and hypocrisy of the
Christian world arises (as I take it) from a stubborn determination to
refuse the New Testament as a sufficient guide in itself, and to force
the Old Testament into alliance with it--whereof comes all manner of
camel-swallowing and of gnat-straining. But so to resent this miserable
error, or to (by any implication) depreciate the divine goodness and
beauty of the New Testament, is to commit even a worse error. And to
class Jesus Christ with Mahomet is simply audacity and folly. I might as
well hoist myself on to a high platform, to inform my disciples that the
lives of King George the Fourth and of King Alfred the Great belonged to
one and the same category.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/B%20W%20Procter/422Charles Dickens
1858-12-18[Sidenote: Mr. B. W. Procter.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Sunday, Dec. 18th, 1858._
MY DEAR PROCTER,
A thousand thanks for the little song. I am charmed with it, and shall
be delighted to brighten "Household Words" with such a wise and genial
light. I no more believe that your poetical faculty has gone by, than I
believe that you have yourself passed to the better land. You and it
will travel thither in company, rely upon it. So I still hope to hear
more of the trade-songs, and to learn that the blacksmith has hammered
out no end of iron into good fashion of verse, like a cunning workman,
as I know him of old to be.
Very faithfully yours, my dear Procter.
FOOTNOTES:
[3] Niece to the Rev. W. Harness.
[4] The birthplace of Mr. Forster.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Arthur%20Smith/423Charles Dickens
1859-01-26[Sidenote: Mr. Arthur Smith.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, TAVISTOCK SQUARE, LONDON, W.C.,
_Wednesday, Jan. 26th, 1859._
MY DEAR ARTHUR,
Will you first read the enclosed letters, having previously welcomed,
with all possible cordiality, the bearer, Mr. Thomas C. Evans, from New
York?
You having read them, let me explain that Mr. Fields is a highly
respectable and influential man, one of the heads of the most classical
and most respected publishing house in America; that Mr. Richard Grant
White is a man of high reputation; and that Felton is the Greek
Professor in their Cambridge University, perhaps the most distinguished
scholar in the States.
The address to myself, referred to in one of the letters, being on its
way, it is quite clear that I must give some decided and definite answer
to the American proposal. Now, will you carefully discuss it with Mr.
Evans before I enter on it at all? Then, will you dine here with him on
Sunday--which I will propose to him--and arrange to meet at half-past
four for an hour's discussion?
The points are these:
First. I have a very grave question within myself whether I could go to
America at all.
Secondly. If I did go, I could not possibly go before the autumn.
Thirdly. If I did go, how long must I stay?
Fourthly. If the stay were a short one, could _you_ go?
Fifthly. What is his project? What could I make? What occurs to you upon
his proposal?
I have told him that the business arrangements of the readings have been
from the first so entirely in your hands, that I enter upon nothing
connected with them without previous reference to you.
Ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/William%20De%20Cerjat/424Charles Dickens
1859-02-01[Sidenote: M. de Cerjat.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Tuesday, Feb. 1st, 1859._
MY DEAR CERJAT,
I received your always welcome annual with even more interest than usual
this year, being (in common with my two girls and their aunt) much
excited and pleased by your account of your daughter's engagement. Apart
from the high sense I have of the affectionate confidence with which you
tell me what lies so tenderly on your own heart, I have followed the
little history with a lively sympathy and regard for her. I hope, with
you, that it is full of promise, and that you will all be happy in it.
The separation, even in the present condition of travel (and no man can
say how much the discovery of a day may advance it), is nothing. And so
God bless her and all of you, and may the rosy summer bring her all the
fulness of joy that we all wish her.
To pass from the altar to Townshend (which is a long way), let me report
him severely treated by Bully, who rules him with a paw of iron; and
complaining, moreover, of indigestion. He drives here every Sunday, but
at all other times is mostly shut up in his beautiful house, where I
occasionally go and dine with him _tête-à-tête_, and where we always
talk of you and drink to you. That is a rule with us from which we never
depart. He is "seeing a volume of poems through the press;" rather an
expensive amusement. He has not been out at night (except to this house)
save last Friday, when he went to hear me read "The Poor Traveller,"
"Mrs. Gamp," and "The Trial" from "Pickwick." He came into my room at
St. Martin's Hall, and I fortified him with weak brandy-and-water. You
will be glad to hear that the said readings are a greater _furore_ than
they ever have been, and that every night on which they now take
place--once a week--hundreds go away, unable to get in, though the hall
holds thirteen hundred people. I dine with ---- to-day, by-the-bye,
along with his agent; concerning whom I observe him to be always divided
between an unbounded confidence and a little latent suspicion. He always
tells me that he is a gem of the first water; oh yes, the best of
business men! and then says that he did not quite like his conduct
respecting that farm-tenant and those hay-ricks.
There is a general impression here, among the best-informed, that war in
Italy, to begin with, is inevitable, and will break out before April. I
know a gentleman at Genoa (Swiss by birth), deeply in with the
authorities at Turin, who is already sending children home.
In England we are quiet enough. There is a world of talk, as you know,
about Reform bills; but I don't believe there is any general strong
feeling on the subject. According to my perceptions, it is undeniable
that the public has fallen into a state of indifference about public
affairs, mainly referable, as I think, to the people who administer
them--and there I mean the people of all parties--which is a very bad
sign of the times. The general mind seems weary of debates and
honourable members, and to have taken _laissez-aller_ for its motto.
My affairs domestic (which I know are not without their interest for
you) flow peacefully. My eldest daughter is a capital housekeeper, heads
the table gracefully, delegates certain appropriate duties to her sister
and her aunt, and they are all three devotedly attached. Charley, my
eldest boy, remains in Barings' house. Your present correspondent is
more popular than he ever has been. I rather think that the readings in
the country have opened up a new public who were outside before; but
however that may be, his books have a wider range than they ever had,
and his public welcomes are prodigious. Said correspondent is at present
overwhelmed with proposals to go and read in America. Will never go,
unless a small fortune be first paid down in money on this side of the
Atlantic. Stated the figure of such payment, between ourselves, only
yesterday. Expects to hear no more of it, and assuredly will never go
for less. You don't say, my dear Cerjat, when you are coming to England!
Somehow I feel that this marriage ought to bring you over, though I
don't know why. You shall have a bed here and a bed at Gad's Hill, and
we will go and see strange sights together. When I was in Ireland, I
ordered the brightest jaunting-car that ever was seen. It has just this
minute arrived per steamer from Belfast. Say you are coming, and you
shall be the first man turned over by it; somebody must be (for my
daughter Mary drives anything that can be harnessed, and I know of no
English horse that would understand a jaunting-car coming down a Kentish
hill), and you shall be that somebody if you will. They turned the
basket-phaeton over, last summer, in a bye-road--Mary and the other
two--and had to get it up again; which they did, and came home as if
nothing had happened. They send their loves to Mrs. Cerjat, and to you,
and to all, and particularly to the dear _fiancée_. So do I, with all my
heart, and am ever your attached and affectionate friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Antonio%20Panizzi/425Charles Dickens
1859-03-14[Sidenote: Mr. Antonio Panizzi.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Monday Night, March 14th, 1859._
MY DEAR PANIZZI,
If you should feel no delicacy in mentioning, or should see no objection
to mentioning, to Signor Poerio, or any of the wronged Neapolitan
gentlemen to whom it is your happiness and honour to be a friend on
their arrival in this country, an idea that has occurred to me, I should
regard it as a great kindness in you if you would be my exponent. I
think you will have no difficulty in believing that I would not, on any
consideration, obtrude my name or projects upon any one of those noble
souls, if there were any reason of the slightest kind against it. And if
you see any such reason, I pray you instantly to banish my letter from
your thoughts.
It seems to me probable that some narrative of their ten years'
suffering will, somehow or other, sooner or later, be by some of them
laid before the English people. The just interest and indignation alive
here, will (I suppose) elicit it. False narratives and garbled stories
will, in any case, of a certainty get about. If the true history of the
matter is to be told, I have that sympathy with them and respect for
them which would, all other considerations apart, render it unspeakably
gratifying to me to be the means of its diffusion. What I desire to lay
before them is simply this. If for my new successor to "Household Words"
a narrative of their ten years' trial could be written, I would take any
conceivable pains to have it rendered into English, and presented in the
sincerest and best way to a very large and comprehensive audience. It
should be published exactly as you might think best for them, and
remunerated in any way that you might think generous and right. They
want no mouthpiece and no introducer, but perhaps they might have no
objection to be associated with an English writer, who is possibly not
unknown to them by some general reputation, and who certainly would be
animated by a strong public and private respect for their honour,
spirit, and unmerited misfortunes. This is the whole matter; assuming
that such a thing is to be done, I long for the privilege of helping to
do it. These gentlemen might consider it an independent means of making
money, and I should be delighted to pay the money.
In my absence from town, my friend and sub-editor, Mr. Wills (to whom I
had expressed my feeling on the subject), has seen, I think, three of
the gentlemen together. But as I hear, returning home to-night, that
they are in your good hands, and as nobody can be a better judge than
you of anything that concerns them, I at once decide to write to you and
to take no other step whatever. Forgive me for the trouble I have
occasioned you in the reading of this letter, and never think of it
again if you think that by pursuing it you would cause them an instant's
uneasiness.
Believe me, very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Antonio%20Panizzi/426Charles Dickens
1859-03-15[Sidenote: Mr. Antonio Panizzi.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Tuesday, March 15th, 1859._
MY DEAR PANIZZI,
Let me thank you heartily for your kind and prompt letter. I am really
and truly sensible of your friendliness.
I have not heard from Higgins, but of course I am ready to serve on the
Committee.
Always faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/B%20W%20Procter/427Charles Dickens
1859-03-19[Sidenote: Mr. B. W. Procter.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Saturday, March 19th, 1859._
MY DEAR PROCTER,
I think the songs are simply ADMIRABLE! and I have no doubt of this
being a popular feature in "All the Year Round." I would not omit the
sexton, and I would not omit the spinners and weavers; and I would omit
the hack-writers, and (I think) the alderman; but I am not so clear
about the chorister. The pastoral I a little doubt finding audience for;
but I am not at all sure yet that my doubt is well founded.
Had I not better send them all to the printer, and let you have proofs
kept by you for publishing? I shall not have to make up the first number
of "All the Year Round" until early in April. I don't like to send the
manuscript back, and I never do like to do so when I get anything that I
know to be thoroughly, soundly, and unquestionably good. I am hard at
work upon my story, and expect a magnificent start. With hearty thanks,
Ever yours affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Edmund%20Yates/428Charles Dickens
1859-03-29[Sidenote: Mr. Edmund Yates.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, TAVISTOCK SQUARE, LONDON, W.C.,
_Tuesday, March 29th, 1859._
MY DEAR EDMUND,
1. I think that no one seeing the place can well doubt that my house at
Gad's Hill is the place for the letter-box. The wall is accessible by
all sorts and conditions of men, on the bold high road, and the house
altogether is the great landmark of the whole neighbourhood. Captain
Goldsmith's _house_ is up a lane considerably off the high road; but he
has a garden _wall_ abutting on the road itself.
2. "The Pic-Nic Papers" were originally sold to Colburn, for the benefit
of the widow of Mr. Macrone, of St. James's Square, publisher, deceased.
Two volumes were contributed--of course gratuitously--by writers who had
had transactions with Macrone. Mr. Colburn, wanting three volumes in all
for trade purposes, added a third, consisting of an American reprint.
Of that volume I didn't know, and don't know, anything. The other two I
edited, gratuitously as aforesaid, and wrote the Lamplighter's story in.
It was all done many years ago. There was a preface originally,
delicately setting forth how the book came to be.
3. I suppose ---- to be, as Mr. Samuel Weller expresses it somewhere in
"Pickwick," "ravin' mad with the consciousness o' willany." Under their
advertisement in _The Times_ to-day, you will see, without a word of
comment, the shorthand writer's verbatim report of the judgment.
Ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Antonio%20Panizzi/429Charles Dickens
1859-04-07[Sidenote: Mr. Antonio Panizzi.]
"ALL THE YEAR ROUND" OFFICE, _Thursday, April 7th, 1859._
MY DEAR PANIZZI,
If you don't know, I think you should know that a number of letters are
passing through the post-office, purporting to be addressed to the
charitable by "Italian Exiles in London," asking for aid to raise a fund
for a tribute to "London's Lord Mayor," in grateful recognition of the
reception of the Neapolitan exiles. I know this to be the case, and have
no doubt in my own mind that the whole thing is an imposture and a "do."
The letters are signed "Gratitudine Italiana."
Ever faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20White/430Charles Dickens
1859-04-18[Sidenote: Miss White.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, TAVISTOCK SQUARE, LONDON, W.C.,
_Monday, April 18th, 1859._
MY DEAR LOTTY,
This is merely a notice to you that I must positively insist on your
getting well, strong, and into good spirits, with the least possible
delay. Also, that I look forward to seeing you at Gad's Hill sometime in
the summer, staying with the girls, and heartlessly putting down the
Plorn You know that there is no appeal from the Plorn's inimitable
father. What _he_ says must be done. Therefore I send you my love (which
please take care of), and my commands (which please obey).
Ever your affectionate.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Lavinia%20Watson/431Charles Dickens
1859-05-31[Sidenote: The Hon. Mrs. Watson.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, TAVISTOCK SQUARE, LONDON, W.C.,
_Tuesday, May 31st, 1859._
MY DEAR MRS. WATSON,
You surprise me by supposing that there is ever latent a defiant and
roused expression in the undersigned lamb! Apart from this singular
delusion of yours, and wholly unaccountable departure from your usual
accuracy in all things, your satisfaction with the portrait is a great
pleasure to me. It has received every conceivable pains at Frith's
hands, and ought on his account to be good. It is a little too much (to
my thinking) as if my next-door neighbour were my deadly foe, uninsured,
and I had just received tidings of his house being afire; otherwise very
good.
I cannot tell you how delighted we shall be if you would come to Gad's
Hill. You should see some charming woods and a rare old castle, and you
should have such a snug room looking over a Kentish prospect, with every
facility in it for pondering on the beauties of its master's beard! _Do_
come, but you positively _must not_ come and go on the same day.
We retreat there on Monday, and shall be there all the summer.
My small boy is perfectly happy at Southsea, and likes the school very
much. I had the finest letter two or three days ago, from another of my
boys--Frank Jeffrey--at Hamburg. In this wonderful epistle he says:
"Dear papa, I write to tell you that I have given up all thoughts of
being a doctor. My conviction that I shall never get over my stammering
is the cause; all professions are barred against me. The only thing I
should like to be is a gentleman farmer, either at the Cape, in Canada,
or Australia. With my passage paid, fifteen pounds, a horse, and a
rifle, I could go two or three hundred miles up country, sow grain, buy
cattle, and in time be very comfortable."
Considering the consequences of executing the little commission by the
next steamer, I perceived that the first consequence of the fifteen
pounds would be that he would be robbed of it--of the horse, that it
would throw him--and of the rifle, that it would blow his head off;
which probabilities I took the liberty of mentioning, as being against
the scheme. With best love from all,
Ever believe me, my dear Mrs. Watson,
Your faithful and affectionate.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/White/432Charles Dickens
1859-06-05[Sidenote: Mrs. White.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Sunday, June 5th, 1859._
MY DEAR MRS. WHITE,
I do not write to you this morning because I have anything to say--I
well know where your consolation is set, and to what beneficent figure
your thoughts are raised--but simply because you are so much in my mind
that it is a relief to send you and dear White my love. You are always
in our hearts and on our lips. May the great God comfort you! You know
that Mary and Katie are coming on Thursday. They will bring dear Lotty
what she little needs with you by her side--love; and I hope their
company will interest and please her. There is nothing that they, or any
of us, would not do for her. She is a part of us all, and has belonged
to us, as well as to you, these many years.
Ever your affectionate and faithful.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/433Charles Dickens
1859-06-11[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
GAD'S HILL, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Monday, June 11th, 1859._
MY DEAREST MAMIE,
On Saturday night I found, very much to my surprise and pleasure, the
photograph on my table at Tavistock House. It is not a very pleasant or
cheerful presentation of my daughters; but it is wonderfully like for
all that, and in some details remarkably good. When I came home here
yesterday I tried it in the large Townshend stereoscope, in which it
shows to great advantage. It is in the little stereoscope at present on
the drawing-room table. One of the balustrades of the destroyed old
Rochester bridge has been (very nicely) presented to me by the
contractor for the works, and has been duly stonemasoned and set up on
the lawn behind the house. I have ordered a sun-dial for the top of it,
and it will be a very good object indeed. The Plorn is highly excited
to-day by reason of an institution which he tells me (after questioning
George) is called the "Cobb, or Bodderin," holding a festival at The
Falstaff. He is possessed of some vague information that they go to
Higham Church, in pursuance of some old usage, and attend service there,
and afterwards march round the village. It so far looks probable that
they certainly started off at eleven very spare in numbers, and came
back considerably recruited, which looks to me like the difference
between going to church and coming to dinner. They bore no end of bright
banners and broad sashes, and had a band with a terrific drum, and are
now (at half-past two) dining at The Falstaff, partly in the side room
on the ground-floor, and partly in a tent improvised this morning. The
drum is hung up to a tree in The Falstaff garden, and looks like a
tropical sort of gourd. I have presented the band with five shillings,
which munificence has been highly appreciated. Ices don't seem to be
provided for the ladies in the gallery--I mean the garden; they are
prowling about there, endeavouring to peep in at the beef and mutton
through the holes in the tent, on the whole, in a debased and degraded
manner.
Turk somehow cut his foot in Cobham Lanes yesterday, and Linda hers.
They are both lame, and looking at each other. Fancy Mr. Townshend not
intending to go for another three weeks, and designing to come down here
for a few days--with Henri and Bully--on Wednesday! I wish you could
have seen him alone with me on Saturday; he was so extraordinarily
earnest and affectionate on my belongings and affairs in general, and
not least of all on you and Katie, that he cried in a most pathetic
manner, and was so affected that I was obliged to leave him among the
flowerpots in the long passage at the end of the dining-room. It was a
very good piece of truthfulness and sincerity, especially in one of his
years, able to take life so easily.
Mr. and Mrs. Wills are here now (but I daresay you know it from your
aunt), and return to town with me to-morrow morning. We are now going on
to the castle. Mrs. Wills was very droll last night, and told me some
good stories. My dear, I wish particularly to impress upon you and dear
Katie (to whom I send my other best love) that I hope your stay will not
be very long. I don't think it very good for either of you, though of
course I know that Lotty will be, and must be, and should be the first
consideration with you both. I am very anxious to know how you found her
and how you are yourself.
Best love to dear Lotty and Mrs. White. The same to Mr. White and Clara.
We are always talking about you all.
Ever, dearest Mamie, your affectionate Father.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Rev%20James%20White/434Charles Dickens
1859-07-07[Sidenote: Rev. James White.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Thursday, July 7th, 1859._
MY DEAR WHITE,
I send my heartiest and most affectionate love to Mrs. White and you,
and to Clara. You know all that I could add; you have felt it all; let
it be unspoken and unwritten--it is expressed within us.
Do you not think that you could all three come here, and stay with us?
You and Mrs. White should have your own large room and your own ways,
and should be among us when you felt disposed, and never otherwise. I do
hope you would find peace here. Can it not be done?
We have talked very much about it among ourselves, and the girls are
strong upon it. Think of it--do!
Ever your affectionate.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/John%20Forster/435Charles Dickens
1859-08-25[Sidenote: Mr. John Forster.]
GAD'S HILL, _Thursday Night, Aug. 25th, 1859._
MY DEAR FORSTER,
Heartily glad to get your letter this morning.
I cannot easily tell you how much interested I am by what you tell me of
our brave and excellent friend the Chief Baron, in connection with that
ruffian. I followed the case with so much interest, and have followed
the miserable knaves and asses who have perverted it since, with so much
indignation, that I have often had more than half a mind to write and
thank the upright judge who tried him. I declare to God that I believe
such a service one of the greatest that a man of intellect and courage
can render to society. Of course I saw the beast of a prisoner (with my
mind's eye) delivering his cut-and-dried speech, and read in every word
of it that no one but the murderer could have delivered or conceived
it. Of course I have been driving the girls out of their wits here, by
incessantly proclaiming that there needed no medical evidence either
way, and that the case was plain without it. Lastly, of course (though a
merciful man--because a merciful man I mean), I would hang any Home
Secretary (Whig, Tory, Radical, or otherwise) who should step in between
that black scoundrel and the gallows. I can_not_ believe--and my belief
in all wrong as to public matters is enormous--that such a thing will be
done.
I am reminded of Tennyson, by thinking that King Arthur would have made
short work of the amiable ----, whom the newspapers strangely delight to
make a sort of gentleman of. How fine the "Idylls" are! Lord! what a
blessed thing it is to read a man who can write! I thought nothing could
be grander than the first poem till I came to the third; but when I had
read the last, it seemed to be absolutely unapproached and
unapproachable.
To come to myself. I have written and begged the "All the Year Round"
publisher to send you directly four weeks' proofs beyond the current
number, that are in type. I hope you will like them. Nothing but the
interest of the subject, and the pleasure of striving with the
difficulty of the forms of treatment, nothing in the mere way of money,
I mean, could also repay the time and trouble of the incessant
condensation. But I set myself the little task of making a _picturesque_
story, rising in every chapter with characters true to nature, but whom
the story itself should express, more than they should express
themselves, by dialogue. I mean, in other words, that I fancied a story
of incident might be written, in place of the bestiality that _is_
written under that pretence, pounding the characters out in its own
mortar, and beating their own interests out of them. If you could have
read the story all at once, I hope you wouldn't have stopped halfway.
As to coming to your retreat, my dear Forster, think how helpless I am.
I am not well yet. I have an instinctive feeling that nothing but the
sea will restore me, and I am planning to go and work at Ballard's, at
Broadstairs, from next Wednesday to Monday. I generally go to town on
Monday afternoon. All Tuesday I am at the office, on Wednesday I come
back here, and go to work again. I don't leave off till Monday comes
round once more. I am fighting to get my story done by the first week in
October. On the 10th of October I am going away to read for a fortnight
at Ipswich, Norwich, Oxford, Cambridge, and a few other places. Judge
what my spare time is just now!
I am very much surprised and very sorry to find from the enclosed that
Elliotson has been ill. I never heard a word of it.
Georgy sends best love to you and to Mrs. Forster, so do I, so does
Plorn, so does Frank. The girls are, for five days, with the Whites at
Ramsgate. It is raining, intensely hot, and stormy. Eighteen creatures,
like little tortoises, have dashed in at the window and fallen on the
paper since I began this paragraph [Illustration: ink-blot] (that was
one!). I am a wretched sort of creature in my way, but it is a way that
gets on somehow. And all ways have the same fingerpost at the head of
them, and at every turning in them.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens%20and%20Miss%20Katie%20Dickens/436Charles Dickens
1859-09-02[Sidenote: Miss Dickens and Miss Katie Dickens.]
ALBION, BROADSTAIRS, _Friday, Sept. 2nd, 1859._
MY DEAREST MAMIE AND KATIE,
I have been "moved" here, and am now (Ballard having added to the hotel
a house we lived in three years) in our old dining-room and
sitting-room, and our old drawing-room as a bedroom. My cold is so bad,
both in my throat and in my chest, that I can't bathe in the sea; Tom
Collin dissuaded me--thought it "bad"--but I get a heavy shower-bath at
Mrs. Crampton's every morning. The baths are still hers and her
husband's, but they have retired and live in "Nuckells"--are going to
give a stained-glass window, value three hundred pounds, to St. Peter's
Church. Tom Collin is of opinion that the Miss Dickenses has growed two
fine young women--leastwise, asking pardon, ladies. An evangelical
family of most disagreeable girls prowl about here and trip people up
with tracts, which they put in the paths with stones upon them to keep
them from blowing away. Charles Collins and I having seen a bill
yesterday--about a mesmeric young lady who did feats, one of which was
set forth in the bill, in a line by itself, as
THE RIGID LEGS,
--were overpowered with curiosity, and resolved to go. It came off in
the Assembly Room, now more exquisitely desolate than words can
describe. Eighteen shillings was the "take." Behind a screen among the
company, we heard mysterious gurglings of water before the entertainment
began, and then a slippery sound which occasioned me to whisper C. C.
(who laughed in the most ridiculous manner), "Soap." It proved to be the
young lady washing herself. She must have been wonderfully dirty, for
she took a world of trouble, and didn't come out clean after all--in a
wretched dirty muslin frock, with blue ribbons. She was the alleged
mesmeriser, and a boy who distributed bills the alleged mesmerised. It
was a most preposterous imposition, but more ludicrous than any poor
sight I ever saw. The boy is clearly out of pantomime, and when he
pretended to be in the mesmeric state, made the company back by going
in among them head over heels, backwards, half-a-dozen times, in a most
insupportable way. The pianist had struck; and the manner in which the
lecturer implored "some lady" to play a "polker," and the manner in
which no lady would; and in which the few ladies who were there sat with
their hats on, and the elastic under their chins, as if it were going to
blow, is never to be forgotten. I have been writing all the morning, and
am going for a walk to Ramsgate. This is a beast of a letter, but I am
not well, and have been addling my head.
Ever, dear Girls, your affectionate Father.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Wilkie%20Collins/437Charles Dickens
1859-09-16[Sidenote: Mr. W. Wilkie Collins.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Friday Night, Sept. 16th, 1859._
MY DEAR WILKIE,
Just a word to say that I have received yours, and that I look forward
to the reunion on Thursday, when I hope to have the satisfaction of
recounting to you the plot of a play that has been laid before me for
commending advice.
Ditto to what you say respecting the _Great Eastern_. I went right up to
London Bridge by the boat that day, on purpose that I might pass her. I
thought her the ugliest and most unshiplike thing these eyes ever
beheld. I wouldn't go to sea in her, shiver my ould timbers and rouse me
up with a monkey's tail (man-of-war metaphor), not to chuck a biscuit
into Davy Jones's weather eye, and see double with my own old toplights.
Turk has been so good as to produce from his mouth, for the wholesome
consternation of the family, eighteen feet of worm. When he had brought
it up, he seemed to think it might be turned to account in the
housekeeping and was proud. Pony has kicked a shaft off the cart, and is
to be sold. Why don't you buy her? she'd never kick with you.
Barber's opinion is, that them fruit-trees, one and all, is touchwood,
and not fit for burning at any gentleman's fire; also that the stocking
of this here garden is worth less than nothing, because you wouldn't
have to grub up nothing, and something takes a man to do it at
three-and-sixpence a day. Was "left desponding" by your reporter.
I have had immense difficulty to find a man for the stable-yard here.
Barber having at last engaged one this morning, I enquired if he had a
decent hat for driving in, to which Barber returned this answer:
"Why, sir, not to deceive you, that man flatly say that he never have
wore that article since man he was!"
I am consequently fortified into my room, and am afraid to go out to
look at him. Love from all.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Monsieur%20Regnier/438Charles Dickens
1859-10-15[Sidenote: Monsieur Regnier.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Saturday, Oct. 15th, 1859._
MY DEAR REGNIER,
You will receive by railway parcel the proof-sheets of a story of mine,
that has been for some time in progress in my weekly journal, and that
will be published in a complete volume about the middle of November.
Nobody but Forster has yet seen the latter portions of it, or will see
them until they are published. I want you to read it for two reasons.
Firstly, because I hope it is the best story I have written. Secondly,
because it treats of a very remarkable time in France; and I should very
much like to know what you think of its being dramatised for a French
theatre. If you should think it likely to be done, I should be glad to
take some steps towards having it well done. The story is an
extraordinary success here, and I think the end of it is certain to make
a still greater sensation.
Don't trouble yourself to write to me, _mon ami_, until you shall have
had time to read the proofs. Remember, they are _proofs_, and _private_;
the latter chapters will not be before the public for five or six weeks
to come.
With kind regards to Madame Regnier, in which my daughters and their
aunt unite,
Believe me, ever faithfully yours.
P.S.--The story (I daresay you have not seen any of it yet) is called
"A Tale of Two Cities."http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Frank%20Stone%20ARA/439Charles Dickens
1859-10-19[Sidenote: Mr. Frank Stone, A.R.A.]
PETERBOROUGH, _Wednesday Evening, Oct. 19th, 1859._
MY DEAR STONE,
We had a splendid rush last night--exactly as we supposed, with the
pressure on the two shillings, of whom we turned a crowd away. They were
a far finer audience than on the previous night; I think the finest I
have ever read to. They took every word of the "Dombey" in quite an
amazing manner, and after the child's death, paused a little, and then
set up a shout that it did one good to hear. Mrs. Gamp then set in with
a roar, which lasted until I had done. I think everybody for the time
forgot everything but the matter in hand. It was as fine an instance of
thorough absorption in a fiction as any of us are likely to see ever
again.
---- (in an exquisite red mantle), accompanied by her sister (in another
exquisite red mantle) and by the deaf lady, (who leaned a black
head-dress, exactly like an old-fashioned tea-urn without the top,
against the wall), was charming. HE couldn't get at her on account of
the pressure. HE tried to peep at her from the side door, but she (ha,
ha, ha!) was unconscious of his presence. I read to her, and goaded him
to madness. He is just sane enough to send his kindest regards.
This is a place which--except the cathedral, with the loveliest front I
ever saw--is like the back door to some other place. It is, I should
hope, the deadest and most utterly inert little town in the British
dominions. The magnates have taken places, and the bookseller is of
opinion that "such is the determination to do honour to Mr. Dickens,
that the doors _must_ be opened half an hour before the appointed time."
You will picture to yourself Arthur's quiet indignation at this, and the
manner in which he remarked to me at dinner, "that he turned away twice
Peterborough last night."
A very pretty room--though a Corn Exchange--and a room we should have
been glad of at Cambridge, as it is large, bright, and cheerful, and
wonderfully well lighted.
The difficulty of getting to Bradford from here to-morrow, at any time
convenient to us, turned out to be so great, that we are all going in
for Leeds (only three-quarters of an hour from Bradford) to-night after
the reading, at a quarter-past eleven. We are due at Leeds a quarter
before three.
So no more at present from,
Yours affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20R%20Sculthorpe/440Charles Dickens
1859-11-10[Sidenote: Mr. W. R. Sculthorpe.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, TAVISTOCK SQUARE, LONDON, W.C.,
_Thursday, Nov. 10th, 1859._
DEAR SIR,
Judgment must go by default. I have not a word to plead against Dodson
and Fogg. I am without any defence to the action; and therefore, as law
goes, ought to win it.
Seriously, the date of your hospitable note disturbs my soul. But I have
been incessantly writing in Kent and reading in all sorts of places, and
have done nothing in my own personal character these many months; and
now I come to town and our friend[5] is away! Let me take that
defaulting miscreant into council when he comes back.
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Monsieur%20Regnier/441Charles Dickens
1859-11-16[Sidenote: Monsieur Regnier.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, TAVISTOCK SQUARE, LONDON, W.C.,
_Wednesday, Nov. 16th, 1859._
MY DEAR REGNIER,
I send you ten thousand thanks for your kind and explicit letter. What I
particularly wished to ascertain from you was, whether it is likely the
Censor would allow such a piece to be played in Paris. In the case of
its being likely, then I wished to have the piece as well done as
possible, and would even have proposed to come to Paris to see it
rehearsed. But I very much doubted whether the general subject would not
be objectionable to the Government, and what you write with so much
sagacity and with such care convinces me at once that its representation
would be prohibited. Therefore I altogether abandon and relinquish the
idea. But I am just as heartily and cordially obliged to you for your
interest and friendship, as if the book had been turned into a play five
hundred times. I again thank you ten thousand times, and am quite sure
that you are right. I only hope you will forgive my causing you so much
trouble, after your hard work.
My girls and Georgina send their kindest regards to Madame Regnier and
to you. My Gad's Hill house (I think I omitted to tell you, in reply to
your enquiry) is on the very scene of Falstaff's robbery. There is a
little _cabaret_ at the roadside, still called The Sir John Falstaff.
And the country, in all its general features, is, at this time, what it
was in Shakespeare's. I hope you will see the house before long. It is
really a pretty place, and a good residence for an English writer, is it
not?
Macready, we are all happy to hear from himself, is going to leave the
dreary tomb in which he lives, at Sherborne, and to remove to
Cheltenham, a large and handsome place, about four or five hours'
railway journey from London, where his poor girls will at least see and
hear some life. Madame Céleste was with me yesterday, wishing to
dramatise "A Tale of Two Cities" for the Lyceum, after bringing out the
Christmas pantomime. I gave her my permission and the book; but I fear
that her company (troupe) is a very poor one.
This is all the news I have, except (which is no news at all) that I
feel as if I had not seen you for fifty years, and that
I am ever your attached and faithful Friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/T%20Longman/442Charles Dickens
1859-11-28[Sidenote: Mr. T. Longman.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Monday, Nov. 28th, 1859._
MY DEAR LONGMAN,
I am very anxious to present to you, with the earnest hope that you will
hold him in your remembrance, young Mr. Marcus Stone, son of poor Frank
Stone, who died suddenly but a little week ago. You know, I daresay,
what a start this young man made in the last exhibition, and what a
favourable notice his picture attracted. He wishes to make an additional
opening for himself in the illustration of books. He is an admirable
draughtsman, has a most dexterous hand, a charming sense of grace and
beauty, and a capital power of observation. These qualities in him I
know well of my own knowledge. He is in all things modest, punctual, and
right; and I would answer for him, if it were needful, with my head.
If you will put anything in his way, you will do it a second time, I am
certain.
Faithfully yours always.
FOOTNOTES:
[5] Mr. Edmund Yates.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/443Charles Dickens
1860-01-02[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Monday, Jan. 2nd, 1860._
MY DEAREST MACREADY,
A happy New Year to you, and many happy years! I cannot tell you how
delighted I was to receive your Christmas letter, or with what pleasure
I have received Forster's emphatic accounts of your health and spirits.
But when was I ever wrong? And when did I not tell you that you were an
impostor in pretending to grow older as the rest of us do, and that you
had a secret of your own for reversing the usual process! It happened
that I read at Cheltenham a couple of months ago, and that I have rarely
seen a place that so attracted my fancy. I had never seen it before.
Also I believe the character of its people to have greatly changed for
the better. All sorts of long-visaged prophets had told me that they
were dull, stolid, slow, and I don't know what more that is
disagreeable. I found them exactly the reverse in all respects; and I
saw an amount of beauty there--well--that is not to be more specifically
mentioned to you young fellows.
Katie dined with us yesterday, looking wonderfully well, and singing
"Excelsior" with a certain dramatic fire in her, whereof I seem to
remember having seen sparks afore now. Etc. etc. etc.
With kindest love from all at home to all with you,
Ever, my dear Macready, your most affectionate.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Wilkie%20Collins/444Charles Dickens
1860-01-07[Sidenote: Mr. W. Wilkie Collins.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, TAVISTOCK SQUARE, LONDON, W.C.,
_Saturday Night, Jan. 7th, 1860._
MY DEAR WILKIE,
I have read this book with great care and attention. There cannot be a
doubt that it is a very great advance on all your former writing, and
most especially in respect of tenderness. In character it is excellent.
Mr. Fairlie as good as the lawyer, and the lawyer as good as he. Mr.
Vesey and Miss Halcombe, in their different ways, equally meritorious.
Sir Percival, also, is most skilfully shown, though I doubt (you see
what small points I come to) whether any man ever showed uneasiness by
hand or foot without being forced by nature to show it in his face too.
The story is very interesting, and the writing of it admirable.
I seem to have noticed, here and there, that the great pains you take
express themselves a trifle too much, and you know that I always contest
your disposition to give an audience credit for nothing, which
necessarily involves the forcing of points on their attention, and which
I have always observed them to resent when they find it out--as they
always will and do. But on turning to the book again, I find it
difficult to take out an instance of this. It rather belongs to your
habit of thought and manner of going about the work. Perhaps I express
my meaning best when I say that the three people who write the
narratives in these proofs have a DISSECTIVE property in common, which
is essentially not theirs but yours; and that my own effort would be to
strike more of what is got _that way_ out of them by collision with one
another, and by the working of the story.
You know what an interest I have felt in your powers from the beginning
of our friendship, and how very high I rate them? _I_ know that this is
an admirable book, and that it grips the difficulties of the weekly
portion and throws them in masterly style. No one else could do it half
so well. I have stopped in every chapter to notice some instance of
ingenuity, or some happy turn of writing; and I am absolutely certain
that you never did half so well yourself.
So go on and prosper, and let me see some more, when you have enough
(for your own satisfaction) to show me. I think of coming in to back you
up if I can get an idea for my series of gossiping papers. One of those
days, please God, we may do a story together; I have very odd
half-formed notions, in a mist, of something that might be done that
way.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/John%20Forster/445Charles Dickens
1860-05-02[Sidenote: Mr. John Forster.]
11, WELLINGTON STREET, NORTH STRAND, LONDON, W.C.,
_Wednesday, May 2nd, 1860._
MY DEAR FORSTER,
It did not occur to me in reading your most excellent, interesting, and
remarkable book, that it could with any reason be called one-sided. If
Clarendon had never written his "History of the Rebellion," then I can
understand that it might be. But just as it would be impossible to
answer an advocate who had misstated the merits of a case for his own
purpose, without, in the interests of truth, and not of the other side
merely, re-stating the merits and showing them in their real form, so I
cannot see the practicability of telling what you had to tell without
in some sort championing the misrepresented side, and I think that you
don't do that as an advocate, but as a judge.
The evidence has been suppressed and coloured, and the judge goes
through it and puts it straight. It is not _his_ fault if it all goes
one way and tends to one plain conclusion. Nor is it his fault that it
goes the further when it is laid out straight, or seems to do so,
because it was so knotted and twisted up before.
I can understand any man's, and particularly Carlyle's, having a
lingering respect that does not like to be disturbed for those (in the
best sense of the word) loyal gentlemen of the country who went with the
king and were so true to him. But I don't think Carlyle sufficiently
considers that the great mass of those gentlemen _didn't know the
truth_, that it was a part of their loyalty to believe what they were
told on the king's behalf, and that it is reasonable to suppose that the
king was too artful to make known to _them_ (especially after failure)
what were very acceptable designs to the desperate soldiers of fortune
about Whitehall. And it was to me a curious point of adventitious
interest arising out of your book, to reflect on the probability of
their having been as ignorant of the real scheme in Charles's head, as
their descendants and followers down to this time, and to think with
pity and admiration that they believed the cause to be so much better
than it was. This is a notion I was anxious to have expressed in our
account of the book in these pages. For I don't suppose Clarendon, or
any other such man to sit down and tell posterity something that he has
not "tried on" in his own time. Do you?
In the whole narrative I saw nothing anywhere to which I demurred. I
admired it all, went with it all, and was proud of my friend's having
written it all. I felt it to be all square and sound and right, and to
be of enormous importance in these times. Firstly, to the people who
(like myself) are so sick of the shortcomings of representative
government as to have no interest in it. Secondly, to the humbugs at
Westminster who have come down--a long, long way--from those men, as you
know. When the great remonstrance came out, I was in the thick of my
story, and was always busy with it; but I am very glad I didn't read it
then, as I shall read it now to much better purpose. All the time I was
at work on the "Two Cities," I read no books but such as had the air of
the time in them.
To return for a final word to the Five Members. I thought the marginal
references overdone. Here and there, they had a comical look to me for
that reason, and reminded me of shows and plays where everything is in
the bill.
Lastly, I should have written to you--as I had a strong inclination to
do, and ought to have done, immediately after reading the book--but for
a weak reason; of all things in the world I have lost heart in one--I
hope no other--I cannot, times out of calculation, make up my mind to
write a letter.
Ever, my dear Forster, affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/William%20De%20Cerjat/446Charles Dickens
1860-05-03[Sidenote: M. de Cerjat.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Thursday, May 3rd, 1860._
MY DEAR CERJAT,
The date of this letter would make me horribly ashamed of myself, if I
didn't know that _you_ know how difficult letter-writing is to one whose
trade it is to write.
You asked me on Christmas Eve about my children. My second daughter is
going to be married in the course of the summer to Charles Collins, the
brother of Wilkie Collins, the novelist. The father was one of the most
famous painters of English green lanes and coast pieces. He was bred an
artist; is a writer, too, and does "The Eye Witness," in "All the Year
Round." He is a gentleman, accomplished, and amiable. My eldest daughter
has not yet started any conveyance on the road to matrimony (that I know
of); but it is likely enough that she will, as she is very agreeable and
intelligent. They are both very pretty. My eldest boy, Charley, has been
in Barings' house for three or four years, and is now going to Hong
Kong, strongly backed up by Barings, to buy tea on his own account, as a
means of forming a connection and seeing more of the practical part of a
merchant's calling, before starting in London for himself. His brother
Frank (Jeffrey's godson) I have just recalled from France and Germany,
to come and learn business, and qualify himself to join his brother on
his return from the Celestial Empire. The next boy, Sydney Smith, is
designed for the navy, and is in training at Portsmouth, awaiting his
nomination. He is about three foot high, with the biggest eyes ever
seen, and is known in the Portsmouth parts as "Young Dickens, who can do
everything."
Another boy is at school in France; the youngest of all has a private
tutor at home. I have forgotten the second in order, who is in India. He
went out as ensign of a non-existent native regiment, got attached to
the 42nd Highlanders, one of the finest regiments in the Queen's
service; has remained with them ever since, and got made a lieutenant by
the chances of the rebellious campaign, before he was eighteen. Miss
Hogarth, always Miss Hogarth, is the guide, philosopher, and friend of
all the party, and a very close affection exists between her and the
girls. I doubt if she will ever marry. I don't know whether to be glad
of it or sorry for it.
I have laid down my pen and taken a long breath after writing this
family history. I have also considered whether there are any more
children, and I don't think there are. If I should remember two or three
others presently, I will mention them in a postscript.
We think Townshend looking a little the worse for the winter, and we
perceive Bully to be decidedly old upon his legs, and of a most
diabolical turn of mind. When they first arrived the weather was very
dark and cold, and kept them indoors. It has since turned very warm and
bright, but with a dusty and sharp east wind. They are still kept
indoors by this change, and I begin to wonder what change will let them
out. Townshend dines with us every Sunday. You may be sure that we
always talk of you and yours, and drink to you heartily.
Public matters here are thought to be rather improving; the deep
mistrust of the gentleman in Paris being counteracted by the vigorous
state of preparation into which the nation is getting. You will have
observed, of course, that we establish a new defaulter in respect of
some great trust, about once a quarter. The last one, the cashier of a
City bank, is considered to have distinguished himself greatly, a
quarter of a million of money being high game.
No, my friend, I have not shouldered my rifle yet, but I should do so on
more pressing occasion. Every other man in the row of men I know--if
they were all put in a row--is a volunteer though. There is a tendency
rather to overdo the wearing of the uniform, but that is natural enough
in the case of the youngest men. The turn-out is generally very
creditable indeed. At the ball they had (in a perfectly unventilated
building), their new leather belts and pouches smelt so fearfully that
it was, as my eldest daughter said, like shoemaking in a great prison.
She, consequently, distinguished herself by fainting away in the most
inaccessible place in the whole structure, and being brought out
(horizontally) by a file of volunteers, like some slain daughter of
Albion whom they were carrying into the street to rouse the indignant
valour of the populace.
Lord, my dear Cerjat, when I turn to that page of your letter where you
write like an ancient sage in whom the fire has paled into a meek-eyed
state of coolness and virtue, I half laugh and half cry! _You_ old!
_You_ a sort of hermit? Boh! Get out.
With this comes my love and all our loves, to you and Mrs. Cerjat, and
your daughter. I add my special and particular to the sweet "singing
cousin." When shall you and I meet, and where? Must I come to see
Townshend? I begin to think so.
Ever, my dear Cerjat, your affectionate and faithful.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Sir%20Edward%20Bulwer%20Lytton/447Charles Dickens
1860-06-05[Sidenote: Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton.]
GAD'S HILL, _Tuesday, June 5th, 1860._
MY DEAR BULWER LYTTON,
I am very much interested and gratified by your letter concerning "A
Tale of Two Cities." I do not quite agree with you on two points, but
that is no deduction from my pleasure.
In the first place, although the surrender of the feudal privileges (on
a motion seconded by a nobleman of great rank) was the occasion of a
sentimental scene, I see no reason to doubt, but on the contrary, many
reasons to believe, that some of these privileges had been used to the
frightful oppression of the peasant, quite as near to the time of the
Revolution as the doctor's narrative, which, you will remember, dates
long before the Terror. And surely when the new philosophy was the talk
of the salons and the slang of the hour, it is not unreasonable or
unallowable to suppose a nobleman wedded to the old cruel ideas, and
representing the time going out, as his nephew represents the time
coming in; as to the condition of the peasant in France generally at
that day, I take it that if anything be certain on earth it is certain
that it was intolerable. No _ex post facto_ enquiries and provings by
figures will hold water, surely, against the tremendous testimony of men
living at the time.
There is a curious book printed at Amsterdam, written to make out no
case whatever, and tiresome enough in its literal dictionary-like
minuteness, scattered up and down the pages of which is full authority
for my marquis. This is "Mercier's Tableau de Paris." Rousseau is the
authority for the peasant's shutting up his house when he had a bit of
meat. The tax-taker was the authority for the wretched creature's
impoverishment.
I am not clear, and I never have been clear, respecting that canon of
fiction which forbids the interposition of accident in such a case as
Madame Defarge's death. Where the accident is inseparable from the
passion and emotion of the character, where it is strictly consistent
with the whole design, and arises out of some culminating proceeding on
the part of the character which the whole story has led up to, it seems
to me to become, as it were, an act of divine justice. And when I use
Miss Pross (though this is quite another question) to bring about that
catastrophe, I have the positive intention of making that half-comic
intervention a part of the desperate woman's failure, and of opposing
that mean death--instead of a desperate one in the streets, which she
wouldn't have minded--to the dignity of Carton's wrong or right; this
_was_ the design, and seemed to be in the fitness of things.
Now, as to the reading. I am sorry to say that it is out of the question
this season. I have had an attack of rheumatism--quite a stranger to
me--which remains hovering about my left side, after having doubled me
up in the back, and which would disable me from standing for two hours.
I have given up all dinners and town engagements, and come to my little
Falstaff House here, sensible of the necessity of country training all
through the summer. Smith would have proposed any appointment to see you
on the subject, but he has been dreadfully ill with tic. Whenever I read
in London, I will gladly put a night aside for your purpose, and we will
plot to connect your name with it, and give it some speciality. But this
could not be before Christmas time, as I should not be able to read
sooner, for in the hot weather it would be useless. Let me hear from you
about this when you have considered it. It would greatly diminish the
expenses, remember.
Ever affectionately and faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/The%20Lord%20John%20Russell/448Charles Dickens
1860-06-17[Sidenote: The Lord John Russell.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Sunday, June 17th, 1860._
MY DEAR LORD JOHN RUSSELL,
I cannot thank you enough for your kind note and its most welcome
enclosure. My sailor-boy comes home from Portsmouth to-morrow, and will
be overjoyed. His masters have been as anxious for getting his
nomination as though it were some distinction for themselves.
Ever your faithful and obliged.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/The%20Earl%20of%20Carlisle/449Charles Dickens
1860-08-08[Sidenote: The Earl of Carlisle.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Wednesday, Aug. 8th, 1860._
MY DEAR LORD CARLISLE,
Coming back here after an absence of three days in town, I find your
kind and cordial letter lying on my table. I heartily thank you for it,
and highly esteem it. I understand that the article on the spirits to
which you refer was written by ---- (he played an Irish porter in one
scene of Bulwer's comedy at Devonshire House). Between ourselves, I
think it must be taken with a few grains of salt, imperial measure. The
experiences referred to "came off" at ----, where the spirit of ----
(among an extensive and miscellaneous bodiless circle) _dines_
sometimes! Mr. ----, the high priest of the mysteries, I have some
considerable reason--derived from two honourable men--for mistrusting.
And that some of the disciples are very easy of belief I know.
This is Falstaff's own Gad's Hill, and I live on the top of it. All goes
well with me, thank God! I should be thoroughly delighted to see you
again, and to show you where the robbery was done. My eldest daughter
keeps my house, and it is one I was extraordinarily fond of when a
child.
My dear Lord Carlisle, ever affectionately yours.
P.S.--I am prowling about, meditating a new book.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/450Charles Dickens
1860-09-04[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Tuesday, Sept. 4th, 1860._
MY DEAR WILLS,
Your description of your sea-castle makes your room here look uncommonly
dusty. Likewise the costermongers in the street outside, and the one
customer (drunk, with his head on the table) in the Crown Coffee House
over the way, in York Street, have an earthy, and, as I may say, a
land-lubberly aspect. Cape Horn, to the best of _my_ belief, is a
tremendous way off, and there are more bricks and cabbage-leaves between
this office and that dismal point of land than _you_ can possibly
imagine.
Coming here from the station this morning, I met, coming from the
execution of the Wentworth murderer, such a tide of ruffians as never
could have flowed from any point but the gallows. Without any figure of
speech it turned one white and sick to behold them.
Tavistock House is cleared to-day, and possession delivered up. I must
say that in all things the purchaser has behaved thoroughly well, and
that I cannot call to mind any occasion when I have had money dealings
with a Christian that have been so satisfactory, considerate, and
trusting.
I am ornamented at present with one of my most intensely preposterous
and utterly indescribable colds. If you were to make a voyage from Cape
Horn to Wellington Street, you would scarcely recognise in the bowed
form, weeping eyes, rasped nose, and snivelling wretch whom you would
encounter here, the once gay and sparkling, etc. etc.
Everything else here is as quiet as possible. Business reports you
receive from Holsworth. Wilkie looked in to-day, going to
Gloucestershire for a week. The office is full of discarded curtains and
coverings from Tavistock House, which Georgina is coming up this evening
to select from and banish. Mary is in raptures with the beauties of
Dunkeld, but is not very well in health. The Admiral (Sydney) goes up
for his examination to-morrow. If he fails to pass with credit, I will
never believe in anybody again, so in that case look out for your own
reputation with me.
This is really all the news I have, except that I am lazy, and that
Wilkie dines here next Tuesday, in order that we may have a talk about
the Christmas number.
I beg to send my kind regard to Mrs. Wills, and to enquire how she likes
wearing a hat, which of course she does. I also want to know from her
in confidence whether _Crwllm festidiniog llymthll y wodd_?
Yesterday I burnt, in the field at Gad's Hill, the accumulated letters
and papers of twenty years. They sent up a smoke like the genie when he
got out of the casket on the seashore; and as it was an exquisite day
when I began, and rained very heavily when I finished, I suspect my
correspondence of having overcast the face of the heavens.
Ever faithfully.
P.S.--Kind regard to Mr. and Mrs. Novelli.[6]
I have just sent out for _The Globe_. No news.
Hullah's daughter (an artist) tells me that certain female students have
addressed the Royal Academy, entreating them to find a place for their
education. I think it a capital move, for which I can do something
popular and telling in _The Register_. Adelaide Procter is active in the
business, and has a copy of their letter. Will you write to her for
that, and anything else she may have about it, telling her that I
strongly approve, and want to help them myself?http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Lavinia%20Watson/451Charles Dickens
1860-09-14[Sidenote: The Hon. Mrs. Watson.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Friday Night, Sept. 14th, 1860._
MY DEAR MRS. WATSON,
I lose no time in answering your letter; and first as to business, the
school in the High Town at Boulogne was excellent. The boys all English,
the two proprietors an old Eton master and one of the Protestant
clergymen of the town. The teaching unusually sound and good. The manner
and conduct developed in the boys quite admirable. But I have never
seen a gentleman so perfectly acquainted with boy-nature as the Eton
master. There was a perfect understanding between him and his charges;
nothing pedantic on his part, nothing slavish on their parts. The result
was, that either with him or away from him, the boys combined an ease
and frankness with a modesty and sense of responsibility that was really
above all praise. Alfred went from there to a great school at Wimbledon,
where they train for India and the artillery and engineers. Sydney went
from there to Mr. Barrow, at Southsea. In both instances the new masters
wrote to me of their own accord, bearing quite unsolicited testimony to
the merits of the old, and expressing their high recognition of what
they had done. These things speak for themselves.
Sydney has just passed his examination as a naval cadet and come home,
all eyes and gold buttons. He has twelve days' leave before going on
board the training-ship. Katie and her husband are in France, and seem
likely to remain there for an indefinite period. Mary is on a month's
visit in Scotland; Georgina, Frank, and Plorn are at home here; and we
all want Mary and her little dog back again. I have sold Tavistock
House, am making this rather complete in its way, and am on the restless
eve of beginning a new big book; but mean to have a furnished house in
town (in some accessible quarter) from February or so to June. May we
meet there.
Your handwriting is always so full of pleasant memories to me, that when
I took it out of the post-office at Rochester this afternoon it quite
stirred my heart. But we must not think of old times as sad times, or
regard them as anything but the fathers and mothers of the present. We
must all climb steadily up the mountain after the talking bird, the
singing tree, and the yellow water, and must all bear in mind that the
previous climbers who were scared into looking back got turned into
black stone.
Mary Boyle was here a little while ago, as affectionate at heart as
ever, as young, and as pleasant. Of course we talked often of you. So
let me know when you are established in Halfmoon Street, and I shall be
truly delighted to come and see you.
For my attachments are strong attachments and never weaken. In right of
bygones, I feel as if "all Northamptonshire" belonged to me, as all
Northumberland did to Lord Bateman in the ballad. In memory of your
warming your feet at the fire in that waste of a waiting-room when I
read at Brighton, I have ever since taken that watering-place to my
bosom as I never did before. And you and Switzerland are always one to
me, and always inseparable.
Charley was heard of yesterday, from Shanghai, going to Japan, intending
to meet his brother Walter at Calcutta, and having an idea of beguiling
the time between whiles by asking to be taken as an amateur with the
English Chinese forces. Everybody caressed him and asked him everywhere,
and he seemed to go. With kind regards, my dear Mrs. Watson,
Ever affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Edmund%20Yates/452Charles Dickens
1860-09-23[Sidenote: Mr. Edmund Yates.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Sunday, Sept. 23rd, 1860._
ON THE DEATH OF HIS MOTHER.
MY DEAR E. Y.,
I did not write to you in your bereavement, because I knew that the
girls had written to you, and because I instinctively shrunk from making
a form of what was so real. _You_ knew what a loving and faithful
remembrance I always had of your mother as a part of my youth--no more
capable of restoration than my youth itself. All the womanly goodness,
grace, and beauty of my drama went out with her. To the last I never
could hear her voice without emotion. I think of her as of a beautiful
part of my own youth, and this dream that we are all dreaming seems to
darken.
But it is not to say this that I write now. It comes to the point of my
pen in spite of me.
"Holding up the Mirror" is in next week's number. I have taken out all
this funeral part of it. Not because I disliked it (for, indeed, I
thought it the best part of the paper), but because it rather grated on
me, going over the proof at that time, as a remembrance that would be
better reserved a little while. Also because it made rather a mixture of
yourself as an individual, with something that does not belong or attach
to you as an individual. You can have the MS.; and as a part of a paper
describing your own juvenile remembrances of a theatre, there it is,
needing no change or adaption.
Ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/453Charles Dickens
1860-09-23[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Sunday, Sept. 23rd, 1860._
MY DEAREST MAMIE,
If you had been away from us and ill with anybody in the world but our
dear Mrs. White, I should have been in a state of the greatest anxiety
and uneasiness about you. But as I know it to be impossible that you
could be in kinder or better hands, I was not in the least restless
about you, otherwise than as it grieved me to hear of my poor dear
girl's suffering such pain. I hope it is over now for many a long day,
and that you will come back to us a thousand times better in health than
you left us.
Don't come back too soon. Take time and get well restored. There is no
hurry, the house is not near to-rights yet, and though we all want you,
and though Boy wants you, we all (including Boy) deprecate a fatiguing
journey being taken too soon.
As to the carpenters, they are absolutely maddening. They are always at
work, yet never seem to do anything. Lillie was down on Friday, and said
(his eye fixed on Maidstone, and rubbing his hand to conciliate his
moody employer) that "he didn't think there would be very much left to
do after Saturday, the 29th."
I didn't throw him out of the window. Your aunt tells you all the news,
and leaves me no chance of distinguishing myself, I know. You have been
told all about my brackets in the drawing-room, all about the glass
rescued from the famous stage-wreck of Tavistock House, all about
everything here and at the office. The office is really a success. As
comfortable, cheerful, and private as anything of the kind can possibly
be.
I took the Admiral (but this you know too, no doubt) to Dollond's, the
mathematical instrument maker's, last Monday, to buy that part of his
outfit. His sextant (which is about the size and shape of a cocked hat),
on being applied to his eye, entirely concealed him. Not the faintest
vestige of the distinguished officer behind it was perceptible to the
human vision. All through the City, people turned round and stared at
him with the sort of pleasure people take in a little model. We went on
to Chatham this day week, in search of some big man-of-war's-man who
should be under obligation to salute him--unfortunately found none. But
this no doubt you know too, and all my news falls flat.
I am driven out of my room by paint, and am writing in the best spare
room. The whole prospect is excessively wet; it does not rain now, but
yesterday it did tremendously, and it rained very heavily in the night.
We are even muddy; and that is saying a great deal in this dry country
of chalk and sand. Everywhere the corn is lying out and saturated with
wet. The hops (nearly everywhere) look as if they had been burnt.
In my mind's eye I behold Mrs. Bouncer, still with some traces of her
late anxiety on her faithful countenance, balancing herself a little
unequally on her bow fore-legs, pricking up her ears, with her head on
one side, and slightly opening her intellectual nostrils. I send my
loving and respectful duty to her.
To dear Mrs. White, and to White, and to Clara, say anything from me
that is loving and grateful.
My dearest Mamie,
Ever and ever your most affectionate Father.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/454Charles Dickens
1860-09-24[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Monday Night, Sept. 24th, 1860._
MY DEAREST GEORGY,
At the Waterloo station we were saluted with "Hallo! here's Dickens!"
from divers naval cadets, and Sir Richard Bromley introduced himself to
me, who had his cadet son with him, a friend of Sydney's. We went down
together, and the boys were in the closest alliance. Bromley being
Accountant-General of the Navy, and having influence on board, got their
hammocks changed so that they would be serving side by side, at which
they were greatly pleased. The moment we stepped on board, the "Hul-lo!
here's Dickens!" was repeated on all sides, and the Admiral (evidently
highly popular) shook hands with about fifty of his messmates. Taking
Bromley for my model (with whom I fraternised in the most pathetic
manner), I gave Sydney a sovereign before stepping over the side. He was
as little overcome as it was possible for a boy to be, and stood waving
the gold-banded cap as we came ashore in a boat.
There is no denying that he looks very small aboard a great ship, and
that a boy must have a strong and decided speciality for the sea to take
to such a life. Captain Harris was not on board, but the other chief
officers were, and were highly obliging. We went over the ship. I should
say that there can be little or no individuality of address to any
particular boy, but that they all tumble through their education in a
crowded way. The Admiral's servant (I mean our Admiral's) had an idiotic
appearance, but perhaps it did him injustice (a mahogany-faced marine by
station). The Admiral's washing apparatus is about the size of a
muffin-plate, and he could easily live in his chest. The meeting with
Bromley was a piece of great good fortune, and the dear old chap could
not have been left more happily.
Ever, my dearest Georgy, your most affectionate.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Marguerite%20Power/455Charles Dickens
1860-09-25[Sidenote: Miss Power.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Tuesday, Sept. 25th, 1860._
MY DEAR MARGUERITE,
I like the article exceedingly, and think the translations
_admirable_--spirited, fresh, bold, and evidently faithful. I will get
the paper into the next number I make up, No. 78. I will send a proof to
you for your correction, either next Monday or this day week. Or would
you like to come here next Monday and dine with us at five, and go over
to Madame Céleste's opening? Then you could correct your paper on the
premises, as they drink their beer at the beer-shops.
Some of the introductory remarks on French literature I propose to
strike out, as a little too essayical for this purpose, and likely to
throw out a large portion of the large audience at starting, as
suggesting some very different kind of article. My daring pen shall have
imbued its murderous heart with ink before you see the proof.
With kind regards,
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/John%20Forster/456Charles Dickens
1860-10-04[Sidenote: Mr. John Forster.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Thursday, Oct. 4th, 1860._
MY DEAR FORSTER,
It would be a great pleasure to me to come to you, an immense pleasure,
and to sniff the sea I love (from the shore); but I fear I must come
down one morning and come back at night. I will tell you why.
Last week, I got to work on a new story. I called a council of war at
the office on Tuesday. It was perfectly clear that the one thing to be
done was, for me to strike in. I have therefore decided to begin a
story, the length of the "Tale of Two Cities," on the 1st of
December--begin publishing, that is. I must make the most I can out of
the book. When I come down, I will bring you the first two or three
weekly parts. The name is, "GREAT EXPECTATIONS." I think a good name?
Now the preparations to get ahead, combined with the absolute necessity
of my giving a good deal of time to the Christmas number, will tie me to
the grindstone pretty tightly. It will be just as much as I can hope to
do. Therefore, what I had hoped would be a few days at Eastbourne
diminish to a few hours.
I took the Admiral down to Portsmouth. Every maritime person in the town
knew him. He seemed to know every boy on board the _Britannia_, and was
a tremendous favourite evidently. It was very characteristic of him that
they good-naturedly helped him, he being so very small, into his hammock
at night. But he couldn't rest in it on these terms, and got out again
to learn the right way of getting in independently. Official report
stated that "after a few spills, he succeeded perfectly, and went to
sleep." He is perfectly happy on board, takes tea with the captain,
leads choruses on Saturday nights, and has an immense marine for a
servant.
I saw Edmund Yates at the office, and he told me that during all his
mother's wanderings of mind, which were almost incessant at last, she
never once went back to the old Adelphi days until she was just dying,
when he heard her say, in great perplexity: "I can _not_ get the words."
Best love to Mrs. Forster.
Ever, my dear Forster, affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Wilkie%20Collins/457Charles Dickens
1860-10-24[Sidenote: Mr. W. Wilkie Collins.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Wednesday, Oct. 24th, 1860._
MY DEAR WILKIE,
I have been down to Brighton to see Forster, and found your letter there
on arriving by express this morning. I also found a letter from
Georgina, describing that Mary's horse went down suddenly on a stone,
and how Mary was thrown, and had her riding-habit torn to pieces, and
has a deep cut just above the knee--fortunately not in the knee itself,
which is doing exceedingly well, but which will probably incapacitate
her from walking for days and days to come. It is well it was no worse.
The accident occurred at Milton, near Gravesend, and they found Mary in
a public-house there, wonderfully taken care of and looked after.
I propose that we start on Thursday morning, the 1st of November. The
train for Penzance leaves the Great Western terminus at a quarter-past
nine in the morning. It is a twelve hours' journey. Shall we meet at the
terminus at nine? I shall be here all the previous day, and shall dine
here.
Your account of your passage goes to my heart through my stomach. What a
pity I was not there on board to present that green-visaged, but
sweet-tempered and uncomplaining spectacle of imbecility, at which I am
so expert under stormy circumstances, in the poet's phrase:
As I sweep
Through the deep,
When the stormy winds do blow.
What a pity I am not there, at Meurice's, to sleep the sleep of infancy
through the long plays where the gentlemen stand with their backs to the
mantelpieces. What a pity I am not with you to make a third at the Trois
Frères, and drink no end of bottles of Bordeaux, without ever getting a
touch of redness in my (poet's phrase again) "innocent nose." But I must
go down to Gad's to-night, and get to work again. Four weekly numbers
have been ground off the wheel, and at least another must be turned
before we meet. They shall be yours in the slumberous railway-carriage.
I don't think Forster is at all in good health. He was tremendously
hospitable and hearty. I walked six hours and a half on the downs
yesterday, and never stopped or sat. Early in the morning, before
breakfast, I went to the nearest baths to get a shower-bath. They kept
me waiting longer than I thought reasonable, and seeing a man in a cap
in the passage, I went to him and said: "I really must request that
you'll be good enough to see about this shower-bath;" and it was Hullah!
waiting for another bath.
Rumours were brought into the house on Saturday night, that there was a
"ghost" up at Larkins's monument. Plorn was frightened to death, and I
was apprehensive of the ghost's spreading and coming there, and causing
"warning" and desertion among the servants. Frank was at home, and
Andrew Gordon was with us. Time, nine o'clock. Village talk and
credulity, amazing. I armed the two boys with a short stick apiece, and
shouldered my double-barrelled gun, well loaded with shot. "Now
observe," says I to the domestics, "if anybody is playing tricks and has
got a head, I'll blow it off." Immense impression. New groom evidently
convinced that he has entered the service of a bloodthirsty demon. We
ascend to the monument. Stop at the gate. Moon is rising. Heavy shadows.
"Now, look out!" (from the bloodthirsty demon, in a loud, distinct
voice). "If the ghost is here and I see him, so help me God I'll fire at
him!" Suddenly, as we enter the field, a most extraordinary noise
responds--terrific noise--human noise--and yet superhuman noise. B. T.
D. brings piece to shoulder. "Did you hear that, pa?" says Frank. "I
did," says I. Noise repeated--portentous, derisive, dull, dismal,
damnable. We advance towards the sound. Something white comes lumbering
through the darkness. An asthmatic sheep! Dead, as I judge, by this
time. Leaving Frank to guard him, I took Andrew with me, and went all
round the monument, and down into the ditch, and examined the field
well, thinking it likely that somebody might be taking advantage of the
sheep to frighten the village. Drama ends with discovery of no one, and
triumphant return to rum-and-water.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/458Charles Dickens
1860-11-01[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
BIDEFORD, NORTH DEVON, _Thursday Night, Nov. 1st, 1860._
MY DEAREST GEORGY,
I write (with the most impracticable iron pen on earth) to report our
safe arrival here, in a beastly hotel. We start to-morrow morning at
nine on a two days' posting between this and Liskeard in Cornwall. We
are due in Liskeard (but nobody seems to know anything about the roads)
on Saturday afternoon, and we purpose making an excursion in that
neighbourhood on Sunday, and coming up from Liskeard on Monday by Great
Western fast train, which will get us to London, please God, in good
time on Monday evening. There I shall hear from you, and know whether
dear Mamie will move to London too.
We had a pleasant journey down here, and a beautiful day. No adventures
whatever. Nothing has happened to Wilkie, and he sends love.
We had stinking fish for dinner, and have been able to drink nothing,
though we have ordered wine, beer, and brandy-and-water. There is
nothing in the house but two tarts and a pair of snuffers. The landlady
is playing cribbage with the landlord in the next room (behind a thin
partition), and they seem quite comfortable.
Ever, my dearest Georgy, your most affectionate.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Mary%20Boyle/459Charles Dickens
1860-12-28[Sidenote: Miss Mary Boyle.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Friday, Dec. 28th, 1860._
MY DEAR MARY,
I cannot tell you how much I thank you for the beautiful cigar-case, and
how seasonable, and friendly, and good, and warm-hearted it looked when
I opened it at Gad's Hill. Besides which, it is a cigar-case, and will
hold cigars; two crowning merits that I never yet knew to be possessed
by any article claiming the same name. For all of these reasons, but
more than all because it comes from you, I love it, and send you
eighteen hundred and sixty kisses, with one in for the new year.
Both excellent stories and perfectly new. Your Joe swears that he never
heard either--never a word or syllable of either--after he laughed at
'em this blessed day.
I have no news, except that I am not quite well, and am being doctored.
Pray read "Great Expectations." I think it is very droll. It is a very
great success, and seems universally liked. I suppose because it opens
funnily, and with an interest too.
I pass my time here (I am staying here alone) in working, taking physic,
and taking a stall at a theatre every night. On Boxing Night I was at
Covent Garden. A dull pantomime was "worked" (as we say) better than I
ever saw a heavy piece worked on a first night, until suddenly and
without a moment's warning, every scene on that immense stage fell over
on its face, and disclosed chaos by gaslight behind! There never was
such a business; about sixty people who were on the stage being
extinguished in the most remarkable manner. Not a soul was hurt. In the
uproar, some moon-calf rescued a porter pot, six feet high (out of which
the clown had been drinking when the accident happened), and stood it on
the cushion of the lowest proscenium box, P.S., beside a lady and
gentleman, who were dreadfully ashamed of it. The moment the house knew
that nobody was injured, they directed their whole attention to this
gigantic porter pot in its genteel position (the lady and gentleman
trying to hide behind it), and roared with laughter. When a modest
footman came from behind the curtain to clear it, and took it up in his
arms like a Brobdingnagian baby, we all laughed more than ever we had
laughed in our lives. I don't know why.
We have had a fire here, but our people put it out before the
parish-engine arrived, like a drivelling perambulator, with _the beadle
in it_, like an imbecile baby. Popular opinion, disappointed in the fire
having been put out, snowballed the beadle. God bless it!
Over the way at the Lyceum, there is a very fair Christmas piece, with
one or two uncommonly well-done nigger songs--one remarkably gay and
mad, done in the finale to a scene. Also a very nice transformation,
though I don't know what it means.
The poor actors waylay me in Bow Street, to represent their necessities;
and I often see one cut down a court when he beholds me coming, cut
round Drury Lane to face me, and come up towards me near this door in
the freshest and most accidental way, as if I was the last person he
expected to see on the surface of this globe. The other day, there thus
appeared before me (simultaneously with a scent of rum in the air) one
aged and greasy man, with a pair of pumps under his arm. He said he
thought if he could get down to somewhere (I think it was Newcastle), he
would get "taken on" as Pantaloon, the existing Pantaloon being "a
stick, sir--a mere muff." I observed that I was sorry times were so bad
with him. "Mr. Dickens, you know our profession, sir--no one knows it
better, sir--there is no right feeling in it. I was Harlequin on your
own circuit, sir, for five-and-thirty years, and was displaced by a boy,
sir!--a boy!"
So no more at present, except love to Mrs. Watson and Bedgey Prig and
all, from my dear Mary.
Your ever affectionate
JOE.
P.S.--DON'T I pine neither?
P.P.S.--I did my best to arouse Forster's worst feelings; but he had got
into a Christmas habit of mind, and wouldn't respond.
FOOTNOTES:
[6] With whom Mr. and Mrs. Wills were staying at Aberystwith.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/460Charles Dickens
1861-01-09[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Wednesday, Jan. 9th, 1861._
MY DEAREST GEORGY,
"We" are in the full swing of stopping managers from playing "A Message
from the Sea." I privately doubt the strength of our position in the
Court of Chancery, if we try it; but it is worth trying.
I am aware that Mr. Lane of the Britannia sent an emissary to Gad's Hill
yesterday. It unfortunately happens that the first man "we" have to
assert the principle against is a very good man, whom I really respect.
I have no news, except that I really hope and believe I am gradually
getting well. If I have no check, I hope to be soon discharged by the
medico.
Ever affectionately.
P.S.--Best love to Mamie, also to the boys and Miss Craufurd.
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND," 26, WELLINGTON STREET, W.C.,
_Tuesday Evening, Jan. 9th, 1861._
DEAR SIR,
I feel it quite hopeless to endeavour to present my position before you,
in reference to such a letter as yours, in its plain and true light.
When you suppose it would have cost Mr. Thackeray "but a word" to use
his influence to obtain you some curatorship or the like, you fill me
with the sense of impossibility of leading you to a more charitable
judgment of Mr. Dickens.
Nevertheless, I will put the truth before you. Scarcely a day of my life
passes, or has passed for many years, without bringing me some letters
similar to yours. Often they will come by dozens--scores--hundreds. My
time and attention would be pretty well occupied without them, and the
claims upon me (some very near home), for all the influence and means of
help that I do and do not possess, are not commonly heavy. I have no
power to aid you towards the attainment of your object. It is the simple
exact truth, and nothing can alter it. So great is the disquietude I
constantly undergo from having to write to some new correspondent in
this strain, that, God knows, I would resort to another relief if I
could.
Your studies from nature appear to me to express an excellent
observation of nature, in a loving and healthy spirit. But what then?
The dealers and dealers' prices of which you complain will not be
influenced by that honest opinion. Nor will it have the least effect
upon the President of the Royal Academy, or the Directors of the School
of Design. Assuming your supposition to be correct that these
authorities are adverse to you, I have no more power than you have to
render them favourable. And assuming them to be quite disinterested and
dispassionate towards you, I have no voice or weight in any appointment
that any of them make.
I will retain your packet over to-morrow, and will then cause it to be
sent to your house. I write under the pressure of occupation and
business, and therefore write briefly.
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/William%20De%20Cerjat/461Charles Dickens
1861-02-01[Sidenote: M. de Cerjat.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND," _Friday, Feb. 1st, 1861._
MY DEAR CERJAT,
You have read in the papers of our heavy English frost. At Gad's Hill it
was so intensely cold, that in our warm dining-room on Christmas Day we
could hardly sit at the table. In my study on that morning, long after a
great fire of coal and wood had been lighted, the thermometer was I
don't know where below freezing. The bath froze, and all the pipes
froze, and remained in a stony state for five or six weeks. The water in
the bedroom-jugs froze, and blew up the crockery. The snow on the top of
the house froze, and was imperfectly removed with axes. My beard froze
as I walked about, and I couldn't detach my cravat and coat from it
until I was thawed at the fire. My boys and half the officers stationed
at Chatham skated away without a check to Gravesend--five miles off--and
repeated the performance for three or four weeks. At last the thaw came,
and then everything split, blew up, dripped, poured, perspired, and got
spoilt. Since then we have had a small visitation of the plague of
servants; the cook (in a riding-habit) and the groom (in a dress-coat
and jewels) having mounted Mary's horse and mine, in our absence, and
scoured the neighbouring country at a rattling pace. And when I went
home last Saturday, I innocently wondered how the horses came to be out
of condition, and gravely consulted the said groom on the subject, who
gave it as his opinion "which they wanted reg'lar work." We are now
coming to town until midsummer. Having sold my own house, to be more
free and independent, I have taken a very pretty furnished house, No. 3,
Hanover Terrace, Regent's Park. This, of course, on my daughter's
account. For I have very good and cheerful bachelor rooms here, with an
old servant in charge, who is the cleverest man of his kind in the
world, and can do anything, from excellent carpentery to excellent
cookery, and has been with me three-and-twenty years.
The American business is the greatest English sensation at present. I
venture to predict that the struggle of violence will be a very short
one, and will be soon succeeded by some new compact between the Northern
and Southern States. Meantime the Lancashire mill-owners are getting
very uneasy.
The Italian state of things is not regarded as looking very cheerful.
What from one's natural sympathies with a people so oppressed as the
Italians, and one's natural antagonism to a pope and a Bourbon (both of
which superstitions I do suppose the world to have had more than enough
of), I agree with you concerning Victor Emmanuel, and greatly fear that
the Southern Italians are much degraded. Still, an united Italy would be
of vast importance to the peace of the world, and would be a rock in
Louis Napoleon's way, as he very well knows. Therefore the idea must be
championed, however much against hope.
My eldest boy, just home from China, was descried by Townshend's Henri
the moment he landed at Marseilles, and was by him borne in triumph to
Townshend's rooms. The weather was snowy, slushy, beastly; and
Marseilles was, as it usually is to my thinking, well-nigh intolerable.
My boy could not stay with Townshend, as he was coming on by express
train; but he says: "I sat with him and saw him dine. He had a leg of
lamb, and a tremendous cold." That is the whole description I have been
able to extract from him.
This journal is doing gloriously, and "Great Expectations" is a great
success. I have taken my third boy, Frank (Jeffrey's godson), into this
office. If I am not mistaken, he has a natural literary taste and
capacity, and may do very well with a chance so congenial to his mind,
and being also entered at the Bar.
Dear me, when I have to show you about London, and we dine _en garçon_
at odd places, I shall scarcely know where to begin. Only yesterday I
walked out from here in the afternoon, and thought I would go down by
the Houses of Parliament. When I got there, the day was so beautifully
bright and warm, that I thought I would walk on by Millbank, to see the
river. I walked straight on _for three miles_ on a splendid broad
esplanade overhanging the Thames, with immense factories, railway works,
and what-not erected on it, and with the strangest beginnings and ends
of wealthy streets pushing themselves into the very Thames. When I was a
rower on that river, it was all broken ground and ditch, with here and
there a public-house or two, an old mill, and a tall chimney. I had
never seen it in any state of transition, though I suppose myself to
know this rather large city as well as anyone in it.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/E%20M%20Ward%20RA/462Charles Dickens
1861-03-09[Sidenote: Mr. E. M. Ward, R.A.]
3, HANOVER TERRACE, REGENT'S PARK,
_Saturday Night, March 9th, 1861._
MY DEAR WARD,
I cannot tell you how gratified I have been by your letter, and what a
splendid recompense it is for any pleasure I am giving you. Such
generous and earnest sympathy from such a brother-artist gives me true
delight. I am proud of it, believe me, and moved by it to do all the
better.
Ever faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/463Charles Dickens
1861-06-11[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
"ALL THE YEAR ROUND" OFFICE, _Tuesday, June 11th, 1861._
MY DEAREST MACREADY,
There is little doubt, I think, of my reading at Cheltenham somewhere
about November. I submit myself so entirely to Arthur Smith's
arrangements for me, that I express my sentiments on this head with
modesty. But I think there is scarcely a doubt of my seeing you then.
I have just finished my book of "Great Expectations," and am the worse
for wear. Neuralgic pains in the face have troubled me a good deal, and
the work has been pretty close. But I hope that the book is a good book,
and I have no doubt of very soon throwing off the little damage it has
done me.
What with Blondin at the Crystal Palace and Léotard at Leicester Square,
we seem to be going back to barbaric excitements. I have not seen, and
don't intend to see, the Hero of Niagara (as the posters call him), but
I have been beguiled into seeing Léotard, and it is at once the most
fearful and most graceful thing I have ever seen done.
Clara White (grown pretty) has been staying with us.
I am sore afraid that _The Times_, by playing fast and loose with the
American question, has very seriously compromised this country. The
Americans northward are perfectly furious on the subject; and Motley the
historian (a very sensible man, strongly English in his sympathies)
assured me the other day that he thought the harm done very serious
indeed, and the dangerous nature of the daily widening breach scarcely
calculable.
Kindest and best love to all. Wilkie Collins has just come in, and sends
best regard.
Ever most affectionately, my dearest Macready.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/John%20Forster/464Charles Dickens
1861-07-01[Sidenote: Mr. John Forster.]
GAD'S HILL, _Monday, July 1st, 1861._
MY DEAR FORSTER,
You will be surprised to hear that I have changed the end of "Great
Expectations" from and after Pip's return to Joe's, and finding his
little likeness there.
Bulwer (who has been, as I think I told you, extraordinarily taken by
the book), so strongly urged it upon me, after reading the proofs, and
supported his views with such good reasons, that I resolved to make the
change. You shall have it when you come back to town. I have put in a
very pretty piece of writing, and I have no doubt the story will be more
acceptable through the alteration.
I have not seen Bulwer's changed story. I brought back the first month
with me, and I know the nature of his changes throughout; but I have not
yet had the revised proofs. He was in a better state at Knebworth than I
have ever seen him in all these years, a little weird occasionally
regarding magic and spirits, but perfectly fair and frank under
opposition. He was talkative, anecdotical, and droll; looked young and
well, laughed heartily, and enjoyed some games we played with great
zest. In his artist character and talk he was full of interest and
matter, but that he always is. Socially, he seemed to me almost a new
man. I thoroughly enjoyed myself, and so did Georgina and Mary.
The fire I did not see until the Monday morning, but it was blazing
fiercely then, and was blazing hardly less furiously when I came down
here again last Friday. I was here on the night of its breaking out. If
I had been in London I should have been on the scene, pretty surely.
You will be perhaps surprised to hear that it is Morgan's conviction
(his son was here yesterday), that the North will put down the South,
and that speedily. In his management of his large business, he is
proceeding steadily on that conviction. He says that the South has no
money and no credit, and that it is impossible for it to make a
successful stand. He may be all wrong, but he is certainly a very shrewd
man, and he has never been, as to the United States, an enthusiast of
any class.
Poor Lord Campbell's seems to me as easy and good a death as one could
desire. There must be a sweep of these men very soon, and one feels as
if it must fall out like the breaking of an arch--one stone goes from a
prominent place, and then the rest begin to drop. So one looks towards
Brougham, and Lyndhurst, and Pollock.
I will add no more to this, or I know I shall not send it; for I am in
the first desperate laziness of having done my book, and think of
offering myself to the village school as a live example of that vice for
the edification of youth.
Ever, my dear Forster, affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Lavinia%20Watson/465Charles Dickens
1861-07-08[Sidenote: The Hon. Mrs. Watson.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Monday, July 8th, 1861._
MY DEAR MRS. WATSON,
I have owed you a letter for so long a time that I fear you may
sometimes have misconstrued my silence. But I hope that the sight of the
handwriting of your old friend will undeceive you, if you have, and will
put that right.
During the progress of my last story, I have been working so hard that
very, very little correspondence--except enforced correspondence on
business--has passed this pen. And now that I am free again, I devote a
few of my first leisure moments to this note.
You seemed in your last to think that I had forgotten you in respect of
the Christmas number. Not so at all. I discussed with them here where
you were, how you were to be addressed, and the like; finally left the
number in a blank envelope, and did not add the address to it until it
would have been absurd to send you such stale bread. This was my fault,
but this was all. And I should be so pained at heart if you supposed me
capable of failing in my truth and cordiality, or in the warm
remembrance of the time we have passed together, that perhaps I make
more of it than you meant to do.
My sailor-boy is at home--I was going to write, for the holidays, but I
suppose I must substitute "on leave." Under the new regulations, he must
not pass out of the _Britannia_ before December. The younger boys are
all at school, and coming home this week for the holidays. Mary keeps
house, of course, and Katie and her husband surprised us yesterday, and
are here now. Charley is holiday-making at Guernsey and Jersey. He has
been for some time seeking a partnership in business, and has not yet
found one. The matter is in the hands of Mr. Bates, the managing partner
in Barings' house, and seems as slow a matter to adjust itself as ever I
looked on at. Georgina is, as usual, the general friend and confidante
and factotum of the whole party.
Your present correspondent read at St. James's Hall in the beginning of
the season, to perfectly astounding audiences; but finding that fatigue
and excitement very difficult to manage in conjunction with a story,
deemed it prudent to leave off reading in high tide and mid-career, the
rather by reason of something like neuralgia in the face. At the end of
October I begin again; and if you are at Brighton in November, I shall
try to see you there. I deliver myself up to Mr. Arthur Smith, and I
know it is one of the places for which he has put me down.
This is all about me and mine, and next I want to know why you never
come to Gad's Hill, and whether you are never coming. The stress I lay
on these questions you will infer from the size of the following note of
interrogation[HW: =?=]
I am in the constant receipt of news from Lausanne. Of Mary Boyle, I
daresay you have seen and heard more than I have lately. Rumours
occasionally reach me of her acting in every English shire incessantly,
and getting in a harvest of laurels all the year round. Cavendish I have
not seen for a long time, but when I did see him last, it was at
Tavistock House, and we dined together jovially. Mention of that
locality reminds me that when you DO come here, you will see the
pictures looking wonderfully better, and more precious than they ever
did in town. Brought together in country light and air, they really are
quite a baby collection and very pretty.
I direct this to Rockingham, supposing you to be there in this summer
time. If you are as leafy in Northamptonshire as we are in Kent, you are
greener than you have been for some years. I hope you may have seen a
large-headed photograph with little legs, representing the undersigned,
pen in hand, tapping his forehead to knock an idea out. It has just
sprung up so abundantly in all the shops, that I am ashamed to go about
town looking in at the picture-windows, which is my delight. It seems to
me extraordinarily ludicrous, and much more like than the grave portrait
done in earnest. It made me laugh when I first came upon it, until I
shook again, in open sunlighted Piccadilly.
Pray be a good Christian to me, and don't be retributive in measuring
out the time that shall pass before you write to me. And believe me
ever,
Your affectionate and faithful.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Wilkie%20Collins/466Charles Dickens
1861-08-28[Sidenote: Mr. W. Wilkie Collins.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Wednesday, Aug. 28th, 1861._
MY DEAR WILKIE,
I have been going to write to you ever since I received your letter from
Whitby, and now I hear from Charley that you are coming home, and must
be addressed in the Rue Harley. Let me know whether you will dine here
this day week at the usual five. I am at present so addle-headed (having
hard Wednesday work in Wills's absence) that I can't write much.
I have got the "Copperfield" reading ready for delivery, and am now
going to blaze away at "Nickleby," which I don't like half as well.
Every morning I "go in" at these marks for two or three hours, and then
collapse and do nothing whatever (counting as nothing much cricket and
rounders).
In my time that curious railroad by the Whitby Moor was so much the more
curious, that you were balanced against a counter-weight of water, and
that you did it like Blondin. But in these remote days the one inn of
Whitby was up a back-yard, and oyster-shell grottoes were the only view
from the best private room. Likewise, sir, I have posted to Whitby.
"Pity the sorrows of a poor old man."
The sun is glaring in at these windows with an amount of ferocity
insupportable by one of the landed interest, who lies upon his back with
an imbecile hold on grass, from lunch to dinner. Feebleness of mind and
head are the result.
Ever affectionately.
P.S.--The boys have multiplied themselves by fifty daily, and have
seemed to appear in hosts (especially in the hottest days) round all the
corners at Gad's Hill. I call them the prowlers, and each has a
distinguishing name attached, derived from his style of prowling.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Arthur%20Smith/467Charles Dickens
1861-09-03[Sidenote: Mr. Arthur Smith.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Tuesday, Sept. 3rd, 1861._
MY DEAR ARTHUR,
I cannot tell you how sorry I am to receive your bad account of your
health, or how anxious I shall be to receive a better one as soon as you
can possibly give it.
If you go away, don't you think in the main you would be better here
than anywhere? You know how well you would be nursed, what care we
should take of you, and how perfectly quiet and at home you would be,
until you become strong enough to take to the Medway. Moreover, I think
you would be less anxious about the tour, here, than away from such
association. I would come to Worthing to fetch you, I needn't say, and
would take the most careful charge of you. I will write no more about
this, because I wish to avoid giving you more to read than can be
helped; but I do sincerely believe it would be at once your wisest and
least anxious course. As to a long journey into Wales, or any long
journey, it would never do. Nice is not to be thought of. Its dust, and
its sharp winds (I know it well), towards October are very bad indeed.
I send you the enclosed letters, firstly, because I have no circular to
answer them with, and, secondly, because I fear I might confuse your
arrangements by interfering with the correspondence. I shall hope to
have a word from you very soon. I am at work for the tour every day,
except my town Wednesdays.
Ever faithfully.
P.S.--Kindest regards from all.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/John%20Watkins/468Charles Dickens
1861-09-28[Sidenote: Mr. John Watkins.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Saturday Night, Sept. 28th, 1861._
DEAR MR. WATKINS,
In reply to your kind letter I must explain that I have not yet brought
down any of your large photographs of myself, and therefore cannot
report upon their effect here. I think the "cartes" are all liked.
A general howl of horror greeted the appearance of No. 18, and a riotous
attempt was made to throw it out of window. I calmed the popular fury
by promising that it should never again be beheld within these walls. I
think I mentioned to you when you showed it to me, that I felt persuaded
it would not be liked. It has a grim and wasted aspect, and perhaps
might be made useful as a portrait of the Ancient Mariner.
I feel that I owe you an apology for being (innocently) a difficult
subject. When I once excused myself to Ary Scheffer while sitting to
him, he received the apology as strictly his due, and said with a vexed
air: "At this moment, _mon cher_ Dickens, you look more like an
energetic Dutch admiral than anything else;" for which I apologised
again.
In the hope that the pains you have bestowed upon me will not be thrown
away, but that your success will prove of some use to you, believe me,
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Edmund%20Yates/469Charles Dickens
1861-10-06[Sidenote: Mr. Edmund Yates.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Sunday, Oct. 6th, 1861._
AFTER THE DEATH OF MR. ARTHUR SMITH.
MY DEAR EDMUND,
Coming back here to-day, I find your letter.
I was so very much distressed last night in thinking of it all, and I
find it so very difficult to preserve my composure when I dwell in my
mind on the many times fast approaching when I shall sorely miss the
familiar face, that I am hardly steady enough yet to refer to the
readings like a man. But your kind reference to them makes me desirous
to tell you that I took Headland (formerly of St. Martin's Hall, who has
always been with us in London) to conduct the business, when I knew that
our poor dear fellow could never do it, even if he had recovered
strength to go; and that I consulted with himself about it when I saw
him for the last time on earth, and that it seemed to please him, and he
said: "We couldn't do better."
Write to me before you come; and remember that I go to town Wednesday
mornings.
Ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/470Charles Dickens
1861-10-10[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Thursday, Oct. 10th, 1861._
MY DEAREST MAMIE,
I received your affectionate little letter here this morning, and was
very glad to get it. Poor dear Arthur is a sad loss to me, and indeed I
was very fond of him. But the readings must be fought out, like all the
rest of life.
Ever your affectionate.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/471Charles Dickens
1861-10-13[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Sunday, Oct. 13th, 1861._
MY DEAREST MACREADY,
This is a short note. But the moment I know for certain what is designed
for me at Cheltenham, I write to you in order that you may know it from
me and not by chance from anyone else.
I am to read there on the evening of Friday, the 3rd of January, and on
the morning of Saturday, the 4th; as I have nothing to do on Thursday,
the 2nd, but come from Leamington, I shall come to you, please God, for
a quiet dinner that day.
The death of Arthur Smith has caused me great distress and anxiety. I
had a great regard for him, and he made the reading part of my life as
light and pleasant as it _could_ be made. I had hoped to bring him to
see you, and had pictured to myself how amused and interested you would
have been with his wonderful tact and consummate mastery of arrangement.
But it's all over.
I begin at Norwich on the 28th, and am going north in the middle of
November. I am going to do "Copperfield," and shall be curious to test
its effect on the Edinburgh people. It has been quite a job so to piece
portions of the long book together as to make something continuous out
of it; but I hope I have got something varied and dramatic. I am also
(not to slight _your_ book) going to do "Nickleby at Mr. Squeers's." It
is clear that both must be trotted out at Cheltenham.
With kindest love and regard to all your house,
Ever, my dearest Macready, your most affectionate.
P.S.--Fourth edition of "Great Expectations" almost gone!http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/472Charles Dickens
1861-10-13[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
ANGEL HOTEL, BURY ST. EDMUNDS,
_Wednesday, Oct. 13th, 1861._
MY DEAREST GEORGY,
I have just now received your welcome letter, and I hasten to report
(having very little time) that we had a splendid hall last night, and
that I think "Nickleby" tops all the readings. Somehow it seems to have
got in it, by accident, exactly the qualities best suited to the
purpose, and it went last night not only with roars, but with a general
hilarity and pleasure that I have never seen surpassed.
We are full here for to-night.
Fancy this: last night at about six, who should walk in but Elwin! He
was exactly in his usual state, only more demonstrative than ever, and
had been driven in by some neighbours who were coming to the reading. I
had tea up for him, and he went down at seven with me to the dismal den
where I dressed, and sat by the fire while I dressed, and was childishly
happy in that great privilege! During the reading he sat on a corner of
the platform and roared incessantly. He brought in a lady and gentleman
to introduce while I was undressing, and went away in a perfect and
absolute rapture.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/473Charles Dickens
1861-10-29[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
ROYAL HOTEL, NORWICH, _Tuesday, Oct. 29th, 1861._
I cannot say that we began well last night. We had not a good hall, and
they were a very lumpish audience indeed. This did not tend to cheer the
strangeness I felt in being without Arthur, and I was not at all myself.
We have a large let for to-night, I think two hundred and fifty stalls,
which is very large, and I hope that both they and I will go better. I
could have done perfectly last night, if the audience had been bright,
but they were an intent and staring audience. They laughed though very
well, and the storm made them shake themselves again. But they were not
magnetic, and the great big place was out of sorts somehow.
To-morrow I will write you another short note, however short. It is
"Nickleby" and the "Trial" to-night; "Copperfield" again to-morrow. A
wet day here, with glimpses of blue. I shall not forget Katey's health
at dinner. A pleasant journey down.
Ever, my dearest Georgy, your most affectionate.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/474Charles Dickens
1861-11-01[Sidenote: The same.]
THE GREAT WHITE HORSE, IPSWICH, _Friday, Nov. 1st, 1861._
I cannot quite remember in the whirl of travelling and reading, whether
or no I wrote you a line from Bury St. Edmunds. But I think (and hope)
I did. We had a fine room there, and "Copperfield" made a great
impression. At mid-day we go on to Colchester, where I shall expect the
young Morgans. I sent a telegram on yesterday, after receiving your
note, to secure places for them. The answer returned by telegraph was:
"No box-seats left but on the fourth row." If they prefer to sit on the
stage (for I read in the theatre, there being no other large public
room), they shall. Meantime I have told John, who went forward this
morning with the other men, to let the people at the inn know that if
three travellers answering that description appear before my
dinner-time, they are to dine with me.
Plorn's admission that he likes the school very much indeed, is the
great social triumph of modern times.
I am looking forward to Sunday's rest at Gad's, and shall be down by the
ten o'clock train from town. I miss poor Arthur dreadfully. It is
scarcely possible to imagine how much. It is not only that his loss to
me socially is quite irreparable, but that the sense I used to have of
compactness and comfort about me while I was reading is quite gone. And
when I come out for the ten minutes, when I used to find him always
ready for me with something cheerful to say, it is forlorn. I cannot but
fancy, too, that the audience must miss the old speciality of a
pervading gentleman.
Nobody I know has turned up yet except Elwin. I have had many
invitations to all sorts of houses in all sorts of places, and have of
course accepted them every one.
Love to Mamie, if she has come home, and to Bouncer, if _she_ has come;
also Marguerite, who I hope is by this time much better.
Ever, my dear Georgy, your most affectionate.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Henry%20Austin/475Charles Dickens
1861-11-03[Sidenote: Mrs. Henry Austin.]
GAD'S HILL, _Sunday, Nov. 3rd, 1861._
EXTRACT.
I am heartily glad to hear that you have been out in the air, and I hope
you will go again very soon and make a point of continuing to go. There
is a soothing influence in the sight of the earth and sky, which God put
into them for our relief when He made the world in which we are all to
suffer, and strive, and die.
I will not fail to write to you from many points of my tour, and if you
ever want to write to me you may be sure of a quick response, and may be
certain that I am sympathetic and true.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/476Charles Dickens
1861-11-04[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
FOUNTAIN HOTEL, CANTERBURY, _Windy Night, Nov. 4th, 1861._
MY DEAREST MAMIE,
A word of report before I go to bed. An excellent house to-night, and an
audience positively perfect. The greatest part of it stalls, and an
intelligent and delightful response in them, like the touch of a
beautiful instrument. "Copperfield" wound up in a real burst of feeling
and delight.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/John%20Agate/477Charles Dickens
1861-11-06[Sidenote: Mr. John Agate.]
LORD WARDEN HOTEL, DOVER, _Wednesday, Nov. 6th, 1861._
SIR,
I am exceedingly sorry to find, from the letter you have addressed to
me, that you had just cause of complaint in being excluded from my
reading here last night. It will now and then unfortunately happen when
the place of reading is small (as in this case), that some confusion
and inconvenience arise from the local agents over-estimating, in
perfect good faith and sincerity, the capacity of the room. Such a
mistake, I am assured, was made last night; and thus all the available
space was filled before the people in charge were at all prepared for
that circumstance.
You may readily suppose that I can have no personal knowledge of the
proceedings of the people in my employment at such a time. But I wish to
assure you very earnestly, that they are all old servants, well
acquainted with my principles and wishes, and that they are under the
strongest injunction to avoid any approach to mercenary dealing; and to
behave to all comers equally with as much consideration and politeness
as they know I should myself display. The recent death of a
much-regretted friend of mine, who managed this business for me, and on
whom these men were accustomed to rely in any little difficulty, caused
them (I have no doubt) to feel rather at a loss in your case. Do me the
favour to understand that under any other circumstances you would, as a
matter of course, have been provided with any places whatever that could
be found, without the smallest reference to what you had originally
paid. This is scanty satisfaction to you, but it is so strictly the
truth, that yours is the first complaint of the kind I have ever
received.
I hope to read in Dover again, but it is quite impossible that I can
make any present arrangement for that purpose. Whenever I may return
here, you may be sure I shall not fail to remember that I owe you a
recompense for a disappointment. In the meanwhile I very sincerely
regret it.
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/478Charles Dickens
1861-11-07[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
BEDFORD HOTEL, BRIGHTON, _Thursday, Nov. 7th, 1861._
MY DEAR GEORGY,
The Duchess of Cambridge comes to-night to "Copperfield." The bad
weather has not in the least touched us, and beyond all doubt a great
deal of money has been left untaken at each place.
The storm was most magnificent at Dover. All the great side of The Lord
Warden next the sea had to be emptied, the break of the sea was so
prodigious, and the noise was so utterly confounding. The sea came in
like a great sky of immense clouds, for ever breaking suddenly into
furious rain. All kinds of wreck were washed in. Miss Birmingham and I
saw, among other things, a very pretty brass-bound chest being thrown
about like a feather. On Tuesday night, the unhappy Ostend packet could
not get in, neither could she go back, and she beat about the Channel
until noon yesterday. I saw her come in then, _with five men at the
wheel_; such a picture of misery, as to the crew (of passengers there
were no signs), as you can scarcely imagine.
Tho effect at Hastings and at Dover really seems to have outdone the
best usual impression, and at Dover they wouldn't go, but sat applauding
like mad. The most delicate audience I have seen in any provincial place
is Canterbury. The audience with the greatest sense of humour certainly
is Dover. The people in the stalls set the example of laughing, in the
most curiously unreserved way; and they really laughed when Squeers read
the boys' letters, with such cordial enjoyment, that the contagion
extended to me, for one couldn't hear them without laughing too.
So, thank God, all goes well, and the recompense for the trouble is in
every way great. There is rather an alarming breakdown at Newcastle, in
respect of all the bills having been, in some inscrutable way, lost on
the road. I have resolved to send Berry there, with full powers to do
all manner of things, early next week.
The amended route-list is not printed yet, because I am trying to get
off Manchester and Liverpool; both of which I strongly doubt, in the
present state of American affairs. Therefore I can't send it for
Marguerite; but I can, and do, send her my love and God-speed. This is
addressed to the office because I suppose you will be there to-morrow.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/The%20Earl%20of%20Carlisle/479Charles Dickens
1861-11-15[Sidenote: The Earl of Carlisle.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_November 15th, 1861._
MY DEAR LORD CARLISLE,
You know poor Austin, and what his work was, and how he did it. If you
have no private objection to signing the enclosed memorial (which will
receive the right signatures before being presented), I think you will
have no public objection. I shall be heartily glad if you can put your
name to it, and shall esteem your doing so as a very kind service. Will
you return the memorial under cover to Mr. Tom Taylor, at the Local
Government Act Office, Whitehall? He is generously exerting himself in
furtherance of it, and so delay will be avoided.
My dear Lord Carlisle, faithfully yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Mary%20Boyle/480Charles Dickens
1861-11-17[Sidenote: Miss Mary Boyle.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Sunday, Nov. 17th, 1861._
MY DEAR MARY,
I am perfectly enraptured with the quilt. It is one of the most
tasteful, lively, elegant things I have ever seen; and I need not tell
you that while it is valuable to me for its own ornamental sake, it is
precious to me as a rainbow-hint of your friendship and affectionate
remembrance.
Please God you shall see it next summer occupying its allotted place of
state in my brand-new bedroom here. You shall behold it then, with all
cheerful surroundings, the envy of mankind.
My readings have been doing absolute wonders. Your Duchess and Princess
came to hear first "Nickleby" and the "Pickwick Trial," then
"Copperfield," at Brighton. I think they were pleased with me, and I am
sure I was with them; for they are the very best audience one could
possibly desire. I shall always have a pleasant remembrance of them.
On Wednesday I am away again for the longest part of my trip.
Yes, Mary dear, I must say that I like my Carton, and I have a faint
idea sometimes that if I had acted him, I could have done something with
his life and death.
Believe me, ever your affectionate and faithful
JOE.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/481Charles Dickens
1861-11-22[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
QUEEN'S HEAD, NEWCASTLE, _Friday, Nov. 22nd, 1861._
I received your letter this morning, and grieve to report that the
unlucky Headland has broken down most awfully!
First, as perhaps you remember, this is the place where the bills were
"lost" for a week or two. The consequence has been that the agent could
not announce all through the "Jenny Lind" time (the most important for
announcing), and could but stand still and stare when people came to ask
what I was going to read. Last night I read "Copperfield" to the most
enthusiastic and appreciative audience imaginable, but in numbers about
half what they might have been. To-night we shall have a famous house;
but we might have had it last night too. To-morrow (knowing by this time
what can, of a certainty, be done with "Copperfield"), I had, of course,
given out "Copperfield" to be read again. Conceive my amazement and
dismay when I find the printer to have announced "Little Dombey"!!!
This, I declare, I had no more intention of reading than I had of
reading an account of the solar system. And this, after a sensation last
night, of a really extraordinary nature in its intensity and delight!
Says the unlucky Headland to this first head of misery: "Johnson's
mistake" (Johnson being the printer).
Second, I read at Edinburgh for the first time--observe the day--_next
Wednesday_. Jenny Lind's concert at Edinburgh is to-night. This morning
comes a frantic letter from the Edinburgh agent. "I have no bills, no
tickets; I lose all the announcement I would have made to hundreds upon
hundreds of people to-night, all of the most desirable class to be well
informed beforehand. I can't announce what Mr. Dickens is going to read;
I can answer no question; I have, upon my responsibility, put a dreary
advertisement into the papers announcing that he _is_ going to read so
many times, and that particulars will shortly be ready; and I stand
bound hand and foot." "Johnson's mistake," says the unlucky Headland.
Of course, I know that the man who never made a mistake in poor Arthur's
time is not likely to be always making mistakes now. But I have written
by this post to Wills, to go to him and investigate. I have also
detached Berry from here, and have sent him on by train at a few
minutes' notice to Edinburgh, and then to Glasgow (where I have no doubt
everything is wrong too). Glasgow we may save; Edinburgh I hold to be
irretrievably damaged. If it can be picked up at all, it can only be at
the loss of the two first nights, and by the expenditure of no end of
spirits and force. And this is the harder, because it is impossible not
to see that the last readings polished and prepared the audiences in
general, and that I have not to work them up in any place where I have
been before, but that they start with a London intelligence, and with a
respect and preparation for what they are going to hear.
I hope by the time you and Mamie come to me, we shall have got into some
good method. I must take the thing more into my own hands and look after
it from hour to hour. If such a thing as this Edinburgh business could
have happened under poor Arthur, I really believe he would have fallen
into a fit, or gone distracted. No one can ever know what he was but I
who have been with him and without him. Headland is so anxious and so
good-tempered that I cannot be very stormy with him; but it is the
simple fact that he has no notion of the requirements of such work as
this. Without him, and with a larger salary to Berry (though there are
objections to the latter as _first_ man), I could have done a hundred
times better.
As Forster will have a strong interest in knowing all about the
proceedings, perhaps you will send him this letter to read. There is no
very tremendous harm, indeed, done as yet. At Edinburgh I KNOW what I
can do with "Copperfield." I think it is not too much to say that for
every one who does come to hear it on the first night, I can get back
fifty on the second. And whatever can be worked up there will tell on
Glasgow. Berry I shall continue to send on ahead, and I shall take
nothing on trust and more as being done.
On Sunday morning at six, I have to start for Berwick. From Berwick, in
the course of that day, I will write again; to Mamie next time.
With best love to her and Mrs. B.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/482Charles Dickens
1861-11-23[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
QUEEN'S HEAD, NEWCASTLE-ON-TYNE,
_Saturday, Nov. 23rd, 1861._
A most tremendous hall here last night; something almost terrible in the
cram. A fearful thing might have happened. Suddenly, when they were all
very still over Smike, my gas batten came down, and it looked as if the
room was falling. There were three great galleries crammed to the roof,
and a high steep flight of stairs, and a panic must have destroyed
numbers of people. A lady in the front row of stalls screamed, and ran
out wildly towards me, and for one instant there was a terrible wave in
the crowd. I addressed that lady laughing (for I knew she was in sight
of everybody there), and called out as if it happened every night,
"There's nothing the matter, I assure you; don't be alarmed; pray sit
down;" and she sat down directly, and there was a thunder of applause.
It took some few minutes to mend, and I looked on with my hands in my
pockets; for I think if I had turned my back for a moment there might
still have been a move. My people were dreadfully alarmed, Boylett in
particular, who I suppose had some notion that the whole place might
have taken fire.
"But there stood the master," he did me the honour to say afterwards, in
addressing the rest, "as cool as ever I see him a-lounging at a railway
station."
A telegram from Berry at Edinburgh yesterday evening, to say that he
had got the bills, and that they would all be up and dispersed yesterday
evening under his own eyes. So no time was lost in setting things as
right as they can be set. He has now gone on to Glasgow.
P.S.--Duty to Mrs. Bouncer.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/483Charles Dickens
1861-11-25[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
BERWICK-ON-TWEED, _Monday, Nov. 25th, 1861._
I write (in a gale of wind, with a high sea running), to let you know
that we go on to Edinburgh at half-past eight to-morrow morning.
A most ridiculous room was designed for me in this odd out-of-the-way
place. An immense Corn Exchange made of glass and iron, round,
dome-topped, lofty, utterly absurd for any such purpose, and full of
thundering echoes, with a little lofty crow's-nest of a stone gallery
breast high, deep in the wall, into which it was designed to put _me_! I
instantly struck, of course, and said I would either read in a room
attached to this house (a very snug one, capable of holding five hundred
people) or not at all. Terrified local agents glowered, but fell
prostrate.
Berry has this moment come back from Edinburgh and Glasgow with hopeful
accounts. He seems to have done the business extremely well, and he says
that it was quite curious and cheering to see how the Glasgow people
assembled round the bills the instant they were posted, and evidently
with a great interest in them.
We left Newcastle yesterday morning in the dark, when it was intensely
cold and froze very hard. So it did here. But towards night the wind
went round to the S.W., and all night it has been blowing very hard
indeed. So it is now.
Tell Mamie that I have the same sitting-room as we had when we came here
with poor Arthur, and that my bedroom is the room out of it which she
and Katie had. Surely it is the oddest town to read in! But it is taken
on poor Arthur's principle that a place in the way pays the expenses of
a through journey; and the people would seem to be coming up to the
scratch gallantly. It was a dull Sunday, though; O it _was_ a dull
Sunday, without a book! For I had forgotten to buy one at Newcastle,
until it was too late. So after dark I made a jug of whisky-punch, and
drowned the unlucky Headland's remembrance of his failures.
I shall hope to hear very soon that the workmen have "broken through,"
and that you have been in the state apartments, and that upholstery
measurements have come off.
There has been a horrible accident in Edinburgh. One of the seven-storey
old houses in the High Street fell when it was full of people. Berry was
at the bill-poster's house, a few doors off, waiting for him to come
home, when he heard what seemed like thunder, and then the air was
darkened with dust, "as if an immense quantity of steam had been blown
off," and then all that dismal quarter set up shrieks, which he says
were most dreadful.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/484Charles Dickens
1861-11-27[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
WATERLOO HOTEL, EDINBURGH, _Wednesday, Nov. 27th, 1861._
Mrs. Bouncer must decidedly come with you to Carlisle. She shall be
received with open arms. Apropos of Carlisle, let me know _when_ you
purpose coming there. We shall be there, please God, on the Saturday in
good time, as I finish at Glasgow on the Friday night.
I have very little notion of the state of affairs here, as Headland
brought no more decisive information from the agents yesterday (he never
_can_ get decisive information from any agents), than "the teeckets air
joost moving reecht and left." I hope this may be taken as satisfactory.
Jenny Lind carried off a world of money from here. Miss Glyn, or Mrs.
Dallas, is playing Lady Macbeth at the theatre, and Mr. Shirley Brooks
is giving two lectures at the Philosophical Society on the House of
Commons and Horace Walpole. Grisi's farewell benefits are (I think) on
my last two nights here.
Gordon dined with me yesterday. He is, if anything, rather better, I
think, than when we last saw him in town. He was immensely pleased to be
with me. I went with him (as his office goes anywhere) right into and
among the ruins of the fallen building yesterday. They were still at
work trying to find two men (brothers), a young girl, and an old woman,
known to be all lying there. On the walls two or three common clocks are
still hanging; one of them, judging from the time at which it stopped,
would seem to have gone for an hour or so after the fall. Great interest
had been taken in a poor linnet in a cage, hanging in the wind and rain
high up against the broken wall. A fireman got it down alive, and great
exultation had been raised over it. One woman, who was dug out unhurt,
staggered into the street, stared all round her, instantly ran away, and
has never been heard of since. It is a most extraordinary sight, and of
course makes a great sensation.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/485Charles Dickens
1861-11-29[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
WATERLOO HOTEL, EDINBURGH, _Friday, Nov. 29th, 1861._
I think it is my turn to write to you, and I therefore send a brief
despatch, like a telegram, to let you know that in a gale of wind and a
fierce rain, last night, we turned away a thousand people. There was no
getting into the hall, no getting near the hall, no stirring among the
people, no getting out, no possibility of getting rid of them. And yet,
in spite of all that, and of their being steaming wet, they never
flagged for an instant, never made a complaint, and took up the trial
upon their very shoulders, to the last word, in a triumphant roar.
The talk about "Copperfield" rings through the whole place. It is done
again to-morrow night. To-morrow morning I read "Dombey." To-morrow
morning is Grisi's "farewell" morning concert, and last night was her
"farewell" evening concert. Neither she, nor Jenny Lind, nor anything,
nor anybody seems to make the least effect on the draw of the readings.
I lunch with Blackwood to-day. He was at the reading last night; a
capital audience. Young Blackwood has also called here. A very good
young fellow, I think.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/486Charles Dickens
1861-12-03[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
CARRICK'S ROYAL HOTEL, GLASGOW, _Tuesday, Dec. 3rd, 1861._
I send you by this post another _Scotsman_. From a paragraph in it, a
letter, and an advertisement, you may be able to form some dim guess of
the scene at Edinburgh last night. Such a pouring of hundreds into a
place already full to the throat, such indescribable confusion, such a
rending and tearing of dresses, and yet such a scene of good humour on
the whole. I never saw the faintest approach to it. While I addressed
the crowd in the room, Gordon addressed the crowd in the street. Fifty
frantic men got up in all parts of the hall and addressed me all at
once. Other frantic men made speeches to the walls. The whole Blackwood
family were borne in on the top of a wave, and landed with their faces
against the front of the platform. I read with the platform crammed with
people. I got them to lie down upon it, and it was like some impossible
tableau or gigantic picnic; one pretty girl in full dress lying on her
side all night, holding on to one of the legs of my table. It was the
most extraordinary sight. And yet from the moment I began to the moment
of my leaving off, they never missed a point, and they ended with a
burst of cheers.
The confusion was decidedly owing to the local agents. But I think it
may have been a little heightened by Headland's way of sending them the
tickets to sell in the first instance.
Now, as I must read again in Edinburgh on Saturday night, your
travelling arrangements are affected. So observe carefully (you and
Mamie) all that I am going to say. It appears to me that the best course
will be for you to come to _Edinburgh_ on Saturday; taking the fast
train from the Great Northern station at nine in the morning. This would
bring you to the Waterloo at Edinburgh, at about nine or so at night,
and I should be home at ten. We could then have a quiet Sunday in
Edinburgh, and go over to Carlisle on the Monday morning.
The expenditure of lungs and spirits was (as you may suppose) rather
great last night, and to sleep well was out of the question; I am
therefore rather fagged to-day. And as the hall in which I read to-night
is a large one, I must make my letter a short one.
My people were torn to ribbons last night. They have not a hat among
them, and scarcely a coat.
Give my love to Mamie. To her question, "Will there be war with
America?" I answer, "Yes;" I fear the North to be utterly mad, and war
to be unavoidable.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/487Charles Dickens
1861-12-13[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
VICTORIA HOTEL, PRESTON, _Friday, Dec. 13th, 1861._
MY DEAR WILLS,
The news of the Christmas number is indeed glorious, and nothing can
look brighter or better than the prospects of the illustrious
publication.
Both Carlisle and Lancaster have come out admirably, though I doubted
both, as you did. But, unlike you, I always doubted this place. I do so
still. It is a poor place at the best (you remember?), and the mills are
working half time, and trade is very bad. The expenses, however, will be
a mere nothing. The accounts from Manchester for to-morrow, and from
Liverpool for the readings generally, are very cheering indeed.
The young lady who sells the papers at the station is just the same as
ever. Has orders for to-night, and is coming "with a person." "_The_
person?" said I. "Never _you_ mind," said she.
I was so charmed with Robert Chambers's "Traditions of Edinburgh" (which
I read _in_ Edinburgh), that I was obliged to write to him and say so.
Glasgow finished nobly, and the last night in Edinburgh was signally
successful and positively splendid.
Will you give my small Admiral, on his personal application, one
sovereign? I have told him to come to you for that recognition of his
meritorious services.
Ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/488Charles Dickens
1861-12-15[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
ADELPHI HOTEL, LIVERPOOL, _Sunday, Dec. 15th, 1861._
MY DEAR WILLS,
I sent you a telegram to-day, and I write before the answer has come to
hand.
I have been very doubtful what to do here. We have a great let for
to-morrow night. The Mayor recommends closing to-morrow, and going on on
Tuesday and Wednesday, so does the town clerk, so do the agents. But I
have a misgiving that they hardly understand what the public general
sympathy with the Queen will be. Further, I feel personally that the
Queen has always been very considerate and gracious to me, and I would
on no account do anything that might seem unfeeling or disrespectful. I
shall attach great weight, in this state of indecision, to your
telegram.
A capital audience at Preston. Not a capacious room, but full. Great
appreciation.
The scene at Manchester last night was really magnificent. I had had the
platform carried forward to our "Frozen Deep" point, and my table and
screen built in with a proscenium and room scenery. When I went in
(there was a very fine hall), they applauded in the most tremendous
manner; and the extent to which they were taken aback and taken by storm
by "Copperfield" was really a thing to see.
The post closes early here on a Sunday, and I shall close this also
without further reference to "a message from the" W. H. W. being
probably on the road.
Radley is ill, and supposed to be fast declining, poor fellow. The house
is crammed, the assizes on, and troops perpetually embarking for Canada,
and their officers passing through the hotel.
Kindest regards, ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Mary%20Boyle/489Charles Dickens
1861-12-28[Sidenote: Miss Mary Boyle.]
GAD'S HILL, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Saturday, Dec. 28th, 1861._
MY DEAR MARY,
On Monday (as you know) I am away again, but I am not sorry to see land
and a little rest before me; albeit, these are great experiences of the
public heart.
The little Admiral has gone to visit America in the _Orlando_, supposed
to be one of the foremost ships in the Service, and the best found, best
manned, and best officered that ever sailed from England. He went away
much gamer than any giant, attended by a chest in which he could easily
have stowed himself and a wife and family of his own proportions.
Ever and always, your affectionate
JOE.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/490Charles Dickens
1862-01-02[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
AT THE BIRMINGHAM STATION, _Thursday, Jan. 2nd, 1862._
MY DEAR WILLS,
Being stationed here for an hour, on my way from Leamington to
Cheltenham, I write to you.
Firstly, to reciprocate all your cordial and affectionate wishes for the
New Year, and to express my earnest hope that we may go on through many
years to come, as we have gone on through many years that are gone. And
I think we can say that we doubt whether any two men can have gone on
more happily and smoothly, or with greater trust and confidence in one
another.
A little packet will come to you from Hunt and Roskell's, almost at the
same time, I think, as this note.
The packet will contain a claret-jug. I hope it is a pretty thing in
itself for your table, and I know that you and Mrs. Wills will like it
none the worse because it comes from me.
It is not made of a perishable material, and is so far expressive of our
friendship. I have had your name and mine set upon it, in token of our
many years of mutual reliance and trustfulness. It will never be so full
of wine as it is to-day of affectionate regard.
Ever faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/491Charles Dickens
1862-01-03[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
CHELTENHAM, _Friday, Jan. 3rd, 1862._
MY DEAREST GEORGY,
Mrs. Macready in voice is very like poor Mrs. Macready dead and gone;
not in the least like her otherwise. She is perfectly satisfactory, and
exceedingly winning. Quite perfect in her manner with him and in her
ease with his children, sensible, gay, pleasant, sweet-tempered; not in
the faintest degree stiff or pedantic; accessible instantly. I have very
rarely seen a more agreeable woman. The house is (on a smaller scale)
any house we have known them in. Furnished with the old furniture,
pictures, engravings, mirrors, tables, and chairs. Butty is too tall for
strength, I am afraid, but handsome, with a face of great power and
character, and a very nice girl. Katie you know all about. Macready,
decidedly much older and infirm. Very much changed. His old force has
gone out of him strangely. I don't think I left off talking a minute
from the time of my entering the house to my going to bed last night,
and he was as much amused and interested as ever I saw him; still he
was, and is, unquestionably aged.
And even now I am obliged to cut this letter short by having to go and
look after Headland. It would never do to be away from the rest of them.
I have no idea what we are doing here; no notion whether things are
right or wrong; no conception where the room is; no hold of the business
at all. For which reason I cannot rest without going and looking after
the worthy man.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/492Charles Dickens
1862-01-08[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
TORQUAY, _Wednesday, Jan. 8th, 1862._
You know, I think, that I was very averse to going to Plymouth, and
would not have gone there again but for poor Arthur. But on the last
night I read "Copperfield," and positively enthralled the people. It was
a most overpowering effect, and poor Andrew[7] came behind the screen,
after the storm, and cried in the best and manliest manner. Also there
were two or three lines of his shipmates and other sailors, and they
were extraordinarily affected. But its culminating effect was on
Macready at Cheltenham. When I got home after "Copperfield," I found him
quite unable to speak, and able to do nothing but square his dear old
jaw all on one side, and roll his eyes (half closed), like Jackson's
picture of him. And when I said something light about it, he returned:
"No--er--Dickens! I swear to Heaven that, as a piece of passion and
playfulness--er--indescribably mixed up together, it does--er--no,
really, Dickens!--amaze me as profoundly as it moves me. But as a piece
of art--and you know--er--that I--no, Dickens! By ----! have seen the
best art in a great time--it is incomprehensible to me. How is it got
at--er--how is it done--er--how one man can--well? It lays me on
my--er--back, and it is of no use talking about it!" With which he put
his hand upon my breast and pulled out his pocket-handkerchief, and I
felt as if I were doing somebody to his Werner. Katie, by-the-bye, is a
wonderful audience, and has a great fund of wild feeling in her. Johnny
not at all unlike Plorn.
I have not yet seen the room here, but imagine it to be very small.
Exeter I know, and that is small also. I am very much used up, on the
whole, for I cannot bear this moist warm climate. It would kill me very
soon. And I have now got to the point of taking so much out of myself
with "Copperfield," that I might as well do Richard Wardour.
You have now, my dearest Georgy, the fullest extent of my tidings. This
is a very pretty place--a compound of Hastings, Tunbridge Wells, and
little bits of the hills about Naples; but I met four respirators as I
came up from the station, and three pale curates without them, who
seemed in a bad way.
Frightful intelligence has just been brought in by Boylett, concerning
the small size of the room. I have terrified Headland by sending him to
look at it, and swearing that if it's too small I will go away to
Exeter.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/493Charles Dickens
1862-01-28[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
ADELPHI HOTEL, LIVERPOOL, _Tuesday, Jan. 28th, 1862._
The beautiful room was crammed to excess last night, and numbers were
turned away. Its beauty and completeness when it is lighted up are most
brilliant to behold, and for a reading it is simply perfect. You
remember that a Liverpool audience is usually dull, but they put me on
my mettle last night, for I never saw such an audience--no, not even in
Edinburgh!
I slept horribly last night, and have been over to Birkenhead for a
little change of air to-day. My head is dazed and worn by gas and heat,
and I fear that "Copperfield" and "Bob" together to-night won't mend it.
Best love to Mamie and Katie, if still at Gad's. I am going to bring the
boys some toffee.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Misses%20Armstrong/494Charles Dickens
1862-02-10[Sidenote: The Misses Armstrong]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Monday, Feb. 10th, 1862._
MY DEAR GIRLS,
For if I were to write "young friends," it would look like a
schoolmaster; and if I were to write "young ladies," it would look like
a schoolmistress; and worse than that, neither form of words would look
familiar and natural, or in character with our snowy ride that
tooth-chattering morning.
I cannot tell you both how gratified I was by your remembrance, or how
often I think of you as I smoke the admirable cigars. But I almost think
you must have had some magnetic consciousness across the Atlantic, of my
whiffing my love towards you from the garden here.
My daughter says that when you have settled those little public affairs
at home, she hopes you will come back to England (possibly in united
states) and give a minute or two to this part of Kent. _Her_ words are,
"a day or two;" but I remember your Italian flights, and correct the
message.
I have only just now finished my country readings, and have had nobody
to make breakfast for me since the remote ages of Colchester!
Ever faithfully yours.
OUR LETTER.
By M. F. ARMSTRONG.
"From among all my treasures--to each one of which some pleasant history
is bound--I choose this letter, written on coarse blue paper.
The letter was received in answer to cigars sent from America to Mr.
Dickens.
The 'little public affairs at home' refers to the war of the Rebellion.
At Colchester, he read 'The Trial' from 'Pickwick,' and selections from
'Nicholas Nickleby.'
The lady, her two sisters, and her brother were Mr. Dickens's guests at
the queer old English inn at Colchester.
Through the softly falling snow we came back together to London, and on
the railway platform parted, with a hearty hand-shaking, from the man
who will for ever be enshrined in our hearts as the kindest and most
generous, not to say most brilliant of hosts."http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/William%20De%20Cerjat/495Charles Dickens
1862-03-16[Sidenote: M. de Cerjat.]
16, HYDE PARK GATE, SOUTH KENSINGTON GORE,
_Sunday, March 16th, 1862._
MY DEAR CERJAT,
My daughter naturally liking to be in town at this time of year, I have
changed houses with a friend for three months.
My eldest boy is in business as an Eastern merchant in the City, and
will do well if he can find continuous energy; otherwise not. My second
boy is with the 42nd Highlanders in India. My third boy, a good steady
fellow, is educating expressly for engineers or artillery. My fourth
(this sounds like a charade), a born little sailor, is a midshipman in
H.M.S. _Orlando_, now at Bermuda, and will make his way anywhere.
Remaining two at school, elder of said remaining two very bright and
clever. Georgina and Mary keeping house for me; and Francis Jeffrey (I
ought to have counted him as the third boy, so we'll take him in here as
number two and a half) in my office at present. Now you have the family
bill of fare.
You ask me about Fechter and his Hamlet. It was a performance of
extraordinary merit; by far the most coherent, consistent, and
intelligible Hamlet I ever saw. Some of the delicacies with which he
rendered his conception clear were extremely subtle; and in particular
he avoided that brutality towards Ophelia which, with a greater or less
amount of coarseness, I have seen in all other Hamlets. As a mere _tour
de force_, it would have been very remarkable in its disclosure of a
perfectly wonderful knowledge of the force of the English language; but
its merit was far beyond and above this. Foreign accent, of course, but
not at all a disagreeable one. And he was so obviously safe and at ease,
that you were never in pain for him as a foreigner. Add to this a
perfectly picturesque and romantic "make up," and a remorseless
destruction of all conventionalities, and you have the leading virtues
of the impersonation. In Othello he did not succeed. In Iago he is very
good. He is an admirable artist, and far beyond anyone on our stage. A
real artist and a gentleman.
Last Thursday I began reading again in London--a condensation of
"Copperfield," and "Mr. Bob Sawyer's Party," from "Pickwick," to finish
merrily. The success of "Copperfield" is astounding. It made an
impression that _I_ must not describe. I may only remark that I was half
dead when I had done; and that although I had looked forward, all
through the summer, when I was carefully getting it up, to its being a
London sensation; and that although Macready, hearing it at Cheltenham,
told me to be prepared for a great effect, it even went beyond my hopes.
I read again next Thursday, and the rush for places is quite furious.
Tell Townshend this with my love, if you see him before I have time to
write to him; and tell him that I thought the people would never let me
go away, they became so excited, and showed it so very warmly. I am
trying to plan out a new book, but have not got beyond trying.
Yours affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Walter%20Thornbury/496Charles Dickens
1862-04-18[Sidenote: Mr. Walter Thornbury.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Friday, April 18th, 1862._
MY DEAR THORNBURY,
The Bow Street runners ceased out of the land soon after the
introduction of the new police. I remember them very well as standing
about the door of the office in Bow Street. They had no other uniform
than a blue dress-coat, brass buttons (I am not even now sure that that
was necessary), and a bright red cloth waistcoat. The waistcoat was
indispensable, and the slang name for them was "redbreasts," in
consequence.
They kept company with thieves and the like, much more than the
detective police do. I don't know what their pay was, but I have no
doubt their principal complements were got under the rose. It was a very
slack institution, and its head-quarters were The Brown Bear, in Bow
Street, a public-house of more than doubtful reputation, opposite the
police-office; and either the house which is now the theatrical costume
maker's, or the next door to it.
Field, who advertises the Secret Enquiry Office, was a Bow Street
runner, and can tell you all about it; Goddard, who also advertises an
enquiry office, was another of the fraternity. They are the only two I
know of as yet existing in a "questionable shape."
Faithfully yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Baylis/497Charles Dickens
1862-07-02[Sidenote: Mr. Baylis.]
GAD'S HILL, ETC., _Wednesday, July 2nd, 1862._
MY DEAR MR. BAYLIS,
I have been in France, and in London, and in other parts of Kent than
this, and everywhere but here, for weeks and weeks. Pray excuse my not
having (for this reason specially) answered your kind note sooner.
After carefully cross-examining my daughter, I do NOT believe her to be
worthy of the fernery. Last autumn we transplanted into the shrubbery a
quantity of evergreens previously clustered close to the front of the
house, and trained more ivy about the wall and the like. When I ask her
where she would have the fernery and what she would do with it, the
witness falters, turns pale, becomes confused, and says: "Perhaps it
would be better not to have it at all." I am quite confident that the
constancy of the young person is not to be trusted, and that she had
better attach her fernery to one of her châteaux in Spain, or one of her
English castles in the air. None the less do I thank you for your more
than kind proposal.
We have been in great anxiety respecting Miss Hogarth, the sudden
decline of whose health and spirits has greatly distressed us. Although
she is better than she was, and the doctors are, on the whole, cheerful,
she requires great care, and fills us with apprehension. The necessity
of providing change for her will probably take us across the water very
early in the autumn; and this again unsettles home schemes here, and
withers many kinds of fern. If they knew (by "they" I mean my daughter
and Miss Hogarth) that I was writing to you, they would charge me with
many messages of regard. But as I am shut up in my room in a ferocious
and unapproachable condition, owing to the great accumulation of letters
I have to answer, I will tell them at lunch that I have anticipated
their wish. As I know they have bills for me to pay, and are at present
shy of producing them, I wish to preserve a gloomy and repellent
reputation.
My dear Mr. Baylis, faithfully yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Henry%20Austin/498Charles Dickens
1862-10-07[Sidenote: Mrs. Henry Austin.]
GAD'S HILL, _Tuesday, Oct. 7th, 1862._
I do not preach consolation because I am unwilling to preach at any
time, and know my own weakness too well. But in this world there is no
stay but the hope of a better, and no reliance but on the mercy and
goodness of God. Through those two harbours of a shipwrecked heart, I
fully believe that you will, in time, find a peaceful resting-place even
on this careworn earth. Heaven speed the time, and do you try hard to
help it on! It is impossible to say but that our prolonged grief for the
beloved dead may grieve them in their unknown abiding-place, and give
them trouble. The one influencing consideration in all you do as to
your disposition of yourself (coupled, of course, with a real earnest
strenuous endeavour to recover the lost tone of spirit) is, that you
think and feel you _can_ do. I do not in the least regard your change of
course in going to Havre as any evidence of instability. But I rather
hope it is likely that through such restlessness you will come to a far
quieter frame of mind. The disturbed mind and affections, like the
tossed sea, seldom calm without an intervening time of confusion and
trouble.
But nothing is to be attained without striving. In a determined effort
to settle the thoughts, to parcel out the day, to find occupation
regularly or to make it, to be up and doing something, are chiefly to be
found the mere mechanical means which must come to the aid of the best
mental efforts.
It is a wilderness of a day, here, in the way of blowing and raining,
and as darkly dismal, at four o'clock, as need be. My head is but just
now raised from a day's writing, but I will not lose the post without
sending you a word.
Katie was here yesterday, just come back from Clara White's (that was),
in Scotland. In the midst of her brilliant fortune, it is too clear to
me that she is already beckoned away to follow her dead sisters.
Macready was here from Saturday evening to yesterday morning, older but
looking wonderfully well, and (what is very rare in these times) with
the old thick sweep of hair upon his head. Georgina being left alone
here the other day, was done no good to by a great consternation among
the servants. On going downstairs, she found Marsh (the stableman)
seated with great dignity and anguish in an arm-chair, and incessantly
crying out: "I am dead." To which the women servants said with great
pathos (and with some appearance of reason): "No, you ain't, Marsh!" And
to which he persisted in replying: "Yes, I am; I am dead!" Some
neighbouring vagabond was impressed to drive a cart over to Rochester
and fetch the doctor, who said (the patient and his consolers being all
very anxious that the heart should be the scene of affliction):
"Stomach."http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Wilkie%20Collins/499Charles Dickens
1862-10-14[Sidenote: Mr. W. Wilkie Collins.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Tuesday Night, Oct. 14th, 1862._
MY DEAR WILKIE,
Frank Beard has been here this evening, of course since I posted my this
day's letter to you, and has told me that you are not at all well, and
how he has given you something which he hopes and believes will bring
you round. It is not to convey this insignificant piece of intelligence,
or to tell you how anxious I am that you should come up with a wet sheet
and a flowing sail (as we say at sea when we are not sick), that I
write. It is simply to say what follows, which I hope may save you some
mental uneasiness. For I was stricken ill when I was doing "Bleak
House," and I shall not easily forget what I suffered under the fear of
not being able to come up to time.
Dismiss that fear (if you have it) altogether from your mind. Write to
me at Paris at any moment, and say you are unequal to your work, and
want me, and I will come to London straight and do your work. I am quite
confident that, with your notes and a few words of explanation, I could
take it up at any time and do it. Absurdly unnecessary to say that it
would be a makeshift! But I could do it at a pinch, so like you as that
no one should find out the difference. Don't make much of this offer in
your mind; it is nothing, except to ease it. If you should want help, I
am as safe as the bank. The trouble would be nothing to me, and the
triumph of overcoming a difficulty great. Think it a Christmas number,
an "Idle Apprentice," a "Lighthouse," a "Frozen Deep." I am as ready as
in any of these cases to strike in and hammer the hot iron out.
You won't want me. You will be well (and thankless!) in no time. But
there I am; and I hope that the knowledge may be a comfort to you. Call
me, and I come.
As Beard always has a sense of medical responsibility, and says anything
important about a patient in confidence, I have merely remarked here
that "Wilkie" is out of sorts. Charley (who is here with Katie) has no
other cue from me.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/M%20Charles%20Fechter/500Charles Dickens
1862-11-04[Sidenote: M. Charles Fechter.]
PARIS, RUE DU FAUBOURG ST. HONORÉ, 27,
_Tuesday, Nov. 4th, 1862._
MY DEAR FECHTER,
You know, I believe, how our letters crossed, and that I am here until
Christmas. Also, you know with what pleasure and readiness I should have
responded to your invitation if I had been in London.
Pray tell Paul Féval that I shall be charmed to know him, and that I
shall feel the strongest interest in making his acquaintance. It almost
puts me out of humour with Paris (and it takes a great deal to do that!)
to think that I was not at home to prevail upon him to come with you,
and be welcomed to Gad's Hill; but either there or here, I hope to
become his friend before this present old year is out. Pray tell him so.
You say nothing in your note of your Lyceum preparations. I trust they
are all going on well. There is a fine opening for you, I am sure, with
a good beginning; but the importance of a good beginning is very great.
If you ever have time and inclination to tell me in a short note what
you are about, you can scarcely interest me more, as my wishes and
strongest sympathies are for and with your success--_mais cela va sans
dire_.
I went to the Châtelet (a beautiful theatre!) the other night to see
"Rothomago," but was so mortally _gêné_ with the poor nature of the
piece and of the acting, that I came out again when there was a week or
two (I mean an hour or two, but the hours seemed weeks) yet to get
through.
My dear Fechter, very faithfully yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Clarkson%20Stanfield%20RA/501Charles Dickens
1862-12-05[Sidenote: Mr. Clarkson Stanfield, R.A.]
PARIS, RUE DU FAUBOURG ST. HONORÉ, 27,
_Friday, Dec. 5th, 1862._
MY DEAR STANNY,
We have been here for two months, and I shall probably come back here
after Christmas (we go home for Christmas week) and stay on into
February. But I shall write and propose a theatre before Christmas is
out, so this is to warn you to get yourself into working pantomime
order!
I hope Wills has duly sent you our new Christmas number. As you may like
to know what I myself wrote of it, understand the Dick contributions to
be, _his leaving it till called for_, and _his wonderful end_, _his
boots_, and _his brown paper parcel_.
Since you were at Gad's Hill I have been travelling a good deal, and
looking up many odd things for use. I want to know how you are in health
and spirits, and it would be the greatest of pleasures to me to have a
line under your hand.
God bless you and yours with all the blessings of the time of year, and
of all times!
Ever your affectionate and faithful
DICK.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/M%20Charles%20Fechter/502Charles Dickens
1862-12-06[Sidenote: M. Charles Fechter.]
PARIS, _Saturday, Dec. 6th, 1862._
MY DEAR FECHTER,
I have read "The White Rose" attentively, and think it an extremely good
play. It is vigorously written with a great knowledge of the stage, and
presents many striking situations. I think the close particularly fine,
impressive, bold, and new.
But I greatly doubt the expediency of your doing _any_ historical play
early in your management. By the words "historical play," I mean a play
founded on any incident in English history. Our public are accustomed to
associate historical plays with Shakespeare. In any other hands, I
believe they care very little for crowns and dukedoms. What you want is
something with an interest of a more domestic and general nature--an
interest as romantic as you please, but having a more general and wider
response than a disputed succession to the throne can have for
Englishmen at this time of day. Such interest culminated in the last
Stuart, and has worn itself out. It would be uphill work to evoke an
interest in Perkin Warbeck.
I do not doubt the play's being well received, but my fear is that these
people would be looked upon as mere abstractions, and would have but a
cold welcome in consequence, and would not lay hold of your audience.
Now, when you _have_ laid hold of your audience and have accustomed them
to your theatre, you may produce "The White Rose," with far greater
justice to the author, and to the manager also. Wait. Feel your way.
Perkin Warbeck is too far removed from analogy with the sympathies and
lives of the people for a beginning.
My dear Fechter, ever faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Mary%20Boyle/503Charles Dickens
1862-12-27[Sidenote: Miss Mary Boyle.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Saturday, Dec. 27th, 1862._
MY DEAR MARY,
I must send you my Christmas greeting and happy New Year wishes in
return for yours; most heartily and fervently reciprocating your
interest and affection. You are among the few whom I most care for and
best love.
Being in London two evenings in the opening week, I tried to persuade my
legs (for whose judgment I have the highest respect) to go to an evening
party. But I _could not_ induce them to pass Leicester Square. The
faltering presentiment under which they laboured so impressed me, that
at that point I yielded to their terrors. They immediately ran away to
the east, and I accompanied them to the Olympic, where I saw a very good
play, "Camilla's Husband," very well played. Real merit in Mr. Neville
and Miss Saville.
We came across directly after the gale, with the Channel all bestrewn
with floating wreck, and with a hundred and fifty sick schoolboys from
Calais on board. I am going back on the morning after Fechter's opening
night, and have promised to read "Copperfield" at the Embassy, for a
British charity.
Georgy continues wonderfully well, and she and Mary send you their best
love. The house is pervaded by boys; and every boy has (as usual) an
unaccountable and awful power of producing himself in every part of the
house at every moment, apparently in fourteen pairs of creaking boots.
My dear Mary, ever affectionately your
JOE.
FOOTNOTES:
[7] Lieutenant Andrew Gordon, R.N., son of the Sheriff of Midlothian.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/504Charles Dickens
1863-01-16[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
PARIS, HOTEL DU HELDER, RUE DU HELDER,
_Friday, Jan. 16th, 1863._
MY DEAREST MAMIE,
As I send a line to your aunt to-day and know that you will not see it,
I send another to you to report my safe (and neuralgic) arrival here. My
little rooms are perfectly comfortable, and I like the hotel better than
any I have ever put up at in Paris. John's amazement at, and
appreciation of, Paris are indescribable. He goes about with his mouth
open, staring at everything and being tumbled over by everybody.
The state dinner at the Embassy, yesterday, coming off in the room where
I am to read, the carpenters did not get in until this morning. But
their platforms were ready--or supposed to be--and the preparations are
in brisk progress. I think it will be a handsome affair to look at--a
very handsome one. There seems to be great artistic curiosity in Paris,
to know what kind of thing the reading is.
I know a "rela-shon" (with one weak eye), who is in the gunmaking line,
very near here. There is a strong family resemblance--but no muzzle.
Lady Molesworth and I have not begun to "toddle" yet, but have exchanged
affectionate greetings. I am going round to see her presently, and I
dine with her on Sunday. The only remaining news is, that I am beset by
mysterious adorers, and smuggle myself in and out of the house in the
meanest and basest manner.
With kind regard to Mr. and Mrs. Humphery,
Ever, my dearest Mamey, your affectionate Father.
P.S.--_Hommage à Madame B.!_http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Monsieur%20Regnier/505Charles Dickens
1863-02-01[Sidenote: Monsieur Regnier.]
PARIS, _Sunday, Feb. 1st, 1863._
MY DEAR REGNIER,
I was charmed by the receipt of your cordial and sympathetic letter, and
I shall always preserve it carefully as a most noble tribute from a
great and real artist.
I wished you had been at the Embassy on Friday evening. The audience was
a fine one, and the "Carol" is particularly well adapted to the purpose.
It is an uncommon pleasure to me to learn that I am to meet you on
Tuesday, for there are not many men whom I meet with greater pleasure
than you. Heaven! how the years roll by! We are quite old friends now,
in counting by years. If we add sympathies, we have been friends at
least a thousand years.
Affectionately yours ever.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/506Charles Dickens
1863-02-01[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
HOTEL DU HELDER, PARIS, _Sunday, Feb. 1st, 1863._
MY DEAREST MAMIE,
I cannot give you any idea of the success of the readings here, because
no one can imagine the scene of last Friday night at the Embassy. Such
audiences and such enthusiasm I have never seen, but the thing
culminated on Friday night in a two hours' storm of excitement and
pleasure. They actually recommenced and applauded right away into their
carriages and down the street.
You know your parent's horror of being lionised, and will not be
surprised to hear that I am half dead of it. I cannot leave here until
Thursday (though I am every hour in danger of running away) because I
have to dine out, to say nothing of breakfasting--think of me
breakfasting!--every intervening day. But my project is to send John
home on Thursday, and then to go on a little perfectly quiet tour for
about ten days, touching the sea at Boulogne. When I get there, I will
write to your aunt (in case you should not be at home), saying when I
shall arrive at the office. I must go to the office instead of Gad's,
because I have much to do with Forster about Elliotson.
I enclose a short note for each of the little boys. Give Harry ten
shillings pocket-money, and Plorn six.
The Olliffe girls, very nice. Florence at the readings, prodigiously
excited.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/507Charles Dickens
1863-02-01[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
PARIS, _Sunday, Feb. 1st, 1863._
From my hurried note to Mamie, you will get some faint general idea of a
new star's having arisen in Paris. But of its brightness you can have no
adequate conception.
[John has locked me up and gone out, and the little bell at the door is
ringing demoniacally while I write.]
You have never heard me read yet. I have been twice goaded and lifted
out of myself into a state that astonished _me_ almost as much as the
audience. I have a cold, but no neuralgia, and am "as well as can be
expected."
I forgot to tell Mamie that I went (with Lady Molesworth) to hear
"Faust" last night. It is a splendid work, in which that noble and sad
story is most nobly and sadly rendered, and perfectly delighted me. But
I think it requires too much of the audience to do for a London opera
house. The composer must be a very remarkable man indeed. Some
management of light throughout the story is also very poetical and fine.
We had Carvalho's box. I could hardly bear the thing, it affected me so.
But, as a certain Frenchman said, "No weakness, Danton!" So I leave off.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/M%20Charles%20Fechter/508Charles Dickens
1863-02-04[Sidenote: M. Charles Fechter.]
PARIS, _Wednesday, Feb. 4th, 1863._
MY DEAR FECHTER,
A thousand congratulations on your great success! Never mind what they
say, or do, _pour vous écraser_; you have the game in your hands. The
romantic drama, thoroughly well done (with a touch of Shakespeare now
and then), is the speciality of your theatre. Give the public the
picturesque, romantic drama, with yourself in it; and (as I told you in
the beginning) you may throw down your gauntlet in defiance of all
comers.
It is a most brilliant success indeed, and it thoroughly rejoices my
heart!
Unfortunately I cannot now hope to see "Maquet," because I am packing up
and going out to dinner (it is late in the afternoon), and I leave
to-morrow morning when all sensible people, except myself, are in bed;
and I do not come back to Paris or near it. I had hoped to see him at
breakfast last Monday, but he was not there. Paul Féval was there, and I
found him a capital fellow. If I can do anything to help you on with
"Maquet"[8] when I come back I will most gladly do it.
My readings here have had the finest possible reception, and have
achieved a most noble success. I never before read to such fine
audiences, so very quick of perception, and so enthusiastically
responsive.
I shall be heartily pleased to see you again, my dear Fechter, and to
share your triumphs with the real earnestness of a real friend. And so
go on and prosper, and believe me, as I truly am,
Most cordially yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/509Charles Dickens
1863-02-19[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Thursday, Feb. 19th, 1863._
MY DEAREST MACREADY,
I have just come back from Paris, where the readings--"Copperfield,"
"Dombey" and "Trial," and "Carol" and "Trial"--have made a sensation
which modesty (my natural modesty) renders it impossible for me to
describe. You know what a noble audience the Paris audience is! They
were at their very noblest with me.
I was very much concerned by hearing hurriedly from Georgy that you
were ill. But when I came home at night, she showed me Katie's letter,
and that set me up again. Ah, you have the best of companions and
nurses, and can afford to be ill now and then for the happiness of being
so brought through it. But don't do it again yet awhile for all that.
Legouvé (whom you remember in Paris as writing for the Ristori) was
anxious that I should bring you the enclosed. A manly and generous
effort, I think? Regnier desired to be warmly remembered to you. He
looks just as of yore.
Paris generally is about as wicked and extravagant as in the days of the
Regency. Madame Viardot in the "Orphée," most splendid. An opera of
"Faust," a very sad and noble rendering of that sad and noble story.
Stage management remarkable for some admirable, and really poetical,
effects of light. In the more striking situations, Mephistopheles
surrounded by an infernal red atmosphere of his own. Marguerite by a
pale blue mournful light. The two never blending. After Marguerite has
taken the jewels placed in her way in the garden, a weird evening draws
on, and the bloom fades from the flowers, and the leaves of the trees
droop and lose their fresh green, and mournful shadows overhang her
chamber window, which was innocently bright and gay at first. I couldn't
bear it, and gave in completely.
Fechter doing wonders over the way here, with a picturesque French
drama. Miss Kate Terry, in a small part in it, perfectly charming. You
may remember her making a noise, years ago, doing a boy at an inn, in
"The Courier of Lyons"? She has a tender love-scene in this piece, which
is a really beautiful and artistic thing. I saw her do it at about three
in the morning of the day when the theatre opened, surrounded by
shavings and carpenters, and (of course) with that inevitable hammer
going; and I told Fechter: "That is the very best piece of womanly
tenderness I have ever seen on the stage, and you'll find that no
audience can miss it." It is a comfort to add that it was instantly
seized upon, and is much talked of.
Stanfield was very ill for some months, then suddenly picked up, and is
really rosy and jovial again. Going to see him when he was very
despondent, I told him the story of Fechter's piece (then in rehearsal)
with appropriate action; fighting a duel with the washing-stand, defying
the bedstead, and saving the life of the sofa-cushion. This so kindled
his old theatrical ardour, that I think he turned the corner on the
spot.
With love to Mrs. Macready and Katie, and (be still my heart!)
Benvenuta, and the exiled Johnny (not too attentive at school, I hope?),
and the personally-unknown young Parr,
Ever, my dearest Macready, your most affectionate.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Marguerite%20Power/510Charles Dickens
1863-02-26[Sidenote: Miss Power.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Thursday, Feb. 26th, 1863._
MY DEAR MARGUERITE,
I think I have found a first-rate title for your book, with an early and
a delightful association in most people's minds, and a strong suggestion
of Oriental pictures:
"ARABIAN DAYS AND NIGHTS."
I have sent it to Low's. If they have the wit to see it, do you in your
first chapter touch that string, so as to bring a fanciful explanation
in aid of the title, and sound it afterwards, now and again, when you
come to anything where Haroun al Raschid, and the Grand Vizier, and
Mesrour, the chief of the guard, and any of that wonderful _dramatis
personæ_ are vividly brought to mind.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Charles%20Knight/511Charles Dickens
1863-03-04[Sidenote: Mr. Charles Knight.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Wednesday, March 4th, 1863._
MY DEAR CHARLES KNIGHT,
At a quarter to seven on Monday, the 16th, a stately form will be
descried breathing birthday cordialities and affectionate amenities, as
it descends the broken and gently dipping ground by which the level
country of the Clifton Road is attained. A practised eye will be able to
discern two humble figures in attendance, which from their flowing
crinolines may, without exposing the prophet to the imputation of
rashness, be predicted to be women. Though certes their importance,
absorbed and as it were swallowed up in the illustrious bearing and
determined purpose of the maturer stranger, will not enthrall the gaze
that wanders over the forest of San Giovanni as the night gathers in.
Ever affectionately,
G. P. R. JAMES.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Dallas/512Charles Dickens
[Sidenote: Mrs. Dallas.[9]]
EXTRACT.
THE TIME OF THE PRINCESS ALEXANDRA'S ARRIVAL IN LONDON.
It is curious to see London gone mad. Down in the Strand here, the
monomaniacal tricks it is playing are grievous to behold, but along
Fleet Street and Cheapside it gradually becomes frenzied, dressing
itself up in all sorts of odds and ends, and knocking itself about in a
most amazing manner. At London Bridge it raves, principally about the
Kings of Denmark and their portraits. I have been looking among them for
Hamlet's uncle, and have discovered one personage with a high nose, who
I think is the man.
Faithfully yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Lehmann/513Charles Dickens
1863-03-10[Sidenote: Mrs. Lehmann.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND," NO. 26, WELLINGTON STREET,
STRAND, LONDON, W.C.,
_Tuesday, March 10th, 1863._
DEAR MRS. LEHMANN,
Two stalls for to-morrow's reading were sent to you by post before I
heard from you this morning. Two will always come to you while you
remain a Gummidge, and I hope I need not say that if you want more, none
could be better bestowed in my sight.
Pray tell Lehmann, when you next write to him, that I find I owe him a
mint of money for the delightful Swedish sleigh-bells. They are the
wonder, awe, and admiration of the whole country side, and I never go
out without them.
Let us make an exchange of child stories. I heard of a little fellow the
other day whose mamma had been telling him that a French governess was
coming over to him from Paris, and had been expatiating on the blessings
and advantages of having foreign tongues. After leaning his plump little
cheek against the window glass in a dreary little way for some minutes,
he looked round and enquired in a general way, and not as if it had any
special application, whether she didn't think "that the Tower of Babel
was a great mistake altogether?"
Ever faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Mary%20Major/514Charles Dickens
1863-03-12[Sidenote: Mrs. Major.[10]]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND," A WEEKLY JOURNAL, ETC. ETC.,
26, WELLINGTON STREET, STRAND,
_Thursday, March 12th, 1863._
MY DEAR MARY,
I am quite concerned to hear that you and your party (including your
brother Willie) paid for seats at my reading last night. You must
promise me never to do so any more. My old affections and attachments
are not so lightly cherished or so easily forgotten as that I can bear
the thought of you and yours coming to hear me like so many strangers.
It will at all times delight me if you will send a little note to me, or
to Georgina, or to Mary, saying when you feel inclined to come, and how
many stalls you want. You may always be certain, even on the fullest
nights, of room being made for you. And I shall always be interested and
pleased by knowing that you are present.
Mind! You are to be exceedingly penitent for last night's offence, and
to make me a promise that it shall never be repeated. On which condition
accept my noble forgiveness.
With kind regard to Mr. Major, my dear Mary,
Affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/515Charles Dickens
1863-03-31[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Thursday, March 31st, 1863._
MY DEAREST MACREADY,
I mean to go on reading into June. For the sake of the finer effects (in
"Copperfield" principally), I have changed from St. James's Hall to the
Hanover Square Room. The latter is quite a wonderful room for sound, and
so easy that the least inflection will tell anywhere in the place
exactly as it leaves your lips; but I miss my dear old shilling
galleries--six or eight hundred strong--with a certain roaring sea of
response in them, that you have stood upon the beach of many and many a
time.
The summer, I hope and trust, will quicken the pace at which you grow
stronger again. I am but in dull spirits myself just now, or I should
remonstrate with you on your slowness.
Having two little boys sent home from school "to see the illuminations"
on the marriage-night, I chartered an enormous van, at a cost of five
pounds, and we started in majesty from the office in London, fourteen
strong. We crossed Waterloo Bridge with the happy design of beginning
the sight at London Bridge, and working our way through the City to
Regent Street. In a by-street in the Borough, over against a dead wall
and under a railway bridge, we were blocked for four hours. We were
obliged to walk home at last, having seen nothing whatever. The wretched
van turned up in the course of the next morning; and the best of it was
that at Rochester here they illuminated the fine old castle, and really
made a very splendid and picturesque thing (so my neighbours tell me).
With love to Mrs. Macready and Katie,
Ever, my dearest Macready, your most affectionate.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Wilkie%20Collins/516Charles Dickens
1863-04-22[Sidenote: Mr. W. Wilkie Collins.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Wednesday, April 22nd, 1863._
ON THE DEATH OF MR. EGG.
EXTRACT.
Ah, poor Egg! I knew what you would think and feel about it. When we saw
him in Paris on his way out I was struck by his extreme nervousness, and
derived from it an uneasy foreboding of his state. What a large piece of
a good many years he seems to have taken with him! How often have I
thought, since the news of his death came, of his putting his part in
the saucepan (with the cover on) when we rehearsed "The Lighthouse;" of
his falling out of the hammock when we rehearsed "The Frozen Deep;" of
his learning Italian numbers when he ate the garlic in the carriage; of
the thousands (I was going to say) of dark mornings when I apostrophised
him as "Kernel;" of his losing my invaluable knife in that beastly
stage-coach; of his posting up that mysterious book[11] every night! I
hardly know why, but I have always associated that volume most with
Venice. In my memory of the dear gentle little fellow, he will be (as
since those days he always has been) eternally posting up that book at
the large table in the middle of our Venice sitting-room, incidentally
asking the name of an hotel three weeks back! And his pretty house is to
be laid waste and sold. If there be a sale on the spot I shall try to
buy something in loving remembrance of him, good dear little fellow.
Think what a great "Frozen Deep" lay close under those boards we acted
on! My brother Alfred, Luard, Arthur, Albert, Austin, Egg. Even among
the audience, Prince Albert and poor Stone! "I heard the"--I forget what
it was I used to say--"come up from the great deep;" and it rings in my
ears now, like a sort of mad prophecy.
However, this won't do. We must close up the ranks and march on.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Rev%20W%20Brookfield/517Charles Dickens
1863-05-17[Sidenote: Rev. W. Brookfield.]
GAD'S HILL, _May 17th, 1863._
MY DEAR BROOKFIELD,
It occurs to me that you may perhaps know, or know of, a kind of man
that I want to discover.
One of my boys (the youngest) now is at Wimbledon School. He is a
docile, amiable boy of fair abilities, but sensitive and shy. And he
writes me so very earnestly that he feels the school to be confusingly
large for him, and that he is sure he could do better with some
gentleman who gave his own personal attention to the education of
half-a-dozen or a dozen boys, as to impress me with the belief that I
ought to heed his conviction.
Has any such phenomenon as a good and reliable man in this wise ever
come in your way? Forgive my troubling you, and believe me,
Cordially yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Rev%20W%20Brookfield/518Charles Dickens
1863-05-24[Sidenote: Rev. W. Brookfield.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_May 24th, 1863._
MY DEAR BROOKFIELD,
I am most truly obliged to you for your kind and ready help.
When I am in town next week, I will call upon the Bishop of Natal, more
to thank him than with the hope of profiting by that gentleman of whom
he writes, as the limitation to "little boys" seems to stop the way. I
want to find someone with whom this particular boy could remain; if
there were a mutual interest and liking, that would be a great point
gained.
Why did the kings in the fairy tales want children? I suppose in the
weakness of the royal intellect.
Concerning "Nickleby," I am so much of your mind (comparing it with
"Copperfield"), that it was a long time before I could take a pleasure
in reading it. But I got better, as I found the audience always taking
to it. I have been trying, alone by myself, the "Oliver Twist" murder,
but have got something so horrible out of it that I am afraid to try it
in public.
Ever faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/William%20De%20Cerjat/519Charles Dickens
1863-05-28[Sidenote: M. de Cerjat.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Thursday, May 28th, 1863._
MY DEAR CERJAT,
I don't wonder at your finding it difficult to reconcile your mind to a
French Hamlet; but I assure you that Fechter's is a very remarkable
performance perfectly consistent with itself (whether it be my
particular Hamlet, or your particular Hamlet, or no), a coherent and
intelligent whole, and done by a true artist. I have never seen, I
think, an intelligent and clear view of the whole character so well
sustained throughout; and there is a very captivating air of romance and
picturesqueness added, which is quite new. Rely upon it, the public were
right. The thing could not have been sustained by oddity; it would have
perished upon that, very soon. As to the mere accent, there is far less
drawback in that than you would suppose. For this reason, he obviously
knows English so thoroughly that you feel he is safe. You are never in
pain for him. This sense of ease is gained directly, and then you think
very little more about it.
The Colenso and Jowett matter is a more difficult question, but
here again I don't go with you. The position of the writers of "Essays
and Reviews" is, that certain parts of the Old Testament have done
their intended function in the education of the world _as it was_;
but that mankind, like the individual man, is designed by the Almighty
to have an infancy and a maturity, and that as it advances, the
machinery of its education must advance too. For example: inasmuch as
ever since there was a sun and there was vapour, there _must have_ been
a rainbow under certain conditions, so surely it would be better now to
recognise that indisputable fact. Similarly, Joshua might command the
sun to stand still, under the impression that it moved round the earth;
but he could not possibly have inverted the relations of the earth and
the sun, whatever his impressions were. Again, it is contended that the
science of geology is quite as much a revelation to man, as books of an
immense age and of (at the best) doubtful origin, and that your
consideration of the latter must reasonably be influenced by the former.
As I understand the importance of timely suggestions such as these, it
is, that the Church should not gradually shock and lose the more
thoughtful and logical of human minds; but should be so gently and
considerately yielding as to retain them, and, through them, hundreds
of thousands. This seems to me, as I understand the temper and tendency
of the time, whether for good or evil, to be a very wise and necessary
position. And as I understand the danger, it is not chargeable on those
who take this ground, but on those who in reply call names and argue
nothing. What these bishops and such-like say about revelation, in
assuming it to be finished and done with, I can't in the least understand.
Nothing is discovered without God's intention and assistance, and I
suppose every new knowledge of His works that is conceded to man to be
distinctly a revelation by which men are to guide themselves. Lastly,
in the mere matter of religious doctrine and dogmas, these men
(Protestants--protestors--successors of the men who protested against
human judgment being set aside) talk and write as if they were all
settled by the direct act of Heaven; not as if they had been, as we know
they were, a matter of temporary accommodation and adjustment among
disputing mortals as fallible as you or I.
Coming nearer home, I hope that Georgina is almost quite well. She has
no attack of pain or flurry now, and is in all respects immensely
better. Mary is neither married nor (that I know of) going to be. She
and Katie and a lot of them have been playing croquet outside my window
here for these last four days, to a mad and maddening extent. My
sailor-boy's ship, the _Orlando_, is fortunately in Chatham Dockyard--so
he is pretty constantly at home--while the shipwrights are repairing a
leak in her. I am reading in London every Friday just now. Great crams
and great enthusiasm. Townshend I suppose to have left Lausanne
somewhere about this day. His house in the park is hermetically sealed,
ready for him. The Prince and Princess of Wales go about (wisely) very
much, and have as fair a chance of popularity as ever prince and
princess had. The City ball in their honour is to be a tremendously
gorgeous business, and Mary is highly excited by her father's being
invited, and she with him. Meantime the unworthy parent is devising all
kinds of subterfuges for sending her and getting out of it himself. A
very intelligent German friend of mine, just home from America,
maintains that the conscription will succeed in the North, and that the
war will be indefinitely prolonged. _I_ say "No," and that however mad
and villainous the North is, the war will finish by reason of its not
supplying soldiers. We shall see. The more they brag the more I don't
believe in them.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Percy%20Fitzgerald/520Charles Dickens
1863-07-10[Sidenote: Mr. Percy Fitzgerald.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, _Saturday Night, July 4th_, 1863.
MY DEAR MR. FITZGERALD,
I have been most heartily gratified by the perusal of your article on my
dogs. It has given me an amount and a kind of pleasure very unusual, and
for which I thank you earnestly. The owner of the renowned dog Cæsar
understands me so sympathetically, that I trust with perfect confidence
to his feeling what I really mean in these few words. You interest me
very much by your kind promise, the redemption of which I hereby claim,
to send me your life of Sterne when it comes out. If you should be in
England before this, I should be delighted to see you here on the top of
Falstaff's own Gad's Hill. It is a very pretty country, not thirty
miles from London; and if you could spare a day or two for its fine
walks, I and my two latest dogs, a St. Bernard and a bloodhound, would
be charmed with your company as one of ourselves.
Believe me, very faithfully yours.
_Friday, July 10th, 1863._[12]
DEAR MADAM,
I hope you will excuse this tardy reply to your letter. It is often
impossible for me, by any means, to keep pace with my correspondents. I
must take leave to say, that if there be any general feeling on the part
of the intelligent Jewish people, that I have done them what you
describe as "a great wrong," they are a far less sensible, a far less
just, and a far less good-tempered people than I have always supposed
them to be. Fagin, in "Oliver Twist," is a Jew, because it unfortunately
was true of the time to which that story refers, that that class of
criminal almost invariably was a Jew. But surely no sensible man or
woman of your persuasion can fail to observe--firstly, that all the rest
of the wicked _dramatis personæ_ are Christians; and secondly, that he
is called the "Jew," not because of his religion, but because of his
race. If I were to write a story, in which I described a Frenchman or a
Spaniard as "the Roman Catholic," I should do a very indecent and
unjustifiable thing; but I make mention of Fagin as the Jew, because he
is one of the Jewish people, and because it conveys that kind of idea of
him which I should give my readers of a Chinaman, by calling him a
Chinese.
The enclosed is quite a nominal subscription towards the good object in
which you are interested; but I hope it may serve to show you that I
have no feeling towards the Jewish people but a friendly one. I always
speak well of them, whether in public or in private, and bear my
testimony (as I ought to do) to their perfect good faith in such
transactions as I have ever had with them; and in my "Child's History of
England," I have lost no opportunity of setting forth their cruel
persecution in old times.
Dear Madam, faithfully yours.
In reply to this, the Jewish lady thanks him for his kind letter and its
enclosure, still remonstrating and pointing out that though, as he
observes, "all the other criminal characters were Christians, they are,
at least, contrasted with characters of good Christians; this wretched
Fagin stands alone as the Jew."
The reply to _this_ letter afterwards was the character of Riah, in "Our
Mutual Friend," and some favourable sketches of Jewish character in the
lower class, in some articles in "All the Year Round."http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Frederic%20Ouvry/521Charles Dickens
1863-07-29[Sidenote: Mr. Ouvry.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Wednesday Night, July 29th, 1863._
MY DEAR OUVRY,
I have had some undefined idea that you were to let me know if you were
coming to the archæologs at Rochester. (I myself am keeping out of their
way, as having had enough of crowding and speech-making in London.) Will
you tell me where you are, whether you are in this neighbourhood or out
of it, whether you will come here on Saturday and stay till Monday or
till Tuesday morning? If you will come, I _know_ I can give you the
heartiest welcome in Kent, and I _think_ I can give you the best wine in
this part of it. Send me a word in reply. I will fetch you from
anywhere, at any indicated time.
We have very pretty places in the neighbourhood, and are not
uncomfortable people (I believe) to stay with.
Faithfully yours ever.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Charles%20Reade/522Charles Dickens
1863-09-30[Sidenote: Mr. Charles Reade.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Wednesday, Sept. 30th, 1863._
MY DEAR READE,
I _must_ write you one line to say how interested I am in your story,
and to congratulate you upon its admirable art and its surprising grace
and vigour.
And to hint my hope, at the same time, that you will be able to find
leisure for a little dash for the Christmas number. It would be a really
great and true pleasure to me if you could.
Faithfully yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/523Charles Dickens
1863-10-07[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Wednesday, Oct. 7th, 1863._
MY DEAREST GEORGY,
You will see by to-day's _Times_ that it _was_ an earthquake that shook
me, and that my watch showed exactly the same time as the man's who
writes from Blackheath so near us--twenty minutes past three.
It is a great satisfaction to me to make it out so precisely; I wish you
would enquire whether the servants felt it. I thought it was the voice
of the cook that answered me, but that was nearly half an hour later. I
am strongly inclined to think that there is a peculiar susceptibility in
iron--at all events in our part of the country--to the shock, as though
there were something magnetic in it. For, whereas my long iron bedstead
was so violently shaken, I certainly heard nothing rattle in the room.
I will write about my return as soon as I get on with the still unbegun
"Uncommercial."
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/524Charles Dickens
1863-12-20[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
GAD'S HILL, _Sunday, Dec. 20th, 1863._
MY DEAR WILLS,
I am clear that you took my cold. Why didn't you do the thing
completely, and take it away from me? for it hangs by me still.
Will you tell Mrs. Linton that in looking over her admirable account
(_most_ admirable) of Mrs. Gordon's book, I have taken out the
references to Lockhart, not because I in the least doubt their justice,
but because I knew him and he liked me; and because one bright day in
Rome, I walked about with him for some hours when he was dying fast, and
all the old faults had faded out of him, and the now ghost of the
handsome man I had first known when Scott's daughter was at the head of
his house, had little more to do with this world than she in her grave,
or Scott in his, or small Hugh Littlejohn in his. Lockhart had been
anxious to see me all the previous day (when I was away on the
Campagna), and as we walked about I knew very well that _he_ knew very
well why. He talked of getting better, but I never saw him again. This
makes me stay Mrs. Linton's hand, gentle as it is.
Mrs. Lirriper is indeed a most brilliant old lady. God bless her.
I am glad to hear of your being "haunted," and hope to increase your
stock of such ghosts pretty liberally.
Ever faithfully.
FOOTNOTES:
[8] Alluding to a translation of a play by M. Maquet, which M. Fechter
was then preparing for his theatre.
[9] Now Mrs. Dallas Glyn.
[10] Formerly Miss Talfourd.
[11] His travelling journal.
[12] Answer to letter from Jewish lady, remonstrating with him on
injustice to the Jews, shown in the character of Fagin, and asking for
subscription for the benefit of the Jewish poor.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Wilkie%20Collins/525Charles Dickens
1864-01-24[Sidenote: Mr. W. Wilkie Collins.]
GAD'S HILL, _Monday, Jan. 24th, 1864._
EXTRACT.
MY DEAR WILKIE,
I am horribly behindhand in answering your welcome letter; but I have
been so busy, and have had the house so full for Christmas and the New
Year, and have had so much to see to in getting Frank out to India,
that I have not been able to settle down to a regular long letter, which
I mean this to be, but which it may not turn out to be, after all.
First, I will answer your enquiries about the Christmas number and the
new book. The Christmas number has been the greatest success of all; has
shot ahead of last year; has sold about two hundred and twenty thousand;
and has made the name of Mrs. Lirriper so swiftly and domestically
famous as never was. I had a very strong belief in her when I wrote
about her, finding that she made a great effect upon me; but she
certainly has gone beyond my hopes. (Probably you know nothing about
her? which is a very unpleasant consideration.) Of the new book, I have
done the two first numbers, and am now beginning the third. It is a
combination of drollery with romance which requires a great deal of
pains and a perfect throwing away of points that might be amplified; but
I hope it is _very good_. I confess, in short, that I think it is.
Strange to say, I felt at first quite dazed in getting back to the large
canvas and the big brushes; and even now, I have a sensation as of
acting at the San Carlo after Tavistock House, which I could hardly have
supposed would have come upon so old a stager.
You will have read about poor Thackeray's death--sudden, and yet not
sudden, for he had long been alarmingly ill. At the solicitation of Mr.
Smith and some of his friends, I have done what I would most gladly have
excused myself from doing, if I felt I could--written a couple of pages
about him in what was his own magazine.
Concerning the Italian experiment, De la Rue is more hopeful than you.
He and his bank are closely leagued with the powers at Turin, and he has
long been devoted to Cavour; but he gave me the strongest assurances
(with illustrations) of the fusion between place and place, and of the
blending of small mutually antagonistic characters into one national
character, progressing cheeringly and certainly. Of course there must be
discouragements and discrepancies in the first struggles of a country
previously so degraded and enslaved, and the time, as yet, has been very
short.
I should like to have a day with you at the Coliseum, and on the Appian
Way, and among the tombs, and with the Orvieto. But Rome and I are wide
asunder, physically as well as morally. I wonder whether the dramatic
stable, where we saw the marionettes, still receives the Roman public?
And Lord! when I think of you in that hotel, how I think of poor dear
Egg in the long front drawing-room, giving on to the piazza, posting up
that wonderful necromantic volume which we never shall see opened!http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Marcus%20Stone/526Charles Dickens
1864-02-23[Sidenote: Mr. Marcus Stone.]
57, GLOUCESTER PLACE, HYDE PARK,, HYDE PARK,
_Tuesday, Feb. 23rd, 1864._
MY DEAR MARCUS,
I think the design for the cover _excellent_, and do not doubt its
coming out to perfection. The slight alteration I am going to suggest
originates in a business consideration not to be overlooked.
The word "Our" in the title must be out in the open like "Mutual
Friend," making the title three distinct large lines--"Our" as big as
"Mutual Friend." This would give you too much design at the bottom. I
would therefore take out the dustman, and put the Wegg and Boffin
composition (which is capital) in its place. I don't want Mr. Inspector
or the murder reward bill, because these points are sufficiently
indicated in the river at the top. Therefore you can have an indication
of the dustman in Mr. Inspector's place. Note, that the dustman's face
should be droll, and not horrible. Twemlow's elbow will still go out of
the frame as it does now, and the same with Lizzie's skirts on the
opposite side. With these changes, work away!
Mrs. Boffin, as I judge of her from the sketch, "very good, indeed." I
want Boffin's oddity, without being at all blinked, to be an oddity of a
very honest kind, that people will like.
The doll's dressmaker is immensely better than she was. I think she
should now come extremely well. A weird sharpness not without beauty is
the thing I want.
Affectionately always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Charles%20Knight/527Charles Dickens
1864-03-01[Sidenote: Mr. Charles Knight.]
57, GLOUCESTER PLACE, W.,
_Tuesday, March 1st, 1864._
MY DEAR KNIGHT,
We knew of your being in the Isle of Wight, and had said that we should
have this year to drink your health in your absence. Rely on my being
always ready and happy to renew our old friendship in the flesh. In the
spirit it needs no renewal, because it has no break.
Ah, poor Mrs. White! A sad, sad story! It is better for poor White that
that little churchyard by the sea received his ashes a while ago, than
that he should have lived to this time.
My poor boy was on his way home from an up-country station, on sick
leave. He had been very ill, but was not so at the time. He was talking
to some brother-officers in the Calcutta hospital about his preparations
for home, when he suddenly became excited, had a rush of blood from the
mouth, and was dead. His brother Frank would arrive out at Calcutta,
expecting to see him after six years, and he would have been dead a
month.
My "working life" is resolving itself at the present into another book,
in twenty green leaves. You work like a Trojan at Ventnor, but you do
that everywhere; and that's why you are so young.
Mary and Georgina unite in kindest regard to you, and to Mrs. Knight,
and to your daughters. So do I. And I am ever, my dear Knight,
Affectionately yours.
P.S.--Serene View! What a placid address!http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Edmund%20Ollier/528Charles Dickens
1864-03-00[Sidenote: Mr. Edmund Ollier.]
"ALL THE YEAR ROUND" OFFICE, _March, 1864._
EXTRACT.
I want the article on "Working Men's Clubs" to refer back to "The Poor
Man and his Beer" in No. 1, and to maintain the principle involved in
that effort.
Also, emphatically, to show that trustfulness is at the bottom of all
social institutions, and that to trust a man, as one of a body of men,
is to place him under a wholesome restraint of social opinion, and is a
very much better thing than to make a baby of him.
Also, to point out that the rejection of beer in this club, tobacco in
that club, dancing or what-not in another club, are instances that such
clubs are founded on mere whims, and therefore cannot successfully
address human nature in the general, and hope to last.
Also, again to urge that patronage is the curse and blight of all such
endeavours, and to impress upon the working men that they must originate
and manage for themselves. And to ask them the question, can they
possibly show their detestation of drunkenness better, or better strive
to get rid of it from among them, than to make it a hopeless
disqualification in all their clubs, and a reason for expulsion.
Also, to encourage them to declare to themselves and their fellow
working men that they want social rest and social recreation for
themselves and their families; and that these clubs are intended for
that laudable and necessary purpose, and do not need educational
pretences or flourishes. Do not let them be afraid or ashamed of wanting
to be amused and pleased.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/The%20Lord%20Chief%20Baron/529Charles Dickens
1864-03-15[Sidenote: The Lord Chief Baron.]
57, GLOUCESTER PLACE, _Tuesday, March 15th, 1864._
MY DEAR CHIEF BARON,
Many thanks for your kind letter, which I find on my return from a
week's holiday.
Your answer concerning poor Thackeray I will duly make known to the
active spirit in that matter, Mr. Shirley Brooks.
Your kind invitation to me to come and see you and yours, and hear the
nightingales, I shall not fail to discuss with Forster, and with an eye
to spring. I expect to see him presently; the rather as I found a note
from him when I came back yesterday, describing himself somewhat
gloomily as not having been well, and as feeling a little out of heart.
It is not out of order, I hope, to remark that you have been much in my
thoughts and on my lips lately? For I really have not been able to
repress my admiration of the vigorous dignity and sense and spirit, with
which one of the best of judges set right one of the dullest of juries
in a recent case.
Believe me ever, very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/John%20Forster/530Charles Dickens
1864-03-29[Sidenote: Mr. John Forster.]
57, GLOUCESTER PLACE, _Tuesday, March 29th, 1864._
MY DEAR FORSTER,
I meant to write to you last night, but to enable Wills to get away I
had to read a book of Fitzgerald's through before I went to bed.
Concerning Eliot, I sat down, as I told you, and read the book through
with the strangest interest and the highest admiration. I believe it to
be as honest, spirited, patient, reliable, and gallant a piece of
biography as ever was written, the care and pains of it astonishing, the
completeness of it masterly; and what I particularly feel about it is
that the dignity of the man, and the dignity of the book that tells
about the man, always go together, and fit each other. This same quality
has always impressed me as the great leading speciality of the
Goldsmith, and enjoins sympathy with the subject, knowledge of it, and
pursuit of it in its own spirit; but I think it even more remarkable
here. I declare that apart from the interest of having been so put into
the time, and enabled to understand it, I personally feel quite as much
the credit and honour done to literature by such a book. It quite clears
out of the remembrance a thousand pitiful things, and sets one up in
heart again. I am not surprised in the least by Bulwer's enthusiasm. I
was as confident about the effect of the book when I closed the first
volume, as I was when I closed the second with a full heart. No man less
in earnest than Eliot himself could have done it, and I make bold to add
that it never could have been done by a man who was so distinctly born
to do the work as Eliot was to do his.
Saturday at Hastings I must give up. I have wavered and considered, and
considered and wavered, but if I take that sort of holiday, I must have
a day to spare after it, and at this critical time I have not. If I were
to lose a page of the five numbers I have purposed to myself to be
ready by the publication day, I should feel that I had fallen short. I
have grown hard to satisfy, and write very slowly, and I have so much
bad fiction, that _will_ be thought of when I don't want to think of it,
that I am forced to take more care than I ever took.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Storrar/531Charles Dickens
1864-05-15[Sidenote: Mrs. Storrar.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Sunday Morning, May 15th, 1864._
MY DEAR MRS. STORRAR,
Our family dinner must come off at Gad's Hill, where I have improvements
to exhibit, and where I shall be truly pleased to see you and the doctor
again. I have deferred answering your note, while I have been scheming
and scheming for a day between this time and our departure. But it is
all in vain. My engagements have accumulated, and become such a whirl,
that no day is left me. Nothing is left me but to get away. I look
forward to my release from this dining life with an inexpressible
longing after quiet and my own pursuits. What with public speechifying,
private eating and drinking, and perpetual simmering in hot rooms, I
have made London too hot to hold me and my work together. Mary and
Georgina acknowledge the condition of imbecility to which we have become
reduced in reference to your kind reminder. They say, when I stare at
them in a forlorn way with your note in my hand: "What CAN you do!" To
which I can only reply, implicating them: "See what you have brought me
to!"
With our united kind regard to yourself and Dr. Storrar, I entreat your
pity and compassion for an unfortunate wretch whom a too-confiding
disposition has brought to this pass. If I had not allowed my "cheeild"
to pledge me to all manner of fellow-creatures, I and my digestion might
have been in a state of honourable independence this day.
Faithfully and penitently yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Percy%20Fitzgerald/532Charles Dickens
1864-07-27[Sidenote: Mr. Percy Fitzgerald.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND," ETC. ETC. ETC.
_Wednesday, July 27th, 1864._
MY DEAR MR. FITZGERALD,
First, let me assure you that it gave us all real pleasure to see your
sister and you at Gad's Hill, and that we all hope you will both come
and stay a day or two with us when you are next in England.
Next, let me convey to you the intelligence that I resolve to launch
"Miss Manuel," fully confiding in your conviction of the power of the
story. On all business points, Wills will communicate with you. I
purpose beginning its publication in our first September number,
therefore there is no time to be lost.
The only suggestion I have to make as to the MS. in hand and type is,
that Captain Fermor wants relief. It is a disagreeable character, as you
mean it to be, and I should be afraid to do so much with him, if the
case were mine, without taking the taste of him, here and there, out of
the reader's mouth. It is remarkable that if you do not administer a
disagreeable character carefully, the public have a decided tendency to
think that the _story_ is disagreeable, and not merely the fictitious
person.
What do you think of the title,
NEVER FORGOTTEN?
It is a good one in itself, would express the eldest sister's pursuit,
and glanced at now and then in the text, would hold the reader in
suspense. I would propose to add the line,
BY THE AUTHOR OF BELLA DONNA.
Let me know your opinion as to the title. I need not assure you that the
greatest care will be taken of you here, and that we shall make you as
thoroughly well and widely known as we possibly can.
Very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Sir%20James%20Emerson%20Tennent/533Charles Dickens
1864-08-26[Sidenote: Sir James Emerson Tennent.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Friday, Aug. 26th, 1864._
MY DEAR TENNENT,
Believe me, I fully intended to come to you--did not doubt that I should
come--and have greatly disappointed Mary and her aunt, as well as
myself, by not coming. But I do not feel safe in going out for a visit.
The mere knowledge that I had such a thing before me would put me out.
It is not the length of time consumed, or the distance traversed, but it
is the departure from a settled habit and a continuous sacrifice of
pleasures that comes in question. This is an old story with me. I have
never divided a book of my writing with anything else, but have always
wrought at it to the exclusion of everything else; and it is now too
late to change.
After receiving your kind note I resolved to make another trial. But the
hot weather and a few other drawbacks did not mend the matter, for I
have dropped astern this month instead of going ahead. So I have seen
Forster, and shown him my chains, and am reduced to taking exercise in
them, like Baron Trenck.
I am heartily pleased that you set so much store by the dedication. You
may be sure that it does not make me the less anxious to take pains, and
to work out well what I have in my mind.
Mary and Georgina unite with me in kindest regards to Lady Tennent and
Miss Tennent, and wish me to report that while they are seriously
disappointed, they still feel there is no help for it. I can testify
that they had great pleasure in the anticipation of the visit, and that
their faces were very long and blank indeed when I began to hint my
doubts. They fought against them valiantly as long as there was a
chance, but they see my difficulty as well as anyone not myself can.
Believe me, my dear Tennent, ever faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Clarkson%20Stanfield%20RA/534Charles Dickens
1864-09-21[Sidenote: Mr. Clarkson Stanfield, R.A.]
THE ATHENAEUM, _Wednesday, Sept. 21st, 1864._
MY DEAR STANNY,
I met George in the street a few days ago, and he gave me a wonderful
account of the effect of your natural element upon you at Ramsgate. I
expect you to come back looking about twenty-nine, and feeling about
nineteen.
This morning I have looked in here to put down Fechter as a candidate,
on the chance of the committee's electing him some day or other. He is a
most devoted worshipper of yours, and would take it as a great honour if
you would second him. Supposing you to have not the least objection (of
course, if you should have any, I can in a moment provide a substitute),
will you write your name in the candidates' book as his seconder when
you are next in town and passing this way?
Lastly, if you should be in town on his opening night (a Saturday, and
in all probability the 22nd of October), will you come and dine at the
office and see his new piece? You have not yet "pronounced" in the
matter of that new French stage of his, on which Calcott for the said
new piece has built up all manner of villages, camps, Versailles
gardens, etc. etc. etc. etc., with no wings, no flies, no looking off
in any direction. If you tell me that you are to be in town by that
time, I will not fail to refresh your memory as to the precise day.
With kind regard to Mrs. Stanfield,
Believe me, my dear old boy, ever your affectionate
DICK.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/William%20De%20Cerjat/535Charles Dickens
1864-11-16[Sidenote: M. de Cerjat.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER,
_Tuesday, Oct. 25th, 1864._
MY DEAR CERJAT,
Here is a limping brute of a reply to your always-welcome Christmas
letter! But, as usual, when I have done my day's work, I jump up from my
desk and rush into air and exercise, and find letter-writing the most
difficult thing in my daily life.
I hope that your asthmatic tendencies may not be strong just now; but
Townshend's account of the premature winter at Lausanne is not
encouraging, and with us here in England all such disorders have been
aggravated this autumn. However, a man of your dignity _must_ have
either asthma or gout, and I hope you have got the better of the two.
In London there is, as you see by the papers, extraordinarily little
news. At present the apprehension (rather less than it was thought) of a
commercial crisis, and the trial of Müller next Thursday, are the two
chief sensations. I hope that gentleman will be hanged, and have hardly
a doubt of it, though croakers contrariwise are not wanting. It is
difficult to conceive any other line of defence than that the
circumstances proved, taken separately, are slight. But a sound judge
will immediately charge the jury that the strength of the circumstances
lies in their being put together, and will thread them together on a
fatal rope.
As to the Church, my friend, I am sick of it. The spectacle presented by
the indecent squabbles of priests of most denominations, and the
exemplary unfairness and rancour with which they conduct their
differences, utterly repel me. And the idea of the Protestant
establishment, in the face of its own history, seeking to trample out
discussion and private judgment, is an enormity so cool, that I wonder
the Right Reverends, Very Reverends, and all other Reverends, who commit
it, can look in one another's faces without laughing, as the old
soothsayers did. Perhaps they can't and don't. How our sublime and
so-different Christian religion is to be administered in the future I
cannot pretend to say, but that the Church's hand is at its own throat I
am fully convinced. Here, more Popery, there, more Methodism--as many
forms of consignment to eternal damnation as there are articles, and all
in one forever quarrelling body--the Master of the New Testament put out
of sight, and the rage and fury almost always turning on the letter of
obscure parts of the Old Testament, which itself has been the subject of
accommodation, adaptation, varying interpretation without end--these
things cannot last. The Church that is to have its part in the coming
time must be a more Christian one, with less arbitrary pretensions and a
stronger hold upon the mantle of our Saviour, as He walked and talked
upon this earth.
Of family intelligence I have very little. Charles Collins continuing in
a very poor way, and showing no signs of amendment. He and my daughter
Katie went to Wiesbaden and thence to Nice, where they are now. I have
strong apprehensions that he will never recover, and that she will be
left a young widow. All the rest are as they were. Mary neither married
nor going to be; Georgina holding them all together and perpetually
corresponding with the distant ones; occasional rallyings coming off
here, in which another generation begins to peep above the table. I once
used to think what a horrible thing it was to be a grandfather. Finding
that the calamity falls upon me without my perceiving any other change
in myself, I bear it like a man.
Mrs. Watson has bought a house in town, to which she repairs in the
season, for the bringing out of her daughter. She is now at Rockingham.
Her eldest son is said to be as good an eldest son as ever was, and to
make her position there a perfectly independent and happy one. I have
not seen him for some years; her I often see; but he ought to be a good
fellow, and is very popular in his neighbourhood.
I have altered this place very much since you were here, and have made a
pretty (I think an unusually pretty) drawing-room. I wish you would come
back and see it. My being on the Dover line, and my being very fond of
France, occasion me to cross the Channel perpetually. Whenever I feel
that I have worked too much, or am on the eve of overdoing it, and want
a change, away I go by the mail-train, and turn up in Paris or anywhere
else that suits my humour, next morning. So I come back as fresh as a
daisy, and preserve as ruddy a face as though I never leant over a sheet
of paper. When I retire from a literary life I think of setting up as a
Channel pilot.
Pray give my love to Mrs. Cerjat, and tell her that I should like to go
up the Great St. Bernard again, and shall be glad to know if she is open
to another ascent. Old days in Switzerland are ever fresh to me, and
sometimes I walk with you again, after dark, outside the hotel at
Martigny, while Lady Mary Taylour (wasn't it?) sang within very
prettily. Lord, how the time goes! How many years ago!
Affectionately yours.
_Wednesday, Nov. 16th, 1864._[13]
DEAR MADAM,
I have received your letter with great pleasure, and hope to be (as I
have always been at heart) the best of friends with the Jewish people.
The error you point out to me had occurred to me, as most errors do to
most people, when it was too late to correct it. But it will do no harm.
The peculiarities of dress and manner are fused together for the sake of
picturesqueness.
Dear Madam, faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/B%20W%20Procter/536Charles Dickens
1864-12-31[Sidenote: Mr. B. W. Procter.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Saturday, Dec. 31st, 1864._
MY DEAR PROCTER,
I have reserved my acknowledgment of your delightful note (the youngest
note I have had in all this year) until to-day, in order that I might
send, most heartily and affectionately, all seasonable good wishes to
you and to Mrs. Procter, and to those who are nearest and dearest to
you. Take them from an old friend who loves you.
Mamie returns the tender compliments, and Georgina does what the
Americans call "endorse them." Mrs. Lirriper is proud to be so
remembered, and says over and over again "that it's worth twenty times
the trouble she has taken with the narrative, since Barry Cornwall,
Esquire, is pleased to like it."
I got rid of a touch of neuralgia in France (as I always do there), but
I found no old friends in my voyages of discovery on that side, such as
I have left on this.
My dear Procter, ever your affectionate.
FOOTNOTES:
[13] In answer to another letter from the "Jewish lady," in which she
gives her reasons for still being dissatisfied with the character of
Riah.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/William%20Charles%20Kent/537Charles Dickens
1865-01-17[Sidenote: Mr. William Charles Kent.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Tuesday, Jan. 17th, 1865._
MY DEAR KENT,
I meant to have written instantly on the appearance of your paper in its
beautiful freshness, to congratulate you on its handsome appearance, and
to send you my heartiest good wishes for its thriving and prosperous
career. Through a mistake of the postman's, that remarkable letter has
been tesselated into the Infernal Pavement instead of being delivered in
the Strand.
We have been looking and waiting for your being well enough to propose
yourself for a mouthful of fresh air. Are you well enough to come on
Sunday? We shall be coming down from Charing Cross on Sunday morning,
and I shall be going up again at nine on Monday morning.
It amuses me to find that you don't see your way with a certain "Mutual
Friend" of ours. I have a horrible suspicion that you may begin to be
fearfully knowing at somewhere about No. 12 or 13. But you shan't if I
can help it.
Your note delighted me because it dwelt upon the places in the number
that _I_ dwell on. Not that that is anything new in your case, but it is
always new to me in the pleasure I derive from it, which is truly
inexpressible.
Ever cordially yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Adelaide%20Anne%20Procter/538Charles Dickens
1865-02-15[Sidenote: Mrs. Procter.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Wednesday, Feb. 15th, 1865._
MY DEAR MRS. PROCTER,
Of course I will do it, and of course I will do it for the love of you
and Procter. You can give me my brief, and we can speak about its
details. Once again, of course I will do it, and with all my heart.
I have registered a vow (in which there is not the least merit, for I
couldn't help it) that when I am, as I am now, very hard at work upon a
book, I never will dine out more than one day in a week. Why didn't you
ask me for the Wednesday, before I stood engaged to Lady Molesworth for
the Tuesday?
It is so delightful to me to sit by your side anywhere and be brightened
up, that I lay a handsome sacrifice upon the altar of "Our Mutual
Friend" in writing this note, very much against my will. But for as many
years as can be made consistent with my present juvenility, I always
have given my work the first place in my life, and what can I do now at
35!--or at least at the two figures, never mind their order.
I send my love to Procter, hoping you may appropriate a little of it by
the way.
Affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/539Charles Dickens
1865-03-01[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Wednesday, March 1st, 1865._
MY DEAREST MACREADY,
I have been laid up here with a frost-bitten foot (from hard walking in
the snow), or you would have heard from me sooner.
My reply to Professor Agassiz is short, but conclusive. Daily seeing
improper uses made of confidential letters in the addressing of them to
a public audience that have no business with them, I made not long ago a
great fire in my field at Gad's Hill, and burnt every letter I
possessed. And now I always destroy every letter I receive not on
absolute business, and my mind is so far at ease. Poor dear Felton's
letters went up into the air with the rest, or his highly distinguished
representative should have had them most willingly.
We never fail to drink old P.'s health on his birthday, or to make him
the subject of a thousand loving remembrances. With best love to Mrs.
Macready and Katie,
Ever, my dearest Macready,
Your most affectionate Friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/540Charles Dickens
1865-04-22[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
16, SOMER'S PLACE, HYDE PARK,
_Saturday Night, April 22nd, 1865._
MY DEAREST MACREADY,
A thousand thanks for your kind letter, most heartily welcome.
My frost-bitten foot, after causing me great inconvenience and much
pain, has begun to conduct itself amiably. I can now again walk my ten
miles in the morning without inconvenience, but am absurdly obliged to
sit shoeless all the evening--a very slight penalty, as I detest going
out to dinner (which killed the original old Parr by-the-bye).
I am working like a dragon at my book, and am a terror to the household,
likewise to all the organs and brass bands in this quarter. Gad's Hill
is being gorgeously painted, and we are here until the 1st of June. I
wish I might hope you would be there any time this summer; I really
_have_ made the place comfortable and pretty by this time.
It is delightful to us to hear such good news of Butty. She made so
deep an impression on Fechter that he always asks me what Ceylon has
done for her, and always beams when I tell him how thoroughly well it
has made her. As to _you_, you are the youngest man (worth mentioning as
a thorough man) that I know. Oh, let me be as young when I am as----did
you think I was going to write "old?" No, sir--withdrawn from the wear
and tear of busy life is my expression.
Poole still holds out at Kentish Town, and says he is dying of solitude.
His memory is astoundingly good. I see him about once in two or three
months, and in the meantime he makes notes of questions to ask me when I
come. Having fallen in arrear of the time, these generally refer to
unknown words he has encountered in the newspapers. His three last (he
always reads them with tremendous difficulty through an enormous
magnifying-glass) were as follows:
1. What's croquet?
2. What's an Albert chain?
3. Let me know the state of mind of the Queen.
When I had delivered a neat exposition on these heads, he turned back to
his memoranda, and came to something that the utmost power of the
enormous magnifying-glass couldn't render legible. After a quarter of an
hour or so, he said: "O yes, I know." And then rose and clasped his
hands above his head, and said: "Thank God, I am not a dram-drinker."
Do think of coming to Gad's in the summer; and do give my love to Mrs.
Macready, and tell her I know she can make you come if she will. Mary
and Georgy send best and dearest loves to her, to you, and to Katie, and
to baby. Johnny we suppose to be climbing the tree of knowledge
elsewhere.
My dearest Macready, ever yours most affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/541Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
GAD'S HILL, _Monday, June 12th, 1865._
MY DEAREST MACREADY,
[_So far in his own writing._]
Many thanks for your kind words of remembrance.[15] This is not all in
my own hand, because I am too much shaken to write many notes. Not by
the beating and dragging of the carriage in which I was--it did not go
over, but was caught on the turn, among the ruins of the bridge--but by
the work afterwards to get out the dying and dead, which was terrible.
[_The rest in his own writing_.]
Ever your affectionate Friend.
P.S.--My love to Mrs. Macready.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Thomas%20Mitton/542Charles Dickens
1865-06-13[Sidenote: Mr. Thomas Mitton.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Tuesday, June 13th, 1865._
MY DEAR MITTON,
I should have written to you yesterday or the day before, if I had been
quite up to writing.
I was in the only carriage that did not go over into the stream. It was
caught upon the turn by some of the ruin of the bridge, and hung
suspended and balanced in an apparently impossible manner. Two ladies
were my fellow-passengers, an old one and a young one. This is exactly
what passed. You may judge from it the precise length of the suspense:
Suddenly we were off the rail, and beating the ground as the car of a
half-emptied balloon might. The old lady cried out, "My God!" and the
young one screamed. I caught hold of them both (the old lady sat
opposite and the young one on my left), and said: "We can't help
ourselves, but we can be quiet and composed. Pray don't cry out." The
old lady immediately answered: "Thank you. Rely upon me. Upon my soul I
will be quiet." We were then all tilted down together in a corner of the
carriage, and stopped. I said to them thereupon: "You may be sure
nothing worse can happen. Our danger _must_ be over. Will you remain
here without stirring, while I get out of the window?" They both
answered quite collectedly, "Yes," and I got out without the least
notion what had happened. Fortunately I got out with great caution and
stood upon the step. Looking down I saw the bridge gone, and nothing
below me but the line of rail. Some people in the two other compartments
were madly trying to plunge out at window, and had no idea that there
was an open swampy field fifteen feet down below them, and nothing else!
The two guards (one with his face cut) were running up and down on the
down side of the bridge (which was not torn up) quite wildly. I called
out to them: "Look at me. Do stop an instant and look at me, and tell me
whether you don't know me." One of them answered: "We know you very
well, Mr. Dickens." "Then," I said, "my good fellow, for God's sake give
me your key, and send one of those labourers here, and I'll empty this
carriage." We did it quite safely, by means of a plank or two, and when
it was done I saw all the rest of the train, except the two baggage
vans, down in the stream. I got into the carriage again for my brandy
flask, took off my travelling hat for a basin, climbed down the
brickwork, and filled my hat with water.
Suddenly I came upon a staggering man covered with blood (I think he
must have been flung clean out of his carriage), with such a frightful
cut across the skull that I couldn't bear to look at him. I poured some
water over his face and gave him some to drink, then gave him some
brandy, and laid him down on the grass, and he said, "I am gone," and
died afterwards. Then I stumbled over a lady lying on her back against a
little pollard-tree, with the blood streaming over her face (which was
lead colour) in a number of distinct little streams from the head. I
asked her if she could swallow a little brandy and she just nodded, and
I gave her some and left her for somebody else. The next time I passed
her she was dead. Then a man, examined at the inquest yesterday (who
evidently had not the least remembrance of what really passed), came
running up to me and implored me to help him find his wife, who was
afterwards found dead. No imagination can conceive the ruin of the
carriages, or the extraordinary weights under which the people were
lying, or the complications into which they were twisted up among iron
and wood, and mud and water.
I don't want to be examined at the inquest, and I don't want to write
about it. I could do no good either way, and I could only seem to speak
about myself, which, of course, I would rather not do. I am keeping very
quiet here. I have a--I don't know what to call it--constitutional (I
suppose) presence of mind, and was not in the least fluttered at the
time. I instantly remembered that I had the MS. of a number with me, and
clambered back into the carriage for it. But in writing these scanty
words of recollection I feel the shake and am obliged to stop.
Ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Walter%20Jones/543Charles Dickens
[Sidenote: Mr. Walter Jones.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Saturday, June 17th, 1865_.[16]
SIR,
I beg you to assure the Committee of the Newsvendors' Benevolent and
Provident Institution, that I have been deeply affected by their special
remembrance of me in my late escape from death or mutilation, and that I
thank them with my whole heart.
Faithfully yours and theirs.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Hulkes/544Charles Dickens
1865-06-18[Sidenote: Mrs. Hulkes.]
GAD'S HILL, _Sunday, June 18th, 1865._
MY DEAR MRS. HULKES,
I return the _Examiner_ with many thanks. The account is true, except
that I _had_ brandy. By an extraordinary chance I had a bottle and a
half with me. I slung the half-bottle round my neck, and carried my hat
full of water in my hands. But I can understand the describer (whoever
he is) making the mistake in perfect good faith, and supposing that I
called for brandy, when I really called to the others who were helping:
"I have brandy here." The Mr. Dickenson mentioned had changed places
with a Frenchman, who did not like the window down, a few minutes before
the accident. The Frenchman was killed, and a labourer and I got Mr.
Dickenson out of a most extraordinary heap of dark ruins, in which he
was jammed upside down. He was bleeding at the eyes, ears, nose, and
mouth; but he didn't seem to know that afterwards, and of course I
didn't tell him. In the moment of going over the viaduct the whole of
his pockets were shaken empty! He had no watch, no chain, no money, no
pocket-book, no handkerchief, when we got him out. He had been choking
a quarter of an hour when I heard him groaning. If I had not had the
brandy to give him at the moment, I think he would have been done for.
As it was, I brought him up to London in the carriage with me, and
couldn't make him believe he was hurt. He was the first person whom the
brandy saved. As I ran back to the carriage for the whole full bottle, I
saw the first two people I had helped lying dead. A bit of shade from
the hot sun, into which we got the unhurt ladies, soon had as many dead
in it as living.
Faithfully yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Arthur%20Ryland/545Charles Dickens
1865-06-21[Sidenote: Mr. Arthur Ryland.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Wednesday, June 21st, 1865._
MY DEAR MR. RYLAND,
I need not assure you that I regard the unanimous desire of the Town
Council Committee as a great honour, and that I feel the strongest
interest in the occasion, and the strongest wish to associate myself
with it.
But, after careful consideration, I most unwillingly come to the
conclusion that I must decline. At the time in question I shall, please
God, either have just finished, or be just finishing, my present book.
Country rest and reflection will then be invaluable to me, before
casting about for Christmas. I am a little shaken in my nervous system
by the terrible and affecting incidents of the late railway accident,
from which I bodily escaped. I am withdrawing myself from engagements of
all kinds, in order that I may pursue my story with the comfortable
sense of being perfectly free while it is a-doing, and when it is done.
The consciousness of having made this engagement would, if I were to
make it, render such sense incomplete, and so open the way to others.
This is the real state of the case, and the whole reason for my
declining.
Faithfully yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Lehmann/546Charles Dickens
1865-06-29[Sidenote: Mrs. Lehmann.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Tuesday, June 29th, 1865._
DEAR MRS. LEHMANN,
Come (with self and partner) on either of the days you name, and you
will be heartily welcomed by the humble youth who now addresses you, and
will then cast himself at your feet.
I am quite right again, I thank God, and have even got my voice back; I
most unaccountably brought somebody else's out of that terrible scene.
The directors have sent me a Resolution of Thanks for assistance to the
unhappy passengers.
With kind regards to Lehmann, ever yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Percy%20Fitzgerald/547Charles Dickens
1865-07-07[Sidenote: Mr. Percy Fitzgerald.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Friday, July 7th, 1865._
MY DEAR FITZGERALD,
I shall be delighted to see you at Gad's Hill on Sunday, and I hope you
will bring a bag with you and will not think of returning to London at
night.
We are a small party just now, for my daughter Mary has been decoyed to
Andover for the election week, in the Conservative interest; think of my
feelings as a Radical parent! The wrong-headed member and his wife are
the friends with whom she hunts, and she helps to receive (and
_de_ceive) the voters, which is very awful!
But in the week after next we shall be in great croquet force. I shall
hope to persuade you to come back to us then for a few days, and we will
try to make you some amends for a dull Sunday. Turn it over in your mind
and try to manage it.
Sincerely yours ever.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Professor%20Owen%20FRS/548Charles Dickens
1865-07-12[Sidenote: Professor Owen, F.R.S.]
GAD'S HILL, _Wednesday, July 12th, 1865._
MY DEAR OWEN,
Studying the gorilla last night for the twentieth time, it suddenly came
into my head that I had never thanked you for that admirable treatise.
This is to bear witness to my blushes and repentance. If you knew how
much interest it has awakened in me, and how often it has set me
a-thinking, you would consider me a more thankless beast than any
gorilla that ever lived. But happily you do _not_ know, and I am not
going to tell you.
Believe me, ever faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/The%20Earl%20Russell/549Charles Dickens
1865-08-16[Sidenote: The Earl Russell.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Wednesday, Aug. 16th, 1865._
MY DEAR LORD RUSSELL,
Mr. Dallas, who is a candidate for the Scotch professional chair left
vacant by Aytoun's death, has asked me if I would object to introduce to
you the first volume of a book he has in the press with my publishers,
on "The Gay Science of Art and Criticism." I have replied I would _not_
object, as I have read as many of the sheets as I could get, with
extreme pleasure, and as I know you will find it a very winning and
brilliant piece of writing. Therefore he will send the proofs of the
volume to you as soon as he can get them from the printer (at about the
end of this week I take it), and if you read them you will not be hard
upon me for bearing the responsibility of his doing so, I feel assured.
I suppose Mr. Dallas to have some impression that his pleasing you with
his book might advance his Scottish suit. But all I know is, that he is
a gentleman of great attainments and erudition, much distinguished as
the writer of the best critical literary pieces in _The Times_, and
thoroughly versed in the subjects which Professor Aytoun represented
officially.
I beg to send my regard to Lady Russell and all the house, and am ever,
my dear Lord Russell,
Your faithful and obliged.
P.S.--I am happy to report that my sailor-boy's captain, relinquishing
his ship on sick leave, departs from the mere form of certificate given
to all the rest, and adds that his obedience to orders is remarkable,
and that he is a highly intelligent and promising young officer.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Marcus%20Stone/550Charles Dickens
1865-09-13[Sidenote: Mr. Marcus Stone.]
HOTEL DU HELDER, PARIS, _Wednesday, Sept. 13th, 1865._
MY DEAR MARCUS,
I leave here to-morrow, and propose going to the office by tidal train
_next Saturday evening_. Through the whole of next week, on and off, I
shall be at the office; when not there, at Gad's; but much oftener at
the office. The sooner I can know about the subjects you take for
illustration the better, as I can then fill the list of illustrations to
the second volume for the printer, and enable him to make up his last
sheet. Necessarily that list is now left blank, as I cannot give him the
titles of the subjects, not knowing them myself.
It has been fearfully hot on this side, but is something cooler.
Ever affectionately yours.
P.S.--On glancing over this note, I find it very like the king's
love-letter in "Ruy Blas." "Madam, there is a high wind. I have shot six
wolves."
I think the frontispiece to the second volume should be the dustyard
with the three mounds, and Mr. Boffin digging up the Dutch bottle, and
Venus restraining Wegg's ardour to get at him. Or Mr. Boffin might be
coming down with the bottle, and Venus might be dragging Wegg out of the
way as described.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Percy%20Fitzgerald/551Charles Dickens
1865-09-23[Sidenote: Mr. Percy Fitzgerald.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Saturday, Sept. 23rd, 1865._
MY DEAR FITZGERALD,
I cannot thank you too much for Sultan. He is a noble fellow, has fallen
into the ways of the family with a grace and dignity that denote the
gentleman, and came down to the railway a day or two since to welcome me
home (it was our first meeting), with a profound absence of interest in
my individual opinion of him which captivated me completely. I am going
home to-day to take him about the country, and improve his acquaintance.
You will find a perfect understanding between us, I hope, when you next
come to Gad's Hill. (He has only swallowed Bouncer once, and
temporarily.)
Your hint that you were getting on with your story and liked it was more
than golden intelligence to me in foreign parts. The intensity of the
heat, both in Paris and the provinces, was such that I found nothing
else so refreshing in the course of my rambles.
With many more thanks for the dog than my sheet of paper would hold,
Believe me, ever very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Adelaide%20Anne%20Procter/552Charles Dickens
1865-09-26[Sidenote: Mrs. Procter.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Sept. 26th, 1865._
MY DEAR MRS. PROCTER,
I have written the little introduction, and have sent it to my printer,
in order that you may read it without trouble. But if you would like to
keep the few pages of MS., of course they are yours.
It is brief, and I have aimed at perfect simplicity, and an avoidance of
all that your beloved Adelaide would have wished avoided. Do not expect
too much from it. If there should be anything wrong in fact, or anything
that you would like changed for any reason, _of course you will tell me
so_, and of course you will not deem it possible that you can trouble me
by making any such request most freely.
You will probably receive the proof either on Friday or Saturday. Don't
write to me until you have read it. In the meantime I send you back the
two books, with the two letters in the bound one.
With love to Procter,
Ever your affectionate Friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Edmund%20Yates/553Charles Dickens
1865-09-30[Sidenote: Mr. Edmund Yates.]
HOTEL DU HELDER, PARIS, _Wednesday, Sept. 30th, 1865._
MY DEAR EDMUND,
I leave here to-morrow and purpose being at the office on Saturday
night; all next week I shall be there, off and on--"off" meaning Gad's
Hill; the office will be my last address. The heat has been excessive on
this side of the Channel, and I got a slight sunstroke last Thursday,
and was obliged to be doctored and put to bed for a day; but, thank God,
I am all right again. The man who sells the _tisane_ on the Boulevards
can't keep the flies out of his glasses, and as he wears them on his red
velvet bands, the flies work themselves into the ends of the tumblers,
trying to get through and tickle the man. If fly life were long enough,
I think they would at last. Three paving blouses came to work at the
corner of this street last Monday, pulled up a bit of road, sat down to
look at it, and fell asleep. On Tuesday one of the blouses spat on his
hands and seemed to be going to begin, but didn't. The other two have
shown no sign of life whatever. This morning the industrious one ate a
loaf. You may rely upon this as the latest news from the French capital.
Faithfully ever.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/William%20Charles%20Kent/554Charles Dickens
1865-11-06[Sidenote: Mr. William Charles Kent.]
26, WELLINGTON STREET, _Monday, Nov. 6th, 1865._
MY DEAR KENT,
_No_, I _won't_ write in this book, because I have sent another to the
binder's for you.
I have been unwell with a relaxed throat, or I should have written to
you sooner to thank you for your dedication, to assure you that it
heartily, most heartily, gratifies me, as the sincere tribute of a true
and generous heart, and to tell you that I have been charmed with your
book itself. I am proud of having given a name to anything so
picturesque, so sympathetic and spirited.
I hope and believe the "Doctor" is nothing but a good 'un. He has
perfectly astonished Forster, who writes: "Neither good, gooder, nor
goodest, but super-excellent; all through there is such a relish of you
at your best, as I could not have believed in, after a long story."
I shall be charmed to see you to-night.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/William%20De%20Cerjat/555Charles Dickens
1865-11-13[Sidenote: M. de Cerjat.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_November 13th, 1865._
EXTRACT.
MY DEAR CERJAT,
Having achieved my book and my Christmas number, and having shaken
myself after two years' work, I send you my annual greeting. How are
you? Asthmatic, I know you will reply; but as my poor father (who was
asthmatic, too, and the jolliest of men) used philosophically to say,
"one must have something wrong, I suppose, and I like to know what it
is."
In England we are groaning under the brigandage of the butcher, which is
being carried to that height that I think I foresee resistance on the
part of the middle-class, and some combination in perspective for
abolishing the middleman, whensoever he turns up (which is everywhere)
between producer and consumer. The cattle plague is the butcher's
stalking-horse, and it is unquestionably worse than it was; but seeing
that the great majority of creatures lost or destroyed have been cows,
and likewise that the rise in butchers' meat bears no reasonable
proportion to the market prices of the beasts, one comes to the
conclusion that the public is done. The commission has ended very weakly
and ineffectually, as such things in England rather frequently do; and
everybody writes to _The Times_, and nobody does anything else.
If the Americans don't embroil us in a war before long it will not be
their fault. What with their swagger and bombast, what with their claims
for indemnification, what with Ireland and Fenianism, and what with
Canada, I have strong apprehensions. With a settled animosity towards
the French usurper, I believe him to have always been sound in his
desire to divide the States against themselves, and that we were
unsound and wrong in "letting I dare not wait upon I would." The Jamaica
insurrection is another hopeful piece of business. That
platform-sympathy with the black--or the native, or the devil--afar off,
and that platform indifference to our own countrymen at enormous odds in
the midst of bloodshed and savagery, makes me stark wild. Only the other
day, here was a meeting of jawbones of asses at Manchester, to censure
the Jamaica Governor for his manner of putting down the insurrection! So
we are badgered about New Zealanders and Hottentots, as if they were
identical with men in clean shirts at Camberwell, and were to be bound
by pen and ink accordingly. So Exeter Hall holds us in mortal submission
to missionaries, who (Livingstone always excepted) are perfect
nuisances, and leave every place worse than they found it.
Of all the many evidences that are visible of our being ill-governed, no
one is so remarkable to me as our ignorance of what is going on under
our Government. What will future generations think of that enormous
Indian Mutiny being ripened without suspicion, until whole regiments
arose and killed their officers? A week ago, red tape, half-bouncing and
half pooh-poohing what it bounced at, would have scouted the idea of a
Dublin jail not being able to hold a political prisoner. But for the
blacks in Jamaica being over-impatient and before their time, the whites
might have been exterminated, without a previous hint or suspicion that
there was anything amiss. _Laissez aller_, and Britons never, never,
never!----
Meantime, if your honour were in London, you would see a great
embankment rising high and dry out of the Thames on the Middlesex shore,
from Westminster Bridge to Blackfriars. A really fine work, and really
getting on. Moreover, a great system of drainage. Another really fine
work, and likewise really getting on. Lastly, a muddle of railways in
all directions possible and impossible, with no general public scheme,
no general public supervision, enormous waste of money, no fixable
responsibility, no accountability but under Lord Campbell's Act. I think
of that accident in which I was preserved. Before the most furious and
notable train in the four-and-twenty hours, the head of a gang of
workmen takes up the rails. That train changes its time every day as the
tide changes, and that head workman is not provided by the railway
company with any clock or watch! Lord Shaftesbury wrote to me to ask me
what I thought of an obligation on railway companies to put strong walls
to all bridges and viaducts. I told him, of course, that the force of
such a shock would carry away anything that any company could set up,
and I added: "Ask the minister what _he_ thinks about the votes of the
railway interest in the House of Commons, and about his being afraid to
lay a finger on it with an eye to his majority."
I seem to be grumbling, but I am in the best of humours. All goes well
with me and mine, thank God.
Last night my gardener came upon a man in the garden and fired. The man
returned the compliment by kicking him in the groin and causing him
great pain. I set off, with a great mastiff-bloodhound I have, in
pursuit. Couldn't find the evil-doer, but had the greatest difficulty in
preventing the dog from tearing two policemen down. They were coming
towards us with professional mystery, and he was in the air on his way
to the throat of an eminently respectable constable when I caught him.
My daughter Mary and her aunt Georgina send kindest regard and
remembrance. Katey and her husband are going to try London this winter,
but I rather doubt (for they are both delicate) their being able to
weather it out. It has been blowing here tremendously for a fortnight,
but to-day is like a spring day, and plenty of roses are growing over
the labourers' cottages. The _Great Eastern_ lies at her moorings beyond
the window where I write these words; looks very dull and unpromising. A
dark column of smoke from Chatham Dockyard, where the iron shipbuilding
is in progress, has a greater significance in it, I fancy.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/556Charles Dickens
1865-11-14[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Tuesday, Nov. 14th, 1865._
MY DEAREST MAMIE,
As you want to know my views of the Sphinx, here they are. But I have
only seen it once; and it is so extraordinarily well done, that it ought
to be observed closely several times.
Anyone who attentively notices the flower trick will see that the two
little high tables hung with drapery cover each a trap. Each of those
tables, during that trick, hides a confederate, who changes the paper
cone twice. When the cone has been changed as often as is required, the
trap is closed and the table can be moved.
When the curtain is removed for the performance of the Sphinx trick,
there is a covered, that is, draped table on the stage, which is never
seen before or afterwards. In front of the middle of it, and between it
and the audience, stands one of those little draped tables covering a
trap; this is a third trap in the centre of the stage. The box for the
head is then upon IT, and the conjuror takes it off and shows it. The
man whose head is afterwards shown in that box is, I conceive, in the
table; that is to say, is lying on his chest in the thickness of the
table, in an extremely constrained attitude. To get him into the table,
and to enable him to use the trap in the table through which his head
comes into the box, the two hands of a confederate are necessary. That
confederate comes up a trap, and stands in the space afforded by the
interval below the stage and the height of the little draped table! his
back is towards the audience. The moment he has assisted the hidden man
sufficiently, he closes the trap, and the conjuror then immediately
removes the little draped table, and also the drapery of the larger
table; when he places the box on the last-named table _with the slide
on_ for the head to come into it, he stands with his back to the
audience and his face to the box, and masks the box considerably to
facilitate the insertion of the head. As soon as he knows the head to be
in its place, he undraws the slide. When the verses have been spoken and
the trick is done, he loses no time in replacing the slide. The curtain
is then immediately dropped, because the man cannot otherwise be got out
of the table, and has no doubt had quite enough of it. With kindest
regards to all at Penton,
Ever your most affectionate.
FOOTNOTES:
[14] Now Captain E. Newton Dickenson.
[15] This was a circular note which he sent in answer to innumerable
letters of enquiry, after the accident.
[16] This letter was written in reply to the Committee's congratulations
upon Mr. Dickens's escape from the accident to the tidal train from
Folkestone, at Staplehurst, just previous to this date.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Mary%20Boyle/557Charles Dickens
1866-01-06[Sidenote: Miss Mary Boyle.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Saturday, Jan. 6th, 1866._
MY DEAR MARY,
Feeling pretty certain that I shall never answer your letter unless I
answer it at once (I got it this morning), here goes!
I did not dramatise "The Master of Ravenswood," though I did a good deal
towards and about the piece, having an earnest desire to put Scott, for
once, upon the stage in his own gallant manner. It is _an enormous
success_, and increases in attraction nightly. I have never seen the
people in all parts of the house so leaning forward, in lines sloping
towards the stage, earnestly and intently attractive, as while the story
gradually unfolds itself. But the astonishing circumstance of all is,
that Miss Leclercq (never thought of for Lucy till all other Lucies had
failed) is marvellously good, highly pathetic, and almost unrecognisable
in person! What note it touches in her, always dumb until now, I do not
pretend to say, but there is no one on the stage who could play the
contract scene better, or more simply and naturally, and I find it
impossible to see it without crying! Almost everyone plays well, the
whole is exceedingly picturesque, and there is scarcely a movement
throughout, or a look, that is not indicated by Scott. So you get a life
romance with beautiful illustrations, and I do not expect ever again to
see a book take up its bed and walk in like manner.
I am charmed to learn that you have had a freeze out of my ghost story.
It rather did give me a shiver up the back in the writing. "Dr.
Marigold" has just now accomplished his two hundred thousand. My only
other news about myself is that I am doubtful whether to read or not in
London this season. If I decide to do it at all, I shall probably do it
on a large scale.
Many happy years to you, my dear Mary. So prays
Your ever affectionate
Jo.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/William%20Charles%20Kent/558Charles Dickens
1866-01-18[Sidenote: Mr. William Charles Kent.]
GAD'S HILL, _Thursday, Jan. 18th, 1866._
MY DEAR KENT,
I cannot tell you how grieved we all are here to know that you are
suffering again. Your patient tone, however, and the hopefulness and
forbearance of Ferguson's course, gives us some reassurance. Apropos of
which latter reference I dined with Ferguson at the Lord Mayor's, last
Tuesday, and had a grimly distracted impulse upon me to defy the
toast-master and rush into a speech about him and his noble art, when I
sat pining under the imbecility of constitutional and corporational
idiots. I did seize him for a moment by the hair of his head (in
proposing the Lady Mayoress), and derived some faint consolation from
the company's response to the reference. O! no man will ever know under
what provocation to contradiction and a savage yell of repudiation I
suffered at the hands of ----, feebly complacent in the uniform of
Madame Tussaud's own military waxers, and almost the worst speaker I
ever heard in my life! Mary and Georgina, sitting on either side of me,
urged me to "look pleasant." I replied in expressions not to be
repeated. Shea (the judge) was just as good and graceful, as he (the
member) was bad and gawky.
Bulwer's "Lost Tales of Miletus" is a most noble book! He is an
extraordinary fellow, and fills me with admiration and wonder.
It is of no use writing to you about yourself, my dear Kent, because you
are likely to be tired of that constant companion, and so I have gone
scratching (with an exceedingly bad pen) about and about you. But I come
back to you to let you know that the reputation of this house as a
convalescent hospital stands (like the house itself) very high, and that
testimonials can be produced from credible persons who have recovered
health and spirits here swiftly. Try us, only try us, and we are content
to stake the reputation of the establishment on the result.
Ever affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Percy%20Fitzgerald/559Charles Dickens
1866-02-02[Sidenote: Mr. Percy Fitzgerald.]
GAD'S HILL, _Friday, Feb. 2nd, 1866._
MY DEAR FITZGERALD,
I ought to have written to you days and days ago, to thank you for your
charming book on Charles Lamb, to tell you with what interest and
pleasure I read it as soon as it came here, and to add that I was
honestly affected (far more so than your modesty will readily believe)
by your intimate knowledge of those touches of mine concerning
childhood.
Let me tell you now that I have not in the least cooled, after all,
either as to the graceful sympathetic book, or as to the part in it with
which I am honoured. It has become a matter of real feeling with me, and
I postponed its expression because I couldn't satisfactorily get it out
of myself, and at last I came to the conclusion that it must be left in.
My dear Fitzgerald, faithfully yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/560Charles Dickens
1866-02-09[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND," _Friday, Feb. 9th, 1866._
MY DEAREST GEORGY,
I found your letter here when I came back on Wednesday evening, and was
extremely glad to get it.
Frank Beard wrote me word that with such a pulse as I described, an
examination of the heart was absolutely necessary, and that I had better
make an appointment with him alone for the purpose. This I did. I was
not at all disconcerted, for I knew well beforehand that the effect
could not possibly be without that one cause at the bottom of it. There
seems to be degeneration of some functions of the heart. It does not
contract as it should. So I have got a prescription of iron, quinine,
and digitalis, to set it a-going, and send the blood more quickly
through the system. If it should not seem to succeed on a reasonable
trial, I will then propose a consultation with someone else. Of course I
am not so foolish as to suppose that all my work can have been achieved
without _some_ penalty, and I have noticed for some time a decided
change in my buoyancy and hopefulness--in other words, in my usual
"tone."
I shall wait to see Beard again on Monday, and shall most probably come
down that day. If I should not, I will telegraph after seeing him. Best
love to Mamie.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Brookfield/561Charles Dickens
1866-02-20[Sidenote: Mrs. Brookfield.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Tuesday, Feb. 20th, 1866._
MY DEAR MRS. BROOKFIELD,
Having gone through your MS. (which I should have done sooner, but that
I have not been very well), I write these few following words about it.
Firstly, with a limited reference to its unsuitability to these pages.
Secondly, with a more enlarged reference to the merits of the story
itself.
If you will take any part of it and cut it up (in fancy) into the small
portions into which it would have to be divided here for only a month's
supply, you will (I think) at once discover the impossibility of
publishing it in weekly parts. The scheme of the chapters, the manner of
introducing the people, the progress of the interest, the places in
which the principal places fall, are all hopelessly against it. It would
seem as though the story were never coming, and hardly ever moving.
There must be a special design to overcome that specially trying mode of
publication, and I cannot better express the difficulty and labour of it
than by asking you to turn over any two weekly numbers of "A Tale of Two
Cities," or "Great Expectations," or Bulwer's story, or Wilkie
Collins's, or Reade's, or "At the Bar," and notice how patiently and
expressly the thing has to be planned for presentation in these
fragments, and yet for afterwards fusing together as an uninterrupted
whole.
Of the story itself I honestly say that I think highly. The style is
particularly easy and agreeable, infinitely above ordinary writing, and
sometimes reminds me of Mrs. Inchbald at her best. The characters are
remarkably well observed, and with a rare mixture of delicacy and
truthfulness. I observe this particularly in the brother and sister, and
in Mrs. Neville. But it strikes me that you constantly hurry your
narrative (and yet without getting on) _by telling it, in a sort of
impetuous breathless way, in your own person, when the people should
tell it and act it for themselves_. My notion always is, that when I
have made the people to play out the play, it is, as it were, their
business to do it, and not mine. Then, unless you really have led up to
a great situation like Basil's death, you are bound in art to make more
of it. Such a scene should form a chapter of itself. Impressed upon the
reader's memory, it would go far to make the fortune of the book.
Suppose yourself telling that affecting incident in a letter to a
friend. Wouldn't you describe how you went through the life and stir of
the streets and roads to the sick-room? Wouldn't you say what kind of
room it was, what time of day it was, whether it was sunlight,
starlight, or moonlight? Wouldn't you have a strong impression on your
mind of how you were received, when you first met the look of the dying
man, what strange contrasts were about you and struck you? I don't want
you, in a novel, to present _yourself_ to tell such things, but I want
the things to be there. You make no more of the situation than the index
might, or a descriptive playbill might in giving a summary of the
tragedy under representation.
As a mere piece of mechanical workmanship, I think all your chapters
should be shorter; that is to say, that they should be subdivided.
Also, when you change from narrative to dialogue, or _vice versâ_, you
should make the transition more carefully. Also, taking the pains to sit
down and recall the principal landmarks in your story, you should then
make them far more elaborate and conspicuous than the rest. Even with
these changes I do not believe that the story would attract the
attention due to it, if it were published even in such monthly portions
as the space of "Fraser" would admit of. Even so brightened, it would
not, to the best of my judgment, express itself piecemeal. It seems to
me to be so constituted as to require to be read "off the reel." As a
book in two volumes I think it would have good claims to success, and
good chances of obtaining success. But I suppose the polishing I have
hinted at (not a meretricious adornment, but positively necessary to
good work and good art) to have been first thoroughly administered.
Now don't hate me if you can help it. I can afford to be hated by some
people, but I am not rich enough to put you in possession of that
luxury.
Ever faithfully yours.
P.S.--The MS. shall be delivered at your house to-morrow. And your
petitioner again prays not to be, etc.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/562Charles Dickens
1866-04-13[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
ADELPHI, LIVERPOOL, _Friday, April 13th, 1866._
MY DEAREST GEORGY,
The reception at Manchester last night was quite a magnificent sight;
the whole of the immense audience standing up and cheering. I thought
them a little slow with "Marigold," but believe it was only the
attention necessary in so vast a place. They gave a splendid burst at
the end. And after "Nickleby" (which went to perfection), they set up
such a call, that I was obliged to go in again. The unfortunate gasman,
a very steady fellow, got a fall off a ladder and sprained his leg. He
was put to bed in a public opposite, and was left there, poor man.
This is the first very fine day we have had. I have taken advantage of
it by crossing to Birkenhead and getting some air upon the water. It was
fresh and beautiful.
I send my best love to Mamie, and hope she is better. I am, of course,
tired (the pull of "Marigold" upon one's energy, in the Free Trade Hall,
was great); but I stick to my tonic, and feel, all things considered, in
very good tone. The room here (I mean the hall) being my special
favourite and extraordinarily easy, is _almost_ a rest!http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/563Charles Dickens
1866-04-14[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
ADELPHI, LIVERPOOL, _Saturday, April 14th, 1866._
MY DEAREST MAMIE,
The police reported officially that three thousand people were turned
away from the hall last night. I doubt if they were so numerous as that,
but they carried in the outer doors and pitched into Dolby with great
vigour. I need not add that every corner of the place was crammed. They
were a very fine audience, and took enthusiastically every point in
"Copperfield" and the "Trial." They made the reading a quarter of an
hour longer than usual. One man advertised in the morning paper that he
would give thirty shillings (double) for three stalls, but nobody would
sell, and he didn't get in.
Except that I cannot sleep, I really think myself in much better
training than I had anticipated. A dozen oysters and a little champagne
between the parts every night, constitute the best restorative I have
ever yet tried. John appears low, but I don't know why. A letter comes
for him daily; the hand is female; whether Smudger's, or a nearer one
still and a dearer one, I don't know. So it may or may not be the cause
of his gloom.
"Miss Emily" of Preston is married to a rich cotton lord, rides in open
carriages in gorgeous array, and is altogether splendid. With this
effective piece of news I close.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/564Charles Dickens
1866-04-17[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
GLASGOW, _April 17th, 1866._
We arrived here at ten yesterday evening. I don't think the journey
shook me at all. Dolby provided a superb cold collation and "the best of
drinks," and we dined in the carriage, and I made him laugh all the way.
The let here is very large. Every precaution taken to prevent my
platform from being captured as it was last time; but I don't feel at
all sure that it will not be stormed at one of the two readings. Wills
is to do the genteel to-night at the stalls, and Dolby is to stem the
shilling tide _if_ he can. The poor gasman cannot come on, and we have
got a new one here who is to go to Edinburgh with us. Of Edinburgh we
know nothing, but as its first night has always been shady, I suppose it
will stick to its antecedents.
I like to hear about Harness and his freshness. The let for the next
reading at St. James's is "going," they report, "admirably." Lady
Russell asked me to dinner to-morrow, and I have written her a note
to-day. The rest has certainly done me good. I slept thoroughly well
last night, and feel fresh. What to-night's work, and every night's
work this week, may do contrariwise, remains to be seen.
I hope Harry's knee may be in the way of mending, from what you relate
of it.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/565Charles Dickens
1866-04-18[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
WATERLOO HOTEL, EDINBURGH, _Wednesday, April 18th, 1866._
We had a tremendous house again last night at Glasgow; and turned away
great numbers. Not only that, but they were a most brilliant and
delicate audience, and took "Marigold" with a fine sense and quickness
not to be surpassed. The shillings pitched into Dolby again, and one man
writes a sensible letter in one of the papers this morning, showing to
_my_ satisfaction (?) that they really had, through the local agent,
some cause of complaint. Nevertheless, the shilling tickets are sold for
to-morrow, and it seems to be out of the question to take any money at
the doors, the call for all parts is so enormous. The thundering of
applause last night was quite staggering, and my people checked off my
reception by the minute hand of a watch, and stared at one another,
thinking I should never begin. I keep quite well, have happily taken to
sleeping these last three nights; and feel, all things considered, very
little conscious of fatigue. I cannot reconcile my town medicine with
the hours and journeys of reading life, and have therefore given it up
for the time. But for the moment, I think I am better without it. What
we are doing here I have not yet heard. I write at half-past one, and we
have been little more than an hour in the house. But I am quite prepared
for the inevitable this first Edinburgh night. Endeavours have been
made (from Glasgow yesterday) to telegraph the exact facts out of our
local agent; but hydraulic pressure wouldn't have squeezed a straight
answer out of him. "Friday and Saturday doing very well, Wednesday not
so good." This was all electricity could discover.
I am going to write a line this post to Katie, from whom I have a note.
I hope Harry's leg will now step out in the manner of the famous cork
leg in the song.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/566Charles Dickens
1866-04-19[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
EDINBURGH, _Thursday, April 19th, 1866._
The house was more than twice better than any first night here
previously. They were, as usual here, remarkably intelligent, and the
reading went _brilliantly_. I have not sent up any newspapers, as they
are generally so poorly written, that you may know beforehand all the
commonplaces that they will write. But _The Scotsman_ has so pretty an
article this morning, and (so far as I know) so true a one, that I will
try to post it to you, either from here or Glasgow. John and Dolby went
over early, and Wills and I follow them at half-past eleven. It is cold
and wet here. We have laid half-crown bets with Dolby, that he will be
assaulted to-night at Glasgow. He has a surprising knowledge of what the
receipts will be always, and wins half-crowns every night. Chang is
living in this house. John (not knowing it) was rendered perfectly
drivelling last night, by meeting him on the stairs. The Tartar Dwarf is
always twining himself upstairs sideways, and drinks a bottle of whisky
per day, and is reported to be a surprising little villain.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/567Charles Dickens
1866-04-20[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
WATERLOO HOTEL, EDINBURGH, _Friday, April 20th, 1866._
No row at Glasgow last night. Great placards were posted about the town
by the anxious Dolby, announcing that no money would be taken at the
doors. This kept the crowd off. Two files of policemen and a double
staff everywhere did the rest, and nothing could be better-tempered or
more orderly. Tremendous enthusiasm with the "Carol" and "Trial." I was
dead beat afterwards, that reading being twenty minutes longer than
usual; but plucked up again, had some supper, slept well, and am quite
right to-day. It is a bright day, and the express ride over from Glasgow
was very pleasant.
Everything is gone here for to-night. But it is difficult to describe
what the readings have grown to be. The let at St. James's Hall is not
only immense for next Tuesday, but so large for the next reading
afterwards, that Chappell writes: "That will be the greatest house of
the three." From Manchester this morning they write: "Send us more
tickets instantly, for we are sold out and don't know what to do with
the people." Last night the whole of my money under the agreement had
been taken. I notice that a great bank has broken at Liverpool, which
may hurt us there, but when last heard of it was going as before. And
the audience, though so enormous, do somehow express a personal
affection, which makes them very strange and moving to see.
I have a story to answer you and your aunt with. Before I left Southwick
Place for Liverpool, I received a letter from Glasgow, saying, "Your
little Emily has been woo'd and married and a'! since you last saw her;"
and describing her house within a mile or two of the city, and asking
me to stay there. I wrote the usual refusal, and supposed Mrs. ---- to
be some romantic girl whom I had joked with, perhaps at Allison's or
where not. On the first night at Glasgow I received a bouquet from ----,
and wore one of the flowers. This morning at the Glasgow station, ----
appeared, and proved to be the identical Miss Emily, of whose marriage
Dolby had told me on our coming through Preston. She was attired in
magnificent raiment, and presented the happy ----.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/568Charles Dickens
1866-04-26[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
LIVERPOOL, _Thursday, April 26th, 1866._
We noticed between London and Rugby (the first stoppage) something very
odd in our carriage yesterday, not so much in its motion as in its
sound. We examined it as well as we could out of both windows, but could
make nothing of it. On our arrival at Rugby, it was found to be on fire.
And as it was in the middle of the train, the train had to be broken to
get it off into a siding by itself and get another carriage on. With
this slight exception we came down all right.
My voice is much better, I am glad to report, and I mean to try Beard's
remedy after dinner to-day. This is all my present news.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/569Charles Dickens
1866-05-11[Sidenote: The same.]
DOWN HOTEL, CLIFTON, _Friday, May 11th, 1866._
I received your note before I left Birmingham this morning. It has been
very heavy work getting up at half-past six each morning after a heavy
night, and I am not at all well to-day. We had a tremendous hall at
Birmingham last night--two thousand one hundred people. I made a most
ridiculous mistake. Had "Nickleby" on my list to finish with, instead of
"Trial." Read "Nickleby" with great go, and the people remained. Went
back again at ten and explained the accident, and said if they liked, I
would give them the "Trial." They _did_ like, and I had another
half-hour of it in that enormous place.
This stoppage of Overend and Gurney in the City will play the ---- with
all public gaieties, and with all the arts.
My cold is no better. John fell off a platform about ten feet high
yesterday, and fainted. He looks all the colours of the rainbow to-day,
but does not seem much hurt beyond being puffed up one hand, arm, and
side.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Lily%20Benzon/570Charles Dickens
1866-06-18[Sidenote: Miss Lily Benzon.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Monday, June 18th, 1866._
MY DEAR LILY,
I am sorry that I cannot come to read to you "The Boots at the Holly
Tree Inn," as you ask me to do; but the truth is, that I am tired of
reading at this present time, and have come into the country to rest and
hear the birds sing. There are a good many birds, I daresay, in
Kensington Palace Gardens, and upon my word and honour they are much
better worth listening to than I am. So let them sing to you as hard as
ever they can, while their sweet voices last (they will be silent when
the winter comes); and very likely after you and I have eaten our next
Christmas pudding and mince-pies, you and I and Uncle Harry may all meet
together at St. James's Hall; Uncle Harry to bring you there, to hear
the "Boots;" I to receive you there, and read the "Boots;" and you (I
hope) to applaud very much, and tell me that you like the "Boots." So,
God bless you and me, and Uncle Harry, and the "Boots," and long life
and happiness to us all!
Your affectionate Friend.
P.S.--There's a flourish!http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/B%20W%20Procter/571Charles Dickens
1866-08-13[Sidenote: Mr. B. W. Procter.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Monday, Aug. 13th, 1866._
MY DEAR PROCTER,
I have read your biography of Charles Lamb with inexpressible pleasure
and interest. I do not think it possible to tell a pathetic story with a
more unaffected and manly tenderness. And as to the force and vigour of
the style, if I did not know you I should have made sure that there was
a printer's error in the opening of your introduction, and that the word
"seventy" occupied the place of "forty."
Let me, my dear friend, most heartily congratulate you on your
achievement. It is not an ordinary triumph to do such justice to the
memory of such a man. And I venture to add, that the fresh spirit with
which you have done it impresses me as being perfectly wonderful.
Ever affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Sir%20James%20Emerson%20Tennent/572Charles Dickens
1866-08-20[Sidenote: Sir James Emerson Tennent.]
GAD'S HILL, _Monday, Aug. 20th, 1866._
MY DEAR TENNENT,
I have been very much interested by your extract, and am strongly
inclined to believe that the founder of the Refuge for Poor Travellers
meant the kind of man to which it refers. Chaucer certainly meant the
Pardonere to be a humbug, living on the credulity of the people. After
describing the sham reliques he carried, he says:
But with these relikes whawne that he found
A poure personne dwelling up on lond
Upon a day he gat him more monnie
Than that the personne got in monthes time,
And thus, with fained flattering and japes
He made the personne, and the people, his apes.
And the worthy Watts (founder of the charity) may have had these very
lines in his mind when he excluded such a man.
When I last heard from my boy he was coming to you, and was full of
delight and dignity. My midshipman has just been appointed to the
_Bristol_, on the West Coast of Africa, and is on his voyage out to join
her. I wish it was another ship and another station. She has been
unlucky in losing men.
Kindest regard from all my house to yours.
Faithfully yours ever.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/M%20Charles%20Fechter/573Charles Dickens
1866-09-04[Sidenote: M. Charles Fechter.]
GAD'S HILL, _Tuesday, Sept. 4th, 1866._
MY DEAR FECHTER,
This morning I received the play to the end of the telegraph scene, and
I have since read it twice.
I clearly see the _ground_ of Mr. Boucicault's two objections; but I do
not see their _force_.
First, as to the writing. If the characters did not speak in a terse and
homely way, their idea and language would be inconsistent with their
dress and station, and they would lose, as characters, before the
audience. The dialogue seems to be exactly what is wanted. Its
simplicity (particularly in Mr. Boucicault's part) is often very
effective; and throughout there is an honest, straight-to-the-purpose
ruggedness in it, like the real life and the real people.
Secondly, as to the absence of the comic element. I really do not see
how more of it could be got into the story, and I think Mr. Boucicault
underrates the pleasant effect of his own part. The very notion of a
sailor, whose life is not among those little courts and streets, and
whose business does not lie with the monotonous machinery, but with the
four wild winds, is a relief to me in reading the play. I am quite
confident of its being an immense relief to the audience when they see
the sailor before them, with an entirely different bearing, action,
dress, complexion even, from the rest of the men. I would make him the
freshest and airiest sailor that ever was seen; and through him I can
distinctly see my way out of "the Black Country" into clearer air. (I
speak as one of the audience, mind.) I should like something of this
contrast to be expressed in the dialogue between the sailor and Jew, in
the second scene of the second act. Again, I feel Widdicomb's part
(which is charming, and ought to make the whole house cry) most
agreeable and welcome, much better than any amount in such a story, of
mere comicality.
It is unnecessary to say that the play is done with a master's hand. Its
closeness and movement are quite surprising. Its construction is
admirable. I have the strongest belief in its making a great success.
But I must add this proviso: I never saw a play so dangerously depending
in critical places on strict natural propriety in the manner and
perfection in the shaping of the small parts. Those small parts cannot
take the play up, but they can let it down. I would not leave a hair on
the head of one of them to the chance of the first night, but I would
see, to the minutest particular, the make-up of every one of them at a
night rehearsal.
Of course you are free to show this note to Mr. Boucicault, and I
suppose you will do so; let me throw out this suggestion to him and you.
Might it not ease the way with the Lord Chamberlain's office, and still
more with the audience, when there are Manchester champions in it, if
instead of "Manchester" you used a fictitious name? When I did "Hard
Times" I called the scene Coketown. Everybody knew what was meant, but
every cotton-spinning town said it was the other cotton-spinning town.
I shall be up on Saturday, and will come over about mid-day, unless you
name any other time.
Ever heartily.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Walter%20Thornbury/574Charles Dickens
1866-09-15[Sidenote: Mr. Walter Thornbury]
"ALL THE YEAR ROUND" OFFICE, _Saturday, Sept. 15th, 1866._
MY DEAR THORNBURY,
Many thanks for your letter.
In reference to your Shakespeare queries, I am not so much enamoured of
the first and third subjects as I am of the Ariosto enquiry, which
should be highly interesting. But if you have so got the matter in your
mind, as that its execution would be incomplete and unsatisfactory to
you unless you write all the three papers, then by all means write the
three, and I will most gladly take them. For some years I have had so
much pleasure in reading you, that I can honestly warrant myself as what
actors call "a good audience."
The idea of old stories retold is decidedly a good one. I greatly like
the notion of that series. Of course you know De Quincey's paper on the
Ratcliffe Highway murderer? Do you know also the illustration (I have it
at Gad's Hill), representing the horrible creature as his dead body lay
on a cart, with a piece of wood for a pillow, and a stake lying by,
ready to be driven through him?
I don't _quite_ like the title, "The Social History of London." I should
better like some title to the effect, "The History of London's Social
Changes in so many Years." Such a title would promise more, and better
express your intention. What do you think of taking for a first title,
"London's Changes"? You could then add the second title, "Being a
History," etc.
I don't at all desire to fix a limit to the series of old stories
retold. I would state the general intention at the beginning of the
first paper, and go on like Banquo's line.
Don't let your London title remind people, by so much as the place of
the word "civilisation," of Buckle. It seems a ridiculous caution, but
the indolent part of the public (a large part!) on such points tumble
into extraordinary mistakes.
Faithfully yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Percy%20Fitzgerald/575Charles Dickens
1866-11-06[Sidenote: Mr. Percy Fitzgerald.]
GAD'S HILL, _Tuesday, Nov. 6th, 1866._
MY DEAR FITZGERALD,
It is always pleasant to me to hear from you, and I hope you will
believe that this is not a mere fashion of speech.
Concerning the green covers, I find the leaves to be budding--on
unquestionable newspaper authority; but, upon my soul, I have no other
knowledge of their being in embryo! Really, I do not see a chance of my
settling myself to such work until after I have accomplished forty-two
readings, to which I stand pledged.
I hope to begin this series somewhere about the middle of January, in
Dublin. Touching the details of the realisation of this hope, will you
tell me in a line as soon as you can--_Is the exhibition room a good
room for speaking in?_
Your mention of the late Sultan touches me nearly. He was the finest dog
I ever saw, and between him and me there was a perfect understanding.
But, to adopt the popular phrase, it was so very confidential that it
"went no further." He would fly at anybody else with the greatest
enthusiasm for destruction. I saw him, muzzled, pound into the heart of
a regiment of the line; and I have frequently seen him, muzzled, hold a
great dog down with his chest and feet. He has broken loose (muzzled)
and come home covered with blood, again and again. And yet he never
disobeyed me, unless he had first laid hold of a dog.
You heard of his going to execution, evidently supposing the procession
to be a party detached in pursuit of something to kill or eat? It was
very affecting. And also of his bolting a blue-eyed kitten, and making
me acquainted with the circumstance by his agonies of remorse (or
indigestion)?
I cannot find out that there is anyone in Rochester (a sleepy old city)
who has anything to tell about Garrick, except what is not true. His
brother, the wine merchant, would be more in Rochester way, I think. How
on earth do you find time to do all these books?
You make my hair stand on end; an agreeable sensation, for I am charmed
to find that I have any. Why don't you come yourself and look after
Garrick? I should be truly delighted to receive you.
My dear Fitzgerald, always faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/576Charles Dickens
1866-12-28[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Friday, Dec. 28th, 1866._
MY DEAREST MACREADY,
I have received your letter with the utmost pleasure and we all send our
most affectionate love to you, Mrs. Macready, Katie, Johnny, and the boy
of boys. All good Christmas and New Year greetings are to be understood
as included.
You will be interested in knowing that, encouraged by the success of
summer cricket-matches, I got up a quantity of foot-races and rustic
sports in my field here on the 26th last past: as I have never yet had a
case of drunkenness, the landlord of The Falstaff had a drinking-booth
on the ground. All the prizes I gave were in money, too. We had two
thousand people here. Among the crowd were soldiers, navvies, and
labourers of all kinds. Not a stake was pulled up, or a rope slackened,
or one farthing's-worth of damage done. To every competitor (only) a
printed bill of general rules was given, with the concluding words: "Mr.
Dickens puts every man upon his honour to assist in preserving order."
There was not a dispute all day, and they went away at sunset rending
the air with cheers, and leaving every flag on a six hundred yards'
course as neat as they found it when the gates were opened at ten in the
morning. Surely this is a bright sign in the neighbourhood of such a
place as Chatham!
"Mugby Junction" turned, yesterday afternoon, the extraordinary number
of two hundred and fifty thousand!
In the middle of next month I begin a new course of forty-two readings.
If any of them bring me within reach of Cheltenham, with an hour to
spare, I shall come on to you, even for that hour. More of this when I
am afield and have my list, which Dolby (for Chappell) is now
preparing.
Forster and Mrs. Forster were to have come to us next Monday, to stay
until Saturday. I write "were," because I hear that Forster (who had a
touch of bronchitis when he wrote to me on Christmas Eve) is in bed.
Katie, who has been ill of low nervous fever, was brought here yesterday
from London. She bore the journey much better than I expected, and so I
hope will soon recover. This is my little stock of news.
I begin to discover in your riper years, that you have been secretly
vain of your handwriting all your life. For I swear I see no change in
it! What it always was since I first knew it (a year or two!) it _is_.
This I will maintain against all comers.
Ever affectionately, my dearest Macready.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/William%20De%20Cerjat/577Charles Dickens
1867-00-00[Sidenote: M. de Cerjat.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_New Year's Day, 1867._
MY DEAR CERJAT,
Thoroughly determined to be beforehand with "the middle of next summer,"
your penitent friend and remorseful correspondent thus addresses you.
The big dog, on a day last autumn, having seized a little girl (sister
to one of the servants) whom he knew, and was bound to respect, was
flogged by his master, and then sentenced to be shot at seven next
morning. He went out very cheerfully with the half-dozen men told off
for the purpose, evidently thinking that they were going to be the death
of somebody unknown. But observing in the procession an empty
wheelbarrow and a double-barrelled gun, he became meditative, and fixed
the bearer of the gun with his eyes. A stone deftly thrown across him by
the village blackguard (chief mourner) caused him to look round for an
instant, and he then fell dead, shot through the heart. Two posthumous
children are at this moment rolling on the lawn; one will evidently
inherit his ferocity, and will probably inherit the gun. The pheasant
was a little ailing towards Christmas Day, and was found dead under some
ivy in his cage, with his head under his wing, on the morning of the
twenty-seventh of December, one thousand eight hundred and sixty-six. I,
proprietor of the remains of the two deceased, am working hard, getting
up "Barbox" and "The Boy at Mugby," with which I begin a new series of
readings in London on the fifteenth. Next morning I believe I start into
the country. When I read, I _don't_ write. I only edit, and have the
proof-sheets sent me for the purpose. Here are your questions answered.
As to the Reform question, it should have been, and could have been,
perfectly known to any honest man in England that the more intelligent
part of the great masses were deeply dissatisfied with the state of
representation, but were in a very moderate and patient condition,
awaiting the better intellectual cultivation of numbers of their
fellows. The old insolent resource of assailing them and making the most
audaciously wicked statements that they are politically indifferent,
has borne the inevitable fruit. The perpetual taunt, "Where are they?"
has called them out with the answer: "Well then, if you _must_ know,
here we are." The intolerable injustice of vituperating the bribed to an
assembly of bribers, has goaded their sense of justice beyond endurance.
And now, what they would have taken they won't take, and whatever they
are steadily bent upon having they will get. Rely upon it, this is the
real state of the case. As to your friend "Punch," you will find him
begin to turn at the very selfsame instant when the new game shall
manifestly become the losing one. You may notice his shoes pinching him
a little already.
My dear fellow, I have no more power to stop that mutilation of my books
than you have. It is as certain as that every inventor of anything
designed for the public good, and offered to the English Government,
becomes _ipso facto_ a criminal, to have his heart broken on the
circumlocutional wheel. It is as certain as that the whole Crimean story
will be retold, whenever this country again goes to war. And to tell the
truth, I have such a very small opinion of what the great genteel have
done for us, that I am very philosophical indeed concerning what the
great vulgar may do, having a decided opinion that they can't do worse.
This is the time of year when the theatres do best, there being still
numbers of people who make it a sort of religion to see Christmas
pantomimes. Having my annual houseful, I have, as yet, seen nothing.
Fechter has neither pantomime nor burlesque, but is doing a new version
of the old "Trente Ans de la Vie d'un Joueur." I am afraid he will not
find his account in it. On the whole, the theatres, except in the
articles of scenery and pictorial effect, are poor enough. But in some
of the smaller houses there are actors who, if there were any dramatic
head-quarters as a school, might become very good. The most hopeless
feature is, that they have the smallest possible idea of an effective
and harmonious whole, each "going in" for himself or herself. The
music-halls attract an immense public, and don't refine the general
taste. But such things as they do are well done of their kind, and
always briskly and punctually.
The American yacht race is the last sensation. I hope the general
interest felt in it on this side will have a wholesome interest on that.
It will be a woeful day when John and Jonathan throw their caps into the
ring. The French Emperor is indubitably in a dangerous state. His
Parisian popularity wanes, and his army are discontented with him. I
hear on high authority that his secret police are always making
discoveries that render him desperately uneasy.
You know how we have been swindling in these parts. But perhaps you
don't know that Mr. ----, the "eminent" contractor, before he fell into
difficulties settled _one million of money_ on his wife. Such a good and
devoted husband!
My daughter Katie has been very ill of nervous fever. On the 27th of
December she was in a condition to be brought down here (old high road
and post-horses), and has been steadily getting better ever since. Her
husband is here too, and is on the whole as well as he ever is or ever
will be, I fear.
We played forfeit-games here, last night, and then pool. For a
billiard-room has been added to the house since you were here. Come and
play a match with me.
Always affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/578Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
ADELPHI HOTEL, LIVERPOOL, _Monday, Jan. 21st, 1867._
MY DEAREST GEORGY,
First I send you my most affectionate wishes for many, many happy
returns of your birthday. That done, from my heart of hearts, I go on to
my small report of myself.
The readings have produced such an immense effect here that we are
coming back for two more in the middle of February. "Marigold" and the
"Trial," on Friday night, and the "Carol," on Saturday afternoon, were a
perfect furore; and the surprise about "Barbox" has been amusingly
great. It is a most extraordinary thing, after the enormous sale of that
Christmas number, that the provincial public seems to have combined to
believe that it _won't_ make a reading. From Wolverhampton and Leeds we
have exactly the same expression of feelings _beforehand_. Exactly as I
made "Copperfield"--always to the poorest houses I had with Headland,
and against that luminary's entreaty--so I should have to make this, if
I hadn't "Marigold" always in demand.
It being next to impossible for people to come out at night with horses,
we have felt the weather in the stalls, and expect to do so through this
week. The half-crown and shilling publics have crushed to their places
most splendidly. The enthusiasm has been unbounded. On Friday night I
quite astonished myself; but I was taken so faint afterwards that they
laid me on a sofa at the hall for half an hour. I attribute it to my
distressing inability to sleep at night, and to nothing worse.
Scott does very well indeed. As a dresser he is perfect. In a quarter of
an hour after I go into the retiring-room, where all my clothes are
airing and everything is set out neatly in its own allotted space, I am
ready; and he then goes softly out, and sits outside the door. In the
morning he is equally punctual, quiet, and quick. He has his needles and
thread, buttons, and so forth, always at hand; and in travelling he is
very systematic with the luggage. What with Dolby and what with this
skilful valet, everything is made as easy to me as it possibly _can_ be,
and Dolby would do anything to lighten the work, and does everything.
There is great distress here among the poor (four thousand people
relieved last Saturday at one workhouse), and there is great anxiety
concerning _seven mail-steamers some days overdue_. Such a circumstance
as this last has never been known. It is supposed that some great
revolving storm has whirled them all out of their course. One of these
missing ships is an American mail, another an Australian mail.
_Same Afternoon._
We have been out for four hours in the bitter east wind, and walking on
the sea-shore, where there is a broad strip of great blocks of ice. My
hands are so rigid that I write with great difficulty.
We have been constantly talking of the terrible Regent's Park accident.
I hope and believe that nearly the worst of it is now known.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/579Charles Dickens
1867-01-22[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
CHESTER, _Tuesday, Jan. 22nd, 1867._
MY DEAREST MAMIE,
We came over here from Liverpool at eleven this forenoon. There was a
heavy swell in the Mersey breaking over the boat; the cold was nipping,
and all the roads we saw as we came along were wretched. We find a very
moderate let here; but I am myself rather surprised to know that a
hundred and twenty stalls have made up their minds to the undertaking of
getting to the hall. This seems to be a very nice hotel, but it is an
extraordinarily cold one. Our reading for to-night is "Marigold" and
"Trial." With amazing perversity the local agent said to Dolby: "They
hoped that Mr. Dickens _might_ have given them 'The Boy at Mugby.'"
Barton, the gasman who succeeded the man who sprained his leg, sprained
_his_ leg yesterday!! And that, not at his work, but in running
downstairs at the hotel. However, he has hobbled through it so far, and
I hope will hobble on, for he knows his work.
I have seldom seen a place look more hopelessly frozen up than this
place does. The hall is like a Methodist chapel in low spirits, and with
a cold in its head. A few blue people shiver at the corners of the
streets. And this house, which is outside the town, looks like an
ornament on an immense twelfth cake baked for 1847.
I am now going to the fire to try to warm myself, but have not the least
expectation of succeeding. The sitting-room has two large windows in it,
down to the ground and facing due east. The adjoining bedroom (mine) has
also two large windows in it, down to the ground and facing due east.
The very large doors are opposite the large windows, and I feel as if I
were something to eat in a pantry.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/580Charles Dickens
1867-01-24[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
HEN AND CHICKENS, BIRMINGHAM, _Thursday, Jan. 24th, 1867._
At Chester we read in a snowstorm and a fall of ice. I think it was the
worst weather I ever saw. Nevertheless, the people were enthusiastic. At
Wolverhampton last night the thaw had thoroughly set in, and it rained
heavily. We had not intended to go back there, but have arranged to do
so on the day after Ash Wednesday. Last night I was again heavily
beaten. We came on here after the reading (it is only a ride of forty
minutes), and it was as much as I could do to hold out the journey. But
I was not faint, as at Liverpool; I was only exhausted. I am all right
this morning; and to-night, as you know, I have a rest. I trust that
Charley Collins is better, and that Mamie is strong and well again.
Yesterday I had a note from Katie, which seemed hopeful and encouraging.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/581Charles Dickens
1867-01-24[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
HEN AND CHICKENS, BIRMINGHAM, _Thursday, Jan. 24th, 1867._
Since I wrote to your aunt just now, I have received your note addressed
to Wolverhampton. We left the men there last night, and they brought it
on with them at noon to-day.
The maimed gasman's foot is much swollen, but he limps about and does
his work. I have doctored him up with arnica. During the "Boy" last
night there was an escape of gas from the side of my top batten, which
caught the copper-wire and was within a thread of bringing down the
heavy reflector into the stalls. It was a very ticklish matter, though
the audience knew nothing about it. I saw it, and the gasman and Dolby
saw it, and stood at that side of the platform in agonies. We all three
calculated that there would be just time to finish and save it; when the
gas was turned out the instant I had done, the whole thing was at its
very last and utmost extremity. Whom it would have tumbled on, or what
might have been set on fire, it is impossible to say.
I hope you rewarded your police escort on Tuesday night. It was the most
tremendous night I ever saw at Chester.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/582Charles Dickens
1867-02-01[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
LEEDS, _Friday, Feb. 1st, 1867._
We got here prosperously, and had a good (but not great) house for
"Barbox" and "Boy" last night. For "Marigold" and "Trial," to-night,
everything is gone. And I even have my doubts of the possibility of
Dolby's cramming the people in. For "Marigold" and "Trial" at
Manchester, to-morrow, we also expect a fine hall.
I shall be at the office for next Wednesday. If Charley Collins should
have been got to Gad's, I will come there for that day. If not, I
suppose we had best open the official bower again.
This is a beastly place, with a very good hotel. Except Preston, it is
one of the nastiest places I know. The room is like a capacious coal
cellar, and is incredibly filthy; but for sound it is perfect.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Anonymous/583Charles Dickens
1867-02-05[Sidenote: Anonymous.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND," _Tuesday, Feb. 5th, 1867._
DEAR SIR,
I have looked at the larger half of the first volume of your novel, and
have pursued the more difficult points of the story through the other
two volumes.
You will, of course, receive my opinion as that of an individual writer
and student of art, who by no means claims to be infallible.
I think you are too ambitious, and that you have not sufficient
knowledge of life or character to venture on so comprehensive an
attempt. Evidences of inexperience in every way, and of your power being
far below the situations that you imagine, present themselves to me in
almost every page I have read. It would greatly surprise me if you found
a publisher for this story, on trying your fortune in that line, or
derived anything from it but weariness and bitterness of spirit.
On the evidence thus put before me, I cannot even entirely satisfy
myself that you have the faculty of authorship latent within you. If you
have not, and yet pursue a vocation towards which you have no call, you
cannot choose but be a wretched man. Let me counsel you to have the
patience to form yourself carefully, and the courage to renounce the
endeavour if you cannot establish your case on a very much smaller
scale. You see around you every day, how many outlets there are for
short pieces of fiction in all kinds. Try if you can achieve any success
within these modest limits (I have practised in my time what I preach to
you), and in the meantime put your three volumes away.
Faithfully yours.
P.S.--Your MS. will be returned separately from this office.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/584Charles Dickens
1867-02-15[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
LIVERPOOL, _Friday, Feb. 15th, 1867._
My short report of myself is that we had an enormous turn-away last
night, and do not doubt about having a cram to-night. The day has been
very fine, and I have turned it to the wholesomest account by walking on
the sands at New Brighton all the morning. I am not quite right, but
believe it to be an effect of the railway shaking. There is no doubt of
the fact that, after the Staplehurst experience, it tells more and
more, instead of (as one might have expected) less and less.
The charming room here greatly lessens the fatigue of this fatiguing
week. I read last night with no more exertion than if I had been at
Gad's, and yet to eleven hundred people, and with astonishing effect. It
is "Copperfield" to-night, and Liverpool is the "Copperfield"
stronghold.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/585Charles Dickens
1867-02-17[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
GLASGOW, _Sunday, Feb. 17th, 1867._
We arrived here this morning at our time to the moment, five minutes
past ten. We turned away great numbers on both nights at Liverpool; and
Manchester last night was a splendid spectacle. They cheered to that
extent after it was over, that I was obliged to huddle on my clothes
(for I was undressing to prepare for the journey), and go back again.
After so heavy a week, it _was_ rather stiff to start on this long
journey at a quarter to two in the morning; but I got more sleep than I
ever got in a railway-carriage before, and it really was not tedious.
The travelling was admirable, and a wonderful contrast to my friend the
Midland.
I am not by any means knocked up, though I have, as I had in the last
series of readings, a curious feeling of soreness all round the body,
which I suppose to arise from the great exertion of voice. It is a mercy
that we were not both made really ill at Liverpool. On Friday morning I
was taken so faint and sick, that I was obliged to leave the table. On
the same afternoon the same thing happened to Dolby. We then found that
a part of the hotel close to us was dismantled for painting, and that
they were at that moment painting a green passage leading to our rooms,
with a most horrible mixture of white lead and arsenic. On pursuing the
enquiry, I found that the four lady book-keepers in the bar were all
suffering from the poison.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/586Charles Dickens
1867-02-19[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
BRIDGE OF ALLAN, _Tuesday, Feb. 19th, 1867._
I was very glad to get your letter before leaving Glasgow this morning.
This is a poor return for it, but the post goes out early, and we come
in late.
Yesterday morning I was so unwell that I wrote to Frank Beard, from whom
I shall doubtless hear to-morrow. I mention it, only in case you should
come in his way, for I know how perversely such things fall out. I felt
it a little more exertion to read afterwards, and I passed a sleepless
night after that again; but otherwise I am in good force and spirits
to-day. I may say, in the best force.
The quiet of this little place is sure to do me good. The little inn in
which we are established seems a capital house of the best country sort.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/587Charles Dickens
1867-02-21[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
GLASGOW, _Thursday, Feb. 21st, 1867._
After two days' rest at the Bridge of Allan I am in renewed force, and
have nothing to complain of but inability to sleep. I have been in
excellent air all day since Tuesday at noon, and made an interesting
walk to Stirling yesterday, and saw its lions, and (strange to relate)
was not bored by them. Indeed, they left me so fresh that I knocked at
the gate of the prison, presented myself to the governor, and took Dolby
over the jail, to his unspeakable interest. We then walked back again
to our excellent country inn.
Enclosed is a letter from Alfred, which you and your aunt will be
interested in reading, and which I meant to send you sooner but forgot
it. Wonderful as it is to mention, the sun shines here to-day! But to
counterbalance that phenomenon I am in close hiding from ----, who has
christened his infant son in my name, and, consequently, haunts the
building. He and Dolby have already nearly come into collision, in
consequence of the latter being always under the dominion of the one
idea that he is bound to knock everybody down who asks for me.
The "Jewish lady," wishing to mark her
"appreciation of Mr. Dickens's nobility of
character," presented him with a copy of
Benisch's Hebrew and English Bible, with this
inscription: "Presented to Charles Dickens, in
grateful and admiring recognition of his having
exercised the noblest quality man can
possess--that of atoning for an injury as soon
as conscious of having inflicted it."
The acknowledgment of the gift is the following
letter:http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Jewish%20Lady/588Charles Dickens
1867-03-01[Sidenote: Jewish Lady.]
BRADFORD, YORKSHIRE, _Friday, March 1st, 1867._
MY DEAR MRS. ----,
I am working through a series of readings, widely dispersed through
England, Scotland, and Ireland, and am so constantly occupied that it is
very difficult for me to write letters. I have received your highly
esteemed note (forwarded from my home in Kent), and should have replied
to it sooner but that I had a hope of being able to get home and see
your present first. As I have not been able to do so, however, and am
hardly likely to do so for two months to come, I delay no longer. It is
safely awaiting me on my own desk in my own quiet room. I cannot thank
you for it too cordially, and cannot too earnestly assure you that I
shall always prize it highly. The terms in which you send me that mark
of your remembrance are more gratifying to me than I can possibly
express to you; for they assure me that there is nothing but goodwill
left between you and me and a people for whom I have a real regard, and
to whom I would not wilfully have given an offence or done an injustice
for any worldly consideration.
Believe me, very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/589Charles Dickens
1867-03-06[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
NEWCASTLE-ON-TYNE, _Wednesday, March 6th, 1867._
The readings have made an immense effect in this place, and it is
remarkable that although the people are individually rough, collectively
they are an unusually tender and sympathetic audience; while their comic
perception is quite up to the high London standard. The atmosphere is so
very heavy that yesterday we escaped to Tynemouth for a two hours' sea
walk. There was a high north wind blowing and a magnificent sea running.
Large vessels were being towed in and out over the stormy bar, with
prodigious waves breaking on it; and spanning the restless uproar of the
waters was a quiet rainbow of transcendent beauty. The scene was quite
wonderful. We were in the full enjoyment of it when a heavy sea caught
us, knocked us over, and in a moment drenched us, and filled even our
pockets. We had nothing for it but to shake ourselves together (like
Doctor Marigold) and dry ourselves as well as we could by hard walking
in the wind and sunshine! But we were wet through for all that when we
came back here to dinner after half an hour's railway ride.
I am wonderfully well, and quite fresh and strong. Have had to doctor
Dolby for a bad cold; have not caught it (yet), and have set him on his
legs again.
Scott is striking the tents and loading the baggages, so I must deliver
up my writing-desk. We meet, please God, on Tuesday.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/590Charles Dickens
1867-03-15[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
SHELBOURNE HOTEL, DUBLIN, _Friday, March 15th, 1867._
We made our journey through an incessant snowstorm on Wednesday night;
at last got snowed up among the Welsh mountains in a tremendous storm of
wind, came to a stop, and had to dig the engine out. We went to bed at
Holyhead at six in the morning of Thursday, and got aboard the packet at
two yesterday afternoon. It blew hard, but as the wind was right astern,
we only rolled and did not pitch much. As I walked about on the bridge
all the four hours, and had cold salt beef and biscuit there and
brandy-and-water, you will infer that my Channel training has not worn
out.
Our "business" here is _very bad_, though at Belfast it is enormous.
There is no doubt that great alarm prevails here. This hotel is
constantly filling and emptying as families leave the country, and set
in a current to the steamers. There is apprehension of some disturbance
between to-morrow night and Monday night (both inclusive), and I learn
this morning that all the drinking-shops are to be closed from to-night
until Tuesday. It is rumoured here that the Liverpool people are very
uneasy about some apprehended disturbance there at the same time. Very
likely you will know more about this than I do, and very likely it may
be nothing. There is no doubt whatever that alarm prevails, and the
manager of this hotel, an intelligent German, is very gloomy on the
subject. On the other hand, there is feasting going on, and I have been
asked to dinner-parties by divers civil and military authorities.
Don't _you_ be uneasy, I say once again. You may be absolutely certain
that there is no cause for it. We are splendidly housed here, and in
great comfort.
Love to Charley and Katey.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/591Charles Dickens
1867-03-16[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
SHELBOURNE HOTEL, DUBLIN, _Saturday, March 16th, 1867._
I daresay you know already that I held many councils in London about
coming to Ireland at all, and was much against it. Everything looked as
bad here as need be, but we did very well last night after all.
There is considerable alarm here beyond all question, and great
depression in all kinds of trade and commerce. To-morrow being St.
Patrick's Day, there are apprehensions of some disturbance, and croakers
predict that it will come off between to-night and Monday night. Of
course there are preparations on all sides, and large musters of
soldiers and police, though they are kept carefully out of sight. One
would not suppose, walking about the streets, that any disturbance was
impending; and yet there is no doubt that the materials of one lie
smouldering up and down the city and all over the country. [I have a
letter from Mrs. Bernal Osborne this morning, describing the fortified
way in which she is living in her own house in the County Tipperary.]
You may be quite sure that your venerable parent will take good care of
himself. If any riot were to break out, I should immediately stop the
readings here. Should all remain quiet, I begin to think they will be
satisfactorily remunerative after all. At Belfast, we shall have an
enormous house. I read "Copperfield" and "Bob" here on Monday;
"Marigold" and "Trial" at Belfast, on Wednesday; and "Carol" and "Trial"
here, on Friday. This is all my news, except that I am in perfect force.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/592Charles Dickens
1867-03-17[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
SHELBOURNE HOTEL, DUBLIN, _Sunday, March 17th, 1867._
Everything remains in appearance perfectly quiet here. The streets are
gay all day, now that the weather is improved, and singularly quiet and
deserted at night. But the whole place is secretly girt in with a
military force. To-morrow night is supposed to be a critical time; but
in view of the enormous preparations, I should say that the chances are
at least one hundred to one against any disturbance.
I cannot make sure whether I wrote to you yesterday, and told you that
we had done very well at the first reading after all, even in money. The
reception was prodigious, and the readings are the town talk. But I
rather think I did actually write this to you. My doubt on the subject
arises from my having deliberated about writing on a Saturday.
The most curious, and for facilities of mere destruction, such as firing
houses in different quarters, the most dangerous piece of intelligence
imparted to me on authority is, that the Dublin domestic men-servants as
a class are all Fenians.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/593Charles Dickens
1867-03-20[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
BELFAST, _Wednesday, March 20th, 1867._
The post goes out at twelve, and I have only time to report myself. The
snow not lying between this and Dublin, we got here yesterday to our
time, after a cold but pleasant journey. Fitzgerald came on with us. I
had a really charming letter from Mrs. Fitzgerald, asking me to stay
there. She must be a perfectly unaffected and genuine lady. There are
kind messages to you and Mary in it. I have sent it on to Mary, who will
probably in her turn show it to you. We had a wonderful crowd at Dublin
on Monday, and the greatest appreciation possible. We have a good let,
in a large hall, here to-night. But I am perfectly convinced that the
worst part of the Fenian business is to come yet.
All about the Fitzgeralds and everything else when we meet.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/594Charles Dickens
1867-03-21[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
BELFAST, _Thursday, March 21st, 1867._
In spite of public affairs and dismal weather, we are doing wonders in
Ireland.
That the conspiracy is a far larger and more important one than would
seem from what it has done yet, there is no doubt. I have had a good
deal of talk with a certain colonel, whose duty it has been to
investigate it, day and night, since last September. That it will give a
world of trouble, and cost a world of money, I take to be (after what I
have thus learned) beyond all question. One regiment has been found to
contain five hundred Fenian soldiers every man of whom was sworn in the
barrack-yard. How information is swiftly and secretly conveyed all over
the country, the Government with all its means and money cannot
discover; but every hour it is found that instructions, warnings, and
other messages are circulated from end to end of Ireland. It is a very
serious business indeed.
I have just time to send this off, and to report myself quite well
except for a slight cold.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/595Charles Dickens
1867-03-29[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
NORWICH, _Friday, March 29th, 1867._
The reception at Cambridge last night was something to be proud of in
such a place. The colleges mustered in full force from the biggest guns
to the smallest, and went far beyond even Manchester in the roars of
welcome and the rounds of cheers. All through the readings, the whole of
the assembly, old men as well as young, and women as well as men, took
everything with a heartiness of enjoyment not to be described. The place
was crammed, and the success the most brilliant I have ever seen.
What we are doing in this sleepy old place I don't know, but I have no
doubt it is mild enough.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Walter%20Thornbury/596Charles Dickens
1867-04-01[Sidenote: Mr. Walter Thornbury]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Monday, April 1st, 1867._
MY DEAR THORNBURY,
I am very doubtful indeed about "Vaux," and have kept it out of the
number in consequence. The mere details of such a rascal's proceedings,
whether recorded by himself or set down by the Reverend Ordinary, are
not wholesome for a large audience, and are scarcely justifiable (I
think) as claiming to be a piece of literature. I can understand
Barrington to be a good subject, as involving the representation of a
period, a style of manners, an order of dress, certain habits of street
life, assembly-room life, and coffee-room life, etc.; but there is a
very broad distinction between this and mere Newgate Calendar. The
latter would assuredly damage your book, and be protested against to me.
I have a conviction of it, founded on constant observation and
experience here.
Your kind invitation is extremely welcome and acceptable to me, but I am
sorry to add that I must not go a-visiting. For this reason: So
incessantly have I been "reading," that I have not once been at home at
Gad's Hill since last January, and am little likely to get there before
the middle of May. Judge how the master's eye must be kept on the place
when it does at length get a look at it after so long an absence! I hope
you will descry in this a reason for coming to me again, instead of my
coming to you.
The extinct prize-fighters, as a body, I take to be a good subject, for
much the same reason as George Barrington. Their patrons were a class of
men now extinct too, and the whole ring of those days (not to mention
Jackson's rooms in Bond Street) is a piece of social history. Now Vaux
is not, nor is he even a phenomenon among thieves.
Faithfully yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Clarkson%20Stanfield%20RA/597Charles Dickens
1867-04-18[Sidenote: Mr. Clarkson Stanfield, R.A.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER,
_Thursday, April 18th, 1867._
MY DEAR STANNY,
The time of year reminds me how the months have gone, since I last heard
from you through Mrs. Stanfield.
I hope you have not thought me unmindful of you in the meanwhile. I have
been almost constantly travelling and reading. England, Ireland, and
Scotland have laid hold of me by turns, and I have had no rest. As soon
as I had finished this kind of work last year, I had to fall to work
upon "All the Year Round" and the Christmas number. I was no sooner quit
of that task, and the Christmas season was but run out to its last day,
when I was tempted into another course of fifty readings that are not
yet over. I am here now for two days, and have not seen the place since
Twelfth Night. When a reading in London has been done, I have been
brought up for it from some great distance, and have next morning been
carried back again. But the fifty will be "paid out" (as we say at sea)
by the middle of May, and then I hope to see you.
Reading at Cheltenham the other day, I saw Macready, who sent his love
to you. His face was much more massive and as it used to be, than when I
saw him previous to his illness. His wife takes admirable care of him,
and is on the happiest terms with his daughter Katie. His boy by the
second marriage is a jolly little fellow, and leads a far easier life
than the children you and I remember, who used to come in at dessert and
have each a biscuit and a glass of water, in which last refreshment I
was always convinced that they drank, with the gloomiest malignity,
"Destruction to the gormandising grown-up company!"
I hope to look up your latest triumphs on the day of the Academy dinner.
Of course as yet I have had no opportunity of even hearing of what
anyone has done. I have been (in a general way) snowed up for four
months. The locomotive with which I was going to Ireland was dug out of
the snow at midnight, in Wales. Both passages across were made in a
furious snowstorm. The snow lay ankle-deep in Dublin, and froze hard at
Belfast. In Scotland it slanted before a perpetual east wind. In
Yorkshire, it derived novelty from thunder and lightning. Whirlwinds
everywhere I don't mention.
God bless you and yours. If I look like some weather-beaten pilot when
we meet, don't be surprised. Any mahogany-faced stranger who holds out
his hand to you will probably turn out, on inspection, to be the old
original Dick.
Ever, my dear Stanny, your faithful and affectionate.
P.S.--I wish you could have been with me (of course in a snowstorm) one
day on the pier at Tynemouth. There was a very heavy sea running, and a
perfect fleet of screw merchantmen were plunging in and out on the turn
of the tide at high-water. Suddenly there came a golden horizon, and a
most glorious rainbow burst out, arching one large ship, as if she were
sailing direct for heaven. I was so enchanted by the scene, that I
became oblivious of a few thousand tons of water coming on in an
enormous roller, and was knocked down and beaten by its spray when it
broke, and so completely wetted through and through, that the very
pockets in my pocket-book were full of sea.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/George%20Stanfield/598Charles Dickens
1867-05-19[Sidenote: Mr. George Stanfield.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Sunday, May 19th, 1867._
ON THE DEATH OF HIS FATHER.
MY DEAR GEORGE,
When I came up to the house this afternoon and saw what had happened, I
had not the courage to ring, though I had thought I was fully prepared
by what I heard when I called yesterday. No one of your father's friends
can ever have loved him more dearly than I always did, or can have
better known the worth of his noble character.
It is idle to suppose that I can do anything for you; and yet I cannot
help saying that I am staying here for some days, and that if I could,
it would be a much greater relief to me than it could be a service to
you.
Your poor mother has been constantly in my thoughts since I saw the
quiet bravery with which she preserved her composure. The beauty of her
ministration sank into my heart when I saw him for the last time on
earth. May God be with her, and with you all, in your great loss.
Affectionately yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/599Charles Dickens
1867-06-06[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
_Thursday, June 6th, 1867._
MY DEAR WILLS,
I cannot tell you how warmly I feel your letter, or how deeply I
appreciate the affection and regard in which it originates. I thank you
for it with all my heart.
You will not suppose that I make light of any of your misgivings if I
present the other side of the question. Every objection that you make
strongly impresses me, and will be revolved in my mind again and again.
When I went to America in '42, I was so much younger, but (I think) very
much weaker too. I had had a painful surgical operation performed
shortly before going out, and had had the labour from week to week of
"Master Humphrey's Clock." My life in the States was a life of continual
speech-making (quite as laborious as reading), and I was less patient
and more irritable then than I am now. My idea of a course of readings
in America is, that it would involve far less travelling than you
suppose, that the large first-class rooms would absorb the whole course,
and that the receipts would be very much larger than your estimate,
unless the demand for the readings is ENORMOUSLY EXAGGERATED ON ALL
HANDS. There is considerable reason for this view of the case. And I can
hardly think that all the speculators who beset, and all the private
correspondents who urge me, are in a conspiracy or under a common
delusion.
I shall never rest much while my faculties last, and (if I know myself)
have a certain something in me that would still be active in rusting and
corroding me, if I flattered myself that I was in repose. On the other
hand, I think that my habit of easy self-abstraction and withdrawal into
fancies has always refreshed and strengthened me in short intervals
wonderfully. I always seem to myself to have rested far more than I have
worked; and I do really believe that I have some exceptional faculty of
accumulating young feelings in short pauses, which obliterates a
quantity of wear and tear.
My worldly circumstances (such a large family considered) are very good.
I don't want money. All my possessions are free and in the best order.
Still, at fifty-five or fifty-six, the likelihood of making a very great
addition to one's capital in half a year is an immense consideration....
I repeat the phrase, because there should be something large to set
against the objections.
I dine with Forster to-day, to talk it over. I have no doubt he will
urge most of your objections and particularly the last, though American
friends and correspondents he has, have undoubtedly staggered him more
than I ever knew him to be staggered on the money question. Be assured
that no one can present any argument to me which will weigh more
heartily with me than your kind words, and that whatever comes of my
present state of abeyance, I shall never forget your letter or cease to
be grateful for it.
Ever, my dear Wills, faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/600Charles Dickens
1867-06-13[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Sunday, June 13th, 1867._
MY DEAR WILLS,
I have read the first three numbers of Wilkie's story this morning, and
have gone minutely through the plot of the rest to the last line. It
gives a series of "narratives," but it is a very curious story, wild,
and yet domestic, with excellent character in it, and great mystery. It
is prepared with extraordinary care, and has every chance of being a
hit. It is in many respects much better than anything he has done. The
question is, how shall we fill up the blank between Mabel's progress and
Wilkie? What do you think of proposing to Fitzgerald to do a story three
months long? I daresay he has some unfinished or projected something by
him.
I have an impression that it was not Silvester who tried Eliza Fenning,
but Knowles. One can hardly suppose Thornbury to make such a mistake,
but I wish you would look into the Annual Register. I have added a final
paragraph about the unfairness of the judge, whoever he was. I
distinctly recollect to have read of his "putting down" of Eliza
Fenning's father when the old man made some miserable suggestion in his
daughter's behalf (this is not noticed by Thornbury), and he also
stopped some suggestion that a knife thrust into a loaf adulterated with
alum would present the appearance that these knives presented. But I may
have got both these points from looking up some pamphlets in Upcott's
collection which I once had.
Your account of your journey reminds me of one of the latest American
stories, how a traveller by stage-coach said to the driver: "Did you
ever see a snail, sir?" "Yes, sir." "Where did you meet him, sir?" "I
_didn't_ meet him, sir!" "Wa'al, sir, I think you did, if you'll excuse
me, for I'm damned if you ever overtook him."
Ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Henderson/601Charles Dickens
1867-07-04[Sidenote: Mrs. Henderson.]
GAD'S HILL, _Thursday, July 4th, 1867._
MY DEAR MRS. HENDERSON,
I was more shocked than surprised by the receipt of your mother's
announcement of our poor dear Marguerite's death. When I heard of the
consultation, and recalled what had preceded it and what I have seen
here, my hopes were very slight.
Your letter did not reach me until last night, and thus I could not
avoid remaining here to-day, to keep an American appointment of unusual
importance. You and your mother both know, I think, that I had a great
affection for Marguerite, that we had many dear remembrances together,
and that her self-reliance and composed perseverance had awakened my
highest admiration in later times. No one could have stood by her grave
to-day with a better knowledge of all that was great and good in her
than I have, or with a more loving remembrance of her through all her
phases since she first came to London a pretty timid girl.
I do not trouble your mother by writing to her separately. It is a sad,
sad task to write at all. God help us!
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Percy%20Fitzgerald/602Charles Dickens
1867-07-21[Sidenote: Mr. Percy Fitzgerald.]
GAD'S HILL, _July 21st, 1867._
MY DEAR FITZGERALD,
I am heartily glad to get your letter, and shall be thoroughly well
pleased to study you again in the pages of A. Y. R.
I have settled nothing yet about America, but am going to send Dolby out
on the 3rd of next month to survey the land, and come back with a report
on some heads whereon I require accurate information. Proposals (both
from American and English speculators) of a very tempting nature have
been repeatedly made to me; but I cannot endure the thought of binding
myself to give so many readings there whether I like it or no; and if I
go at all, am bent on going with Dolby single-handed.
I have been doing two things for America; one, the little story to which
you refer; the other, four little papers for a child's magazine. I like
them both, and think the latter a queer combination of a child's mind
with a grown-up joke. I have had them printed to assure correct printing
in the United States. You shall have the proof to read, with the
greatest pleasure. On second thoughts, why shouldn't I send you the
children's proof by this same post? I will, as I have it here, send it
under another cover. When you return it, you shall have the short story.
Believe me, always heartily yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Percy%20Fitzgerald/603Charles Dickens
1867-07-28[Sidenote: Mr. Percy Fitzgerald.]
EXTRACT.
_July 28th, 1867._
I am glad you like the children, and particularly glad you like the
pirate. I remember very well when I had a general idea of occupying that
place in history at the same age. But I loved more desperately than
Boldheart.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/604Charles Dickens
1867-08-02[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
ADELPHI HOTEL, LIVERPOOL, _Friday Night, Aug. 2nd, 1867._
MY DEAREST GEORGY,
I cannot get a boot on--wear a slipper on my left foot, and consequently
am here under difficulties. My foot is occasionally painful, but not
very. I don't think it worth while consulting anybody about it as yet. I
make out so many reasons against supposing it to be gouty, that I really
do not think it is.
Dolby begs me to send all manner of apologetic messages for his going to
America. He is very cheerful and hopeful, but evidently feels the
separation from his wife and child very much. His sister[17] was at
Euston Square this morning, looking very well. Sainton too, very light
and jovial.
With the view of keeping myself and my foot quiet, I think I will not
come to Gad's Hill until Monday. If I don't appear before, send basket
to Gravesend to meet me, leaving town by the 12.10 on Monday. This is
important, as I couldn't walk a quarter of a mile to-night for five
hundred pounds.
Love to all at Gad's.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/605Charles Dickens
1867-09-02[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
GAD'S HILL, _Monday, Sept. 2nd, 1867._
MY DEAR WILLS,
Like you, I was shocked when this new discovery burst upon me on Friday,
though, unlike you, I never could believe in ----, solely (I think)
because, often as I have tried him, I never found him standing by my
desk when I was writing a letter without trying to read it.
I fear there is no doubt that since ----'s discharge, he (----) has
stolen money at the readings. A case of an abstracted shilling seems to
have been clearly brought home to him by Chappell's people, and they
know very well what _that_ means. I supposed a very clear keeping off
from Anne's husband (whom I recommended for employment to Chappell) to
have been referable only to ----; but now I see how hopeless and unjust
it would be to expect belief from him with two such cases within his
knowledge.
But don't let the thing spoil your holiday. If we try to do our duty by
people we employ, by exacting their proper service from them on the one
hand, and treating them with all possible consistency, gentleness, and
consideration on the other, we know that we do right. Their doing wrong
cannot change our doing right, and that should be enough for us.
So I have given _my_ feathers a shake, and am all right again. Give
_your_ feathers a shake, and take a cheery flutter into the air of
Hertfordshire.
Great reports from Dolby and also from Fields! But I keep myself quite
calm, and hold my decision in abeyance until I shall have book, chapter,
and verse before me. Dolby hoped he could leave Uncle Sam on the 11th of
this month.
Sydney has passed as a lieutenant, and appeared at home yesterday, all
of a sudden, with the consequent golden garniture on his sleeve, which
I, God forgive me, stared at without the least idea that it meant
promotion.
I am glad you see a certain unlikeness to anything in the American
story. Upon myself it has made the strangest impression of reality and
originality!! And I feel as if I had read something (by somebody else),
which I should never get out of my mind!!! The main idea of the
narrator's position towards the other people was the idea that I _had_
for my next novel in A. Y. R. But it is very curious that I did not in
the least see how to begin his state of mind until I walked into Hoghton
Towers one bright April day with Dolby.
Faithfully ever.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/F%20D%20Finlay/606Charles Dickens
1867-09-03[Sidenote: Mr. F. D. Finlay.]
CONTRADICTING A NEWSPAPER REPORT OF HIS BEING IN A
CRITICAL STATE OF HEALTH.
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Tuesday, Sept. 3rd, 1867._
This is to certify that the undersigned victim of a periodical
paragraph-disease, which usually breaks out once in every seven years
(proceeding to England by the overland route to India and per Cunard
line to America, where it strikes the base of the Rocky Mountains, and,
rebounding to Europe, perishes on the steppes of Russia), is _not_ in a
"critical state of health," and has _not_ consulted "eminent surgeons,"
and never was better in his life, and is _not_ recommended to proceed to
the United States for "cessation from literary labour," and has not had
so much as a headache for twenty years.
CHARLES DICKENS.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/M%20Charles%20Fechter/607Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: M. Charles Fechter.]
"ALL THE YEAR ROUND" OFFICE,
_Monday, Sept. 16th, 1867._
MY DEAR FECHTER,
Going over the prompt-book carefully, I see one change in your part to
which (on Lytton's behalf) I positively object, as I am quite certain he
would not consent to it. It is highly injudicious besides, as striking
out the best known line in the play.
Turn to your part in Act III., the speech beginning
Pauline, _by pride
Angels have fallen ere thy time_: by pride----
You have made a passage farther on stand:
_Then did I seek to rise
Out of my mean estate. Thy bright image, etc._
I must stipulate for your restoring it thus:
Then did I seek to rise
Out of the prison of my mean estate;
And, with such jewels as the exploring mind
Brings from the caves of knowledge, buy my ransom
From those twin jailers of the daring heart--
Low birth and iron fortune. Thy bright image, etc. etc.
The last figure has been again and again quoted; is identified with the
play; is fine in itself; and above all, I KNOW that Lytton would not let
it go. In writing to him to-day, fully explaining the changes in detail,
and saying that I disapprove of nothing else, I have told him that I
notice this change and that I immediately let you know that it must not
be made.
(There will not be a man in the house from any newspaper who would not
detect mutilations in that speech, moreover.)
Ever.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/608Charles Dickens
1867-09-30[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
_Monday, Sept. 30th, 1867._
MY DEAREST GEORGY,
The telegram is despatched to Boston: "Yes. Go ahead." After a very
anxious consultation with Forster, and careful heed of what is to be
said for and against, I have made up my mind to see it out. I do not
expect as much money as the calculators estimate, but I cannot set the
hope of a large sum of money aside.
I am so nervous with travelling and anxiety to decide something, that I
can hardly write. But I send you these few words as my dearest and best
friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/609Charles Dickens
1867-09-30[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND," NO. 26, WELLINGTON STREET, STRAND,
LONDON, W.C.,
_Monday, Sept. 30th, 1867._
MY DEAREST MAMIE,
You will have had my telegram that I go to America. After a long
discussion with Forster, and consideration of what is to be said on both
sides, I have decided to go through with it. I doubt the profit being as
great as the calculation makes it, but the prospect is sufficiently
alluring to turn the scale on the American side.
Unless I telegraph to the contrary, I will come to Gravesend (send
basket there) by 12 train on Wednesday. Love to all.
We have telegraphed "Yes" to Boston.
I begin to feel myself drawn towards America, as Darnay, in the "Tale of
Two Cities," was attracted to the Loadstone Rock, Paris.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/William%20Charles%20Kent/610Charles Dickens
1867-10-19[Sidenote: Mr. William Charles Kent.]
26, WELLINGTON STREET, _Saturday, Oct. 19th, 1867._
MY DEAR KENT,
In the midst of the great trouble you are taking in the cause of your
undersigned affectionate friend, I hope the reading of the enclosed may
be a sort of small godsend. Of course it is very strictly private. The
printers are not yet trusted with the name, but the name will be, "No
Thoroughfare." I have done the greater part of it; may you find it
interesting!
My solicitor, a man of some mark and well known, is anxious to be on the
Committee:
Frederic Ouvry, Esquire,
66, Lincoln's Inn Fields.
Ever affectionately yours.
P.S.--My sailor son!
I forgot him!!
Coming up from Portsmouth for the dinner!!!
Der--er--oo not cur--ur--urse me, I implore.
Penitently.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Power/611Charles Dickens
1867-10-23[Sidenote: Mrs. Power.]
GAD'S HILL, _Wednesday, Oct. 23rd, 1867._
MY DEAR MRS. POWER,
I have a sad pleasure in the knowledge that our dear Marguerite so
remembered her old friend, and I shall preserve the token of her
remembrance with loving care. The sight of it has brought back many old
days.
With kind remembrance to Mrs. Henderson,
Believe me always, very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/J%20L%20Toole/612Charles Dickens
1867-11-02[Sidenote: Mr. J. L. Toole.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Saturday, Nov. 2nd, 1867._
MY DEAR MR. TOOLE,
I heartily thank you for your elegant token of remembrance, and for your
earnest letter. Both have afforded me real pleasure, and the first-named
shall go with me on my journey.
Let me take this opportunity of saying that on receipt of your letter
concerning to-day's dinner, I immediately forwarded your request to the
honorary secretary. I hope you will understand that I could not, in
delicacy, otherwise take part in the matter.
Again thanking you most cordially,
Believe me, always faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/613Charles Dickens
1867-11-03[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
26, WELLINGTON STREET, _Sunday, Nov. 3rd, 1867._
MY DEAR WILLS,
If you were to write me many such warm-hearted letters as you send this
morning, my heart would fail me! There is nothing that so breaks down my
determination, or shows me what an iron force I put upon myself, and how
weak it is, as a touch of true affection from a tried friend.
All that you so earnestly say about the goodwill and devotion of all
engaged, I perceived and deeply felt last night. It moved me even more
than the demonstration itself, though I do suppose it was the most
brilliant ever seen. When I got up to speak, but for taking a desperate
hold of myself, I should have lost my sight and voice and sat down
again.
God bless you, my dear fellow. I am, ever and ever,
Your affectionate.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Lavinia%20Watson/614Charles Dickens
1867-11-05[Sidenote: The Hon. Mrs. Watson.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Tuesday, Nov. 5th, 1867._
MY DEAR MRS. WATSON,
A thousand thanks for your kind letter, and many congratulations on your
having successfully attained a dignity which I never allow to be
mentioned in my presence. Charley's children are instructed from their
tenderest months only to know me as "Wenerables," which they sincerely
believe to be my name, and a kind of title that I have received from a
grateful country.
Alas! I cannot have the pleasure of seeing you before I presently go to
Liverpool. Every moment of my time is preoccupied. But I send you my
sincere love, and am always truthful to the dear old days, and the
memory of one of the dearest friends I ever loved.
Affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/615Charles Dickens
1867-11-10[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
ABOARD THE "CUBA," QUEENSTOWN HARBOUR,
_Sunday, Nov. 10th, 1867._
MY DEAREST MAMIE,
We arrived here at seven this morning, and shall probably remain
awaiting our mail, until four or five this afternoon. The weather in the
passage here was delightful, and we had scarcely any motion beyond that
of the screw.
We are nearly but not quite full of passengers. At table I sit next the
captain, on his right, on the outside of the table and close to the
door. My little cabin is big enough for everything but getting up in and
going to bed in. As it has a good window which I can leave open all
night, and a door which I can set open too, it suits my chief
requirements of it--plenty of air--admirably. On a writing-slab in it,
which pulls out when wanted, I now write in a majestic manner.
Many of the passengers are American, and I am already on the best terms
with nearly all the ship.
We began our voyage yesterday a very little while after you left us,
which was a great relief. The wind is S.E. this morning, and if it would
keep so we should go along nobly. My dearest love to your aunt, and
also to Katie and all the rest. I am in very good health, thank God, and
as well as possible.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/616Charles Dickens
1867-11-13[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
ABOARD THE "CUBA," FIVE DAYS OUT,
_Wednesday, Nov. 13th, 1867._
MY DEAREST GEORGY,
As I wrote to Mamie last, I now write to you, or mean to do it, if the
motion of the ship will let me.
We are very nearly halfway to-day. The weather was favourable for us
until yesterday morning, when we got a head-wind which still stands by
us. We have rolled and pitched, of course; but on the whole have been
wonderfully well off. I have had headache and have felt faint once or
twice, _but have not been sick at all_. My spacious cabin is very noisy
at night, as the most important working of the ship goes on outside my
window and over my head; but it is very airy, and if the weather be bad
and I can't open the window, I can open the door all night. If the
weather be fine (as it is now), I can open both door and window, and
write between them. Last night, I got a foot-bath under the dignified
circumstances of sitting on a camp-stool in my cabin, and having the
bath (and my feet) in the passage outside. The officers' quarters are
close to me, and, as I know them all, I get reports of the weather and
the way we are making when the watch is changed, and I am (as I usually
am) lying awake. The motion of the screw is at its slightest vibration
in my particular part of the ship. The silent captain, reported gruff,
is a very good fellow and an honest fellow. Kelly has been ill all the
time, and not of the slightest use, and is ill now. Scott always
cheerful, and useful, and ready; a better servant for the kind of work
there never can have been. Young Lowndes has been fearfully sick until
mid-day yesterday. His cabin is pitch dark, and full of blackbeetles. He
shares mine until nine o'clock at night, when Scott carries him off to
bed. He also dines with me in my magnificent chamber. This passage in
winter time cannot be said to be an enjoyable excursion, but I certainly
am making it under the best circumstances. (I find Dolby to have been
enormously popular on board, and to have known everybody and gone
everywhere.)
So much for my news, except that I have been constantly reading, and
find that "Pierra" that Mrs. Hogge sent me by Katie to be a very
remarkable book, not only for its grim and horrible story, but for its
suggestion of wheels within wheels, and sad human mysteries. Baker's
second book not nearly so good as his first, but his first anticipated
it.
We hope to get to Halifax either on Sunday or Monday, and to Boston
either on Tuesday or Wednesday. The glass is rising high to-day, and
everybody on board is hopeful of an easterly wind.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/617Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
_Saturday, 16th._
Last Thursday afternoon a heavy gale of wind sprang up and blew hard
until dark, when it seemed to lull. But it then came on again with great
violence, and blew tremendously all night. The noise, and the rolling
and plunging of the ship, were awful. Nobody on board could get any
sleep, and numbers of passengers were rolled out of their berths. Having
a side-board to mine to keep me in, like a baby, I lay still. But it was
a dismal night indeed, and it was curious to see the change it had made
in the faces of all the passengers yesterday. It cannot be denied that
these winter crossings are very trying and startling; while the
personal discomfort of not being able to wash, and the miseries of
getting up and going to bed, with what small means there are all
sliding, and sloping, and slopping about, are really in their way
distressing.
This forenoon we made Cape Race, and are now running along at full speed
with the land beside us. Kelly still useless, and positively declining
to show on deck. Scott, with an eight-day-old moustache, more super like
than ever. My foot (I hope from walking on the boarded deck) in a very
shy condition to-day, and rather painful. I shaved this morning for the
first time since Liverpool; dodging at the glass, very much like
Fechter's imitation of ----. The white cat that came off with us in the
tender a general favourite. She belongs to the daughter of a Southerner,
returning with his wife and family from a two-years' tour in Europe.
_Sunday, 17th._
At four o'clock this morning we got into bad weather again, and the
state of things at breakfast-time was unutterably miserable. Nearly all
the passengers in their berths--no possibility of standing on
deck--sickness and groans--impracticable to pass a cup of tea from one
pair of hands to another. It has slightly moderated since (between two
and three in the afternoon I write), and the sun is shining, but the
rolling of the ship surpasses all imagination or description.
We expect to be at Halifax about an hour after midnight, and this letter
shall be posted there, to make certain of catching the return mail on
Wednesday. Boston is only thirty hours from Halifax.
Best love to Mamie, and to Katie and Charley. I know you will report me
and my love to Forster and Mrs. Forster. I write with great difficulty,
wedged up in a corner, and having my heels on the paper as often as the
pen. Kelly worse than ever, and Scott better than ever.
My desk and I have just arisen from the floor.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/618Charles Dickens
1867-11-21[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
PARKER HOUSE, BOSTON, _Thursday, Nov. 21st, 1867._
I arrived here on Tuesday night, after a very slow passage from Halifax
against head-winds. All the tickets for the first four readings here
(all yet announced) were sold immediately on their being issued.
You know that I begin on the 2nd of December with "Carol" and "Trial"?
Shall be heartily glad to begin to count the readings off.
This is an immense hotel, with all manner of white marble public
passages and public rooms. I live in a corner high up, and have a hot
and cold bath in my bedroom (communicating with the sitting-room), and
comforts not in existence when I was here before. The cost of living is
enormous, but happily we can afford it. I dine to-day with Longfellow,
Emerson, Holmes, and Agassiz. Longfellow was here yesterday. Perfectly
white in hair and beard, but a remarkably handsome and notable-looking
man. The city has increased enormously in five-and-twenty years. It has
grown more mercantile--is like Leeds mixed with Preston, and flavoured
with New Brighton; but for smoke and fog you substitute an exquisitely
bright light air. I found my rooms beautifully decorated (by Mrs.
Fields) with choice flowers, and set off by a number of good books. I am
not much persecuted by people in general, as Dolby has happily made up
his mind that the less I am exhibited for nothing the better. So our men
sit outside the room door and wrestle with mankind.
We had speech-making and singing in the saloon of the _Cuba_ after the
last dinner of the voyage. I think I have acquired a higher reputation
from drawing out the captain, and getting him to take the second in
"All's Well," and likewise in "There's not in the wide world" (your
parent taking first), than from anything previously known of me on these
shores. I hope the effect of these achievements may not dim the lustre
of the readings. We also sang (with a Chicago lady, and a strong-minded
woman from I don't know where) "Auld Lang Syne," with a tender
melancholy, expressive of having all four been united from our cradles.
The more dismal we were, the more delighted the company were. Once (when
we paddled i' the burn) the captain took a little cruise round the
compass on his own account, touching at the "Canadian Boat Song," and
taking in supplies at "Jubilate," "Seas between us braid ha' roared,"
and roared like the seas themselves. Finally, I proposed the ladies in a
speech that convulsed the stewards, and we closed with a brilliant
success. But when you dine with Mr. Forster, ask him to read to you how
we got on at church in a heavy sea. Hillard has just been in and sent
his love "to those dear girls." He has grown much older. He is now
District Attorney of the State of Massachusetts, which is a very good
office. Best love to your aunt and Katie, and Charley and all his house,
and all friends.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/619Charles Dickens
1867-11-25[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
PARKER HOUSE, BOSTON, _Monday, Nov. 25th, 1867._
I cannot remember to whom I wrote last, but it will not much matter if I
make a mistake; this being generally to report myself so well, that I am
constantly chafing at not having begun to-night instead of this night
week.
The tickets being all sold for next week, and no other announcement
being yet made, there is nothing new in that way to tell of. Dolby is
over at New York, where we are at our wits' end how to keep tickets out
of the hands of speculators. Morgan is staying with me; came yesterday
to breakfast, and goes home to-morrow. Fields and Mrs. Fields also dined
yesterday. She is a very nice woman, with a rare relish for humour and a
most contagious laugh. The Bostonians having been duly informed that I
wish to be quiet, really leave me as much so as I should be in
Manchester or Liverpool. This I cannot expect to last elsewhere; but it
is a most welcome relief here, as I have all the readings to get up. The
people are perfectly kind and perfectly agreeable. If I stop to look in
at a shop-window, a score of passers-by stop; and after I begin to read,
I cannot expect in the natural course of things to get off so easily.
But I every day take from seven to ten miles in peace.
Communications about readings incessantly come in from all parts of the
country. We take no offer whatever, lying by with our plans until after
the first series in New York, and designing, if we make a furore there,
to travel as little as possible. I fear I shall have to take Canada at
the end of the whole tour. They make such strong representations from
Montreal and Toronto, and from Nova Scotia--represented by St. John's
and Halifax--of the slight it would be to them, if I wound up with the
States, that I am shaken.
It is sad to see Longfellow's house (the house in which his wife was
burnt) with his young daughters in it, and the shadow of that terrible
story. The young undergraduates of Cambridge (he is a professor there)
have made a representation to him that they are five hundred strong,
and cannot get one ticket. I don't know what is to be done for them; I
suppose I must read there somehow. We are all in the clouds until I
shall have broken ground in New York, as to where readings will be
possible and where impossible.
Agassiz is one of the most natural and jovial of men. I go out
a-visiting as little as I can, but still have to dine, and what is
worse, sup pretty often. Socially, I am (as I was here before)
wonderfully reminded of Edinburgh when I had many friends in it.
Your account and Mamie's of the return journey to London gave me great
pleasure. I was delighted with your report of Wilkie, and not surprised
by Chappell's coming out gallantly.
My anxiety to get to work is greater than I can express, because time
seems to be making no movement towards home until I shall be reading
hard. Then I shall begin to count and count and count the upward steps
to May.
If ever you should be in a position to advise a traveller going on a sea
voyage, remember that there is some mysterious service done to the
bilious system when it is shaken, by baked apples. Noticing that they
were produced on board the _Cuba_, every day at lunch and dinner, I
thought I would make the experiment of always eating them freely. I am
confident that they did wonders, not only at the time, but in stopping
the imaginary pitching and rolling after the voyage is over, from which
many good amateur sailors suffer. I have hardly had the sensation at
all, except in washing of a morning. At that time I still hold on with
one knee to the washing-stand, and could swear that it rolls from left
to right. The _Cuba_ does not return until Wednesday, the 4th December.
You may suppose that every officer on board is coming on Monday, and
that Dolby has provided extra stools for them. His work is very hard
indeed. Cards are brought to him every minute in the day; his
correspondence is immense; and he is jerked off to New York, and I don't
know where else, on the shortest notice and the most unreasonable times.
Moreover, he has to be at "the bar" every night, and to "liquor up with
all creation" in the small hours. He does it all with the greatest good
humour, and flies at everybody who waylays the Chief, furiously. We have
divided our men into watches, so that one always sits outside the
drawing-room door. Dolby knows the whole Cunard line, and as we could
not get good English gin, went out in a steamer yesterday and got two
cases (twenty-four bottles) out of Cunard officers. Osgood and he were
detached together last evening for New York, whence they telegraph every
other hour about some new point in this precious sale of tickets. So
distracted a telegram arrived at three that I have telegraphed back,
"Explain yourselves," and am now waiting for the explanation. I think
you know that Osgood is a partner in Ticknor and Fields'.
Tuesday morning.--Dolby has come back from New York, where the prospects
seem immense. We sell tickets there next Friday and Saturday, and a
tremendous rush is expected.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Charles%20Dickens/620Charles Dickens
1867-12-03[Sidenote: Mr. Charles Dickens.]
PARKER HOUSE, BOSTON, U.S., _Saturday, Nov. 30th, 1867._
MY DEAR CHARLEY,
You will have heard before now how fortunate I was on my voyage, and how
I was not sick for a moment. These screws are tremendous ships for
carrying on, and for rolling, and their vibration is rather distressing.
But my little cabin, being for'ard of the machinery, was in the best
part of the vessel, and I had as much air in it, night and day, as I
chose. The saloon being kept absolutely without air, I mostly dined in
my own den, in spite of my being allotted the post of honour on the
right hand of the captain.
The tickets for the first four readings here (the only readings
announced) were all sold immediately, and many are now re-selling at a
large premium. The tickets for the first four readings in New York (the
only readings announced there also) were on sale yesterday, and were all
sold in a few hours. The receipts are very large indeed; but engagements
of any kind and every kind I steadily refuse, being resolved to take
what is to be taken myself. Dolby is nearly worked off his legs, is now
at New York, and goes backwards and forwards between this place and that
(about the distance from London to Liverpool, though they take nine
hours to do it) incessantly. Nothing can exceed his energy and good
humour, and he is extremely popular everywhere. My great desire is to
avoid much travelling, and to try to get the people to come to me,
instead of my going to them. If I can effect this to any moderate
extent, I shall be saved a great deal of knocking about. My original
purpose was not to go to Canada at all; but Canada is so up in arms on
the subject that I think I shall be obliged to take it at last. In that
case I should work round to Halifax, Nova Scotia, and then take the
packet for home.
As they don't seem (Americans who have heard me on their travels
excepted) to have the least idea here of what the readings are like, and
as they are accustomed to mere readings out of a book, I am inclined to
think the excitement will increase when I shall have begun. Everybody
is very kind and considerate, and I have a number of old friends here,
at the Bar and connected with the University. I am now negotiating to
bring out the dramatic version of "No Thoroughfare" at New York. It is
quite upon the cards that it may turn up trumps.
I was interrupted in that place by a call from my old secretary in the
States, Mr. Putnam. It was quite affecting to see his delight in meeting
his old master again. And when I told him that Anne was married, and
that I had (unacknowledged) grandchildren, he laughed and cried
together. I suppose you don't remember Longfellow, though he remembers
you in a black velvet frock very well. He is now white-haired and
white-bearded, but remarkably handsome. He still lives in his old house,
where his beautiful wife was burnt to death. I dined with him the other
day, and could not get the terrific scene out of my imagination. She was
in a blaze in an instant, rushed into his arms with a wild cry, and
never spoke afterwards.
My love to Bessie, and to Mekitty, and all the babbies. I will lay this
by until Tuesday morning, and then add a final line to it.
Ever, my dear Charley, your affectionate Father.
_Tuesday, Dec. 3rd, 1867._
Success last night beyond description or exaggeration. The whole city is
quite frantic about it to-day, and it is impossible that prospects could
be more brilliant.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/621Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
PARKER HOUSE, BOSTON, _Sunday, Dec. 1st, 1867._
I received yours of the 18th November, yesterday. As I left Halifax in
the _Cuba_ that very day, you probably saw us telegraphed in _The Times_
on the 19th.
Dolby came back from another run to New York, this morning. The receipts
are very large indeed, far exceeding our careful estimate made at Gad's.
I think you had best in future (unless I give you intimation to the
contrary) address your letters to me, at the Westminster Hotel, Irving
Place, New York City. It is a more central position than this, and we
are likely to be much more there than here. I am going to set up a
brougham in New York, and keep my rooms at that hotel. The account of
Matilda is a very melancholy one, and really distresses me. What she
must sink into, it is sad to consider. However, there was nothing for it
but to send her away, that is quite clear.
They are said to be a very quiet audience here, appreciative but not
demonstrative. I shall try to change their character a little.
I have been going on very well. A horrible custom obtains in these parts
of asking you to dinner somewhere at half-past two, and to supper
somewhere else about eight. I have run this gauntlet more than once, and
its effect is, that there is no day for any useful purpose, and that the
length of the evening is multiplied by a hundred. Yesterday I dined with
a club at half-past two, and came back here at half-past eight, with a
general impression that it was at least two o'clock in the morning. Two
days before I dined with Longfellow at half-past two, and came back at
eight, supposing it to be midnight. To-day we have a state dinner-party
in our rooms at six, Mr. and Mrs. Fields, and Mr. and Mrs. Bigelow. (He
is a friend of Forster's, and was American Minister in Paris). There are
no negro waiters here, all the servants are Irish--willing, but not
able. The dinners and wines are very good. I keep our own rooms well
ventilated by opening the windows, but no window is ever opened in the
halls or passages, and they are so overheated by a great furnace, that
they make me faint and sick. The air is like that of a pre-Adamite
ironing-day in full blast. Your respected parent is immensely popular in
Boston society, and its cordiality and unaffected heartiness are
charming. I wish I could carry it with me.
The leading New York papers have sent men over for to-morrow night with
instructions to telegraph columns of descriptions. Great excitement and
expectation everywhere. Fields says he has looked forward to it so long
that he knows he will die at five minutes to eight.
At the New York barriers, where the tickets are on sale and the people
ranged as at the Paris theatres, speculators went up and down offering
"twenty dollars for anybody's place." The money was in no case accepted.
One man sold two tickets for the second, third, and fourth night for
"one ticket for the first, fifty dollars" (about seven pounds ten
shillings), "and a brandy cocktail," which is an iced bitter drink. The
weather has been rather muggy and languid until yesterday, when there
was the coldest wind blowing that I ever felt. In the night it froze
very hard, and to-day the sky is beautiful.
_Tuesday, Dec. 3rd._
Most magnificent reception last night, and most signal and complete
success. Nothing could be more triumphant. The people will hear of
nothing else and talk of nothing else. Nothing that was ever done here,
they all agree, evoked any approach to such enthusiasm. I was quite as
cool and quick as if I were reading at Greenwich, and went at it
accordingly. Tell your aunt, with my best love, that I have this morning
received hers of the 21st, and that I will write to her next. That will
be from New York. My love to Mr. and Mrs. Hulkes and the boy, and to Mr.
and Mrs. Malleson.[18]http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/622Charles Dickens
1867-12-04[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
BOSTON, _Wednesday, Dec. 4th, 1867._
I find that by going off to the _Cuba_ myself this morning I can send
you the enclosed for Mary Boyle (I don't know how to address her), whose
usual flower for my button-hole was produced in the most extraordinary
manner here last Monday night! All well and prosperous. "Copperfield"
and "Bob" last night; great success.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Mary%20Boyle/623Charles Dickens
1867-12-04[Sidenote: Miss Mary Boyle.]
BOSTON, _December 4th, 1867._
MY DEAR MEERY,
You can have no idea of the glow of pleasure and amazement with which I
saw your remembrance of me lying on my dressing-table here last Monday
night. Whosoever undertook that commission accomplished it to a miracle.
But you must go away four thousand miles, and have such a token conveyed
to _you_, before you can quite appreciate the feeling of receiving it.
Ten thousand loving thanks.
Immense success here, and unbounded enthusiasm. My largest expectations
far surpassed.
Ever your affectionate
Jo.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/624Charles Dickens
1867-12-11[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
WESTMINSTER HOTEL, IRVING PLACE, NEW YORK CITY,
_Wednesday, Dec 11th, 1867._
Amazing success here. A very fine audience; _far better than that at
Boston_. Great reception. Great, "Carol" and "Trial," on the first
night; still greater, "Copperfield" and "Bob," on the second. Dolby
sends you a few papers by this post. You will see from their tone what a
success it is.
I cannot pay this letter, because I give it at the latest moment to the
mail-officer, who is going on board the Cunard packet in charge of the
mails, and who is staying in this house. We are now selling (at the
hall) the tickets for the four readings of next week. At nine o'clock
this morning there were two thousand people in waiting, and they had
begun to assemble in the bitter cold as early as two o'clock. All night
long Dolby and our man have been stamping tickets. (Immediately over my
head, by-the-bye, and keeping me awake.) This hotel is quite as quiet as
Mivart's, in Brook Street. It is not very much larger. There are
American hotels close by, with five hundred bedrooms, and I don't know
how many boarders; but this is conducted on what is called "the European
principle," and is an admirable mixture of a first-class French and
English house. I keep a very smart carriage and pair; and if you were to
behold me driving out, furred up to the moustache, with furs on the
coach-boy and on the driver, and with an immense white, red, and yellow
striped rug for a covering, you would suppose me to be of Hungarian or
Polish nationality.
Will you report the success here to Mr. Forster with my love, and tell
him he shall hear from me by next mail?
Dolby sends his kindest regards. He is just come in from our ticket
sales, and has put such an immense untidy heap of paper money on the
table that it looks like a family wash. He hardly ever dines, and is
always tearing about at unreasonable hours. He works very hard.
My best love to your aunt (to whom I will write next), and to Katie, and
to both the Charleys, and all the Christmas circle, not forgetting
Chorley, to whom give my special remembrance. You may get this by
Christmas Day. _We_ shall have to keep it travelling from Boston here;
for I read at Boston on the 23rd and 24th, and here again on the 26th.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/625Charles Dickens
1867-12-16[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
WESTMINSTER HOTEL, IRVING PLACE, NEW YORK CITY,
_Monday, Dec. 16th, 1867._
We have been snowed up here, and the communication with Boston is still
very much retarded. Thus we have received no letters by the Cunard
steamer that came in last Wednesday, and are in a grim state of mind on
that subject.
Last night I was getting into bed just at twelve o'clock, when Dolby
came to my door to inform me that the house was on fire (I had
previously smelt fire for two hours). I got Scott up directly, told him
to pack the books and clothes for the readings first, dressed, and
pocketed my jewels and papers, while Dolby stuffed himself out with
money. Meanwhile the police and firemen were in the house, endeavouring
to find where the fire was. For some time it baffled their endeavours,
but at last, bursting out through some stairs, they cut the stairs away,
and traced it to its source in a certain fire-grate. By this time the
hose was laid all through the house from a great tank on the roof, and
everybody turned out to help. It was the oddest sight, and people had
put the strangest things on! After a little chopping and cutting with
axes and handing about of water, the fire was confined to a dining-room
in which it had originated, and then everybody talked to everybody else,
the ladies being particularly loquacious and cheerful. And so we got to
bed again at about two.
The excitement of the readings continues unabated, the tickets for
readings are sold as soon as they are ready, and the public pay treble
prices to the speculators who buy them up. They are a wonderfully fine
audience, even better than Edinburgh, and almost, if not quite, as good
as Paris.
Dolby continues to be the most unpopular man in America (mainly because
he can't get four thousand people into a room that holds two thousand),
and is reviled in print daily. Yesterday morning a newspaper proclaims
of him: "Surely it is time that the pudding-headed Dolby retired into
the native gloom from which he has emerged." He takes it very coolly,
and does his best. Mrs. Morgan sent me, the other night, I suppose the
finest and costliest basket of flowers ever seen, made of white
camellias, yellow roses, pink roses, and I don't know what else. It is a
yard and a half round at its smallest part.
I must bring this to a close, as I have to go to the hall to try an
enlarged background.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/626Charles Dickens
1867-12-22[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
BOSTON, _Sunday, Dec. 22nd, 1867._
Coming here from New York last night (after a detestable journey), I was
delighted to find your letter of the 6th. I read it at my ten o'clock
dinner with the greatest interest and pleasure, and then we talked of
home till we went to bed.
Our tour is now being made out, and I hope to be able to send it in my
next letter home, which will be to Mamie, from whom I have _not_ heard
(as you thought I had) by the mail that brought out yours. After very
careful consideration I have reversed Dolby's original plan, and have
decided on taking Baltimore, Washington, Cincinnati, _Chicago_ (!), St.
Louis, and a few other places nearer here, instead of staying in New
York. My reason is that we are doing immensely, both at New York and
here, and that I am sure it is in the peculiar character of the people
to prize a thing the more the less easily attainable it is made.
Therefore, I want, by absence, to get the greatest rush and pressure
upon the five farewell readings in New York in April. All our announced
readings are already crammed.
When we got here last Saturday night, we found that Mrs. Fields had not
only garnished the rooms with flowers, but also with holly (with real
red berries) and festoons of moss dependent from the looking-glasses and
picture frames. She is one of the dearest little women in the world. The
homely Christmas look of the place quite affected us. Yesterday we dined
at her house, and there was a plum-pudding, brought on blazing, and not
to be surpassed in any house in England. There is a certain Captain
Dolliver, belonging to the Boston Custom House, who came off in the
little steamer that brought me ashore from the _Cuba_. He took it into
his head that he would have a piece of English mistletoe brought out in
this week's Cunard, which should be laid upon my breakfast-table. And
there it was this morning. In such affectionate touches as this, these
New England people are especially amiable.
As a general rule, you may lay it down that whatever you see about me in
the papers is not true. But although my voyage out was of that highly
hilarious description that you first made known to me, you may
_generally_ lend a more believing ear to the Philadelphia correspondent
of _The Times_. I don't know him, but I know the source from which he
derives his information, and it is a very respectable one.
Did I tell you in a former letter from here, to tell Anne, with her old
master's love, that I had seen Putnam, my old secretary? Grey, and with
several front teeth out, but I would have known him anywhere. He is
coming to "Copperfield" to-night, accompanied by his wife and daughter,
and is in the seventh heaven at having his tickets given him.
Our hotel in New York was on fire _again_ the other night. But fires in
this country are quite matters of course. There was a large one there at
four this morning, and I don't think a single night has passed since I
have been under the protection of the Eagle, but I have heard the fire
bells dolefully clanging all over the city.
Dolby sends his kindest regard. His hair has become quite white, the
effect, I suppose, of the climate. He is so universally hauled over the
coals (for no reason on earth), that I fully expect to hear him, one of
these nights, assailed with a howl when he precedes me to the platform
steps. You may conceive what the low newspapers are here, when one of
them yesterday morning had, as an item of news, the intelligence:
"Dickens's Readings. The chap calling himself Dolby got drunk last
night, and was locked up in a police-station for fighting an Irishman."
I don't find that anybody is shocked by this liveliness.
My love to all, and to Mrs. Hulkes and the boy. By-the-bye, when we left
New York for this place, Dolby called my amazed attention to the
circumstance that Scott was leaning his head against the side of the
carriage and weeping bitterly. I asked him what was the matter, and he
replied: "The owdacious treatment of the luggage, which was more
outrageous than a man could bear." I told him not to make a fool of
himself; but they do knock it about cruelly. I think every trunk we have
is already broken.
I must leave off, as I am going out for a walk in a bright sunlight and
a complete break-up of the frost and snow. I am much better than I have
been during the last week, but have a cold.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/627Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
WESTMINSTER HOTEL, IRVING PLACE, NEW YORK CITY,
_Thursday, Dec. 26th, 1867._
I got your aunt's last letter at Boston yesterday, Christmas Day
morning, when I was starting at eleven o'clock to come back to this
place. I wanted it very much, for I had a frightful cold (English colds
are nothing to those of this country), and was exceedingly depressed and
miserable. Not that I had any reason but illness for being so, since the
Bostonians had been quite astounding in their demonstrations. I never
saw anything like them on Christmas Eve. But it is a bad country to be
unwell and travelling in; you are one of say a hundred people in a
heated car, with a great stove in it, and all the little windows closed,
and the hurrying and banging about are indescribable. The atmosphere is
detestable, and the motion often all but intolerable. However, we got
our dinner here at eight o'clock, and plucked up a little, and I made
some hot gin punch to drink a merry Christmas to all at home in. But it
must be confessed that we were both very dull. I have been in bed all
day until two o'clock, and here I am now (at three o'clock) a little
better. But I am not fit to read, and I must read to-night. After
watching the general character pretty closely, I became quite sure that
Dolby was wrong on the length of the stay and the number of readings we
had proposed in this place. I am quite certain that it is one of the
national peculiarities that what they want must be difficult of
attainment. I therefore a few days ago made a _coup d'état_, and altered
the whole scheme. We shall go to Philadelphia, Baltimore, Washington,
also some New England towns between Boston and this place, away to the
falls of Niagara, and off far west to Chicago and St. Louis, before
coming back for ten farewell readings here, preceded by farewells at
Boston, leaving Canada altogether. This will not prolong the list beyond
eighty-four readings, the exact original number, and will, please God,
work it all out in April. In my next, I daresay, I shall be able to send
the exact list, so that you may know every day where we are. There has
been a great storm here for a few days, and the streets, though wet, are
becoming passable again. Dolby and Osgood are out in it to-day on a
variety of business, and left in grave and solemn state. Scott and the
gasman are stricken with dumb concern, not having received one single
letter from home since they left. What their wives can have done with
the letters they take it for granted they have written, is their stormy
speculation at the door of my hall dressing-room every night.
If I do not send a letter to Katie by this mail, it will be because I
shall probably be obliged to go across the water to Brooklyn to-morrow
to see a church, in which it is proposed that I shall read!!! Horrible
visions of being put in the pulpit already beset me. And whether the
audience will be in pews is another consideration which greatly disturbs
my mind. No paper ever comes out without a leader on Dolby, who of
course reads them all, and never can understand why I don't, in which he
is called all the bad names in (and not in) the language.
We always call him P. H. Dolby now, in consequence of one of these
graceful specimens of literature describing him as the "pudding-headed."
I fear that when we travel he will have to be always before me, so that
I may not see him six times in as many weeks. However, I shall have done
a fourth of the whole this very next week!
Best love to your aunt, and the boys, and Katie, and Charley, and all
true friends.
_Friday._
I managed to read last night, but it was as much as I could do. To-day I
am so very unwell, that I have sent for a doctor; he has just been, and
is in doubt whether I shall not have to stop reading for a while.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/628Charles Dickens
1867-12-30[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
WESTMINSTER HOTEL, IRVING PLACE, NEW YORK,
_Monday, Dec. 30th, 1867._
I am getting all right again. I have not been well, been very low, and
have been obliged to have a doctor; a very agreeable fellow indeed, who
soon turned out to be an old friend of Olliffe's.[19] He has set me on
my legs and taken his leave "professionally," though he means to give me
a call now and then.
In the library at Gad's is a bound book, "Remarkable Criminal Trials,"
translated by Lady Duff Gordon, from the original by Fauerbach. I want
that book, and a copy of Praed's poems, to be sent out to Boston, care
of Ticknor and Fields. If you will give the "Criminal Trials" to Wills,
and explain my wish, and ask him to buy a copy of Praed's poems and add
it to the parcel, he will know how to send the packet out. I think the
"Criminal Trials" book is in the corner book-case, by the window,
opposite the door.
No news here. All going on in the regular way. I read in that church I
told you of, about the middle of January. It is wonderfully seated for
two thousand people, and is as easy to speak in as if they were two
hundred. The people are seated in pews, and we let the pews. I stood on
a small platform from which the pulpit will be removed for the
occasion!! I emerge from the vestry!!! Philadelphia, Baltimore, and
another two nights in Boston will follow this coming month of January.
On Friday next I shall have read a fourth of my whole list, besides
having had twelve days' holiday when I first came out. So please God I
shall soon get to the half, and so begin to work hopefully round.
I suppose you were at the Adelphi on Thursday night last. They are
pirating the bill as well as the play here, everywhere. I have
registered the play as the property of an American citizen, but the law
is by no means clear that I established a right in it by so doing; and
of course the pirates knew very well that I could not, under existing
circumstances, try the question with them in an American court of law.
Nothing is being played here scarcely that is not founded on my
books--"Cricket," "Oliver Twist," "Our Mutual Friend," and I don't know
what else, every night. I can't get down Broadway for my own portrait;
and yet I live almost as quietly in this hotel, as if I were at the
office, and go in and out by a side door just as I might there.
I go back to Boston on Saturday to read there on Monday and Tuesday.
Then I am back here, and keep within six or seven hours' journey of
hereabouts till February. My further movements shall be duly reported as
the details are arranged.
I shall be curious to know who were at Gad's Hill on Christmas Day, and
how you (as they say in this country) "got along." It is exceedingly
cold here again, after two or three quite spring days.
FOOTNOTES:
[17] Madame Sainton Dolby.
[18] The nearest neighbour at Higham, and intimate friends.
[19] Dr. Fordyce Barker.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/629Charles Dickens
1868-01-03[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
WESTMINSTER HOTEL, IRVING PLACE, NEW YORK,
_Friday, Jan. 3rd, 1868._
MY DEAREST GEORGY,
I received yours of the 19th from Gad's and the office this morning. I
read here to-night, and go back to Boston to-morrow, to read there
Monday and Tuesday.
To-night, I read out the first quarter of my list. Our houses have been
very fine here, but have never quite recovered the Dolby uproar. It
seems impossible to devise any scheme for getting the tickets into the
people's hands without the intervention of speculators. The people _will
not_ help themselves; and, of course, the speculators and all other such
prowlers throw as great obstacles in Dolby's way (an Englishman's) as
they possibly can. He may be a little injudicious into the bargain. Last
night, for instance, he met one of the "ushers" (who show people to
their seats) coming in with Kelly. It is against orders that anyone
employed in front should go out during the readings, and he took this
man to task in the British manner. Instantly the free and independent
usher put on his hat and walked off. Seeing which, all the other free
and independent ushers (some twenty in number) put on _their_ hats and
walked off, leaving us absolutely devoid and destitute of a staff for
to-night. One has since been improvised; but it was a small matter to
raise a stir and ill will about, especially as one of our men was
equally in fault.
We have a regular clerk, a Bostonian whose name is Wild. He, Osgood,
Dolby, Kelly, Scott, George the gasman, and perhaps a boy or two,
constitute my body-guard. It seems a large number of people, but the
business cannot be done with fewer. The speculators buying the front
seats to sell at a premium (and we have found instances of this being
done by merchants in good position!), and the public perpetually
pitching into Dolby for selling them back seats, the result is that they
won't have the back seats, send back their tickets, write and print
volumes on the subject, and deter others from coming.
You may get an idea of the staff's work, by what is in hand now. They
are preparing, numbering, and stamping six thousand tickets for
Philadelphia, and eight thousand tickets for Brooklyn. The moment those
are done, another eight thousand tickets will be wanted for Baltimore,
and probably another six thousand for Washington. This in addition to
the correspondence, advertisements, accounts, travellings, and the
mighty business of the reading four times a week.
The Cunard steamers being now removed from Halifax, I have decided _not_
to go there, or to St. John's, New Brunswick. And as there would be a
perfect uproar if I picked out such a place in Canada as Quebec or
Montreal, and excluded those two places (which would guarantee three
hundred pounds a night), and further, as I don't want places, having
more than enough for my list of eighty-four, I have finally resolved not
to go to Canada either. This will enable me to embark for home in April
instead of May.
Tell Plorn, with my love, that I think he will find himself much
interested at that college,[20] and that it is very likely he may make
some acquaintances there that will thereafter be pleasant and useful to
him. Sir Sydney Dacres is the best of friends. I have a letter from Mrs.
Hulkes by this post, wherein the boy encloses a violet, now lying on the
table before me. Let her know that it arrived safely, and retaining its
colour. I took it for granted that Mary would have asked Chorley for
Christmas Day, and am very glad she ultimately did so. I am sorry that
Harry lost his prize, but believe it was not his fault. Let _him_ know
_that_, with my love. I would have written to him by this mail in answer
to his, but for other occupation. Did I tell you that my landlord made
me a drink (brandy, rum, and snow the principal ingredients) called a
"Rocky Mountain sneezer"? Or that the favourite drink before you get up
is an "eye-opener"? Or that Roberts (second landlord), no sooner saw me
on the night of the first fire, than, with his property blazing, he
insisted on taking me down into a roomful of hot smoke to drink brandy
and water with him? We have not been on fire again, by-the-bye, more
than once.
There has been another fall of snow, succeeded by a heavy thaw. I have
laid down my sledge, and taken up my carriage again, in consequence. I
am nearly all right, but cannot get rid of an intolerable cold in the
head. No more news.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/630Charles Dickens
1868-01-04[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
PARKER HOUSE, BOSTON, U.S., _Jan. 4th, 1868._
I write to you by this opportunity, though I really have nothing to tell
you. The work is hard and the climate is hard. We made a tremendous hit
last night with "Nickleby" and "Boots," which the Bostonians certainly
on the whole appreciate more than "Copperfield"! Dolby is always going
about with an immense bundle that looks like a sofa cushion, but it is
in reality paper money; and always works like a Trojan. His business at
night is a mere nothing, for these people are so accustomed to take care
of themselves, that one of these immense audiences will fall into their
places with an ease amazing to a frequenter of St. James's Hall. And the
certainty with which they are all in, before I go on, is a very
acceptable mark of respect. I must add, too, that although there is a
conventional familiarity in the use of one's name in the newspapers as
"Dickens," "Charlie," and what not, I do not in the least see that
familiarity in the writers themselves. An inscrutable tone obtains in
journalism, which a stranger cannot understand. If I say in common
courtesy to one of them, when Dolby introduces, "I am much obliged to
you for your interest in me," or so forth, he seems quite shocked, and
has a bearing of perfect modesty and propriety. I am rather inclined to
think that they suppose their printed tone to be the public's love of
smartness, but it is immensely difficult to make out. All I can as yet
make out is, that my perfect freedom from bondage, and at any moment to
go on or leave off, or otherwise do as I like, is the only safe position
to occupy.
Again; there are two apparently irreconcilable contrasts here. Down
below in this hotel every night are the bar loungers, dram drinkers,
drunkards, swaggerers, loafers, that one might find in a Boucicault
play. Within half an hour is Cambridge, where a delightful domestic
life--simple, self-respectful, cordial, and affectionate--is seen in an
admirable aspect. All New England is primitive and puritanical. All
about and around it is a puddle of mixed human mud, with no such quality
in it. Perhaps I may in time sift out some tolerably intelligible whole,
but I certainly have not done so yet. It is a good sign, may be, that it
all seems immensely more difficult to understand than it was when I was
here before.
Felton left two daughters. I have only seen the eldest, a very sensible,
frank, pleasant girl of eight-and-twenty, perhaps, rather like him in
the face. A striking-looking daughter of Hawthorn's (who is also dead)
came into my room last night. The day has slipped on to three o'clock,
and I must get up "Dombey" for to-night. Hence this sudden break off.
Best love to Mamie, and to Katie and Charley Collins.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Wilkie%20Collins/631Charles Dickens
1868-01-12[Sidenote: Mr. W. Wilkie Collins.]
WESTMINSTER HOTEL, NEW YORK, _Sunday, Jan. 12th, 1868._
MY DEAR WILKIE,
First, of the play.[21] I am truly delighted to learn that it made so
great a success, and I hope I may yet see it on the Adelphi boards. You
have had a world of trouble and work with it, but I hope will be repaid
in some degree by the pleasure of a triumph. Even for the alteration at
the end of the fourth act (of which you tell me in your letter received
yesterday), I was fully prepared, for I COULD NOT see the original
effect in the reading of the play, and COULD NOT make it go. I agree
with Webster in thinking it best that Obenreizer should die on the
stage; but no doubt that point is disposed of. In reading the play
before the representation, I felt that it was too long, and that there
was a good deal of unnecessary explanation. Those points are, no doubt,
disposed of too by this time.
We shall do nothing with it on this side. Pirates are producing their
own wretched versions in all directions, thus (as Wills would say)
anticipating and glutting "the market." I registered one play as the
property of Ticknor and Fields, American citizens. But, besides that the
law on the point is extremely doubtful, the manager of the Museum
Theatre, Boston, instantly announced his version. (You may suppose what
it is and how it is done, when I tell you that it was playing within ten
days of the arrival out of the Christmas number.) Thereupon, Ticknor and
Fields gave him notice that he mustn't play it. Unto which he replied,
that he meant to play it and would play it. Of course he knew very well
that if an injunction were applied for against him, there would be an
immediate howl against my persecution of an innocent, and he played it.
Then the noble host of pirates rushed in, and it is being done, in some
mangled form or other, everywhere.
It touches me to read what you write of your poor mother. But, of
course, at her age, each winter counts heavily. Do give her my love, and
tell her that I asked you about her.
I am going on here at the same great rate, but am always counting the
days that lie between me and home. I got through the first fourth of my
readings on Friday, January 3rd. I leave for two readings at
Philadelphia this evening.
Being at Boston last Sunday, I took it into my head to go over the
medical school, and survey the holes and corners in which that
extraordinary murder was done by Webster. There was the
furnace--stinking horribly, as if the dismembered pieces were still
inside it--and there are all the grim spouts, and sinks, and chemical
appliances, and what not. At dinner, afterwards, Longfellow told me a
terrific story. He dined with Webster within a year of the murder, one
of a party of ten or twelve. As they sat at their wine, Webster suddenly
ordered the lights to be turned out, and a bowl of some burning mineral
to be placed on the table, that the guests might see how ghostly it made
them look. As each man stared at all the rest in the weird light, all
were horrified to see Webster _with a rope round his neck_, holding it
up, over the bowl, with his head jerked on one side, and his tongue
lolled out, representing a man being hanged!
Poking into his life and character, I find (what I would have staked my
head upon) that he was always a cruel man.
So no more at present from,
My dear Wilkie, yours ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/632Charles Dickens
1868-01-12[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
WESTMINSTER HOTEL, NEW YORK, _Sunday, Jan. 12th, 1868._
As I am off to Philadelphia this evening, I may as well post my letter
here. I have scarcely a word of news. My cold steadily refuses to leave
me; but otherwise I am as right as one can hope to be under this heavy
work. My New York readings are over (except four farewell nights in
April), and I look forward to the relief of being out of my hardest
hall. Last Friday night, though it was only "Nickleby" and "Boots," I
was again dead beat at the end, and was once more laid upon a sofa. But
the faintness went off after a little while. We have now cold, bright,
frosty weather, without snow--the best weather for me.
Having been in great trepidation about the play, I am correspondingly
elated by the belief that it really _is_ a success. No doubt the
unnecessary explanations will have been taken out, and the flatness of
the last act fetched up. At some points I could have done wonders to it,
in the way of screwing it up sharply and picturesquely, if I could have
rehearsed it. Your account of the first night interested me immensely,
but I was afraid to open the letter until Dolby rushed in with the
opened _Times_.
On Wednesday I come back here for my four church readings at Brooklyn.
Each evening an enormous ferryboat will convey me and my state carriage
(not to mention half-a-dozen waggons, and any number of people, and a
few score of horses) across the river, and will bring me back again. The
sale of tickets there was an amazing scene. The noble army of
speculators are now furnished (this is literally true, and I am quite
serious), each man with a straw mattress, a little bag of bread and
meat, two blankets, and a bottle of whisky. With this outfit _they lie
down in line on the pavement_ the whole night before the tickets are
sold, generally taking up their position at about ten. It being severely
cold at Brooklyn, they made an immense bonfire in the street--a narrow
street of wooden houses!--which the police turned out to extinguish. A
general fight then took place, out of which the people farthest off in
the line rushed bleeding when they saw a chance of displacing others
near the door, and put their mattresses in those places, and then held
on by the iron rails. At eight in the morning Dolby appeared with the
tickets in a portmanteau. He was immediately saluted with a roar of
"Halloa, Dolby! So Charley has let you have the carriage, has he, Dolby!
How is he, Dolby! Don't drop the tickets, Dolby! Look alive, Dolby!"
etc. etc. etc., in the midst of which he proceeded to business, and
concluded (as usual) by giving universal dissatisfaction.
He is now going off upon a little journey "to look over the ground and
cut back again." This little journey (to Chicago) is fifteen hundred
miles on end, by railway, and back again!
We have an excellent gasman, who is well up to that department. We have
enlarged the large staff by another clerk, yet even now the preparation
of such an immense number of new tickets constantly, and the keeping and
checking of the accounts, keep them hard at it. And they get so oddly
divided! Kelly is at Philadelphia, another man at Baltimore, two others
are stamping tickets at the top of this house, another is cruising over
New England, and Osgood will come on duty to-morrow (when Dolby starts
off) to pick me up after the reading, and take me to the hotel, and
mount guard over me, and bring me back here. You see that even such
wretched domesticity as Dolby and self by a fireside is broken up under
these conditions.
Dolby has been twice poisoned, and Osgood once. Morgan's sharpness has
discovered the cause. When the snow is deep upon the ground, and the
partridges cannot get their usual food, they eat something (I don't know
what, if anybody does) which does not poison _them_, but which poisons
the people who eat them. The symptoms, which last some twelve hours, are
violent sickness, cold perspiration, and the formation of some
detestable mucus in the stomach. You may infer that partridges have been
banished from our bill of fare. The appearance of our sufferers was
lamentable in the extreme.
Did I tell you that the severity of the weather, and the heat of the
intolerable furnaces, dry the hair and break the nails of strangers?
There is not a complete nail in the whole British suite, and my hair
cracks again when I brush it. (I am losing my hair with great rapidity,
and what I don't lose is getting very grey.)
The _Cuba_ will bring this. She has a jolly new captain--Moody, of the
_Java_--and her people rushed into the reading, the other night,
captain-headed, as if I were their peculiar property. Please God I shall
come home in her, in my old cabin; leaving here on the 22nd of April,
and finishing my eighty-fourth reading on the previous night! It is
likely enough that I shall read and go straight on board.
I think this is all my poor stock of intelligence. By-the-bye, on the
last Sunday in the old year, I lost my old year's pocket-book, "which,"
as Mr. Pepys would add, "do trouble me mightily." Give me Katie's new
address; I haven't got it.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/633Charles Dickens
1868-01-13[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
PHILADELPHIA, _Monday, Jan. 13th, 1868._
I write you this note, a day later than your aunt's, not because I have
anything to add to the little I have told her, but because you may like
to have it.
We arrived here last night towards twelve o'clock, more than an hour
after our time. This is one of the immense American hotels (it is called
the Continental); but I find myself just as quiet here as elsewhere.
Everything is very good indeed, the waiter is German, and the greater
part of the house servants seem to be coloured people. The town is very
clean, and the day as blue and bright as a fine Italian day. But it
freezes very hard. All the tickets being sold here for six nights (three
visits of two nights each), the suite complain of want of excitement
already, having been here ten hours! Mr. and Mrs. Barney Williams, with
a couple of servants, and a pretty little child-daughter, were in the
train each night, and I talked with them a good deal. They are reported
to have made an enormous fortune by acting among the Californian
gold-diggers. My cold is no better, for the cars are so intolerably hot,
that I was often obliged to go and stand upon the break outside, and
then the frosty air was biting indeed. The great man of this place is
one Mr. Childs, a newspaper proprietor, and he is so exactly like Mr.
Esse in all conceivable respects except being an inch or so taller, that
I was quite confounded when I saw him waiting for me at the station
(always called depot here) with his carriage. During the last two or
three days, Dolby and I have been making up accounts, which are
excellently kept by Mr. Osgood, and I find them amazing, quite, in their
results.
I was very much interested in the home accounts of Christmas Day. I
think I have already mentioned that we were in very low spirits on that
day. I began to be unwell with my cold that morning, and a long day's
travel did not mend the matter. We scarcely spoke (except when we ate
our lunch), and sat dolefully staring out of window. I had a few
affectionate words from Chorley, dated from my room, on Christmas
morning, and will write him, probably by this mail, a brief
acknowledgment. I find it necessary (so oppressed am I with this
American catarrh, as they call it) to dine at three o'clock instead of
four, that I may have more time to get voice, so that the days are cut
short, and letter-writing is not easy.
My best love to Katie, and to Charley, and to our Charley, and to all
friends. If I could only get to the point of being able to hold my head
up and dispense with my pocket-handkerchief for five minutes, I should
be all right.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Charles%20Dickens/634Charles Dickens
1868-01-15[Sidenote: Mr. Charles Dickens.]
WESTMINSTER HOTEL, IRVING PLACE, NEW YORK,
_Wednesday, Jan. 15th, 1868._
MY DEAR CHARLEY,
Finding your letter here this afternoon on my return from Philadelphia
(where I have been reading two nights), I take advantage of a spare
half-hour in which to answer it at once, though it will not leave here
until Saturday. I had previously heard of the play, and had _The Times_.
It was a great relief and delight to me, for I had no confidence in its
success; being reduced to the confines of despair by its length. If I
could have rehearsed it, I should have taken the best part of an hour
out of it. Fechter must be very fine, and I should greatly like to see
him play the part.
I have not been very well generally, and am oppressed (and I begin to
think that I probably shall be until I leave) by a true American cold,
which I hope, for the comfort of human nature, may be peculiar to only
one of the four quarters of the world. The work, too, is very severe.
But I am going on at the same tremendous rate everywhere. The staff,
too, has had to be enlarged. Dolby was at Baltimore yesterday, is at
Washington to-day, and will come back in the night, and start away again
on Friday. We find it absolutely necessary for him to go on ahead. We
have not printed or posted a single bill here, and have just sold ninety
pounds' worth of paper we had got ready for bills. In such a rush a
short newspaper advertisement is all we want. "Doctor Marigold" made a
great hit here, and is looked forward to at Boston with especial
interest. I go to Boston for another fortnight, on end, the 24th of
February. The railway journeys distress me greatly. I get out into the
open air (upon the break), and it snows and blows, and the train bumps,
and the steam flies at me, until I am driven in again.
I have finished here (except four farewell nights in April), and begin
four nights at Brooklyn, on the opposite side of the river, to-night;
and thus oscillate between Philadelphia, Baltimore, and Washington, and
then cut into New England, and so work my way back to Boston for a
fortnight, after which come Chicago, Cincinnati, Detroit and Cleveland,
and Buffalo, and then Philadelphia, Boston, and New York farewells. I
will not pass my original bound of eighty-four readings in all. My mind
was made up as to that long ago. It will be quite enough. Chicago is
some fifteen hundred miles from here. What with travelling, and getting
ready for reading, and reading, the days are pretty fully occupied. Not
the less so because I rest very indifferently at night.
The people are exceedingly kind and considerate, and desire to be most
hospitable besides. But I cannot accept hospitality, and never go out,
except at Boston, or I should not be fit for the labour. If Dolby holds
out well to the last it will be a triumph, for he has to see everybody,
drink with everybody, sell all the tickets, take all the blame, and go
beforehand to all the places on the list. I shall not see him after
to-night for ten days or a fortnight, and he will be perpetually on the
road during the interval. When he leaves me, Osgood, a partner in
Ticknor and Fields' publishing firm, mounts guard over me, and has to go
into the hall from the platform door every night, and see how the public
are seating themselves. It is very odd to see how hard he finds it to
look a couple of thousand people in the face, on which head, by-the-bye,
I notice the papers to take "Mr. Dickens's extraordinary composure"
(their great phrase) rather ill, and on the whole to imply that it would
be taken as a suitable compliment if I would stagger on to the platform
and instantly drop, overpowered by the spectacle before me.
Dinner is announced (by Scott, with a stiff neck and a sore throat), and
I must break off with love to Bessie and the incipient Wenerableses. You
will be glad to hear of your distinguished parent that Philadelphia has
discovered that "he is not like the descriptions we have read of him at
the little red desk. He is not at all foppish in appearance. He wears a
heavy moustache and a Vandyke beard, and looks like a well-to-do
Philadelphian gentleman."
Ever, my dear Charley, your affectionate Father.
P.S.--Your paper is remarkably good. There is not the least doubt that
you can write constantly for A. Y. R. I am very pleased with it.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/635Charles Dickens
1868-01-18[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
WESTMINSTER HOTEL, NEW YORK, _Friday, Jan, 18th, 1868._
This will be but a very short report, as I must get out for a little
exercise before dinner.
My "true American catarrh" (the people seem to have a national pride in
it) sticks to me, but I am otherwise well. I began my church readings
last night, and it was very odd to see the pews crammed full of people,
all in a broad roar at the "Carol" and "Trial."
Best love to all. I have written Charley a few lines by this mail, and
also Chorley.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/636Charles Dickens
1868-01-21[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
WESTMINSTER HOTEL, NEW YORK, _Tuesday, Jan. 21st, 1868._
I finished my church to-night. It is Mrs. Stowe's brother's, and a most
wonderful place to speak in. We had it enormously full last night
("Marigold" and "Trial"), but it scarcely required an effort. Mr. Ward
Beecher (Mrs. Stowe's brother's name) being present in his pew. I sent
to invite him to come round before he left; and I found him to be an
unostentatious, straightforward, and agreeable fellow.
My cold sticks to me, and I can scarcely exaggerate what I sometimes
undergo from sleeplessness. The day before yesterday I could get no rest
until morning, and could not get up before twelve. This morning the
same. I rarely take any breakfast but an egg and a cup of tea, not even
toast or bread-and-butter. My dinner at three, and a little quail or
some such light thing when I come home at night, is my daily fare. At
the Hall I have established the custom of taking an egg beaten up in
sherry before going in, and another between the parts. I think that
pulls me up; at all events, I have since had no return of faintness.
As the men work very hard, and always with their hearts cheerfully in
the business, I cram them into and outside of the carriage, to bring
them back from Brooklyn with me. The other night, Scott (with a
portmanteau across his knees and a wideawake hat low down upon his nose)
told me that he had presented himself for admission in the circus (as
good as Franconi's, by-the-bye), and had been refused. "The only
theayter," he said in a melancholy way, "as I was ever in my life turned
from the door of." Says Kelly: "There must have been some mistake,
Scott, because George and me went, and we said, 'Mr. Dickens's staff,'
and they passed us to the best seats in the house. Go again, Scott."
"No, I thank you, Kelly," says Scott, more melancholy than before, "I'm
not a-going to put myself in the position of being refused again. It's
the only theayter as I was ever turned from the door of, and it shan't
be done twice. But it's a beastly country!" "Scott," interposed Majesty,
"don't you express your opinions about the country." "No, sir," says
Scott, "I never do, please, sir, but when you are turned from the door
of the only theayter you was ever turned from, sir, and when the beasts
in railway cars spits tobacco over your boots, you (privately) find
yourself in a beastly country."
I expect shortly to get myself snowed up on some railway or other, for
it is snowing hard now, and I begin to move to-morrow. There is so much
floating ice in the river that we are obliged to leave a pretty wide
margin of time for getting over the ferry to read. The dinner is coming
in, and I must leave off.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/637Charles Dickens
1868-01-23[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
PHILADELPHIA, _Thursday, Jan. 23rd, 1868._
When I wrote to your aunt by the last mail, I accidentally omitted to
touch upon the question of helping Anne. So I will begin in this present
writing with reference to her sad position. I think it will be best for
you to be guided by an exact knowledge of her _wants_. Try to ascertain
from herself what means she has, whether her sick husband gets what he
ought to have, whether she is pinched in the articles of necessary
clothing, bedding, or the like of that; add to this intelligence your
own observation of the state of things about her, and supply what she
most wants, and help her where you find the greatest need. The question,
in the case of so old and faithful a servant, is not one of so much or
so little money on my side, but how _most efficiently_ to ease her mind
and help _her_. To do this at once kindly and sensibly is the only
consideration by which you have to be guided. Take _carte blanche_ from
me for all the rest.
My Washington week is the first week in February, beginning on Monday,
3rd. The tickets are sold, and the President is coming, and the chief
members of the Cabinet, and the leaders of parties, and so forth, are
coming; and, as the Holly Tree Boots says: "That's where it is, don't
you see!"
In my Washington doubts I recalled Dolby for conference, and he joined
me yesterday afternoon, and we have been in great discussion ever since
on the possibility of giving up the Far West, and avoiding such immense
distances and fatigues as would be involved in travelling to Chicago and
Cincinnati. We have sketched another tour for the last half of March,
which would be infinitely easier for me, though on the other hand less
profitable, the places and the halls being smaller. The worst of it is,
that everybody one advises with has a monomania respecting Chicago.
"Good heaven, sir," the great Philadelphian authority said to me this
morning, "if you don't read in Chicago, the people will go into fits."
In reference to fatigue, I answered: "Well, I would rather they went
into fits than I did." But he didn't seem to see it at all. ---- alone
constantly writes me: "Don't go to the West; you can get what you want
so much more easily." How we shall finally decide, I don't yet know. My
Brooklyn church has been an immense success, and I found its minister
was a bachelor, a clever, unparsonic, and straightforward man, and a man
with a good knowledge of art into the bargain.
We are not a bit too soon here, for the whole country is beginning to be
stirred and shaken by the presidential election, and trade is
exceedingly depressed, and will be more so. Fanny Kemble lives near this
place, but had gone away a day before my first visit here. _She_ is
going to read in February or March. Du Chaillu has been lecturing out
West about the gorilla, and has been to see me; I saw the Cunard steamer
_Persia_ out in the stream, yesterday, beautifully smart, her flags
flying, all her steam up, and she only waiting for her mails to slip
away. She gave me a horrible touch of home-sickness.
When the 1st of March arrives, and I can say "next month," I shall begin
to grow brighter. A fortnight's reading in Boston, too (last week of
February and first week of March), will help me on gaily, I hope (the
work so far off tells). It is impossible for the people to be more
affectionately attached to a third, I really believe, than Fields and
his wife are to me; and they are a landmark in the prospect.
Dolby sends kindest regards, and wishes it to be known that he has not
been bullied lately. We do _not_ go West at all, but take the easier
plan.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/638Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
BALTIMORE, _Wednesday, Jan. 29th, 1868._
As I have an hour to spare, before starting to Philadelphia, I begin my
letter this morning. It has been snowing hard for four-and-twenty hours,
though this place is as far south as Valentia in Spain; and Dolby, being
on his way to New York, has a good chance of being snowed up somewhere.
They are a bright responsive people here, and very pleasant to read to.
I have rarely seen so many fine faces in an audience. I read here in a
charming little opera-house built by a society of Germans, quite a
delightful place for the purpose. I stand on the stage, with a drop
curtain down, and my screen before it. The whole scene is very pretty
and complete, and the audience have a "ring" in them that sounds in the
ear. I go from here to Philadelphia to read to-morrow night and Friday,
come through here again on Saturday on my way to Washington, come back
here on Saturday week for two finishing nights, then go to Philadelphia
for two farewells, and so turn my back on the southern part of the
country. Distances and travelling have obliged us to reduce the list of
readings by two, leaving eighty-two in all. Of course we afterwards
discovered that we had finally settled the list on a Friday! I shall be
halfway through it at Washington, of course, on a Friday also, and my
birthday!
Dolby and Osgood, who do the most ridiculous things to keep me in
spirits (I am often very heavy, and rarely sleep much), have decided to
have a walking-match at Boston, on Saturday, February 29th. Beginning
this design in joke, they have become tremendously in earnest, and Dolby
has actually sent home (much to his opponent's terror) for a pair of
seamless socks to walk in. Our men are hugely excited on the subject,
and continually make bets on "the men." Fields and I are to walk out six
miles, and "the men" are to turn and walk round us. Neither of them has
the least idea what twelve miles at a pace is. Being requested by both
to give them "a breather" yesterday, I gave them a stiff one of five
miles over a bad road in the snow, half the distance uphill. I took them
at a pace of four miles and a half an hour, and you never beheld such
objects as they were when we got back; both smoking like factories, and
both obliged to change everything before they could come to dinner. They
have the absurdest ideas of what are tests of walking power, and
continually get up in the maddest manner and see _how high they can
kick_ the wall! The wainscot here, in one place, is scored all over with
their pencil-marks. To see them doing this--Dolby, a big man, and
Osgood, a very little one, is ridiculous beyond description.
PHILADELPHIA, _Same Night._
We came on here through a snowstorm all the way, but up to time. Fanny
Kemble (who begins to read shortly) is coming to "Marigold" and "Trial"
to-morrow night. I have written her a note, telling her that if it will
at all assist _her_ movements to know _mine_, my list is at her
service. Probably I shall see her to-morrow. Tell Mamie (to whom I will
write next), with my love, that I found her letter of the 10th of this
month awaiting me here. The _Siberia_ that brought it is a new Cunarder,
and made an unusually slow passage out. Probably because it would be
dangerous to work new machinery too fast on the Atlantic.
_Thursday, 30th._
My cold still sticks to me. The heat of the railway cars and their
unventilated condition invariably brings it back when I think it going.
This morning my head is as stuffed and heavy as ever! A superb sledge
and four horses have been offered me for a ride, but I am afraid to take
it, lest I should make the "true American catarrh" worse, and should get
hoarse. So I am going to give Osgood another "breather" on foot instead.
The communication with New York is not interrupted, so we consider the
zealous Dolby all right. You may imagine what his work is, when you hear
that he goes three times to every place we visit. Firstly, to look at
the hall, arrange the numberings, and make five hundred acquaintances,
whom he immediately calls by their christian-names; secondly, to sell
the tickets--a very nice business, requiring great tact and temper;
thirdly, with me. He will probably turn up at Washington next Sunday,
but only for a little while; for as soon as I am on the platform on
Monday night, he will start away again, probably to be seen no more
until we pass through New York in the middle of February.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Samuel%20Cartwright/639Charles Dickens
1868-01-29[Sidenote: Mr. Samuel Cartwright]
BALTIMORE, _Wednesday, Jan. 29th, 1868._
MY DEAR CARTWRIGHT,
As I promised to report myself to you from this side of the Atlantic,
and as I have some leisure this morning, I am going to lighten my
conscience by keeping my word.
I am going on at a great pace and with immense success. Next week, at
Washington, I shall, please God, have got through half my readings. The
remaining half are all arranged, and they will carry me into the third
week of April. It is very hard work, but it is brilliantly paid. The
changes that I find in the country generally (this place is the least
changed of any I have yet seen) exceed my utmost expectations. I had
been in New York a couple of days before I began to recognise it at all;
and the handsomest part of Boston was a black swamp when I saw it
five-and-twenty years ago. Considerable advances, too, have been made
socially. Strange to say, the railways and railway arrangements (both
exceedingly defective) seem to have stood still while all other things
have been moving.
One of the most comical spectacles I have ever seen in my life was
"church," with a heavy sea on, in the saloon of the Cunard steamer
coming out. The officiating minister, an extremely modest young man, was
brought in between two big stewards, exactly as if he were coming up to
the scratch in a prize-fight. The ship was rolling and pitching so, that
the two big stewards had to stop and watch their opportunity of making a
dart at the reading-desk with their reverend charge, during which pause
he held on, now by one steward and now by the other, with the feeblest
expression of countenance and no legs whatever. At length they made a
dart at the wrong moment, and one steward was immediately beheld alone
in the extreme perspective, while the other and the reverend gentleman
_held on by the mast_ in the middle of the saloon--which the latter
embraced with both arms, as if it were his wife. All this time the
congregation was breaking up into sects and sliding away; every sect (as
in nature) pounding the other sect. And when at last the reverend
gentleman had been tumbled into his place, the desk (a loose one, put
upon the dining-table) deserted from the church bodily, and went over to
the purser. The scene was so extraordinarily ridiculous, and was made so
much more so by the exemplary gravity of all concerned in it, that I was
obliged to leave before the service began.
This is one of the places where Butler carried it with so high a hand in
the war, and where the ladies used to spit when they passed a Northern
soldier. It still wears, I fancy, a look of sullen remembrance. (The
ladies are remarkably handsome, with an Eastern look upon them, dress
with a strong sense of colour, and make a brilliant audience.) The ghost
of slavery haunts the houses; and the old, untidy, incapable, lounging,
shambling black serves you as a free man. Free of course he ought to be;
but the stupendous absurdity of making him a voter glares out of every
roll of his eye, stretch of his mouth, and bump of his head. I have a
strong impression that the race must fade out of the States very fast.
It never can hold its own against a striving, restless, shifty people.
In the penitentiary here, the other day, in a room full of all blacks
(too dull to be taught any of the work in hand), was one young brooding
fellow, very like a black rhinoceros. He sat glowering at life, as if it
were just endurable at dinner time, until four of his fellows began to
sing, most unmelodiously, a part song. He then set up a dismal howl, and
pounded his face on a form. I took him to have been rendered quite
desperate by having learnt anything. I send my kind regard to Mrs.
Cartwright, and sincerely hope that she and you have no new family
distresses or anxieties. My standing address is the Westminster Hotel,
Irving Place, New York City. And I am always, my dear Cartwright,
Cordially yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/640Charles Dickens
1868-01-31[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
PHILADELPHIA, _Friday, Jan. 31st, 1868._
Since writing to your aunt I have received yours of the 7th, and am
truly glad to have the last news of you confirmed by yourself.
From a letter Wilkie has written to me, it seems there can be no doubt
that the "No Thoroughfare" drama is a real, genuine, and great success.
It is drawing immensely, and seems to "go" with great effect and
applause.
"Doctor Marigold" here last night (for the first time) was an immense
success, and all Philadelphia is going to rush at once for tickets for
the two Philadelphian farewells the week after next. The tickets are to
be sold to-morrow, and great excitement is anticipated in the streets.
Dolby not being here, a clerk will sell, and will probably wish himself
dead before he has done with it.
It appears to me that Chorley[22] writes to you on the legacy question
because he wishes you to understand that there is no danger of his
changing his mind, and at the bottom I descry an honest desire to pledge
himself as strongly as possible. You may receive it in that better
spirit, or I am much mistaken. Tell your aunt, with my best love, that I
wrote to Chauncey weeks ago, in answer to a letter from him. I am now
going out in a sleigh (and four) with unconceivable dignity and
grandeur; mentioning which reminds me that I am informed by trusty
scouts that ---- intends to waylay me at Washington, and may even
descend upon me in the train to-morrow.
Best love to Katie, the two Charleys, and all.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/641Charles Dickens
1868-02-04[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
WASHINGTON, _Tuesday, Feb. 4th, 1868._
I began here last night with great success. The hall being small, the
prices were raised to three dollars each ticket. The audience was a
superior one, composed of the foremost public men and their families. At
the end of the "Carol" they gave a great break out, and applauded, I
really believe, for five minutes. You would suppose them to be
Manchester shillings instead of Washington half-sovereigns. Immense
enthusiasm.
A devoted adherent in this place (an Englishman) had represented to
Dolby that if I were taken to an hotel here it would be impossible to
secure me a minute's rest, and he undertook to get one Wheleker, a
German, who keeps a little Vérey's, to furnish his private dining-rooms
for the illustrious traveller's reception. Accordingly here we are, on
the first and second floor of a small house, with no one else in it but
our people, a French waiter, and a very good French cuisine. Perfectly
private, in the city of all the world (I should say) where the hotels
are intolerable, and privacy the least possible, and quite comfortable.
"Wheleker's Restaurant" is our rather undignified address for the
present week.
I dined (against my rules) with Charles Sumner on Sunday, he having been
an old friend of mine. Mr. Secretary Staunton (War Minister) was there.
He is a man of a very remarkable memory, and famous for his
acquaintance with the minutest details of my books. Give him any passage
anywhere, and he will instantly cap it and go on with the context. He
was commander-in-chief of all the Northern forces concentrated here, and
never went to sleep at night without first reading something from my
books, which were always with him. I put him through a pretty severe
examination, but he was better up than I was.
The gas was very defective indeed last night, and I began with a small
speech, to the effect that I must trust to the brightness of their faces
for the illumination of mine; this was taken greatly. In the "Carol," a
most ridiculous incident occurred all of a sudden. I saw a dog look out
from among the seats into the centre aisle, and look very intently at
me. The general attention being fixed on me, I don't think anybody saw
the dog; but I felt so sure of his turning up again and barking, that I
kept my eye wandering about in search of him. He was a very comic dog,
and it was well for me that I was reading a very comic part of the book.
But when he bounced out into the centre aisle again, in an entirely new
place (still looking intently at me) and tried the effect of a bark upon
my proceedings, I was seized with such a paroxysm of laughter, that it
communicated itself to the audience, and we roared at one another loud
and long.
The President has sent to me twice, and I am going to see him to-morrow.
He has a whole row for his family every night. Dolby rejoined his chief
yesterday morning, and will probably remain in the august presence until
Sunday night. He and Osgood, "training for the match," are ludicrous
beyond belief. I saw them just now coming up a street, each trying to
pass the other, and immediately fled. Since I have been writing this,
they have burst in at the door and sat down on the floor to blow. Dolby
is now writing at a neighbouring table, with his bald head smoking as if
he were on fire. Kelly (his great adherent) asked me, when he was last
away, whether it was quite fair that I should take Mr. Osgood out for
"breathers" when Mr. Dolby had no such advantage. I begin to expect that
half Boston will turn out on the 29th to see the match. In which case it
will be unspeakably droll.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/642Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
WASHINGTON, _my Birthday_, 1868.
(_And my cold worse than ever._)
This will be but a short letter, as I have been to see the President
this morning, and have little time before the post goes. He had sent a
gentleman to me, most courteously begging me to make my own appointment,
and I did so. A man of very remarkable appearance indeed, of tremendous
firmness of purpose. Not to be turned or trifled with.
As I mention my cold's being so bad, I will add that I have never had
anything the matter with me since I came here _but_ the cold. It is now
in my throat, and slightly on my chest. It occasions me great
discomfort, and you would suppose, seeing me in the morning, that I
could not possibly read at night. But I have always come up to the
scratch, have not yet missed one night, and have gradually got used to
that. I had got much the better of it; but the dressing-room at the hall
here is singularly cold and draughty, and so I have slid back again.
The papers here having written about this being my birthday, the most
exquisite flowers came pouring in at breakfast time from all sorts of
people. The room is covered with them, made up into beautiful bouquets,
and arranged in all manner of green baskets. Probably I shall find
plenty more at the hall to-night. This is considered the dullest and
most apathetic place in America. _My_ audiences have been superb.
I mentioned the dog on the first night here. Next night I thought I
heard (in "Copperfield") a suddenly suppressed bark. It happened in this
wise: Osgood, standing just within the door, felt his leg touched, and
looking down beheld the dog staring intently at me, and evidently just
about to bark. In a transport of presence of mind and fury, he instantly
caught him up in both hands and threw him over his own head out into the
entry, where the check-takers received him like a game at ball. Last
night he came again _with another dog_; but our people were so sharply
on the look-out for him that he didn't get in. He had evidently promised
to pass the other dog free.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/643Charles Dickens
1868-02-11[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
BALTIMORE, U.S., _Tuesday, Feb. 11th, 1868._
The weather has been desperately severe, and my cold quite as bad as
ever. I couldn't help laughing at myself on my birthday at Washington.
It was observed as much as though I were a little boy. Flowers and
garlands (of the most exquisite kind) bloomed all over the room; letters
radiant with good wishes poured in; a shirt pin, a handsome silver
travelling bottle, a set of gold shirt studs, and a set of gold sleeve
links were on the dinner-table. After "Boots," at night, the whole
audience rose and remained (Secretaries of State, President's family,
Judges of Supreme Court, and so forth) standing and cheering until I
went back to the table and made them a little speech. On the same
august day of the year I was received by the President, a man with a
very remarkable and determined face. Each of us looked at each other
very hard, and each of us managed the interview (I think) to the
satisfaction of the other. In the outer room was sitting a certain
sunburnt General Blair, with many evidences of the war upon him. He got
up to shake hands with me, and then I found he had been out in the
prairie with me five-and-twenty years ago. That afternoon my "catarrh"
was in such a state that Charles Sumner, coming in at five o'clock and
finding me covered with mustard poultice, and apparently voiceless,
turned to Dolby and said: "Surely, Mr. Dolby, it is impossible that he
can read to-night." Says Dolby: "Sir, I have told the dear Chief so four
times to-day, and I have been very anxious. But you have no idea how he
will change when he gets to the little table." After five minutes of the
little table, I was not (for the time) even hoarse. The frequent
experience of this return of force when it is wanted saves me a vast
amount of anxiety.
I wish you would get from Homan and report to me, as near as he can
make, an approximate estimate is the right term in the trade, I believe,
of the following work:
1. To re-cover, with red leather, all the dining-room chairs.
2. To ditto, with green leather, all the library chairs and the couch.
3. To provide and lay down new _Brussels_ carpets in the front spare and
the two top spares. Quality of carpet, quality of yours and mine.
I have some doubts about the state of the hall floor-cloth, and also the
floor-cloth in the dining-room. Will you and your aunt carefully examine
both (calling in Homan too, if necessary), _and report to me_?
It would seem that "No Thoroughfare" has really developed as a drama
into an amazing success. I begin to think that I shall see it. Dolby is
away this morning, to conquer or die in a terrific struggle with the
Mayor of Newhaven (where I am to read next week), who has assailed him
on a charge of false play in selling tickets. Osgood, my other keeper,
stands at the table to take me out, and have a "breather" for the
walking-match, so I must leave off.
Think of my dreaming of Mrs. Bouncer each night!!!http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Henry%20Fielding%20Dickens/644Charles Dickens
1868-02-11[Sidenote: Mr. Henry Fielding Dickens.]
BALTIMORE, U.S., _Tuesday, Feb. 11th, 1868._
MY DEAR HARRY,
I should have written to you before now, but for constant and arduous
occupation.
In reference to the cricket club's not being what it might be, I agree
with you in the main. There are some things to be considered, however,
which you have hardly taken into account. The first thing to be avoided
is, the slightest appearance of patronage (one of the curses of
England). The second thing to be avoided is, the deprival of the men of
their just right to manage their own affairs. I would rather have no
club at all, than have either of these great mistakes made. The way out
of them is this: Call the men together, and explain to them that the
club might be larger, richer, and better. Say that you think that more
of the neighbouring gentlemen could be got to be playing members. That
you submit to them that it would be better to have a captain who could
correspond with them, and talk to them, and in some sort manage them;
and that, being perfectly acquainted with the game, and having long
played it at a great public school, you propose yourself as captain, for
the foregoing reasons. That you propose to them to make the subscription
of the gentlemen members at least double that of the working men, for no
other reason than that the gentlemen can afford it better; but that both
classes of members shall have exactly the same right of voting equally
in all that concerns the club. Say that you have consulted me upon the
matter, and that I am of these opinions, and am ready to become chairman
of the club, and to preside at their meetings, and to overlook its
business affairs, and to give it five pounds a year, payable at the
commencement of each season. Then, having brought them to this point,
draw up the club's rules and regulations, amending them where they want
amendment.
Discreetly done, I see no difficulty in this. But it can only be
honourably and hopefully done by having the men together. And I would
not have them at The Falstaff, but in the hall or dining-room--the
servants' hall, an excellent place. Whatever you do, let the men ratify;
and let them feel their little importance, and at once perceive how much
better the business begins to be done.
I am very glad to hear of the success of your reading, and still more
glad that you went at it in downright earnest. I should never have made
my success in life if I had been shy of taking pains, or if I had not
bestowed upon the least thing I have ever undertaken exactly the same
attention and care that I have bestowed upon the greatest. Do everything
at your best. It was but this last year that I set to and learned every
word of my readings; and from ten years ago to last night, I have never
read to an audience but I have watched for an opportunity of striking
out something better somewhere. Look at such of my manuscripts as are
in the library at Gad's, and think of the patient hours devoted year
after year to single lines.
The weather is very severe here, and the work is very hard. Dolby,
having been violently pitched into by the Mayor of Newhaven (a town at
which I am to read next week), has gone bodily this morning with defiant
written instructions from me to inform the said mayor that, if he fail
to make out his case, he (Dolby) is to return all the money taken, and
to tell him that I will not set foot in his jurisdiction; whereupon the
Newhaven people will probably fall upon the mayor in his turn, and lead
him a pleasant life.
Ever, my dear Harry, your affectionate Father.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/645Charles Dickens
1868-02-13[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
PHILADELPHIA, _Thursday, Feb. 13th, 1868._
We have got into an immense difficulty with the people of Newhaven. I
have a strong suspicion that one of our men (who sold there) has been
speculating all this while, and that he must have put front seats in his
pockets, and sold back ones. He denies what the mayor charges, but the
mayor holds on grimly. Dolby set off from Baltimore as soon as we found
out what was amiss, to examine and report; but some new feature of
difficulty must have come out, for this morning he telegraphs from New
York (where he had to sleep last night on his way to Newhaven), that he
is coming back for further consultation with the Chief. It will
certainly hurt us, and will of course be distorted by the papers into
all manner of shapes. My suspicion _may not_ be correct, but I have an
instinctive belief that it is. We shall probably have the old New York
row (and loss) over again, unless I can catch this mayor tripping in an
assertion.
In this very place, we are half-distracted by the speculators. They have
been holding out for such high prices, that the public have held out
too; and now (frightened at what they have done) the speculators are
trying to sell their worst seats at half the cost price, so that we are
in the ridiculous situation of having sold the room out, and yet not
knowing what empty seats there may be. _We_ could sell at our box-office
to any extent; but _we_ can't buy back of the speculators, because we
informed the public that all the tickets were gone. And if we bought
_under_ our own price and _sold_ at our own price, we should at once be
in treaty with the speculators, and should be making money by it! Dolby,
the much bullied, will come back here presently, half bereft of his
senses; and I should be half bereft of mine, if the situation were not
comically disagreeable.
Nothing will induce the people to believe in the farewells. At Baltimore
on Tuesday night (a very brilliant night indeed), they asked as they
came out: "When will Mr. Dickens read here again?" "Never." "Nonsense!
Not come back, after such houses as these? Come. Say when he'll read
again." Just the same here. We could as soon persuade them that I am the
President, as that I am going to read here, for the last time, to-morrow
night.
There is a child of the Barney Williams's in this house--a little
girl--to whom I presented a black doll when I was here last. I have seen
her eye at the keyhole since I began writing this, and I think she and
the doll are outside still. "When you sent it up to me by the coloured
boy," she said after receiving it (coloured boy is the term for black
waiter), "I gave such a cream that ma came running in and creamed too,
'cos she fort I'd hurt myself. But I creamed a cream of joy." _She_ had
a friend to play with her that day, and brought the friend with her, to
my infinite confusion. A friend all stockings, and much too tall, who
sat on the sofa very far back, with her stockings sticking stiffly out
in front of her, and glared at me and never spake word. Dolby found us
confronted in a sort of fascination, like serpent and bird.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/646Charles Dickens
1868-02-17[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
NEW YORK, _Monday, Feb. 17th, 1868._
I got your letter of the 3rd of February here this morning. As I am off
at seven to-morrow morning, I answer it at once, though indeed I have
nothing to say.
"True American" still sticking to me. But I am always ready for my work,
and therefore don't much mind. Dolby and the Mayor of Newhaven
alternately embrace and exchange mortal defiances. In writing out some
advertisements towards midnight last night, he made a very good mistake.
"The reading will be comprised within two _minutes_, and the audience
are earnestly entreated to be seated ten _hours_ before its
commencement."
The weather has been finer lately, but the streets are in a horrible
condition, through half-melted snow, and it is now snowing again. The
walking-match (next Saturday week) is already in the Boston papers! I
suppose half Boston will turn out on the occasion. As a sure way of not
being conspicuous, "the men" are going to walk in flannel! They are in a
mingled state of comicality and gravity about it that is highly
ridiculous. Yesterday being a bright cool day, I took Dolby for a
"buster" of eight miles. As everybody here knows me, the spectacle of
our splitting up the fashionable avenue (the only way out of town)
excited the greatest amazement. No doubt _that_ will be in the papers
to-morrow. I give a gorgeous banquet to eighteen (ladies and gentlemen)
after the match. Mr. and Mrs. Fields, Do. Ticknor, Longfellow and his
daughter, Lowell, Holmes and his wife, etc. etc. Sporting speeches to be
made, and the stakes (four hats) to be handed over to the winner.
My ship will not be the _Cuba_ after all. She is to go into dock, and
the _Russia_ (a larger ship, and the latest built for the Cunard line)
is to take her place.
Very glad to hear of Plorn's success. Best love to Mamie.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/M%20Charles%20Fechter/647Charles Dickens
1868-02-24[Sidenote: M. Charles Fechter.]
WASHINGTON, _February 24th, 1868._
MY DEAR FECHTER,
Your letter reached me here yesterday. I have sent you a telegram
(addressed to the theatre) this morning, and I write this by the
earliest return mail.
My dear fellow, consider yourself my representative. Whatever you do, or
desire to do, about the play, I fully authorise beforehand. Tell
Webster, with my regard, that I think his proposal honest and fair; that
I think it, in a word, like himself; and that I have perfect confidence
in his good faith and liberality.
As to making money of the play in the United States here, Boucicault has
filled Wilkie's head with golden dreams that have _nothing_ in them. He
makes no account of the fact that, wherever I go, the theatres (with my
name in big letters) instantly begin playing versions of my books, and
that the moment the Christmas number came over here they pirated it and
played "No Thoroughfare." Now, I have enquired into the law, and am
extremely doubtful whether I _could_ have prevented this. Why should
they pay for the piece as you act it, when they have no actors, and when
all they want is my name, and they can get that for nothing?
Wilkie has uniformly written of you enthusiastically. In a letter I had
from him, dated the 10th of January, he described your conception and
execution of the part in the most glowing terms. "Here Fechter is
magnificent." "Here his superb playing brings the house down." "I should
call even his exit in the last act one of the subtlest and finest things
he does in the piece." "You can hardly imagine what he gets out of the
part, or what he makes of his passionate love for Marguerite." These
expressions, and many others like them, crowded his letter.
I never did so want to see a character played on the stage as I want to
see you play Obenreizer. As the play was going when I last heard of it,
I have some hopes that I MAY see it yet. Please God, your Adelphi
dressing-room will be irradiated with the noble presence of "Never
Wrong" (if you are acting), about the evening of Monday, the 4th of May!
I am doing enormous business. It is a wearying life, away from all I
love, but I hope that the time will soon begin to spin away. Among the
many changes that I find here is the comfortable change that the people
are in general extremely considerate, and very observant of my privacy.
Even in this place, I am really almost as much my own master as if I
were in an English country town. Generally, they are very good audiences
indeed. They do not (I think) perceive touches of art to _be_ art; but
they are responsive to the broad results of such touches. "Doctor
Marigold" is a great favourite, and they laugh so unrestrainedly at "The
Trial" from "Pickwick" (which you never heard), that it has grown about
half as long again as it used to be.
If I could send you a "brandy cocktail" by post I would. It is a highly
meritorious dram, which I hope to present to you at Gad's. My New York
landlord made me a "Rocky Mountain sneezer," which appeared to me to be
compounded of all the spirits ever heard of in the world, with bitters,
lemon, sugar, and snow. You can only make a true "sneezer" when the snow
is lying on the ground.
There, my dear boy, my paper is out, and I am going to read
"Copperfield." Count always on my fidelity and true attachment, and look
out, as I have already said, for a distinguished visitor about Monday,
the 4th of May.
Ever, my dear Fechter,
Your cordial and affectionate Friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/648Charles Dickens
1868-02-25[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
BOSTON, _Tuesday, Feb. 25th, 1868._
It is so very difficult to know, by any exercise of common sense, what
turn or height the political excitement may take next, and it may so
easily, and so soon, swallow up all other things, that I think I shall
suppress my next week's readings here (by good fortune not yet
announced) and watch the course of events. Dolby's sudden desponding
under these circumstances is so acute, that it is actually swelling his
head as I glance at him in the glass while writing.
The catarrh is no better and no worse. The weather is intensely cold.
The walking-match (of which I will send particulars) is to come off on
Sunday. Mrs. Fields is more delightful than ever, and Fields more
hospitable. My room is always radiant with brilliant flowers of their
sending. I don't know whether I told you that the walking-match is to
celebrate the extinction of February, and the coming of the day when I
can say "next month."http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/649Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
BOSTON, _Thursday, Feb. 27th, 1868._
This morning at breakfast I received yours of the 11th from Palace Gate
House. I have very little news to give you in return for your budget.
The walking-match is to come off on Saturday, and Fields and I went over
the ground yesterday to measure the miles. We went at a tremendous pace.
The condition of the ground is something indescribable, from half-melted
snow, running water, and sheets and blocks of ice. The two performers
have not the faintest notion of the weight of the task they have
undertaken. I give a dinner afterwards, and have just now been settling
the bill of fare and selecting the wines.
In the first excitement of the presidential impeachment, our houses
instantly went down. After carefully considering the subject, I decided
to take advantage of the fact that next week's four readings here have
not yet been announced, and to abolish them altogether. Nothing in this
country lasts long, and I think the public may be heartily tired of the
President's name by the 9th of March, when I read at a considerable
distance from here. So behold me with a whole week's holiday in view!
The Boston audiences have come to regard the readings and the reader as
their peculiar property; and you would be at once amused and pleased if
you could see the curious way in which they seem to plume themselves on
both. They have taken to applauding too whenever they laugh or cry, and
the result is very inspiriting. I shall remain here until Saturday, the
7th, but shall not read here, after to-morrow night, until the 1st of
April, when I begin my Boston farewells, six in number.
_Friday, 28th._
It has been snowing all night, and the city is in a miserable condition.
We had a fine house last night for "Carol" and "Trial," and such an
enthusiastic one that they persisted in a call after the "Carol," and,
while I was out, covered the little table with flowers. The "True
American" has taken a fresh start, as if it were quite a novelty, and is
on the whole rather worse than ever to-day. The Cunard packet, the
_Australasian_ (a poor ship), is some days overdue, and Dolby is
anxiously looking out for her. There is a lull in the excitement about
the President, but the articles of impeachment are to be produced this
afternoon, and then it may set in again. Osgood came into camp last
night from selling in remote places, and reports that at Rochester and
Buffalo (both places near the frontier), Canada people bought tickets,
who had struggled across the frozen river and clambered over all sorts
of obstructions to get them. Some of those halls turn out to be smaller
than represented, but I have no doubt, to use an American expression,
that we shall "get along."
To-morrow fortnight we purpose being at the Falls of Niagara, and then
we shall turn back and really begin to wind up. I have got to know the
"Carol" so well that I can't remember it, and occasionally go dodging
about in the wildest manner to pick up lost pieces. They took it so
tremendously last night that I was stopped every five minutes. One poor
young girl in mourning burst into a passion of grief about Tiny Tim, and
was taken out. This is all my news.
Each of the pedestrians is endeavouring to persuade the other to take
something unwholesome before starting.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/650Charles Dickens
1868-03-02[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
BOSTON, _Monday, March 2nd, 1868._
A heavy gale of wind and a snowstorm oblige me to write suddenly for the
Cunard steamer a day earlier than usual. The railroad between this and
New York will probably be stopped somewhere. After all the hard weather
we have had, this is the worst day we have seen.
The walking-match came off on Saturday, over tremendously difficult
ground, against a biting wind, and through deep snow-wreaths. It was so
cold, too, that our hair, beards, eyelashes, eyebrows, were frozen hard,
and hung with icicles. The course was thirteen miles. They were close
together at the turning-point, when Osgood went ahead at a splitting
pace and with extraordinary endurance, and won by half a mile. Dolby did
very well indeed, and begs that he may not be despised. In the evening I
gave a very splendid dinner. Eighteen covers, most magnificent flowers,
such table decoration as was never seen in these parts. The whole thing
was a great success, and everybody was delighted.
I am holiday-making until Friday, when we start on the round of travel
that is to bring us back here for the 1st of April. My holiday-making
is simply thorough resting, except on Wednesday, when I dine with
Longfellow. There is still great political excitement, but I hope it may
not hurt us very much. My fear is that it may damage the farewell. Dolby
is not of my mind as to this, and I hope he may be right. We are not
quite determined whether Mrs. Fields did not desert our colours, by
coming on the ground in a carriage, and having _bread soaked in brandy_
put into the winning man's mouth as he steamed along. She pleaded that
she would have done as much for Dolby, if _he_ had been ahead, so we are
inclined to forgive her. As she had done so much for me in the way of
flowers, I thought I would show her a sight in that line at the dinner.
You never saw anything like it. Two immense crowns; the base, of the
choicest exotics; and the loops, oval masses of violets. In the centre
of the table an immense basket, overflowing with enormous bell-mouthed
lilies; all round the table a bright green border of wreathed creeper,
with clustering roses at intervals; a rose for every button-hole, and a
bouquet for every lady. They made an exhibition of the table before
dinner to numbers of people.
P. H. has just come in with a newspaper, containing a reference (in good
taste!) to the walking-match. He posts it to you by this post.
It is telegraphed that the storm prevails over an immense extent of
country, and is just the same at Chicago as here. I hope it may prove a
wind-up. We are getting sick of the sound of sleigh-bells even.
Your account of Anne has greatly interested me.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/M%20Charles%20Fechter/651Charles Dickens
1868-03-08[Sidenote: M. Charles Fechter.]
SYRACUSE, U.S. OF AMERICA,
_Sunday Night, March 8th, 1868._
MY DEAR FECHTER,
I am here in a most wonderful out-of-the-world place, which looks as if
it had begun to be built yesterday, and were going to be imperfectly
knocked together with a nail or two the day after to-morrow. I am in the
worst inn that ever was seen, and outside is a thaw that places the
whole country under water. I have looked out of window for the people,
and I can't find any people. I have tried all the wines in the house,
and there are only two wines, for which you pay six shillings a bottle,
or fifteen, according as you feel disposed to change the name of the
thing you ask for. (The article never changes.) The bill of fare is "in
French," and the principal article (the carte is printed) is "Paettie de
shay." I asked the Irish waiter what this dish was, and he said: "It was
the name the steward giv' to oyster patties--the Frinch name." These are
the drinks you are to wash it down with: "Mooseux," "Abasinthe,"
"Curacco," "Marschine," "Annise," and "Margeaux"!
I am growing very home-sick, and very anxious for the 22nd of April; on
which day, please God, I embark for home. I am beginning to be tired,
and have been depressed all the time (except when reading), and have
lost my appetite. I cannot tell you--but you know, and therefore why
should I?--how overjoyed I shall be to see you again, my dear boy, and
how sorely I miss a dear friend, and how sorely I miss all art, in these
parts. No disparagement to the country, which has a great future in
reserve, or to its people, who are very kind to me.
I mean to take my leave of readings in the autumn and winter, in a final
series in England with Chappell. This will come into the way of literary
work for a time, for, after I have rested--don't laugh--it is a grim
reality--I shall have to turn my mind to--ha! ha! ha!--to--ha! ha! ha!
(more sepulchrally than before)--the--the CHRISTMAS NUMBER!!! I feel as
if I had murdered a Christmas number years ago (perhaps I did!) and its
ghost perpetually haunted me. Nevertheless in some blessed rest at
Gad's, we will talk over stage matters, and all matters, in an even way,
and see what we can make of them, please God. Be sure that I shall not
be in London one evening, after disembarking, without coming round to
the theatre to embrace you, my dear fellow.
I have had an American cold (the worst in the world) since Christmas
Day. I read four times a week, with the most tremendous energy I can
bring to bear upon it. I travel about pretty heavily. I am very resolute
about calling on people, or receiving people, or dining out, and so save
myself a great deal. I read in all sorts of places--churches, theatres,
concert rooms, lecture halls. Every night I read I am described (mostly
by people who have not the faintest notion of observing) from the sole
of my boot to where the topmost hair of my head ought to be, but is not.
Sometimes I am described as being "evidently nervous;" sometimes it is
rather taken ill that "Mr. Dickens is so extraordinarily composed." My
eyes are blue, red, grey, white, green, brown, black, hazel, violet, and
rainbow-coloured. I am like "a well-to-do American gentleman," and the
Emperor of the French, with an occasional touch of the Emperor of China,
and a deterioration from the attributes of our famous townsman, Rufus W.
B. D. Dodge Grumsher Pickville. I say all sorts of things that I never
said, go to all sorts of places that I never saw or heard of, and have
done all manner of things (in some previous state of existence I
suppose) that have quite escaped my memory. You ask your friend to
describe what he is about. This is what he is about, every day and hour
of his American life.
I hope to be back with you before you write to me!
Ever, my dear Fechter,
Your most affectionate and hearty Friend.
P.S.--Don't let Madame Fechter, or Marie, or Paul forget me!http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/652Charles Dickens
1868-03-08[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
SYRACUSE, _Sunday, March 8th, 1868._
As we shall probably be busy all day to-morrow, I write this to-day,
though it will not leave New York until Wednesday. This is a very grim
place in a heavy thaw, and a most depressing one. The hotel also is
surprisingly bad, quite a triumph in that way. We stood out for an hour
in the melting snow, and came in again, having to change completely.
Then we sat down by the stove (no fireplace), and there we are now. We
were so afraid to go to bed last night, the rooms were so close and
sour, that we played whist, double dummy, till we couldn't bear each
other any longer. We had an old buffalo for supper, and an old pig for
breakfast, and we are going to have I don't know what for dinner at six.
In the public rooms downstairs, a number of men (speechless) are sitting
in rocking-chairs, with their feet against the window-frames, staring
out at window and spitting dolefully at intervals. Scott is in tears,
and George the gasman is suborning people to go and clean the hall,
which is a marvel of dirt. And yet we have taken considerably over three
hundred pounds for to-morrow night!
We were at Albany the night before last and yesterday morning; a very
pretty town, where I am to read on the 18th and 19th. This day week we
hope to wash out this establishment with the Falls of Niagara. And there
is my news, except that your _last letters_ to me in America must be
posted by the Cunard steamer, which will sail from Liverpool on
_Saturday, the 4th of April_. These I shall be safe to get before
embarking.
I send a note to Katie (addressed to Mamie) by this mail. I wrote to
Harry some weeks ago, stating to him on what principles he must act in
remodelling the cricket club, if he would secure success.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/653Charles Dickens
1868-03-12[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
_Monday Morning, 9th._
Nothing new. Weather cloudy, and town more dismal than yesterday. It
froze again last night, and thaws again this morning. Somebody sent me
an Australian newspaper this morning--some citizen of Syracuse I
mean--because of a paragraph in it describing the taking of two
freebooters, at which taking Alfred was present. Though I do not make
out that he had anything in the world to do with it, except having his
name pressed into the service of the newspaper.
BUFFALO, _Thursday, March 12th, 1868._
I hope this may be in time for next Saturday's mail; but this is a long
way from New York, and rivers are swollen with melted snow, and
travelling is unusually slow.
Just now (two o'clock in the afternoon) I received your sad news of the
death of poor dear Chauncey.[23] It naturally goes to my heart. It is
not a light thing to lose such a friend, and I truly loved him. In the
first unreasonable train of feeling, I dwelt more than I should have
thought possible on my being unable to attend his funeral. I know how
little this really matters; but I know he would have wished me to be
there with real honest tears for his memory, and I feel it very much. I
never, never, never was better loved by man than I was by him, I am
sure. Poor dear fellow, good affectionate gentle creature.
I have not as yet received any letter from Henri, nor do I think he can
have written to New York by your mail. I believe that I am--I know that
I _was_--one of the executors. In that case Mr. Jackson, his agent, will
either write to me very shortly on Henri's information of my address, or
enquiry will be made at Gad's or at the office about it.
It is difficult for me to write more just now. The news is a real shock
at such a distance, and I must read to-night, and I must compose my
mind. Let Mekitty know that I received her violets with great pleasure,
and that I sent her my best love and my best thanks.
On the 25th of February I read "Copperfield" and "Bob" at Boston. Either
on that very day, or very close upon it, I was describing his
(Townshend's) house to Fields, and telling him about the great Danby
picture that he should see when he came to London.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/654Charles Dickens
1868-03-16[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
ROCHESTER, _Sunday, March 16th, 1868._
I found yours of the 28th February, when I came back here last night. We
have had two brilliant sunny days at Niagara, and have seen that
wonderful place under the finest circumstances.
Enclosed I return you Homan's estimate; let all that work be done,
including the curtains.
As to the hall, I have my doubts whether one of the parqueted floors
made by Aaron Smith's, of Bond Street, ought not to be better than
tiles, for the reason that perhaps the nature of the house's
construction might render the "bed" necessary for wooden flooring more
easy to be made than the "bed" necessary for tiles. I don't think you
can do better than call in the trusty Lillie to advise. Decide with your
aunt on which appears to be better, under the circumstances. Have
estimate made for _cash_, select patterns and colours, and let the work
be done out of hand. (Here's a prompt order; now I draw breath.) Let it
be thoroughly well done--no half measures.
There is a great thaw all over the country here, and I think it has done
the catarrh good. I am to read at the famous Newhaven on Tuesday, the
24th. I hope without a row, but cannot say. The readings are running out
fast now, and we are growing very restless.
This is a short letter, but we are pressed for time. It is two o'clock,
and we dine at three, before reading. To-morrow we rise at six, and have
eleven hours' railway or so. We have now come back from our farthest
point, and are steadily working towards home.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/655Charles Dickens
1868-03-21[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
SPRINGFIELD, MASS., _Saturday, March 21st, 1868._
MY DEAREST MACREADY,
What with perpetual reading and travelling, what with a "true American
catarrh" (on which I am complimented almost boastfully), and what with
one of the severest winters ever known, your coals of fire received by
the last mail did not burn my head so much as they might have done
under less excusatory circumstances. But they scorched it too!
You would find the general aspect of America and Americans decidedly
much improved. You would find immeasurably greater consideration and
respect for your privacy than of old. You would find a steady change for
the better everywhere, except (oddly enough) in the railroads generally,
which seem to have stood still, while everything else has moved. But
there is an exception westward. There the express trains have now a very
delightful carriage called a "drawing-room car," literally a series of
little private drawing-rooms, with sofas and a table in each, opening
out of a little corridor. In each, too, is a large plate-glass window,
with which you can do as you like. As you pay extra for this luxury, it
may be regarded as the first move towards two classes of passengers.
When the railroad straight away to San Francisco (in six days) shall be
opened through, it will not only have these drawing-rooms, but
sleeping-rooms too; a bell in every little apartment communicating with
a steward's pantry, a restaurant, a staff of servants, marble
washing-stands, and a barber's shop! I looked into one of these cars a
day or two ago, and it was very ingeniously arranged and quite complete.
I left Niagara last Sunday, and travelled on to Albany, through three
hundred miles of flood, villages deserted, bridges broken, fences
drifting away, nothing but tearing water, floating ice, and absolute
wreck and ruin. The train gave in altogether at Utica, and the
passengers were let loose there for the night. As I was due at Albany, a
very active superintendent of works did all he could to "get Mr. Dickens
along," and in the morning we resumed our journey through the water,
with a hundred men in seven-league boots pushing the ice from before us
with long poles. How we got to Albany I can't say, but we got there
somehow, just in time for a triumphal "Carol" and "Trial." All the
tickets had been sold, and we found the Albanians in a state of great
excitement. You may imagine what the flood was when I tell you that we
took the passengers out of two trains that had their fires put out by
the water four-and-twenty hours before, and cattle from trucks that had
been in the water I don't know how long, but so long that the sheep had
begun to eat each other! It was a horrible spectacle, and the haggard
human misery of their faces was quite a new study. There was a fine
breath of spring in the air concurrently with the great thaw; but lo and
behold! last night it began to snow again with a strong wind, and to-day
a snowdrift covers this place with all the desolation of winter once
more. I never was so tired of the sight of snow. As to sleighing, I have
been sleighing about to that extent, that I am sick of the sound of a
sleigh-bell.
I have seen all our Boston friends, except Curtis. Ticknor is dead. The
rest are very little changed, except that Longfellow has a perfectly
white flowing beard and long white hair. But he does not otherwise look
old, and is infinitely handsomer than he was. I have been constantly
with them all, and they have always talked much of you. It is the
established joke that Boston is my "native place," and we hold all sorts
of hearty foregatherings. They all come to every reading, and are always
in a most delightful state of enthusiasm. They give me a parting dinner
at the club, on the Thursday before Good Friday. To pass from Boston
personal to New York theatrical, I will mention here that one of the
proprietors of my New York hotel is one of the proprietors of Niblo's,
and the most active. Consequently I have seen the "Black Crook" and the
"White Fawn," in majesty, from an arm-chair in the first entrance, P.S.,
more than once. Of these astonishing dramas, I beg to report (seriously)
that I have found no human creature "behind" who has the slightest idea
what they are about (upon my honour, my dearest Macready!), and that
having some amiable small talk with a neat little Spanish woman, who is
the _première danseuse_, I asked her, in joke, to let me measure her
skirt with my dress glove. Holding the glove by the tip of the
forefinger, I found the skirt to be just three gloves long, and yet its
length was much in excess of the skirts of two hundred other ladies,
whom the carpenters were at that moment getting into their places for a
transformation scene, on revolving columns, on wires and "travellers" in
iron cradles, up in the flies, down in the cellars, on every description
of float that Wilmot, gone distracted, could imagine!
I have taken my passage for Liverpool from New York in the Cunarder
_Russia_, on the 22nd of April. I had the second officer's cabin on deck
coming out, and I have the chief steward's cabin on deck going home,
because it will be on the sunny side of the ship. I have experienced
nothing here but good humour and cordiality. In the autumn and winter I
have arranged with Chappells to take my farewell of reading in the
United Kingdom for ever and ever.
I am delighted to hear of Benvenuta's marriage, and I think her husband
a very lucky man. Johnnie has my profound sympathy under his
examinatorial woes. The noble boy will give me Gavazzi revised and
enlarged, I expect, when I next come to Cheltenham. I will give you and
Mrs. Macready all my American experiences when you come to London, or,
better still, to Gad's. Meanwhile I send my hearty love to all, not
forgetting dear Katie.
Niagara is not at all spoiled by a very dizzy-looking suspension bridge.
Is to have another still nearer to the Horse-shoe opened in July. My
last sight of that scene (last Sunday) was thus: We went up to the
rapids above the Horse-shoe--say two miles from it--and through the
great cloud of spray. Everything in the magnificent valley--buildings,
forest, high banks, air, water, everything--was _made of rainbow_.
Turner's most imaginative drawing in his finest day has nothing in it so
ethereal, so gorgeous in fancy, so celestial. We said to one another
(Dolby and I), "Let it for evermore remain so," and shut our eyes and
came away.
God bless you and all dear to you, my dear old Friend!
I am ever your affectionate and loving.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/656Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
PORTLAND, _Sunday, March 29th, 1868._
I should have written to you by the last mail, but I really was too
unwell to do it. The writing day was last Friday, when I ought to have
left Boston for New Bedford (fifty-five miles) before eleven in the
morning. But I was so exhausted that I could not be got up, and had to
take my chance of an evening's train producing me in time to read, which
it just did. With the return of snow, nine days ago, the "true American"
(which had lulled) came back as bad as ever. I have coughed from two or
three in the morning until five or six, and have been absolutely
sleepless. I have had no appetite besides, and no taste. Last night here
I took some laudanum, and it is the only thing that has done me good.
But the life in this climate is so very hard. When I did manage to get
from Boston to New Bedford, I read with my utmost force and vigour.
Next morning, well or ill, I must turn out at seven to get back to
Boston on my way here.
I dine at Boston at three, and at five must come on here (a hundred and
thirty miles or so), for to-morrow night; there being no Sunday train.
To-morrow night I read here in a very large place, and Tuesday morning
at six I must start again to get back to Boston once more. But after
to-morrow night, I have only the Boston and New York farewells, thank
God! I am most grateful to think that when we came to devise the details
of the tour, I foresaw that it could never be done, as Dolby and Osgood
proposed, by one unassisted man, as if he were a machine. If I had not
cut out the work, and cut out Canada, I could never have gone there, I
am quite sure. Even as it is, I have just now written to Dolby (who is
in New York), to see my doctor there, and ask him to send me some
composing medicine that I can take at night, inasmuch as without sleep I
cannot get through. However sympathetic and devoted the people are about
me, they _can not_ be got to comprehend that one's being able to do the
two hours with spirit when the time comes round, may be co-existent with
the consciousness of great depression and fatigue. I don't mind saying
all this, now that the labour is so nearly over. You shall have a
brighter account of me, please God, when I close this at Boston.
_Monday, March 30th._
Without any artificial aid, I got a splendid night's rest last night,
and consequently am very much freshened up to-day. Yesterday I had a
fine walk by the sea, and to-day I have had another on the heights
overlooking it.
BOSTON, _Tuesday, 31st._
I have safely arrived here, just in time to add a line to that effect,
and get this off by to-morrow's English mail from New York. Catarrh
rather better. Everything triumphant last night, except no sleep again.
I suppose Dolby to be now on his way back to join me here. I am much
mistaken if the political crisis do not damage the farewells by almost
one half.
I hope that I am certainly better altogether.
My room well decorated with flowers, of course, and Mr. and Mrs. Fields
coming to dinner. They are the most devoted of friends, and never in the
way and never out of it.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/657Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
BOSTON, _Wednesday, April 1st, 1868._
I received your letter of from the 14th to the 17th of March, here, last
night. My New York doctor has prescribed for me promptly, and I hope I
am better. I am certainly no worse. We shall do (to the best of my
belief) _very well_ with the farewells here and at New York, but not
greatly. Everything is at a standstill, pending the impeachment and the
next presidential election. I forgot whether I told you that the New
York press are going to give me a public dinner, on Saturday, the 18th.
I hear (but not from himself) that Wills has had a bad fall in hunting,
and is, or has been, laid up. I am supposed, I take it, not to know this
until I hear it from himself.
_Thursday._
My notion of the farewells is pretty certain now to turn out right. It
is not at all probable that we shall do anything enormous. Every pulpit
in Massachusetts will resound to violent politics to-day and to-night.
You remember the Hutchinson family?[24] I have had a grateful letter
from John Hutchinson. He speaks of "my sister Abby" as living in New
York. The immediate object of his note is to invite me to the marriage
of his daughter, twenty-one years of age.
You will see by the evidence of this piece of paper that I am using up
my stationery. Scott has just been making anxious calculations as to our
powers of holding out in the articles of tooth-powder, etc. The
calculations encourage him to believe that we shall just hold out, and
no more. I think I am still better to-day than I was yesterday; but I am
far from strong, and have no appetite. To see me at my little table at
night, you would think me the freshest of the fresh. And this is the
marvel of Fields' life.
I don't forget that this is Forster's birthday.
_Friday Afternoon, 3rd._
Catarrh worse than ever! And we don't know (at four) whether I can read
to-night or must stop. Otherwise all well.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/658Charles Dickens
1868-04-07[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
BOSTON, _Tuesday, April 7th, 1868._
I not only read last Friday, when I was doubtful of being able to do so,
but read as I never did before, and astonished the audience quite as
much as myself. You never saw or heard such a scene of excitement.
Longfellow and all the Cambridge men urged me to give in. I have been
very near doing so, but feel stronger to-day. I cannot tell whether the
catarrh may have done me any lasting injury in the lungs or other
breathing organs, until I shall have rested and got home. I hope and
believe not. Consider the weather. There have been two snowstorms since
I wrote last, and to-day the town is blotted out in a ceaseless whirl of
snow and wind.
I cannot eat (to anything like the ordinary extent), and have
established this system: At seven in the morning, in bed, a tumbler of
new cream and two tablespoonsful of rum. At twelve, a sherry cobbler and
a biscuit. At three (dinner time), a pint of champagne. At five minutes
to eight, an egg beaten up with a glass of sherry. Between the parts,
the strongest beef tea that can be made, drunk hot. At a quarter-past
ten, soup, and anything to drink that I can fancy. I don't eat more than
half a pound of solid food in the whole four-and-twenty hours, if so
much.
If I hold out, as I hope to do, I shall be greatly pressed in leaving
here and getting over to New York before next Saturday's mail from
there. Do not, therefore, _if all be well_, expect to hear from me by
Saturday's mail, but look for my last letter from America by the mail of
the following Wednesday, the 15th. _Be sure_ that you shall hear,
however, by Saturday's mail, if I should knock up as to reading. I am
tremendously "beat," but I feel really and unaffectedly so much stronger
to-day, both in my body and hopes, that I am much encouraged. I have a
fancy that I turned my worst time last night.
Dolby is as tender as a woman and as watchful as a doctor. He never
leaves me during the reading now, but sits at the side of the platform
and keeps his eye upon me all the time. Ditto George, the gasman,
steadiest and most reliable man I ever employed. I am the more hopeful
of my not having to relinquish a reading, because last night was
"Copperfield" and "Bob"--by a quarter of an hour the longest, and, in
consideration of the storm, by very much the most trying. Yet I was far
fresher afterwards than I have been these three weeks.
I have "Dombey" to do to-night, and must go through it carefully; so
here ends my report. The personal affection of the people in this place
is charming to the last.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Lavinia%20Watson/659Charles Dickens
1868-05-11[Sidenote: The Hon. Mrs. Watson.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, _Monday, May 11th, 1868._
MY DEAR MRS. WATSON,
I am delighted to have your letter. It comes to me like a faithful voice
from dear old Rockingham, and awakens many memories.
The work in America has been so very hard, and the winter there has been
so excessively severe, that I really have been very unwell for some
months. But I had not been at sea three days on the passage home when I
became myself again.
If you will arrange with Mary Boyle any time for coming here, we shall
be charmed to see you, and I will adapt my arrangements accordingly. I
make this suggestion because she generally comes here early in the
summer season. But if you will propose yourself _anyhow_, giving me a
margin of a few days in case of my being pre-engaged for this day or
that, we will (as my American friends say) "fix it."
What with travelling, reading night after night, and speech-making day
after day, I feel the peace of the country beyond all expression. On
board ship coming home, a "deputation" (two in number, of whom only one
could get into my cabin, while the other looked in at my window) came to
ask me to read to the passengers that evening in the saloon. I
respectfully replied that sooner than do it, I would assault the
captain, and be put in irons.
Ever affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/George%20Cattermole/660Charles Dickens
1868-05-16[Sidenote: Mrs. George Cattermole.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Saturday, May 16th, 1868._
MY DEAR MRS. CATTERMOLE,
On my return from America just now, I accidentally heard that George had
been ill. My sister-in-law had heard it from Forster, but vaguely. Until
I received your letter of Wednesday's date, I had no idea that he had
been very ill; and should have been greatly shocked by knowing it, were
it not for the hopeful and bright assurance you give me that he is
greatly better.
My old affection for him has never cooled. The last time he dined with
me, I asked him to come again that day ten years, for I was perfectly
certain (this was my small joke) that I should not set eyes upon him
sooner. The time being fully up, I hope you will remind him, with my
love, that he is due. His hand is upon these walls here, so I should
like him to see for himself, and _you_ to see for _yourself_, and in
this hope I shall pursue his complete recovery.
I heartily sympathise with you in your terrible anxiety, and in your
vast relief; and, with many thanks for your letter, am ever, my dear
Mrs. Cattermole,
Affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/661Charles Dickens
1868-06-10[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
GAD'S HILL, _Wednesday, June 10th, 1868._
MY DEAREST MACREADY,
Since my return from America, I have been so overwhelmed with business
that I have not had time even to write to you. You may imagine what six
months of arrear are to dispose of; added to this, Wills has received a
concussion of the brain (from an accident in the hunting-field), and is
sent away by the doctors, and strictly prohibited from even writing a
note. Consequently all the business and money details of "All the Year
Round" devolve upon me. And I have had to get them up, for I have never
had experience of them. Then I am suddenly entreated to go to Paris, to
look after the French version of "No Thoroughfare" on the stage. And I
go, and come back, leaving it a great success.
I hope Mrs. Macready and you have not abandoned the idea of coming here?
The expression of this hope is the principal, if not the only, object of
this present note. May the amiable secretary vouchsafe a satisfactory
reply!
Katie, Mary, and Georgina send their very best love to your Katie and
Mrs. Macready. The undersigned is in his usual brilliant condition, and
indeed has greatly disappointed them at home here, by coming back "so
brown and looking so well." They expected a wreck, and were, at first,
much mortified. But they are getting over it now.
To my particular friends, the noble boy and Johnny, I beg to be warmly
remembered.
Ever, my dearest Macready,
Your most affectionate.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Henry%20Austin/662Charles Dickens
1868-07-21[Sidenote: Mrs. Henry Austin.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Tuesday, July 21st, 1868._
ON THE DEATH OF MR. HENRY AUSTIN.[25]
MY DEAR LETITIA,
You will have had a telegram from me to-day. I received your sad news by
this morning's post. They never, without express explanation, mind
"Immediate" on a letter addressed to the office, because half the people
who write there on business that does not press, or on no business at
all, so mark their letters.
On Thursday I have people to see and matters to attend to, both at the
office and at Coutts', which, in Wills's absence, I cannot forego or
depute to another. But, _between ourselves_, I must add something else:
I have the greatest objection to attend a funeral in which my affections
are not strongly and immediately concerned. I have no notion of a
funeral as a matter of form or ceremony. And just as I should expressly
prohibit the summoning to my own burial of anybody who was not very near
or dear to me, so I revolt from myself appearing at that solemn rite
unless the deceased were very near or dear to me. I cannot endure being
dressed up by an undertaker as part of his trade show. I was not in this
poor good fellow's house in his lifetime, and I feel that I have no
business there when he lies dead in it. My mind is penetrated with
sympathy and compassion for the young widow, but that feeling is a real
thing, and my attendance as a mourner would not be--to myself. It would
be to you, I know, but it would not be to myself. I know full well that
you cannot delegate to me your memories of and your associations with
the deceased, and the more true and tender they are the more invincible
is my objection to become a form in the midst of the most awful
realities.
With love and condolence from Georgina, Mary, and Katie,
Believe me, ever your affectionate Brother.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/George%20Cattermole/663Charles Dickens
1868-07-22[Sidenote: Mrs. George Cattermole.]
GAD'S HILL, _Wednesday, July 22nd, 1868._
MY DEAR MRS. CATTERMOLE,
Of course I will sign your memorial to the Academy. If you take either
of the Landseers, certainly take Edwin (1, St. John's Wood Road, N.W.)
But, if you would be content with Frith, I have already spoken to him,
and believe that I can answer for him. I shall be at "All the Year
Round" Office, 26, Wellington Street, London, to-morrow, from eleven to
three. Frith will be here on Saturday, and I shall be here too. I spoke
to him a fortnight ago, and I found him most earnest in the cause. He
said he felt absolutely sure that the whole profession in its best and
highest representation would do anything for George. I sounded him,
having the opportunity of meeting him at dinner at Cartwright's.
Ever yours affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/664Charles Dickens
1868-07-31[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
_Friday, July 31st, 1868._
MY DEAR WILLS,
I had such a hard day at the office yesterday, that I had not time to
write to you before I left. So I write to-day.
I am very unwilling to abandon the Christmas number, though even in the
case of my little Christmas books (which were immensely profitable) I
let the idea go when I thought it was wearing out. Ever since I came
home, I have hammered at it, more or less, and have been uneasy about
it. I have begun something which is very droll, but it manifestly shapes
itself towards a book, and could not in the least admit of even that
shadowy approach to a congruous whole on the part of other contributors
which they have ever achieved at the best. I have begun something else
(aboard the American mail-steamer); but I don't like it, because the
stories must come limping in after the old fashion, though, of course,
what I _have_ done will be good for A. Y. R. In short, I have cast about
with the greatest pains and patience, and I have been wholly unable to
find what I want.
And yet I cannot quite make up my mind to give in without another fight
for it. I offered one hundred pounds reward at Gad's to anybody who
could suggest a notion to satisfy me. Charles Collins suggested one
yesterday morning, in which there is _something_, though not much. I
will turn it over and over, and try a few more starts on my own account.
Finally, I swear I will not give it up until August is out. Vow
registered.
I am clear that a number by "various writers" would not do. If we have
not the usual sort of number, we must call the current number for that
date the Christmas number, and make it as good as possible.
I sit in the Châlet,[26] like Mariana in the Moated Grange, and to as
much purpose.
I am buying the freehold of the meadow at Gad's, and of an adjoining
arable field, so that I shall now have about eight-and-twenty freehold
acres in a ring-fence. No more now.
I made up a very good number yesterday. You will see in it a very short
article that I have called "Now!" which is a highly remarkable piece of
description. It is done by a new man, from whom I have accepted another
article; but he will never do anything so good again.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/William%20De%20Cerjat/665Charles Dickens
1868-08-26[Sidenote: M. de Cerjat.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Wednesday, Aug. 26th, 1868._
MY DEAR CERJAT,
I was happy to receive your esteemed letter a few days ago.
The severity of the winter in America (which was quite exceptional even
in that rigorous climate), combined with the hard work I had to do,
tried me a good deal. Neuralgia and colds beset me, either by turns or
both together, and I had often much to do to get through at night. But
the sea voyage home again did wonders in restoring me, and I have been
very well indeed, though a little fatigued, ever since. I am now
preparing for a final reading campaign in England, Scotland, and
Ireland. It will begin on the 6th of October, and will probably last,
with short occasional intermissions, until June.
The great subject in England for the moment is the horrible accident to
the Irish mail-train. It is now supposed that the petroleum (known to be
a powerful anæsthetic) rendered the unfortunate people who were burnt
almost instantly insensible to any sensation. My escape in the
Staplehurst accident of three years ago is not to be obliterated from my
nervous system. To this hour I have sudden vague rushes of terror, even
when riding in a hansom cab, which are perfectly unreasonable but quite
insurmountable. I used to make nothing of driving a pair of horses
habitually through the most crowded parts of London. I cannot now drive,
with comfort to myself, on the country roads here; and I doubt if I
could ride at all in the saddle. My reading secretary and companion
knows so well when one of these odd momentary seizures comes upon me in
a railway carriage, that he instantly produces a dram of brandy, which
rallies the blood to the heart and generally prevails. I forget whether
I ever told you that my watch (a chronometer) has never gone exactly
since the accident? So the Irish catastrophe naturally revives the
dreadful things I saw that day.
The only other news here you know as well as I; to wit, that the country
is going to be ruined, and that the Church is going to be ruined, and
that both have become so used to being ruined, that they will go on
perfectly well.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/666Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND," NO. 26, WELLINGTON STREET,
STRAND, LONDON, W.C.,
_Saturday, Sept. 26th, 1868._
MY DEAREST MAMIE,
I will add a line to this at the Athenæum, after seeing Plorn off, to
tell you how he went away.
ATHENAEUM, _Quarter to Six._
I can honestly report that he went away, poor dear fellow, as well as
could possibly be expected. He was pale, and had been crying, and (Harry
said) had broken down in the railway carriage after leaving Higham
station; but only for a short time.
Just before the train started he cried a good deal, but not painfully.
(Tell dear Georgy that I bought him his cigars.) These are hard, hard
things, but they might have to be done without means or influence, and
then they would be far harder. God bless him!
PARLIAMENT. REPLY TO A PROPOSAL MADE THROUGH
ALEXANDER RUSSEL, OF "THE SCOTSMAN," THAT HE
SHOULD ALLOW HIMSELF TO BE PUT FORWARD AS A
CANDIDATE FOR THE REPRESENTATION OF EDINBURGH.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/F%20D%20Finlay/667Charles Dickens
1868-10-04[Sidenote: Mr. F. D. Finlay.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Sunday, Oct. 4th, 1868._
MY DEAR FINLAY,
I am much obliged to you in all friendship and sincerity for your
letter. I have a great respect for your father-in-law and his paper, and
I am much attached to the Edinburgh people. You may suppose, therefore,
that if my mind were not fully made up on the parliamentary question, I
should waver now.
But my conviction that I am more useful and more happy as I am than I
could ever be in Parliament is not to be shaken. I considered it some
weeks ago, when I had a stirring proposal from the Birmingham people,
and I then set it up on a rock for ever and a day.
Do tell Mr. Russel that I truly feel this mark of confidence, and that I
hope to acknowledge it in person in Edinburgh before Christmas. There is
no man in Scotland from whom I should consider his suggestion a greater
honour.
Ever yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/M%20Charles%20Fechter/668Charles Dickens
[Sidenote: M. Charles Fechter.]
Poor Plorn is gone to Australia. It was a hard parting at the last. He
seemed to me to become once more my youngest and favourite little child
as the day drew near, and I did not think I could have been so shaken.
You were his idol to the hour of his departure, and he asked me to tell
you how much he wanted to bid you good-bye.
Kindest love from all.
Ever heartily.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/M%20Charles%20Fechter/669Charles Dickens
1868-10-07[Sidenote: The same.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Wednesday, Oct. 7th, 1868._
MY DEAR FECHTER,
I got your letter sent to Gad's Hill this morning. Until I received it,
I supposed the piece to have been put into English from your French by
young Ben. If I understand that the English is yours, then I say that it
is extraordinarily good, written by one in another country.
I do not read again in London until the 20th; and then "Copperfield."
But by that time you will be at work yourself.
Let us dine at six to-day, in order that we may not have to hurry for
the comic dog.
Ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/670Charles Dickens
1868-10-11[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
QUEEN'S HOTEL, MANCHESTER, _Sunday, Oct. 11th, 1868._
MY DEAREST GEORGY,
We had a fine audience last night in the Free Trade Hall, though not
what we consider a large money-house. The let in Liverpool is extremely
good, and we are going over there at half-past one. We got down here
pleasantly enough and in good time; so all has gone well you see.
Titiens, Santley, and an opera company of that class are at the theatre
here. They have been doing very poorly in Manchester.
There is the whole of my scanty news. I was in wonderful voice last
night, but croak a little this morning, after so much speaking in so
very large a place. Otherwise I am all right. I find myself constantly
thinking of Plorn.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/671Charles Dickens
1868-10-12[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
ADELPHI HOTEL, LIVERPOOL, _Monday, Oct. 12th, 1868._
MY DEAREST MAMIE,
Our lets here are excellent, and we shall have a great house to-night.
We had a very fine and enthusiastic audience in the Free Trade Hall, at
Manchester, on Saturday; but our first nights there never count up in
money, as the rest do. Yesterday, "Charlotte," Sainton, and Piatti
stayed with us here; and they went on to Hull this morning. It was
pleasant to be alone again, though they were all very agreeable.
The exertion of going on for two hours in that immense place at
Manchester being very great, I was hoarse all day yesterday, though I
was not much distressed on Saturday night. I am becoming melodious again
(at three in the afternoon) rapidly, and count on being quite restored
by a basin of turtle at dinner.
I am glad to hear about Armatage, and hope that a service begun in a
personal attachment to Plorn may go on well. I shall never be
over-confident in such matters, I think, any more.
The day is delicious here. We have had a blow on the Mersey this
morning, and exulted over the American steamers. With kind regard to Sir
William and Lady Humphery.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/672Charles Dickens
1868-10-13[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
ADELPHI HOTEL, LIVERPOOL, _Tuesday, Oct. 13th, 1868._
As I sent a line to Mary yesterday, I enclose you Alfred's letter.
Please send it on to her when you next write to Penton.
I have just now written to Mrs. Forster, asking her to explain to Miss
Forster how she could have an easy-chair or a sofa behind my side screen
on Tuesday, without occasioning the smallest inconvenience to anybody.
Also, how she would have a door close at hand, leading at once to cool
passages and a quiet room, etc. etc. etc. It is a sad story.
We had a fine house here last night, and a large turn-away. "Marigold"
and "Trial" went immensely. I doubt if "Marigold" were ever more
enthusiastically received. "Copperfield" and "Bob" to-night, and a large
let. This notwithstanding election meetings and all sorts of things.
My favourite room brought my voice round last night, and I am in
considerable force.
Dolby sends kindest regard, and the message: "Everton toffee shall not
be forgotten."http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Henry%20Fielding%20Dickens/673Charles Dickens
1868-10-15[Sidenote: Mr. Henry Fielding Dickens.]
ADELPHI HOTEL, LIVERPOOL, _Thursday, Oct. 15th, 1868._
MY DEAR HARRY,
I have your letter here this morning. I enclose you another cheque for
twenty-five pounds, and I write to London by this post, ordering three
dozen sherry, two dozen port, and three dozen light claret, to be sent
down to you.
Now, observe attentively. We must have no shadow of debt. Square up
everything whatsoever that it has been necessary to buy. Let not a
farthing be outstanding on any account, when we begin together with your
allowance. Be particular in the minutest detail.
I wish to have no secret from you in the relations we are to establish
together, and I therefore send you Joe Chitty's letter bodily. Reading
it, you will know exactly what I know, and will understand that I treat
you with perfect confidence. It appears to me that an allowance of two
hundred and fifty pounds a year will be handsome for all your wants, if
I send you your wines. I mean this to include your tailor's bills as
well as every other expense; and I strongly recommend you to buy nothing
in Cambridge, and to take credit for nothing but the clothes with which
your tailor provides you. As soon as you have got your furniture
accounts in, let us wipe all those preliminary expenses clean out, and I
will then send you your first quarter. We will count in it October,
November, and December; and your second quarter will begin with the New
Year. If you dislike, at first, taking charge of so large a sum as
sixty-two pounds ten shillings, you can have your money from me
half-quarterly.
You know how hard I work for what I get, and I think you know that I
never had money help from any human creature after I was a child. You
know that you are one of many heavy charges on me, and that I trust to
your so exercising your abilities and improving the advantages of your
past expensive education, as soon to diminish _this_ charge. I say no
more on that head.
Whatever you do, above all other things keep out of debt and confide in
me. If you ever find yourself on the verge of any perplexity or
difficulty, come to me. You will never find me hard with you while you
are manly and truthful.
As your brothers have gone away one by one, I have written to each of
them what I am now going to write to you. You know that you have never
been hampered with religious forms of restraint, and that with mere
unmeaning forms I have no sympathy. But I most strongly and
affectionately impress upon you the priceless value of the New
Testament, and the study of that book as the one unfailing guide in
life. Deeply respecting it, and bowing down before the character of our
Saviour, as separated from the vain constructions and inventions of men,
you cannot go very wrong, and will always preserve at heart a true
spirit of veneration and humility. Similarly I impress upon you the
habit of saying a Christian prayer every night and morning. These things
have stood by me all through my life, and remember that I tried to
render the New Testament intelligible to you and lovable by you when you
were a mere baby.
And so God bless you.
Ever your affectionate Father.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/William%20Charles%20Kent/674Charles Dickens
1868-11-16[Sidenote: Mr. William Charles Kent.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Monday, Nov. 16th, 1868._
MY DEAR KENT,
I was on the eve of writing to you.
We thought of keeping the trial private; but Oxenford has suggested to
Chappell that he would like to take the opportunity of to-morrow night's
reading, of saying something about "Oliver" in _Wednesday's paper_.
Chappell has told Levy of this, and also Mr. Tompkin, of _The Post_,
who was there. Consequently, on Wednesday evening your charming article
can come out to the best advantage.
You have no idea of the difficulty of getting in the end of Sikes. As to
the man with the invaluable composition! my dear fellow, believe me, no
audience on earth could be held for ten minutes after the girl's death.
Give them time, and they would be revengeful for having had such a
strain put upon them. Trust me to be right. I stand there, and I know.
Concerning Harry, I like to guide the boys to a distinct choice, rather
than to press it on them. That will be my course as to the Middle
Temple, of which I think as you do.
With cordial thanks for every word in your letter,
Affectionately yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/F%20Lehmann/675Charles Dickens
1868-12-06[Sidenote: Mrs. F. Lehmann.]
KENNEDY'S HOTEL, EDINBURGH, _Sunday, Dec. 6th, 1868._
MY DEAR MRS. LEHMANN,
I hope you will see Nancy with the light of a great audience upon her
some time between this and May; always supposing that she should not
prove too weird and woeful for the general public.
You know the aspect of this city on a Sunday, and how gay and bright it
is. The merry music of the blithe bells, the waving flags, the
prettily-decorated houses with their draperies of various colours, and
the radiant countenances at the windows and in the streets, how charming
they are! The usual preparations are making for the band in the open
air, in the afternoon; and the usual pretty children (selected for that
purpose) are at this moment hanging garlands round the Scott monument,
preparatory to the innocent Sunday dance round that edifice, with which
the diversions invariably close. It is pleasant to think that these
customs were themselves of the early Christians, those early birds who
_didn't_ catch the worm--and nothing else--and choke their young with
it.
Faithfully yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/676Charles Dickens
1868-12-06[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
KENNEDY'S HOTEL, EDINBURGH, _Sunday, Dec. 6th, 1868._
We got down here to our time to the moment; and, considering the length
of the journey, very easily. I made a calculation on the road, that the
railway travelling over such a distance involves something more than
thirty thousand shocks to the nerves. Dolby didn't like it at all.
The signals for a gale were up at Berwick, and along the road between
there and here. It came on just as we arrived, and blew tremendously
hard all night. The wind is still very high, though the sky is bright
and the sun shining. We couldn't sleep for the noise.
We are very comfortably quartered. I fancy that the "business" will be
on the whole better here than in Glasgow, where trade is said to be very
bad. But I think I shall be pretty correct in both places as to the run
being on the final readings.
We are going up Arthur's Seat presently, which will be a pull for our
fat friend.
Scott, in a new Mephistopheles hat, baffles imagination and description.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Wilkie%20Collins/677Charles Dickens
1868-12-08[Sidenote: Mr. W. Wilkie Collins.]
KENNEDY'S HOTEL, EDINBURGH, _Tuesday, Dec. 8th, 1868._
MY DEAR WILKIE,
I am hard at it here as usual, though with an audience so finely
perceptive that the labour is much diminished. I have got together in a
very short space the conclusion of "Oliver Twist" that you suggested,
and am trying it daily with the object of rising from that blank state
of horror into a fierce and passionate rush for the end. As yet I cannot
make a certain effect of it; but when I shall have gone over it as many
score of times as over the rest of that reading, perhaps I may strike
one out.
I shall be very glad to hear when you have done your play, and I _am_
glad to hear that you like the steamer. I agree with you about the
reading perfectly. In No. 3 you will see an exact account of some places
I visited at Ratcliffe. There are two little instances in it of
something comic rising up in the midst of the direst misery, that struck
me very humorously at the time.
As I have determined not to do the "Oliver Murder" until after the 5th
of January, when I shall ascertain its effect on a great audience, it is
curious to notice how the shadow of its coming affects the Scotch mind.
There was such a disposition to hold back for it here (until I return to
finish in February) that we had next to no "let" when we arrived. It all
came with a rush yesterday. They gave me a most magnificent welcome back
from America last night.
I am perpetually counting the weeks before me to be "read" through, and
am perpetually longing for the end of them; and yet I sometimes wonder
whether I shall miss something when they are over.
It is a very, very bad day here, very dark and very wet. Dolby is over
at Glasgow, and I am sitting at a side window looking up the length of
Prince's Street, watching the mist change over the Castle and murdering
Nancy by turns.
Ever affectionately.
P.S.--I have read the whole of Fitzgerald's "Zero," and the idea is
exceedingly well wrought out.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/678Charles Dickens
1868-12-12[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
KENNEDY'S HOTEL, EDINBURGH, _Saturday, Dec. 12th, 1868._
I send another _Scotsman_ by this post, because it is really a good
newspaper, well written, and well managed. We had an immense house here
last night, and a very large turn-away.
We have four guests to dinner to-day: Peter Fraser, Ballantyne, John
Blackwood, and Mr. Russel. Immense preparations are making in the
establishment, "on account," Mr. Kennedy says, "of a' four yon chiels
being chiels wha' ken a guid dinner." I enquired after poor Doctor Burt,
not having the least idea that he was dead.
My voice holds out splendidly so far, and I have had no return of the
American. But I sleep very indifferently indeed.
It blew appallingly here the night before last, but the wind has since
shifted northward, and it is now bright and cold. The _Star of Hope_,
that picked up those shipwrecked people in the boat, came into Leith
yesterday, and was received with tremendous cheers. Her captain must be
a good man and a noble fellow.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/679Charles Dickens
1868-12-14[Sidenote: The same.]
KENNEDY'S HOTEL, EDINBURGH, _Monday, Dec. 14th, 1868._
The dinner-party of Saturday last was an immense success. Russel swore
on the occasion that he would go over to Belfast expressly to dine with
me at the Finlays'. Ballantyne informed me that he was going to send you
some Scotch remembrance (I don't know what) at Christmas!
The Edinburgh houses are very fine. The Glasgow room is a big wandering
place, with five prices in it, which makes it the more aggravating, as
the people get into knots which they can't break, as if they were afraid
of one another.
Forgery of my name is becoming popular. You sent me, this morning, a
letter from Russell Sturgis, answering a supposed letter of mine
(presented by "Miss Jefferies"), and assuring me of his readiness to
give not only the ten pounds I asked for, but any contribution I wanted,
towards sending that lady and her family back to Boston.
I wish you would take an opportunity of forewarning Lady Tennent that
the first night's reading she will attend is an experiment quite out of
the way, and that she may find it rather horrible.
The keeper of the Edinburgh Hall, a fine old soldier, presented me, on
Friday night, with the finest red camellia for my button-hole that ever
was seen. Nobody can imagine how he came by it, as the florists had had
a considerable demand for that colour from ladies in the stalls, and
could get no such thing.
The day is dark, wet, and windy. The weather is likely to be vile indeed
at Glasgow, where it always rains, and where the sun is never seen
through the smoke. We go over there to-morrow at ten.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/680Charles Dickens
1868-12-15[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
CARRICK'S ROYAL HOTEL, GLASGOW,
_Tuesday, Dec. 15th, 1868._
It occurs to me that my table at St. James's Hall might be appropriately
ornamented with a little holly next Tuesday. If the two front legs were
entwined with it, for instance, and a border of it ran round the top of
the fringe in front, with a little sprig by way of bouquet at each
corner, it would present a seasonable appearance.
If you will think of this, and will have the materials ready in a little
basket, I will call for you at the office at half-past twelve on
Tuesday, and take you up to the hall, where the table will be ready for
you.
No news, except that we had a great crush and a wonderful audience in
Edinburgh last night.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/681Charles Dickens
1868-12-16[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
CARRICK'S ROYAL HOTEL, GLASGOW,
_Wednesday, Dec. 16th, 1868._
This is to report all well, except that I have wretched nights. The
weather is diabolical here, and times are very bad. I cut "Copperfield"
with a bold dexterity that amazed myself and utterly confounded George
at the wing; knocking off that and "Bob" by ten minutes to ten.
I don't know anything about the Liverpool banquet, except from _The
Times_. As I don't finish there in February (as they seem to have
supposed), but in April, it may, perhaps, stand over or blow over
altogether. Such a thing would be a serious addition to the work, and
yet refusal on my part would be too ungracious.
The density and darkness of this atmosphere are fearful. I shall be
heartily glad to start for Edinburgh again on Friday morning.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/682Charles Dickens
1868-12-18[Sidenote: The same.]
KENNEDY'S HOTEL, EDINBURGH, _Friday, Dec. 18th, 1868._
I am heartily glad to get back here this afternoon. The day is bright
and cheerful, and the relief from Glasgow inexpressible. The
affectionate regard of the people exceeds all bounds, and is shown in
every way. The manager of the railway being at the reading the other
night, wrote to me next morning, saying that a large saloon should be
prepared for my journey up, if I would let him know when I purposed
making the journey. On my accepting the offer he wrote again, saying
that he had inspected "our Northern saloons," and not finding them so
convenient for sleeping in as the best English, had sent up to King's
Cross for the best of the latter; which I would please consider my own
carriage as long as I wanted it. The audiences do everything but
embrace me, and take as much pains with the readings as I do.
I find your Christmas present (just arrived) to be a haggis and
shortbread!http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/J%20C%20Parkinson/683Charles Dickens
1868-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. J. C. Parkinson.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Christmas Day, 1868._
MY DEAR PARKINSON,
When your letter was delivered at "All the Year Round" Office yesterday,
I was attending a funeral. It comes to hand here consequently to-day.
I am diffident of addressing Mr. Gladstone on the subject of your desire
to be appointed to the vacant Commissionership of Inland Revenue,
because, although my respect for him and confidence in him are second to
those of no man in England (a bold word at this time, but a truthful
one), my personal acquaintance with him is very slight. But you may
make, through any of your friends, any use you please of this letter,
towards the end of bringing its contents under Mr. Gladstone's notice.
In expressing my conviction that you deserve the place, and are in every
way qualified for it, I found my testimony upon as accurate a knowledge
of your character and abilities as anyone can possibly have acquired. In
my editorship both of "Household Words" and "All the Year Round," you
know very well that I have invariably offered you those subjects of
political and social interest to write upon, in which integrity,
exactness, a remarkable power of generalising evidence and balancing
facts, and a special clearness in stating the case, were indispensable
on the part of the writer. My confidence in your powers has never been
misplaced, and through all our literary intercourse you have never been
hasty or wrong. Whatever trust you have undertaken has been so
completely discharged, that it has become my habit to read your proofs
rather for my own edification than (as in other cases) for the detection
of some slip here or there, or the more pithy presentation of the
subject.
That your literary work has never interfered with the discharge of your
official duties, I may assume to be at least as well known to your
colleagues as it is to me. It is idle to say that if the post were in my
gift you should have it, because you have had, for some years, most of
the posts of high trust that have been at my disposal. An excellent
public servant in your literary sphere of action, I should be heartily
glad if you could have this new opportunity of distinguishing yourself
in the same character. And this is at least unselfish in me, for I
suppose I should then lose you?
Always faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Edward%20Bulwer%20Lytton%20Dickens/684Charles Dickens
[Sidenote: Mr. Edward Bulwer Lytton Dickens.]
LETTER TO HIS YOUNGEST SON ON HIS DEPARTURE FOR
AUSTRALIA IN 1868.[27]
MY DEAREST PLORN,
I write this note to-day because your going away is much upon my mind,
and because I want you to have a few parting words from me to think of
now and then at quiet times. I need not tell you that I love you dearly,
and am very, very sorry in my heart to part with you. But this life is
half made up of partings, and these pains must be borne. It is my
comfort and my sincere conviction that you are going to try the life for
which you are beat fitted. I think its freedom and wildness more suited
to you than any experiment in a study or office would ever have been;
and without that training, you could have followed no other suitable
occupation.
What you have already wanted until now has been a set, steady, constant
purpose. I therefore exhort you to persevere in a thorough determination
to do whatever you have to do as well as you can do it. I was not so old
as you are now when I first had to win my food, and do this out of this
determination, and I have never slackened in it since.
Never take a mean advantage of anyone in any transaction, and never be
hard upon people who are in your power. Try to do to others, as you
would have them do to you, and do not be discouraged if they fail
sometimes. It is much better for you that they should fail in obeying
the greatest rule laid down by our Saviour, than that you should.
I put a New Testament among your books, for the very same reasons, and
with the very same hopes that made me write an easy account of it for
you, when you were a little child; because it is the best book that ever
was or will be known in the world, and because it teaches you the best
lessons by which any human creature who tries to be truthful and
faithful to duty can possibly be guided. As your brothers have gone
away, one by one, I have written to each such words as I am now writing
to you, and have entreated them all to guide themselves by this book,
putting aside the interpretations and inventions of men.
You will remember that you have never at home been wearied about
religious observances or mere formalities. I have always been anxious
not to weary my children with such things before they are old enough to
form opinions respecting them. You will therefore understand the better
that I now most solemnly impress upon you the truth and beauty of the
Christian religion, as it came from Christ Himself, and the
impossibility of your going far wrong if you humbly but heartily respect
it.
Only one thing more on this head. The more we are in earnest as to
feeling it, the less we are disposed to hold forth about it. Never
abandon the wholesome practice of saying your own private prayers, night
and morning. I have never abandoned it myself, and I know the comfort of
it.
I hope you will always be able to say in after life, that you had a kind
father. You cannot show your affection for him so well, or make him so
happy, as by doing your duty.
Your affectionate Father.
FOOTNOTES:
[20] The Agricultural College, Cirencester.
[21] "No Thoroughfare."
[22] The Mr. H. F. Chorley so often mentioned was the well-known musical
critic, and a dear and intimate friend of Charles Dickens and his
family. We have no letters to him, Mr. Chorley having destroyed all his
correspondence before his death.
[23] Mr. Chauncey Hare Townshend. He was one of the dearest friends of
Charles Dickens and a very constant correspondent; but no letters
addressed to him are in existence.
[24] An American family of brothers and a sister who came to London to
give a musical entertainment shortly after Charles Dickens's return from
his first visit to America. He had a great interest in, and liking for,
these young people.
[25] Cousin and adopted child of Mr. and Mrs. Austin.
[26] A model of a Swiss châlet, and a present from M. Charles Fechter,
used by Charles Dickens as a summer writing-room.
[27] This letter has been already published by Mr. Forster in his
"Life."http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/F%20D%20Finlay/685Charles Dickens
1869-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. F. D. Finlay.]
THE ATHENAEUM (CLUB), _New Year's Day, 1869._
MY DEAR FINLAY,
First my heartfelt wishes for many prosperous and happy years. Next, as
to the mayor's kind intentions. I feel really grateful to him and
gratified by the whole idea, but acceptance of the distinction on my
part would be impracticable. My time in Ireland is all anticipated, and
I could not possibly prolong my stay, because I _must_ be back in London
to read on Tuesday fortnight, and then must immediately set forth for
the West of England. It is not likely, besides, that I shall get through
these farewells before the end of May. And the work is so hard, and my
voice is so precious, that I fear to add an ounce to the fatigue, or I
might be overweighted. The avoidance of gas and crowds when I am not in
the act of being cooked before those lights of mine, is an essential
part of the training to which (as I think you know) I strictly adhere,
and although I have accepted the Liverpool invitation, I have done so as
an exception; the Liverpool people having always treated me in our
public relations with a kind of personal affection.
I am sincerely anxious that the Mayor of Belfast should know how the
case stands with me. If you will kindly set me straight and right, I
shall be truly obliged to you.
My sister-in-law has been very unwell (though she is now much better),
and is recommended a brisk change. As she is a good sailor, I mean to
bring her to Ireland with me; at which she is highly delighted.
Faithfully yours ever.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/William%20De%20Cerjat/686Charles Dickens
1869-01-04[Sidenote: M. de Cerjat.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Monday, Jan. 4th, 1869._
MY DEAR CERJAT,
I will answer your question first. Have I done with my farewell
readings? Lord bless you, no; and I shall think myself well out of it if
I get done by the end of May. I have undertaken one hundred and six, and
have as yet only vanquished twenty-eight. To-morrow night I read in
London for the first time the "Murder" from "Oliver Twist," which I have
re-arranged for the purpose. Next day I start for Dublin and Belfast. I
am just back from Scotland for a few Christmas holidays. I go back there
next month; and in the meantime and afterwards go everywhere else.
Take my guarantee for it, you may be quite comfortable on the subject of
papal aspirations and encroachments. The English people are in
unconquerable opposition to that church. They have the animosity in the
blood, derived from the history of the past, though perhaps
unconsciously. But they do sincerely want to win Ireland over if they
can. They know that since the Union she has been hardly used. They know
that Scotland has _her_ religion, and a very uncomfortable one. They
know that Scotland, though intensely anti-papal, perceives it to be
unjust that Ireland has not _her_ religion too, and has very
emphatically declared her opinion in the late elections. They know that
a richly-endowed church, forced upon a people who don't belong to it, is
a grievance with these people. They know that many things, but
especially an artfully and schemingly managed institution like the
Romish Church, thrive upon a grievance, and that Rome has thriven
exceedingly upon this, and made the most of it. Lastly, the best among
them know that there is a gathering cloud in the West, considerably
bigger than a man's hand, under which a powerful Irish-American body,
rich and active, is always drawing Ireland in that direction; and that
these are not times in which other powers would back our holding Ireland
by force, unless we could make our claim good in proving fair and equal
government.
Poor Townshend charged me in his will "to publish without alteration his
religious opinions, which he sincerely believed would tend to the
happiness of mankind." To publish them without alteration is absolutely
impossible; for they are distributed in the strangest fragments through
the strangest note-books, pocket-books, slips of paper and what not, and
produce a most incoherent and tautological result. I infer that he must
have held some always-postponed idea of fitting them together. For these
reasons I would certainly publish nothing about them, if I had any
discretion in the matter. Having none, I suppose a book must be made.
His pictures and rings are gone to the South Kensington Museum, and are
now exhibiting there.
Charley Collins is no better and no worse. Katie looks very young and
very pretty. Her sister and Miss Hogarth (my joint housekeepers) have
been on duty this Christmas, and have had enough to do. My boys are now
all dispersed in South America, India, and Australia, except Charley,
whom I have taken on at "All the Year Round" Office, and Henry, who is
an undergraduate at Trinity Hall, and I hope will make his mark there.
All well.
The Thames Embankment is (faults of ugliness in detail apart) the finest
public work yet done. From Westminster Bridge to near Waterloo it is now
lighted up at night, and has a fine effect. They have begun to plant it
with trees, and the footway (not the road) is already open to the
Temple. Besides its beauty, and its usefulness in relieving the crowded
streets, it will greatly quicken and deepen what is learnedly called
the "scour" of the river. But the Corporation of London and some other
nuisances have brought the weirs above Twickenham into a very bare and
unsound condition, and they already begin to give and vanish, as the
stream runs faster and stronger.
Your undersigned friend has had a few occasional reminders of his "true
American catarrh." Although I have exerted my voice very much, it has
not yet been once touched. In America I was obliged to patch it up
constantly.
I like to read your patriarchal account of yourself among your Swiss
vines and fig-trees. You wouldn't recognise Gad's Hill now; I have so
changed it, and bought land about it. And yet I often think that if Mary
were to marry (which she won't) I should sell it and go genteelly
vagabondising over the face of the earth. Then indeed I might see
Lausanne again. But I don't seem in the way of it at present, for the
older I get, the more I do and the harder I work.
Yours ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Mary%20Boyle/687Charles Dickens
1869-01-06[Sidenote: Miss Mary Boyle.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Wednesday, Jan. 6th, 1869._
MY DEAR MARY,
I was more affected than you can easily believe, by the sight of your
gift lying on my dressing-table on the morning of the new year. To be
remembered in a friend's heart when it is sore is a touching thing; and
that and the remembrance of the dead quite overpowered me, the one being
inseparable from the other.
You may be sure that I shall attach a special interest and value to the
beautiful present, and shall wear it as a kind of charm. God bless you,
and may we carry the friendship through many coming years!
My preparations for a certain murder that I had to do last night have
rendered me unfit for letter-writing these last few days, or you would
have heard from me sooner. The crime being completely off my mind and
the blood spilled, I am (like many of my fellow-criminals) in a highly
edifying state to-day.
Ever believe me, your affectionate Friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/688Charles Dickens
1869-01-27[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
TORQUAY, _Wednesday, Jan. 27th, 1869._
MY DEAREST MAMIE,
We have been doing immensely.
This place is most beautiful, though colder now than one would expect.
This hotel, an immense place, built among picturesque broken rocks out
in the blue sea, is quite delicious. There are bright green trees in the
garden, and new peas a foot high. Our rooms are _en suite_, all
commanding the sea, and each with two very large plate-glass windows.
Everything good and well served.
A _pantomime_ was being done last night, in the place where I am to read
to-night. It is something between a theatre, a circus, a riding-school,
a Methodist chapel, and a cow-house. I was so disgusted with its
acoustic properties on going in to look at it, that the whole
unfortunate staff have been all day, and now are, sticking up baize and
carpets in it to prevent echoes.
I have rarely seen a more uncomfortable edifice than I thought it last
night.
At Clifton, on Monday night, we had a contagion of fainting. And yet the
place was not hot. I should think we had from a dozen to twenty ladies
borne out, stiff and rigid, at various times. It became quite
ridiculous.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/689Charles Dickens
1869-01-29[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
BATH, _Friday, Jan. 29th, 1869._
MY DEAREST GEORGY,
You must not trust blank places in my list, because many have been, and
will be, gradually filled up. After the Tuesday's reading in London, I
have TWO for that same week in the country--Nottingham and Leicester. In
the following week I have none; but my arrangements are all at sea as
yet, for I must somehow and somewhere do an "Uncommercial" in that week,
and I also want to get poor Chauncey's "opinions" to the printer.
This mouldy old roosting-place comes out mouldily as to let of course. I
hate the sight of the bygone assembly-rooms, and the Bath chairs
trundling the dowagers about the streets. As to to-morrow morning in the
daylight!----
I have no cold to speak of. Dolby sends kindest regard.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Lehmann/690Charles Dickens
1869-02-03[Sidenote: Mrs. Lehmann.]
OFFICE, _Wednesday, Feb. 3rd, 1869._
DEAR MRS. LEHMANN,
Before getting your kind note, I had written to Lehmann, explaining why
I cannot allow myself any social pleasure while my farewell task is yet
unfinished. The work is so very hard, that every little scrap of rest
_and silence_ I can pick up is precious. And even those morsels are so
flavoured with "All the Year Round," that they are not quite the genuine
article.
Joachim[28] came round to see me at the hall last night, and I told him
how sorry I was to forego the pleasure of meeting him (he is a noble
fellow!) at your pleasant table.
I am glad you are coming to the "Murder" on the 2nd of March. (The house
will be prodigious.) Such little changes as I have made shall be
carefully presented to your critical notice, and I hope will be crowned
with your approval. But you are always such a fine audience that I have
no fear on that head. I saw Chorley yesterday in his own room. A sad and
solitary sight. The widowed Drake, with a certain _gin_coherence of
manner, presented a blooming countenance and buxom form in the passage;
so buxom indeed that she was obliged to retire before me like a modest
stopper, before I could get into the dining decanter where poor Chorley
reposed.
Faithfully yours always.
P.S.--My love to Rudie.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/691Charles Dickens
1869-02-25[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
GLASGOW, _Thursday, Feb. 25th, 1869._
I received your letter at Edinburgh this morning. I did not write to you
yesterday, as there had been no reading on the previous night.
The foot bears the fatigue wonderfully well, and really occasions me no
inconvenience beyond the necessity of wearing the big work of art. Syme
saw me again this morning, and utterly scouted the gout notion
altogether. I think the Edinburgh audience understood the "Murder"
better last night than any audience that has heard it yet. "Business" is
enormous, and Dolby jubilant.
It is a most deplorable afternoon here, deplorable even for Glasgow. A
great wind blowing, and sleet driving before it in a storm of heavy
blobs. We had to drive our train dead in the teeth of the wind, and got
in here late, and are pressed for time.
Strange that in the North we have had absolutely no snow. There was a
very thin scattering on the Pentlands for an hour or two, but no more.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/692Charles Dickens
1869-02-26[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
EDINBURGH, _Friday, Feb. 26th, 1869._
Writing to-morrow morning would be all but impracticable for me; would
be quite so for Dolby, who has to go to the agents and "settle up" in
the midst of his breakfast. So I write to-day, in reply to your note
received at Glasgow this morning.
The foot conducts itself splendidly. We had a most enormous cram at
Glasgow. Syme saw me again yesterday (before I left here for Glasgow),
and repeated "Gout!" with the greatest indignation and contempt, several
times. The aching is going off as the day goes on, if it be worth
mentioning again. The ride from Glasgow was charming this morning; the
sun shining brilliantly, and the country looking beautiful.
I told you what the Nortons were. Mabel Lowell is a charming little
thing, and very retiring in manner and expression.
We shall have a scene here to-night, no doubt. The night before last,
Ballantyne, unable to get in, had a seat behind the screen, and was
nearly frightened off it by the "Murder." Every vestige of colour had
left his face when I came off, and he sat staring over a glass of
champagne in the wildest way. I have utterly left off _my_ champagne,
and, I think, with good results. Nothing during the readings but a very
little weak iced brandy-and-water.
I hope you will find me greatly improved on Tuesday.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/693Charles Dickens
1869-03-05[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
BIRMINGHAM, _Friday, March 5th, 1869._
This is to send you my best love, and to wish you many and many happy
returns of to-morrow, which I miraculously remember to be your
birthday.
I saw this morning a very pretty fan here. I was going to buy it as a
remembrance of the occasion, when I was checked by a dim misgiving that
you had a fan not long ago from Chorley. Tell me what you would like
better, and consider me your debtor in that article, whatever it may be.
I have had my usual left boot on this morning, and have had an hour's
walk. It was in a gale of wind and a simoom of dust, but I greatly
enjoyed it. Immense enthusiasm at Wolverhampton last night over
"Marigold." Scott made a most amazing ass of himself yesterday. He
reported that he had left behind somewhere three books--"Boots,"
"Murder," and "Gamp." We immediately telegraphed to the office. Answer,
no books there. As my impression was that he must have left them at St.
James's Hall, we then arranged to send him up to London at seven this
morning. Meanwhile (though not reproached), he wept copiously and
audibly. I had asked him over and over again, was he sure he had not put
them in my large black trunk? Too sure, too sure. Hadn't opened that
trunk after Tuesday night's reading. He opened it to get some clothes
out when I went to bed, and there the books were! He produced them with
an air of injured surprise, as if we had put them there.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/694Charles Dickens
1869-03-07[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
QUEEN'S HOTEL, MANCHESTER, _Sunday, March 7th, 1869._
We have had our sitting-room chimney afire this morning, and have had to
turn out elsewhere to breakfast; but the chamber has since been cleaned
up, and we are reinstated. Manchester is (_for_ Manchester) bright and
fresh.
Tell Russell that a crop of hay is to be got off the meadow this year,
before the club use it. They did not make such use of it last year as
reconciles me to losing another hay-crop. So they must wait until the
hay is in, before they commence active operations.
Poor Olliffe! I am truly sorry to read those sad words about his
suffering, and fear that the end is not far off.
We are very comfortably housed here, and certainly that immense hall is
a wonderful place for its size. Without much greater expenditure of
voice than usual, I a little enlarged the action last night, and Dolby
(who went to all the distant points of view) reported that he could
detect no difference between it and any other place. As always happens
now--and did not at first--they were unanimously taken by Noah
Claypole's laugh. But the go, throughout, was enormous. Sims Reeves was
doing Henry Bertram at the theatre, and of course took some of our
shillings. It was a night of excitement for Cottonopolis.
I received from Mrs. Keeley this morning a very good photograph of poor
old Bob. Yesterday I had a letter from Harry, reminding me that our
intended Cambridge day is the day next after that of the boat-race.
Clearly it must be changed.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/695Charles Dickens
1869-03-20[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
QUEEN'S HOTEL, MANCHESTER, _Saturday, March 20th, 1869._
Getting yours and its enclosure, Mary's note, at two this afternoon, I
write a line at once in order that you may have it on Monday morning.
The Theatre Royal, Liverpool, will be a charming place to read in.
Ladies are to dine at the dinner, and we hear it is to be a very grand
affair. Dolby is doubtful whether it may not "hurt the business," by
drawing a great deal of money in another direction, which I think
possible enough. Trade is very bad _here_, and the gloom of the Preston
strike seems to brood over the place. The Titiens Company have been
doing wretchedly. I should have a greater sympathy with them if they
were not practising in the next room now.
My love to Letitia and Harriette,[29] wherein Dolby (highly gratified by
being held in remembrance) joins with the same to you.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/696Charles Dickens
1869-03-21[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
MANCHESTER, _Sunday, March 21st, 1869._
Will you tell Mary that I have had a letter from Frith, in which he says
that he will be happy to show her his pictures "any day in the first
week of April"? I have replied that she will be proud to receive his
invitation. His object in writing was to relieve his mind about the
"Murder," of which he cannot say enough.
Tremendous enthusiasm here last night, calling in the most thunderous
manner after "Marigold," and again after the "Trial," shaking the great
hall, and cheering furiously.
Love to all.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/John%20Clarke/697Charles Dickens
1869-03-24[Sidenote: Mr. John Clarke.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Wednesday, March 24th, 1869._
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,
I beg to assure you that I am much gratified by the desire you do me the
honour to express in your letter handed to me by Mr. John Clarke.
Before that letter reached me, I had heard of your wish, and had
mentioned to Messrs. Chappell that it would be highly agreeable to me to
anticipate it, if possible. They readily responded, and we agreed upon
having three morning readings in London. As they are not yet publicly
announced, I add a note of the days and subjects:
Saturday, May 1st. "Boots at the Holly-Tree Inn," and "Sikes and Nancy"
from "Oliver Twist."
Saturday, May 8th. "The Christmas Carol."
Saturday, May 22nd. "Sikes and Nancy" from "Oliver Twist," and "The
Trial" from "Pickwick."
With the warmest interest in your art, and in its claims upon the
general gratitude and respect,
Believe me, always faithfully your Friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/698Charles Dickens
1869-04-04[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
ADELPHI HOTEL, LIVERPOOL, _Sunday, April 4th, 1869._
By this post I send to Mary the truly affecting account of poor dear
Katie Macready's death. It is as sorrowful as anything so peaceful and
trustful can be!
Both my feet are very tender, and often feel as though they were in hot
water. But I was wonderfully well and strong, thank God! and had no end
of voice for the two nights running in that great Birmingham hall. We
had enormous houses.
So far as I understand the dinner arrangements here, they are much too
long. As to the acoustics of that hall, and the position of the tables
(both as bad as bad can be), my only consolation is that, if anybody can
be heard, _I_ probably can be. The honorary secretary tells me that six
hundred people are to dine. The mayor, being no speaker and out of
health besides, hands over the toast of the evening to Lord Dufferin.
The town is full of the festival. The Theatre Royal, touched up for the
occasion, will look remarkably bright and well for the readings, and our
lets are large. It is remarkable that our largest let as yet is for
Thursday, not Friday. I infer that the dinner damages Friday, but Dolby
does not think so. There appears to be great curiosity to hear the
"Murder." (On Friday night last I read to two thousand people, and odd
hundreds.)
I hear that Anthony Trollope, Dixon, Lord Houghton, Lemon, Esquiros (of
the _Revue des Deux Mondes_), and Sala are to be called upon to speak;
the last, for the newspaper press. All the Liverpool notabilities are to
muster. And Manchester is to be represented by its mayor with due
formality.
I had been this morning to look at St. George's Hall, and suggest what
can be done to improve its acoustics. As usually happens in such cases,
their most important arrangements are already made and unchangeable. I
should not have placed the tables in the committee's way at all, and
could certainly have placed the daïs to much greater advantage. So all
the good I could do was to show where banners could be hung with some
hope of stopping echoes. Such is my small news, soon exhausted. We
arrived here at three yesterday afternoon; it is now mid-day; Chorley
has not yet appeared, but he had called at the local agent's while I was
at Birmingham.
It is a curious little instance of the way in which things fit together
that there is a ship-of-war in the Mersey, whose flags and so forth are
to be brought up to St. George's Hall for the dinner. She is the
_Donegal_, of which Paynter told me he had just been captain, when he
told me all about Sydney at Bath.
One of the pleasantest things I have experienced here this time, is the
manner in which I am stopped in the streets by working men, who want to
shake hands with me, and tell me they know my books. I never go out but
this happens. Down at the docks just now, a cooper with a fearful
stutter presented himself in this way. His modesty, combined with a
conviction that if he were in earnest I would see it and wouldn't repel
him, made up as true a piece of natural politeness as I ever saw.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/699Charles Dickens
1869-04-21[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
IMPERIAL HOTEL, BLACKPOOL, _Wednesday, April 21st, 1869._
I send you this hasty line to let you know that I have come to this
sea-beach hotel (charming) for a day's rest. I am much better than I was
on Sunday, but shall want careful looking to, to get through the
readings. My weakness and deadness are all _on the left side_, and if I
don't look at anything I try to touch with my left hand, I don't know
where it is. I am in (secret) consultation with Frank Beard; he
recognises, in the exact description I have given him, indisputable
evidences of overwork, which he would wish to treat immediately. So I
have said: "Go in and win."
I have had a delicious walk by the sea to-day, and I sleep soundly, and
have picked up amazingly in appetite. My foot is greatly better too, and
I wear my own boot.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/700Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
PRESTON, _Thursday Evening, April 22nd, 1869._
_Don't be in the least alarmed._ Beard has come down, and instantly
echoes my impression (perfectly unknown to him), that the readings must
be _stopped_. I have had symptoms that must not be disregarded. I go to
Liverpool to-night with him (to get away from here), and proceed to the
office to-morrow.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/The%20Lord%20John%20Russell/701Charles Dickens
1869-05-26[Sidenote: The Lord John Russell.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Wednesday, May 26th, 1869._
MY DEAR LORD RUSSELL,
I have delayed answering your kind letter, in order that you might get
home before I wrote. I am happy to report myself quite well again, and I
shall be charmed to come to Pembroke Lodge on any day that may be most
convenient to Lady Russell and yourself after the middle of June.
You gratify me beyond expression by your reference to the Liverpool
dinner. I made the allusion to you with all my heart at least, and it
was most magnificently received.
I beg to send my kind regard to Lady Russell, with many thanks for her
remembrance, and am ever,
My dear Lord Russell, faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/702Charles Dickens
1869-06-24[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Thursday, June 24th, 1869._
MY DEAR WILLS,
At a great meeting[30] compounded of your late "Chief," Charley, Morley,
Grieve, and Telbin, your letter was read to-day, and a very sincere
record of regret and thanks was placed on the books of the great
institution.
Many thanks for the suggestion about the condition of churches. I am so
aweary of church questions of all sorts that I am not quite clear as to
tackling this. But I am turning it in my mind. I am afraid of two
things: firstly, that the thing would not be picturesquely done;
secondly, that a general cucumber-coolness would pervade the mind of our
circulation.
Nothing new here but a speaking-pipe, a post-box, and a mouldy smell
from some forgotten crypt--an extra mouldy smell, mouldier than of yore.
Lillie sniffs, projects one eye into nineteen hundred and ninety-nine,
and does no more.
I have been to Chadwick's, to look at a new kind of cottage he has built
(very ingenious and cheap).
We were all much disappointed last Saturday afternoon by a neighbouring
fire being only at a carpenter's, and not at Drury Lane Theatre.
Ellen's[31] child having an eye nearly poked out by a young friend, and
being asked whether the young friend was not very sorry afterwards,
replied: "No. _She_ wasn't. _I_ was."
London execrable.
Ever affectionately yours.
P.S.--Love to Mrs. Wills.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Shirley%20Brooks/703Charles Dickens
1869-07-12[Sidenote: Mr. Shirley Brooks.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Tuesday, July 12th, 1869._
MY DEAR BROOKS,
I have appended my sign manual to the memorial, which I think is very
discreetly drawn up. I have a strong feeling of sympathy with poor Mrs.
Cunningham, for I remember the pretty house she managed charmingly. She
has always done her duty well, and has had hard trials. But I greatly
doubt the success of the memorial, I am sorry to add.
It was hotter here yesterday on this Kentish chalk than I have felt it
anywhere for many a day. Now it is overcast and raining hard, much to
the satisfaction of great farmers like myself.
I am glad to infer from your companionship with the Cocked Hats, that
there is no such thing as gout within several miles of you. May it keep
its distance.
Ever, my dear Brooks, faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/704Charles Dickens
1869-07-20[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
GAD'S HILL, _Tuesday, July 20th, 1869._
MY DEAREST MACREADY,
I have received your letter here to-day, and deeply feel with you and
for you the affliction of poor dear Katie's loss. I was not unprepared
for the sad news, but it comes in such a rush of old remembrances and
withered joys that strikes to the heart.
God bless you! Love and youth are still beside you, and in that thought
I take comfort for my dear old friend.
I am happy to report myself perfectly well and flourishing. We are just
now announcing the resumption and conclusion of the broken series of
farewell readings in a London course of twelve, beginning early in the
new year.
Scarcely a day has gone by this summer in which we have not talked of
you and yours. Georgina, Mary, and I continually speak of you. In the
spirit we certainly are even more together than we used to be in the
body in the old times. I don't know whether you have heard that Harry
has taken the second scholarship (fifty pounds a year) at Trinity Hall,
Cambridge. The bigwigs expect him to do a good deal there.
Wills having given up in consequence of broken health (he has been my
sub-editor for twenty years), I have taken Charley into "All the Year
Round." He is a very good man of business, and evinces considerable
aptitude in sub-editing work.
This place is immensely improved since you were here, and really is now
very pretty indeed. We are sorry that there is no present prospect of
your coming to see it; but I like to know of your being at the sea, and
having to do--_from the beach_, as Mrs. Keeley used to say in "The
Prisoner of War"--with the winds and the waves and all their freshening
influences.
I dined at Greenwich a few days ago with Delane. He asked me about you
with much interest. He looks as if he had never seen a printing-office,
and had never been out of bed after midnight.
Great excitement caused here by your capital news of Butty. I suppose
Willy has at least a dozen children by this time.
Our loves to the noble boy and to dear Mrs. Macready.
Ever, my dearest Macready,
Your attached and affectionate.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Edmund%20Ollier/705Charles Dickens
1869-08-03[Sidenote: Mr. Edmund Ollier.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Tuesday, Aug. 3rd, 1869._
MY DEAR MR. OLLIER,
I am very sensible of the feeling of the Committee towards me; and I
receive their invitation (conveyed through you) as a most acceptable
mark of their consideration.
But I have a very strong objection to speech-making beside graves. I do
not expect or wish my feeling in this wise to guide other men; still, it
is so serious with me, and the idea of ever being the subject of such a
ceremony myself is so repugnant to my soul, that I must decline to
officiate.
Faithfully yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Dickens/706Charles Dickens
1869-08-03[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND," NO. 26, WELLINGTON STREET,
STRAND, LONDON, W.C.,
_Tuesday, Aug. 3rd, 1869._
MY DEAREST MAMIE,
I send you the second chapter of the remarkable story. The printer is
late with it, and I have not had time to read it, and as I altered it
considerably here and there, I have no doubt there are some verbal
mistakes in it. However, they will probably express themselves.
But I offer a prize of six pairs of gloves--between you, and your aunt,
and Ellen Stone, as competitors--to whomsoever will tell me what idea in
this second part is mine. I don't mean an idea in language, in the
turning of a sentence, in any little description of an action, or a
gesture, or what not in a small way, but an idea, distinctly affecting
the whole story _as I found it_. You are all to assume that I found it
in the main as you read it, with one exception. If I had written it, I
should have made the woman love the man at last. And I should have
shadowed that possibility out, by the child's bringing them a little
more together on that holiday Sunday.
But I didn't write it. So, finding that it wanted something, I put that
something in. What was it?
Love to Ellen Stone.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Arthur%20Ryland/707Charles Dickens
1869-08-13[Sidenote: Mr. Arthur Ryland.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Friday, Aug. 13th, 1869._
MY DEAR MR. RYLAND,
Many thanks for your letter.
I have very strong opinions on the subject of speechification, and hold
that there is, everywhere, a vast amount too much of it. A sense of
absurdity would be so strong upon me, if I got up at Birmingham to make
a flourish on the advantages of education in the abstract for all sorts
and conditions of men, that I should inevitably check myself and present
a surprising incarnation of the soul of wit. But if I could interest
myself in the practical usefulness of the particular institution; in the
ways of life of the students; in their examples of perseverance and
determination to get on; in their numbers, their favourite studies, the
number of hours they must daily give to the work that must be done for a
livelihood, before they can devote themselves to the acquisition of new
knowledge, and so forth, then I could interest others. This is the kind
of information I want. Mere holding forth "I utterly detest, abominate,
and abjure."
I fear I shall not be in London next week. But if you will kindly send
me here, at your leisure, the roughest notes of such points as I have
indicated, I shall be heartily obliged to you, and will take care of
their falling into shape and order in my mind. Meantime I "make a note
of" Monday, 27th September, and of writing to you touching your kind
offer of hospitality, three weeks before that date.
I beg to send my kind regard to Mrs. and Miss Ryland, and am always,
Very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Frederic%20Ouvry/708Charles Dickens
1869-08-22[Sidenote: Mr. Frederic Ouvry.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Sunday, Aug. 22nd, 1869._
MY DEAR OUVRY,
I will expect a call from you at the office, on Thursday, at your own
most convenient hour. I admit the soft impeachment concerning Mrs. Gamp:
I likes my payments to be made reg'lar, and I likewise likes my
publisher to draw it mild.
Ever yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Arthur%20Ryland/709Charles Dickens
1869-09-06[Sidenote: Mr. Arthur Ryland.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Monday, Sept. 6th, 1869._
MY DEAR MR. RYLAND,
I am sorry to find--I had a foreshadowing of it some weeks ago--that I
shall not be able to profit by your kind offer of hospitality when I
come to Birmingham for _our_ Institution. I must come down in time for a
quiet dinner at the hotel with my "Readings" secretary, Mr. Dolby, and
must away next morning. Besides having a great deal in hand just now
(the title of a new book among other things), I shall have visitors from
abroad here at the time, and am severely claimed by my daughter, who
indeed is disloyal to Birmingham in the matter of my going away at all.
Pray represent me to Mrs. Ryland as the innocent victim of
circumstances, and as sacrificing pleasure to the work I have to do, and
to the training under which alone I can do it without feeling it.
You will see from the enclosed that I am in full force, and going to
finish my readings, please God, after Christmas. I am in the hope of
receiving your promised notes in due course, and continue in the
irreverent condition in which I last reported myself on the subject of
speech-making. Now that men not only make the nights of the session
hideous by what the Americans call "orating" in Parliament, but trouble
the peace of the vacation by saying over again what they said there
(with the addition of what they _didn't_ say there, and never will have
the courage to say there), I feel indeed that silence, like gold across
the Atlantic, is a rarity at a premium.
Faithfully yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/William%20Charles%20Kent/710Charles Dickens
1869-10-07[Sidenote: Mr. William Charles Kent.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Thursday, Oct. 7th, 1869._
MY DEAR KENT,
I felt that you would be deeply disappointed. I thought it better not to
make the first sign while you were depressed, but my mind has been
constantly with you. And not mine alone. You cannot think with what
affection and sympathy you have been made the subject of our family
dinner talk at Gad's Hill these last three days. Nothing could exceed
the interest of my daughters and my sister-in-law, or the earnestness of
their feeling about it. I have been really touched by its warm and
genuine expression.
Cheer up, my dear fellow; cheer up, for God's sake. That is, for the
sake of all that is good in you and around you.
Ever your affectionate Friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/711Charles Dickens
1869-10-18[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
GAD'S HILL, _Monday, Oct. 18th, 1869._
MY DEAREST MACREADY,
I duly received your letter nearly a fortnight ago, with the greatest
interest and pleasure. Above all things I am delighted with the prospect
of seeing you here next summer; a prospect which has been received with
nine times nine and one more by the whole house. You will hardly know
the place again, it is so changed. You are not expected to admire, but
there _is_ a conservatory building at this moment--be still, my soul!
This leaves me in the preliminary agonies of a new book, which I hope to
begin publishing (in twelve numbers, not twenty) next March. The coming
readings being all in London, and being, after the first fortnight, only
once a week, will divert my attention very little, I hope.
Harry has just gone up to Cambridge again, and I hope will get a
fellowship in good time.
Wills is much gratified by your remembrance, and sends you his warm
regard. He wishes me to represent that he is very little to be pitied.
That he suffers no pain, scarcely inconvenience, even, so long as he is
idle. That he likes idleness exceedingly. He has bought a country place
by Welwyn in Hertfordshire, near Lytton's, and takes possession
presently.
My boy Sydney is now a second lieutenant, the youngest in the Service, I
believe. He has the highest testimonials as an officer.
You may be quite sure there will be no international racing in American
waters. Oxford knows better, or I am mistaken. The Harvard crew were a
very good set of fellows, and very modest.
Ryland of Birmingham doesn't look a day older, and was full of interest
in you, and asked me to remind you of him. By-the-bye, at Elkington's I
saw a pair of immense tea-urns from a railway station (Stafford), sent
there to be repaired. They were honeycombed within in all directions,
and had been supplying the passengers, under the active agency of hot
water, with decomposed lead, copper, and a few other deadly poisons, for
heaven knows how many years!
I must leave off in a hurry to catch the post, after a hard day's work.
Ever, my dearest Macready,
Your most affectionate and attached.
FOOTNOTES:
[28] Herr Joseph Joachim, the renowned violinist.
[29] His sister-in-law, Mrs. Augustus Dickens, always a welcome visitor
at Gad's Hill.
[30] Of the Guild of Literature and Art.
[31] The housekeeper at the office.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/712Charles Dickens
1870-01-23[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
5, HYDE PARK PLACE, LONDON, W., _Sunday, Jan. 23rd, 1870._
MY DEAR WILLS,
In the note I had from you about Nancy and Sikes, you seem to refer to
some other note you had written me. Therefore I think it well merely to
mention that I have received no other note.
I do not wonder at your not being up to the undertaking (even if you had
had no cough) under the wearing circumstances. It was a very curious
scene. The actors and actresses (most of the latter looking very pretty)
mustered in extraordinary force, and were a fine audience. I set myself
to carrying out of themselves and their observation, those who were bent
on watching how the effects were got; and I believe I succeeded. Coming
back to it again, however, I feel it was madness ever to do it so
continuously. My ordinary pulse is seventy-two, and it runs up under
this effort to one hundred and twelve. Besides which, it takes me ten or
twelve minutes to get my wind back at all; I being, in the meantime,
like the man who lost the fight--in fact, his express image. Frank Beard
was in attendance to make divers experiments to report to Watson; and
although, as you know, he stopped it instantly when he found me at
Preston, he was very much astonished by the effects of the reading on
the reader.
So I hope you may be able to come and hear it before it is silent for
ever. It is done again on the evenings of the 1st February, 15th
February, and 8th March. I hope, now I have got over the mornings, that
I may be able to work on my book. But up to this time the great
preparation required in getting the subjects up again, and the twice a
week besides, have almost exclusively occupied me.
I have something the matter with my right thumb, and can't (as you see)
write plainly. I sent a word to poor Robert Chambers,[32] and I send my
love to Mrs. Wills.
Ever, my dear Wills, affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Dallas/713Charles Dickens
1870-01-16[Sidenote: Mrs. Dallas.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Wednesday, Jan. 16th, 1870._
MY DEAR MRS. DALLAS,
It is perfectly delightful to me to get your fervent and sympathetic
note this morning. A thousand thanks for it. I will take care that two
places on the front row, by my daughter, are reserved for your occasion
next time. I cannot see you in too good a seat, or too often.
Believe me, ever very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/S%20L%20Fildes/714Charles Dickens
1870-01-16[Sidenote: Mr. S. L. Fildes.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Wednesday, Jan. 16th, 1870._
DEAR SIR,
I beg to thank you for the highly meritorious and interesting specimens
of your art that you have had the kindness to send me. I return them
herewith, after having examined them with the greatest pleasure.
I am naturally curious to see your drawing from "David Copperfield," in
order that I may compare it with my own idea. In the meanwhile, I can
honestly assure you that I entertain the greatest admiration for your
remarkable powers.
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Henry%20Fielding%20Dickens/715Charles Dickens
1870-02-17[Sidenote: Mr. Henry Fielding Dickens.]
5, HYDE PARK PLACE, W., _Thursday, Feb. 17th, 1870._
MY DEAR HARRY,
I am extremely glad to hear that you have made a good start at the
Union. Take any amount of pains about it; open your mouth well and
roundly, speak to the last person visible, and give yourself time.
Loves from all.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20C%20Macready/716Charles Dickens
1870-03-02[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
_Wednesday, March 2nd, 1870._
MY DEAREST MACREADY,
This is to wish you and yours all happiness and prosperity at the
well-remembered anniversary to-morrow. You may be sure that loves and
happy returns will not be forgotten at _our_ table.
I have been getting on very well with my book, and we are having immense
audiences at St. James's Hall. Mary has been celebrating the first
glimpses of spring by having the measles. She got over the disorder very
easily, but a weakness remains behind. Katie is blooming. Georgina is in
perfect order, and all send you their very best loves. It gave me true
pleasure to have your sympathy with me in the second little speech at
Birmingham. I was determined that my Radicalism should not be called in
question. The electric wires are not very exact in their reporting, but
at all events the sense was there. Ryland, as usual, made all sorts of
enquiries about you.
With love to dear Mrs. Macready and the noble boy my particular friend,
and a hearty embrace to you,
I am ever, my dearest Macready,
Your most affectionate.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Anonymous/717Charles Dickens
1870-03-09[Sidenote: Mr. ----.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Wednesday, March 9th, 1870._
MY DEAR ----,
You make me very uneasy on the subject of your new long story here, by
sowing your name broadcast in so many fields at once, and undertaking
such an impossible amount of fiction at one time. Just as you are coming
on with us, you have another story in progress in "The Gentleman's
Magazine," and another announced in "Once a Week." And so far as I know
the art we both profess, it cannot be reasonably pursued in this way. I
think the short story you are now finishing in these pages obviously
marked by traces of great haste and small consideration; and a long
story similarly blemished would really do the publication irreparable
harm.
These considerations are so much upon my mind that I cannot forbear
representing them to you, in the hope that they may induce you to take a
little more into account the necessity of care and preparation, and some
self-denial in the quantity done. I am quite sure that I write fully as
much in your interest as in that of "All the Year Round."
Believe me, always faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Anonymous/718Charles Dickens
1870-03-11[Sidenote: The same.]
5, HYDE PARK PLACE, W., _Friday, March 11th, 1870._
MY DEAR ----,
Of course the engagement between us is to continue, and I am sure you
know me too well to suppose that I have ever had a thought to the
contrary. Your explanation is (as it naturally would be, being yours)
manly and honest, and I am both satisfied and hopeful.
Ever yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/William%20Charles%20Kent/719Charles Dickens
1870-03-26[Sidenote: Mr. William Charles Kent.]
5, HYDE PARK PLACE, W., _Saturday, March 26th, 1870._
MY DEAR KENT,
I received both copies of _The Sun_, with the tenderest pleasure and
gratification.
Everything that I can let you have in aid of the proposed record[33]
(which, _of course_, would be far more agreeable to me if done by you
than by any other hand), shall be at your service. Dolby has all the
figures relating to America, and you shall have for reference the books
from which I read. They are afterwards going into Forster's
collection.[34]
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Henry%20Fielding%20Dickens/720Charles Dickens
1870-03-29[Sidenote: Mr. Henry Fielding Dickens.]
5, HYDE PARK PLACE, W., _Tuesday, March 29th, 1870._
MY DEAR HARRY,
Your next Tuesday's subject is a very good one. I would not lose the
point that narrow-minded fanatics, who decry the theatre and defame its
artists, are absolutely the advocates of depraved and barbarous
amusements. For wherever a good drama and a well-regulated theatre
decline, some distorted form of theatrical entertainment will infallibly
arise in their place. In one of the last chapters of "Hard Times," Mr.
Sleary says something to the effect: "People will be entertained
thomehow, thquire. Make the betht of uth, and not the wortht."
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Shirley%20Brooks/721Charles Dickens
1870-04-01[Sidenote: Mr. Shirley Brooks.]
5, HYDE PARK PLACE, W., _Friday, April 1st, 1870._
MY DEAR SHIRLEY BROOKS,
I have written to Mr. Low, expressing my regret that I cannot comply
with his request, backed as it is by my friend S. B. But I have told him
what is perfectly true--that I leave town for the peaceful following of
my own pursuits, at the end of next month; that I have excused myself
from filling all manner of claims, on the ground that the public
engagements I could make for the season were very few and were all made;
and that I cannot bear hot rooms when I am at work. I have smoothed this
as you would have me smooth it.
With your longing for fresh air I can thoroughly sympathise. May you get
it soon, and may you enjoy it, and profit by it half as much as I wish!
Ever faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20P%20Frith%20RA/722Charles Dickens
1870-04-16[Sidenote: Mr. W. P. Frith, R.A.]
5, HYDE PARK PLACE, W., _Saturday, April 16th, 1870._
MY DEAR FRITH,
I shall be happy to go on Wednesday evening, if convenient.
You please me with what you say of my new illustrator, of whom I have
great hopes.
Faithfully yours ever.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/William%20Charles%20Kent/723Charles Dickens
1870-04-25[Sidenote: Mr. William Charles Kent.]
_Monday Morning, April 25th, 1870._
MY DEAR KENT,
I received your book[35] with the greatest pleasure, and heartily thank
you for it. It is a volume of a highly prepossessing appearance, and a
most friendly look. I felt as if I should have taken to it at sight;
even (a very large even) though I had known nothing of its contents, or
of its author!
For the last week I have been most perseveringly and ding-dong-doggedly
at work, making headway but slowly. The spring always has a restless
influence over me; and I weary, at any season, of this London dining-out
beyond expression; and I yearn for the country again. This is my excuse
for not having written to you sooner. Besides which, I had a baseless
conviction that I should see you at the office last Thursday. Not having
done so, I fear you must be worse, or no better? If you _can_ let me
have a report of yourself, pray do.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Frederick%20Pollock/724Charles Dickens
1870-05-02[Sidenote: Mrs. Frederick Pollock.]
5, HYDE PARK PLACE, W., _Monday, May 2nd, 1870._
MY DEAR MRS. POLLOCK,
Pray tell the illustrious Philip van Artevelde, that I will deal with
the nefarious case in question if I can. I am a little doubtful of the
practicability of doing so, and frisking outside the bounds of the law
of libel. I have that high opinion of the law of England generally,
which one is likely to derive from the impression that it puts all the
honest men under the diabolical hoofs of all the scoundrels. It makes me
cautious of doing right; an admirable instance of its wisdom!
I was very sorry to have gone astray from you that Sunday; but as the
earlier disciples entertained angels unawares, so the later often miss
them haphazard.
Your description of La Font's acting is the complete truth in one short
sentence: Nature's triumph over art; reversing the copy-book axiom! But
the Lord deliver us from Plessy's mechanical ingenuousness!!
And your petitioner will ever pray.
And ever be,
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/E%20M%20Ward/725Charles Dickens
1870-05-11[Sidenote: Mrs. E. M. Ward.]
5, HYDE PARK PLACE, W., _Wednesday, May 11th, 1870._
MY DEAR MRS. WARD,
I grieve to say that I am literally laid by the heels, and incapable of
dining with you to-morrow. A neuralgic affection of the foot, which
usually seizes me about twice a year, and which will yield to nothing
but days of fomentation and horizontal rest, set in last night, and has
caused me very great pain ever since, and will too clearly be no better
until it has had its usual time in which to wear itself out. I send my
kindest regard to Ward, and beg to be pitied.
Believe me, faithfully yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/William%20Charles%20Kent/726Charles Dickens
1870-05-17[Sidenote: Mr. William Charles Kent.]
5, HYDE PARK PLACE, W., _Tuesday, May 17th, 1870._
MY DEAR KENT,
Many, many thanks! It is only my neuralgic foot. It has given me such a
sharp twist this time that I have not been able, in its extreme
sensitiveness, to put any covering upon it except scalding fomentations.
Having viciously bubbled and blistered it in all directions, I hope it
now begins to see the folly of its ways.
Affectionately ever.
P.S.--I hope the Sun shines.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Bancroft/727Charles Dickens
1870-05-31[Sidenote: Mrs. Bancroft.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Thursday, May 31st, 1870._
MY DEAR MRS. BANCROFT,[36]
I am most heartily obliged to you for your kind note, which I received
here only last night, having come here from town circuitously to get a
little change of air on the road. My sense of your interest cannot be
better proved than by my trying the remedy you recommend, and that I
will do immediately. As I shall be in town on Thursday, my troubling you
to order it would be quite unjustifiable. I will use your name in
applying for it, and will report the result after a fair trial. Whether
this remedy succeeds or fails as to the neuralgia, I shall always
consider myself under an obligation to it for having indirectly procured
me the great pleasure of receiving a communication from you; for I hope
I may lay claim to being one of the most earnest and delighted of your
many artistic admirers.
Believe me, faithfully yours.
FOOTNOTES:
[32] On the death of his second wife.
[33] Of the Readings. The intention was carried out. Mr. Kent's book,
"Charles Dickens as a Reader," was published in 1872.
[34] No doubt Charles Dickens intended to add the Reading Books to the
legacy of his MSS. to Mr. Forster. But he did not do so, therefore the
"Readings" are not a part of the "Forster Collection" at the South
Kensington Museum.
[35] A new collective edition of "Kent's Poems," dedicated to his
cousin, Colonel Kent, of the 77th Regiment.
[36] Miss Marie Wilton.
TWO LAST LETTERS.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/William%20Charles%20Kent/728Charles Dickens
[Sidenote: Mr. William Charles Kent.]
[Illustration: Gad's Hill Place,
Higham by Rochester, Kent.[37]
HW: Wednesday Eighth June 1870
HW: Dear Kent
Tomorrow is a very bad day for me to make a call, as, in addition to my
usual office business, I have a mass of accounts to settle with Wills.
But I hope I may be ready for you at 3 o'clock. If I can't be--why, then
I shan't be.
You must really get rid of those Opal enjoyments. They are too
overpowering:
"These violent delights have violent ends."
I think it was a father of your churches who made the wise remark to a
young gentleman who got up early (or stayed out late) at Verona?
Ever affectionately
Signature: ChD]http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/John%20M%20Makeham/729Charles Dickens
[Sidenote: Mr. John M. Makeham.]
=Gad's Hill Place,=
=Higham by Rochester, Kent.=
[Illustration: HW: Wednesday Eighth June 1870
Dear Sir
It would be quite inconceivable I think--but for your
letter--that any reasonable reader could possibly attach a scriptural
reference to a passage in a book of mine, reproducing a much abused
social figure of speech, impressed into all sorts of service on all
sorts of inappropriate occasions, without the faintest connexion of it
with its original source. I am truly shocked to find that any reader can
make the mistake
I have always striven in my writings to express veneration for the life
and lessons of our Saviour; because I feel it; and because I re-wrote
that history for my children--every one of whom knew it from having it
repeated to them--long before they could read, and almost as soon as
they could speak.
But I have never made proclamation of this from the house tops
Faithfully Yours,
Charles Dickens
John M. Markham Esq.]
All through this spring in London, Charles Dickens had been ailing in
health, and it was remarked by many friends that he had a weary look,
and was "aged" and altered. But he was generally in good spirits, and
his family had no uneasiness about him, relying upon the country quiet
and comparative rest at Gad's Hill to have their usual influence in
restoring his health and strength. On the 2nd June he attended a private
play at the house of Mr. and Mrs. Freake, where his two daughters were
among the actresses. The next day he went back to Gad's Hill. His
daughter Kate (whose home was there at all times when she chose, and
almost always through the summer months) went down on Sunday, the 5th
June, for a day's visit, to see the "great improvement of the
conservatory." Her father laughingly assured her she had now seen "the
last" improvement at Gad's Hill. At this time he was tolerably well, but
she remarked to her sister and aunt how strangely he was tired, and what
a curious grey colour he had in his face after a very short walk on that
Sunday afternoon. However, he seemed quite himself again in the evening.
The next day his daughter Kate went back, accompanied by her sister, who
was to pay her a short visit, to London.
Charles Dickens was very hard at work on the sixth number of "Edwin
Drood." On the Monday and Tuesday he was well, but he was unequal to
much exercise. His last walk was one of his greatest favourites--through
Cobham Park and Wood--on the afternoon of Tuesday.
On the morning of Wednesday, the 8th (one of the loveliest days of a
lovely summer), he was very well; in excellent spirits about his book,
of which he said he _must_ finish his number that day--the next
(Thursday) being the day of his weekly visit to "All the Year Round"
office. Therefore, he would write all day in the Châlet, and take no
walk or drive until the evening. In the middle of the day he came to the
house for an hour's rest, and smoked a cigar in the conservatory--out of
which new addition to the house he was taking the greatest personal
enjoyment--and seemed perfectly well, and exceedingly cheerful and
hopeful. When he came again to the house, about an hour before the time
fixed for the early dinner, he seemed very tired, silent, and absorbed.
But this was so usual with him after a day of engrossing work, that it
caused no alarm or surprise to his sister-in-law--the only member of his
household who happened to be at home. He wrote some letters--among them,
these last letters which we give--in the library of the house, and also
arranged many trifling business matters, with a view to his departure
for London the next morning. He was to be accompanied, on his return at
the end of the week, by Mr. Fildes, to introduce the "new illustrator"
to the neighbourhood in which many of the scenes of this last book of
Charles Dickens, as of his first, were laid.
It was not until they were seated at the dinner-table that a striking
change in the colour and expression of his face startled his
sister-in-law, and on her asking him if he was ill, he said, "Yes, very
ill; I have been very ill for the last hour." But on her expressing an
intention of sending instantly for a doctor, he stopped her, and said:
"No, he would go on with dinner, and go afterwards to London." And then
he made an effort to struggle against the fit that was fast coming on
him, and talked, but incoherently, and soon very indistinctly. It being
now evident that he _was_ ill, and very seriously ill, his sister-in-law
begged him to come to his own room before she sent off for medical help.
"Come and lie down," she entreated. "Yes, on the ground," he said, very
distinctly--these were the last words he spoke--and he slid from her
arm, and fell upon the floor.
The servants brought a couch into the dining-room, where he was laid. A
messenger was despatched for Mr. Steele, the Rochester doctor, and with
a telegram to his doctor in London, and to his daughters. This was a few
minutes after six o'clock.
His daughters arrived, with Mr. Frank Beard, this same evening. His
eldest son the next morning, and his son Henry and his sister Letitia in
the evening of the 9th--too late, alas!
All through the night, Charles Dickens never opened his eyes, or showed
a sign of consciousness. In the afternoon of the 9th, Dr. Russell
Reynolds arrived at Gad's Hill, having been summoned by Mr. Frank Beard
to meet himself and Mr. Steele. But he could only confirm their hopeless
verdict, and made his opinion known with much kind sympathy, to the
family, before returning to London.
Charles Dickens remained in the same unconscious state until the evening
of this day, when, at ten minutes past six, the watchers saw a shudder
pass over him, heard him give a deep sigh, saw one tear roll down his
cheek, and he was gone from them. And as they saw the dark shadow steal
across his calm, beautiful face, not one among them--could they have
been given such a power--would have recalled his sweet spirit back to
earth.
As his family were aware that Charles Dickens had a wish to be buried
near Gad's Hill, arrangements were made for his burial in the pretty
churchyard of Shorne, a neighbouring village, of which he was very fond.
But this intention was abandoned in consequence of a pressing request
from the Dean and Chapter of Rochester Cathedral that his remains might
be placed there. A grave was prepared and everything arranged, when it
was made known to the family, through Dean Stanley, that there was a
general and very earnest desire that Charles Dickens should find his
resting-place in Westminster Abbey. To such a fitting tribute to his
memory they could make no possible objection, although it was with great
regret that they relinquished the idea of laying him in a place so
closely identified with his life and his works. His name,
notwithstanding, is associated with Rochester, a tablet to his memory
having been placed by his executors on the wall of Rochester Cathedral.
With regard to Westminster Abbey, his family only stipulated that the
funeral might be made as private as possible, and that the words of his
will, "I emphatically direct that I be buried in an inexpensive,
unostentatious, and strictly private manner," should be religiously
adhered to. And so they were. The solemn service in the vast cathedral
being as private as the most thoughtful consideration could make it.
The family of Charles Dickens were deeply grateful to all in authority
who so carried out his wishes. And more especially to Dean Stanley and
to the (late) Lady Augusta Stanley, for the tender sympathy shown by
them to the mourners on this day, and also on Sunday, the 19th, when the
Dean preached his beautiful funeral sermon.
As during his life Charles Dickens's fondness for air, light, and gay
colours amounted almost to a passion, so when he lay dead in the home he
had so dearly loved, these things were not forgotten.
The pretty room opening into the conservatory (from which he had never
been removed since his seizure) was kept bright with the most beautiful
of all kinds of flowers, and flooded with the summer sun:
"And nothing stirred in the room. The old, old
fashion. The fashion that came in with our
first garments, and will last unchanged until
our race has run its course, and the wide
firmament is rolled up like a scroll. The old,
old fashion--death!
"Oh, thank God, all who see it, for that older
fashion yet, of immortality!"
FOOTNOTES:
[37] This letter has lately been presented by Mr. Charles Kent to the
British Museum.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/None/730Charles Dickens
[Sidenotefhttp://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/John%20Hullah/731Charles Dickens
[Sidenote: Mr. John Hullah.]
FURNIVAL'S INN, _Sunday Evening (1836)_ (?).
MY DEAR HULLAH,
Have you seen _The Examiner_? It is rather depreciatory of the opera;
but, like all inveterate critiques against Braham, so well done that I
cannot help laughing at it, for the life and soul of me. I have seen
_The Sunday Times_, _The Dispatch_, and _The Satirist_, all of which
blow their critic trumpets against unhappy me most lustily. Either I
must have grievously awakened the ire of all the "adapters" and their
friends, or the drama must be decidedly bad. I haven't made up my mind
yet which of the two is the fact.
I have not seen the _John Bull_ or any of the Sunday papers except _The
Spectator_. If you have any of them, bring 'em with you on Tuesday. I am
afraid that for "dirty Cummins'" allusion to Hogarth I shall be reduced
to the necessity of being valorous the next time I meet him.
Believe me, most faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/John%20Hullah/732Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: The same.]
FURNIVAL'S INN, _Monday Afternoon, 7 o'clock (1836)._
MY DEAR HULLAH,
Mr. Hogarth has just been here, with news which I think you will be glad
to hear. He was with Braham yesterday, who was _far more full_ of the
opera[1] than he was; speaking highly of my works and "fame" (!), and
expressing an earnest desire to be the first to introduce me to the
public as a dramatic writer. He said that he intended opening at
Michaelmas; and added (unasked) that it was his intention to produce the
opera within _one month_ of his first night. He wants a low comedy part
introduced--without singing--thinking it will take with the audience;
but he is desirous of explaining to me what he means and who he intends
to play it. I am to see him on Sunday morning. Full particulars of the
interview shall be duly announced.
Perhaps I shall see you meanwhile. I have only time to add that I am
Most faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/John%20Hullah/733Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: The same.]
PETERSHAM, _Monday Evening (1836)._
DEAR HULLAH,
Since I called on you this morning I have not had time to look over the
words of "The Child and the Old Man." It occurs to me, as I shall see
you on Wednesday morning, that the best plan will be for you to bring
the music (if you possibly can) without the words, and we can put them
in then. Of course this observation applies only to that particular
song.
Braham having sent to me about the farce, I called on him this morning.
Harley wrote, when he had read the whole of the opera, saying: "It's a
sure card--nothing wrong there. Bet you ten pound it runs fifty nights.
Come; don't be afraid. You'll be the gainer by it, and you mustn't mind
betting; it's a capital custom." They tell the story with infinite
relish. I saw the fair manageress,[2] who is fully of Harley's opinion,
so is Braham. The only difference is, that they are far more
enthusiastic than Harley--far more enthusiastic than ourselves even.
That is a bold word, isn't it? It is a true one, nevertheless.
"Depend upon it, sir," said Braham to Hogarth yesterday, when he went
there to say I should be in town to-day, "depend upon it, sir, that
there has been no such music since the days of Sheil, and no such piece
since "The Duenna."" "Everybody is delighted with it," he added, to me
to-day. "I played it to Stansbury, who is by no means an excitable
person, and he was charmed." This was said with great emphasis, but I
have forgotten the grand point. It was not, "I played it to Stansbury,"
but, "I sang it--_all through_!!!"
I begged him, as the choruses are to be put into rehearsal directly the
company get together, to let us have, through Mrs. Braham, the necessary
passports to the stage, which will be forwarded. He leaves town on the
_8th of September_. He will be absent a month, and the first rehearsal
will take place immediately on his return; previous to it (I mean the
first rehearsal--not the return) I am to read the piece. His only
remaining suggestion is, that Miss Rainforth will want another song when
the piece is in rehearsal--"a bravura--something in the 'Soldier Tired'
way." We must have a confab about this on Wednesday morning.
Harley called in Furnival's Inn, to express his high delight and
gratification, but unfortunately we had left town. I shall be at
head-quarters by 12 Wednesday noon.
Believe me, dear Hullah,
Most faithfully yours.
P.S.--Tell me on Wednesday when you can come down here, for a day or
two. Beautiful place--meadow for exercise, horse for your riding, boat
for your rowing, room for your studying--anything you like.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/George%20Hogarth/734Charles Dickens
1837-01-20[Sidenote: Mr. George Hogarth.]
[3]13, FURNIVAL'S INN, _Tuesday Evening, January 20th, 1837._
MY DEAR SIR,
As you have begged me to write an original sketch for the first number
of the new evening paper, and as I trust to your kindness to refer my
application to the proper quarter, should I be unreasonably or
improperly trespassing upon you, I beg to ask whether it is probable
that if I commenced a series of articles, written under some attractive
title, for _The Evening Chronicle_, its conductors would think I had any
claim to some additional remuneration (of course, of no great amount)
for doing so?
Let me beg of you not to misunderstand my meaning. Whatever the reply
may be, I promised you an article, and shall supply it with the utmost
readiness, and with an anxious desire to do my best, which I honestly
assure you would be the feeling with which I should always receive any
request coming personally from yourself. I merely wish to put it to the
proprietors, first, whether a continuation of light papers in the style
of my "Street Sketches" would be considered of use to the new paper;
and, secondly, if so, whether they do not think it fair and reasonable
that, taking my share of the ordinary reporting business of _The
Chronicle_ besides, I should receive something for the papers beyond my
ordinary salary as a reporter.
Begging you to excuse my troubling you, and taking this opportunity of
acknowledging the numerous kindnesses I have already received at your
hands since I have had the pleasure of acting under you,
I am, my dear Sir, very sincerely yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/735Charles Dickens
1838-01-15[Sidenote: Mrs. Hogarth.]
DOUGHTY STREET, _Thursday Night, October 26th, 1837._
MY DEAR MRS. HOGARTH,
I need not thank you for your present[4] of yesterday, for you know the
sorrowful pleasure I shall take in wearing it, and the care with which I
shall prize it, until--so far as relates to this life--I am like her.
I have never had her ring off my finger by day or night, except for an
instant at a time, to wash my hands, since she died. I have never had
her sweetness and excellence absent from my mind so long. I can solemnly
say that, waking or sleeping, I have never lost the recollection of our
hard trial and sorrow, and I feel that I never shall.
It will be a great relief to my heart when I find you sufficiently calm
upon this sad subject to claim the promise I made you when she lay dead
in this house, never to shrink from speaking of her, as if her memory
must be avoided, but rather to take a melancholy pleasure in recalling
the times when we were all so happy--so happy that increase of fame and
prosperity has only widened the gap in my affections, by causing me to
think how she would have shared and enhanced all our joys, and how proud
I should have been (as God knows I always was) to possess the affections
of the gentlest and purest creature that ever shed a light on earth. I
wish you could know how I weary now for the three rooms in Furnival's
Inn, and how I miss that pleasant smile and those sweet words which,
bestowed upon our evening's work, in our merry banterings round the
fire, were more precious to me than the applause of a whole world would
be. I can recall everything she said and did in those happy days, and
could show you every passage and line we read together.
I see _now_ how you are capable of making great efforts, even against
the afflictions you have to deplore, and I hope that, soon, our words
may be where our thoughts are, and that we may call up those old
memories, not as shadows of the bitter past, but as lights upon a
happier future.
Believe me, my dear Mrs. Hogarth,
Ever truly and affectionately yours.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] "The Village Coquettes."
[2] Mrs. Braham.
[3] Printed in "Forty Years' Recollections of Life, Literature, and
Public Affairs," by Charles Mackay.
[4] A chain made of Mary Hogarth's hair, sent to Charles Dickens on the
first anniversary of her birthday, after her death.
[5]DIARY--1838.
_Monday, January 1st, 1838._
A sad New Year's Day in one respect, for at the opening of last year
poor Mary was with us. Very many things to be grateful for since then,
however. Increased reputation and means--good health and prospects. We
never know the full value of blessings till we lose them (we were not
ignorant of this one when we had it, I hope). But if she were with us
now, the same winning, happy, amiable companion, sympathising with all
my thoughts and feelings more than anyone I knew ever did or will, I
think I should have nothing to wish for, but a continuance of such
happiness. But she is gone, and pray God I may one day, through his
mercy, rejoin her. I wrote to Mrs. Hogarth yesterday, taking advantage
of the opportunity afforded me by her sending, as a New Year's token, a
pen-wiper of poor Mary's, imploring her, as strongly as I could, to
think of the many remaining claims upon her affection and exertions, and
not to give way to unavailing grief. Her answer came to-night, and she
seems hurt at my doing so--protesting that in all useful respects she is
the same as ever. Meant it for the best, and still hope I did right.
_Saturday, January 6th, 1838._
Our boy's birthday--one year old. A few people at night--only Forster,
the De Gex's, John Ross, Mitton, and the Beards, besides our
families--to twelfth-cake and forfeits.
This day last year, Mary and I wandered up and down Holborn and the
streets about for hours, looking after a little table for Kate's
bedroom, which we bought at last at the very first broker's which we had
looked into, and which we had passed half-a-dozen times because I
_didn't like_ to ask the price. I took her out to Brompton at night, as
we had no place for her to sleep in (the two mothers being with us); she
came back again next day to keep house for me, and stopped nearly the
rest of the month. I shall never be so happy again as in those chambers
three storeys high--never if I roll in wealth and fame. I would hire
them to keep empty, if I could afford it.
_Monday, January 8th, 1838._
I began the "Sketches of Young Gentlemen" to-day. One hundred and
twenty-five pounds for such a little book, without my name to it, is
pretty well. This and the "Sunday"[6] by-the-bye, are the only two
things I have not done as Boz.
_Tuesday, January 9th, 1838._
Went to the Sun office to insure my life, where the Board seemed
disposed to think I work too much. Made Forster and Pickthorn, my
Doctor, the references--and after an interesting interview with the
Board and the Board's Doctor, came away to work again.
_Wednesday, January 10th, 1838._
At work all day, and to a quadrille party at night. City people and
rather dull. Intensely cold coming home, and vague reports of a fire
somewhere. Frederick says the Royal Exchange, at which I sneer most
sagely; for----
_Thursday, January 11th, 1838._
To-day the papers are full of it, and it _was_ the Royal Exchange,
Lloyd's, and all the shops round the building. Called on Browne and went
with him to see the ruins, of which we saw as much as we should have
done if we had stopped at home.
_Sunday, January 14th, 1838._
To church in the morning, and when I came home I wrote the preceding
portion of this diary, which henceforth I make a steadfast resolution
not to neglect, or _paint_. I have not done it yet, nor will I; but say
what rises to my lips--my mental lips at least--without reserve. No
other eyes will see it, while mine are open in life, and although I
daresay I shall be ashamed of a good deal in it, I should like to look
over it at the year's end.
In Scott's diary, which I have been looking at this morning, there are
thoughts which have been mine by day and by night, in good spirits and
bad, since Mary died.
"Another day, and a bright one to the external world again opens on us;
the air soft, and the flowers smiling, and the leaves glittering. They
cannot refresh her to whom mild weather was a natural enjoyment.
Cerements of lead and of wood already hold her; cold earth must have her
soon. But it is not . . . (she) who will be laid among the ruins. . . .
She is sentient and conscious of my emotions _somewhere_--where, we cannot
tell, how, we cannot tell; yet would I not at this moment renounce the
mysterious yet certain hope that I shall see her in a better world, for
all that this world can give me.
"I have seen her. There is the same symmetry of form, though those limbs
are rigid which were once so gracefully elastic; but that yellow masque
with pinched features, which seems to mock life rather than emulate it,
can it be the face that was once so full of lively expression? I will
not look upon it again."
I know but too well how true all this is.
_Monday, January 15th, 1838._
Here ends this brief attempt at a diary. I grow sad over this checking
off of days, and can't do it.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20L%20Sammins/736Charles Dickens
1839-01-31[Sidenote: Mr. W. L. Sammins.]
48, DOUGHTY STREET, LONDON, _January 31st, 1839._
SIR,
Circumstances have enabled me to relinquish my old connection with the
"Miscellany"[7] at an earlier period than I had expected. I am no longer
its editor, but I have referred your paper to my successor, and marked
it as one "requiring attention." I have no doubt it will receive it.
With reference to your letter bearing date on the 8th of last October,
let me assure you that I have delayed answering it--not because a
constant stream of similar epistles has rendered me callous to the
anxieties of a beginner, in those doubtful paths in which I walk
myself--but because you ask me to do that which I would scarce do, of my
own unsupported opinion, for my own child, supposing I had one old
enough to require such a service. To suppose that I could gravely take
upon myself the responsibility of withdrawing you from pursuits you have
already undertaken, or urging you on in a most uncertain and hazardous
course of life, is really a compliment to my judgment and inflexibility
which I cannot recognize and do not deserve (or desire). I hoped that a
little reflection would show you how impossible it is that I could be
expected to enter upon a task of so much delicacy, but as you have
written to me since, and called (unfortunately at a period when I am
obliged to seclude myself from all comers), I am compelled at last to
tell you that I can do nothing of the kind.
If it be any satisfaction to you to know that I have read what you sent
me, and read it with great pleasure, though, as you treat of local
matters, I am necessarily in the dark here and there, I can give you the
assurance very sincerely. With this, and many thanks to you for your
obliging expressions towards myself,
I am, Sir,
Your very obedient Servant.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/J%20P%20Harley/737Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. J. P. Harley.]
DOUGHTY STREET, _Thursday Morning._[8]
MY DEAR HARLEY,
This is my birthday. Many happy returns of the day to you and me.
I took it into my head yesterday to get up an impromptu dinner on this
auspicious occasion--only my own folks, Leigh Hunt, Ainsworth, and
Forster. I know you can't dine here in consequence of the tempestuous
weather on the Covent Garden shores, but if you will come in when you
have done Trinculizing, you will delight me greatly, and add in no
inconsiderable degree to the "conviviality" of the meeting.
Lord bless my soul! Twenty-seven years old. Who'd have thought it? I
_never_ did!
But I grow sentimental.
Always yours truly.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Edward%20Chapman/738Charles Dickens
1839-12-27[Sidenote: Mr. Edward Chapman.]
1, DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _27th December, 1839._
MY DEAR SIR,
The place where you pledge yourself to pay for my beef and mutton when I
eat it, and my ale and wine when I drink it, is the Treasurer's Office
of the Middle Temple, the new building at the bottom of Middle Temple
Lane on the right-hand side. You walk up into the first-floor and say
(boldly) that you come to sign Mr. Charles Dickens's bond--which is
already signed by Mr. Sergeant Talfourd. I suppose I should formally
acquaint you that I have paid the fees, and that the responsibility you
incur is a very slight one--extending very little beyond my good
behaviour, and honourable intentions to pay for all wine-glasses,
tumblers, or other dinner-furniture that I may break or damage.
I wish you would do me another service, and that is to choose, at the
place you told me of, a reasonable copy of "The Beauties of England and
Wales." You can choose it quite as well as I can, or better, and I shall
be much obliged to you. I should like you to send it at once, as I am
diving into all kinds of matters at odd minutes with a view to our
forthcoming operations.
Faithfully yours.
FOOTNOTES:
[5] This fragment of a diary was found amongst some papers which have
recently come to light. The Editors give only those paragraphs which are
likely to be of any public interest. The original manuscript has been
added to "The Forster Collection," at the South Kensington Museum.
[6] "Sunday, under Three Heads," a small pamphlet published about this
time.
[7] "Bentley's Miscellany."
[8] No other date, but it must have been 7th February, 1839.
1840.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/H%20G%20Adams/739Charles Dickens
1840-01-18[Sidenote: Mr. H. G. Adams.[9]]
1, DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, YORK GATE, REGENT'S PARK,
_Saturday, Jan. 18th, 1840._
DEAR SIR,
The pressure of other engagements will, I am compelled to say, prevent
me from contributing a paper to your new local magazine.[10] But I beg
you to set me down as a subscriber to it, and foremost among those whose
best wishes are enlisted in your cause. It will afford me real pleasure
to hear of your success, for I have many happy recollections connected
with Kent, and am scarcely less interested in it than if I had been a
Kentish man bred and born, and had resided in the county all my life.
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Thompson/740Charles Dickens
1840-12-15[Sidenote: Mr. Thompson.[11]]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Tuesday, 15th December, 1840._
MY DEAR THOMPSON,
I have received a most flattering message from the head turnkey of the
jail this morning, intimating that "there warn't a genelman in all
London he'd be gladder to show his babies to, than Muster Dickins, and
let him come wenever he would to that shop he wos welcome." But as the
Governor (who is a very nice fellow and a gentleman) is not at home this
morning, and furthermore as the morning itself has rather gone out of
town in respect of its poetical allurements, I think we had best
postpone our visit for a day or two.
Faithfully yours.
FOOTNOTES:
[9] Mr. Adams, the Hon. Secretary of the Chatham Mechanics' Institute,
which office he held for many years.
[10] "The Kentish Coronal."
[11] An intimate friend.
1841.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Rev%20Thomas%20Robinson/741Charles Dickens
1841-04-08[Sidenote: Rev. Thomas Robinson.[12]]
1, DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, YORK GATE, REGENT'S PARK,
_Thursday, April 8th, 1841._
DEAR SIR,
I am much obliged to you for your interesting letter. Nor am I the less
pleased to receive it, by reason that I cannot find it in my conscience
to agree in many important respects with the body to which you belong.
In the love of virtue and hatred of vice, in the detestation of cruelty
and encouragement of gentleness and mercy, all men who endeavour to be
acceptable to their Creator in any way, may freely agree. There are more
roads to Heaven, I am inclined to think, than any sect believes; but
there can be none which have not these flowers garnishing the way.
I feel it a great tribute, therefore, to receive your letter. It is most
welcome and acceptable to me. I thank you for it heartily, and am proud
of the approval of one who suffered in his youth, even more than my poor
child.
While you teach in your walk of life the lessons of tenderness you have
learnt in sorrow, trust me that in mine, I will pursue cruelty and
oppression, the enemies of all God's creatures of all codes and creeds,
so long as I have the energy of thought and the power of giving it
utterance.
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/The%20Countess%20of%20Blessington/742Charles Dickens
1841-06-02[Sidenote: The Countess of Blessington.]
[13]DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _June 2nd, 1841._
DEAR LADY BLESSINGTON,
The year goes round so fast, that when anything occurs to remind me of
its whirling, I lose my breath, and am bewildered. So your handwriting
last night had as startling an effect upon me, as though you had sealed
your note with one of your own eyes.
I remember my promise, as in cheerful duty bound, and with Heaven's
grace will redeem it. At this moment, I have not the faintest idea how,
but I am going into Scotland on the 19th to see Jeffrey, and while I am
away (I shall return, please God, in about three weeks) will look out
for some accident, incident, or subject for small description, to send
you when I come home. You will take the will for the deed, I know; and,
remembering that I have a "Clock" which always wants winding up, will
not quarrel with me for being brief.
Have you seen Townshend's magnetic boy? You heard of him, no doubt, from
Count D'Orsay. If you get him to Gore House, don't, I entreat you, have
more than eight people--four is a better number--to see him. He fails in
a crowd, and is _marvellous_ before a few.
I am told that down in Devonshire there are young ladies innumerable,
who read crabbed manuscripts with the palms of their hands, and
newspapers with their ankles, and so forth; and who are, so to speak,
literary all over. I begin to understand what a blue-stocking means, and
have not the smallest doubt that Lady ---- (for instance) could write
quite as entertaining a book with the sole of her foot as ever she did
with her head. I am a believer in earnest, and I am sure you would be if
you saw this boy, under moderately favourable circumstances, as I hope
you will, before he leaves England.
Believe me, dear Lady Blessington,
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/L%20Gaylord%20Clark/743Charles Dickens
1841-09-28[Sidenote: Mr. L. Gaylord Clark.]
_September 28th, 1841._
MY DEAR SIR,
I condole with you from my heart on the loss[14] you have sustained, and
I feel proud of your permitting me to sympathise with your affliction.
It is a great satisfaction to me to have been addressed, under similar
circumstances, by many of your countrymen since the "Curiosity Shop"
came to a close. Some simple and honest hearts in the remote wilds of
America have written me letters on the loss of children--so numbering my
little book, or rather heroine, with their household gods; and so
pouring out their trials and sources of comfort in them, before me as a
friend, that I have been inexpressibly moved, and am whenever I think of
them, I do assure you. You have already all the comfort, that I could
lay before you; all, I hope, that the affectionate spirit of your
brother, now in happiness, can shed into your soul.
On the 4th of next January, if it please God, I am coming with my wife
on a three or four months' visit to America. The British and North
American packet will bring me, I hope, to Boston, and enable me, in the
third week of the new year, to set my foot upon the soil I have trodden
in my day-dreams many times, and whose sons (and daughters) I yearn to
know and to be among.
I hope you are surprised, and I hope not unpleasantly.
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/744Charles Dickens
1841-10-24[Sidenote: Mrs. Hogarth.]
[15]DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Sunday, October 24th, 1841._
MY DEAR MRS. HOGARTH,
For God's sake be comforted, and bear this well, for the love of your
remaining children.
I had always intended to keep poor Mary's grave for us and our dear
children, and for you. But if it will be any comfort to you to have poor
George buried there, I will cheerfully arrange to place the ground at
your entire disposal. Do not consider me in any way. Consult only your
own heart. Mine seems to tell me that as they both died so young and so
suddenly, they ought both to be buried together.
Try--do try--to think that they have but preceded you to happiness, and
will meet you with joy in heaven. There _is_ consolation in the
knowledge that you have treasure there, and that while you live on
earth, there are creatures among the angels, who owed their being to
you.
Always yours with true affection.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Washington%20Irving/745Charles Dickens
[Sidenote: Mr. Washington Irving.]
MY DEAR SIR,[16]
There is no man in the world who could have given me the heartfelt
pleasure you have, by your kind note of the 13th of last month. There is
no living writer, and there are very few among the dead, whose
approbation I should feel so proud to earn. And with everything you have
written upon my shelves, and in my thoughts, and in my heart of hearts,
I may honestly and truly say so. If you could know how earnestly I write
this, you would be glad to read it--as I hope you will be, faintly
guessing at the warmth of the hand I autobiographically hold out to you
over the broad Atlantic.
I wish I could find in your welcome letter some hint of an intention to
visit England. I can't. I have held it at arm's length, and taken a
bird's-eye view of it, after reading it a great many times, but there is
no greater encouragement in it this way than on a microscopic
inspection. I should love to go with you--as I have gone, God knows how
often--into Little Britain, and Eastcheap, and Green Arbour Court, and
Westminster Abbey. I should like to travel with you, outside the last of
the coaches down to Bracebridge Hall. It would make my heart glad to
compare notes with you about that shabby gentleman in the oilcloth hat
and red nose, who sat in the nine-cornered back-parlour of the Masons'
Arms; and about Robert Preston and the tallow-chandler's widow, whose
sitting-room is second nature to me; and about all those delightful
places and people that I used to walk about and dream of in the daytime,
when a very small and not over-particularly-taken-care-of boy. I have a
good deal to say, too, about that dashing Alonzo de Ojeda, that you
can't help being fonder of than you ought to be; and much to hear
concerning Moorish legend, and poor unhappy Boabdil. Diedrich
Knickerbocker I have worn to death in my pocket, and yet I should show
you his mutilated carcass with a joy past all expression.
I have been so accustomed to associate you with my pleasantest and
happiest thoughts, and with my leisure hours, that I rush at once into
full confidence with you, and fall, as it were naturally, and by the
very laws of gravity, into your open arms. Questions come thronging to
my pen as to the lips of people who meet after long hoping to do so. I
don't know what to say first or what to leave unsaid, and am constantly
disposed to break off and tell you again how glad I am this moment has
arrived.
My dear Washington Irving, I cannot thank you enough for your cordial
and generous praise, or tell you what deep and lasting gratification it
has given me. I hope to have many letters from you, and to exchange a
frequent correspondence. I send this to say so. After the first two or
three I shall settle down into a connected style, and become gradually
rational.
You know what the feeling is, after having written a letter, sealed it,
and sent it off. I shall picture your reading this, and answering it
before it has lain one night in the post-office. Ten to one that before
the fastest packet could reach New York I shall be writing again.
Do you suppose the post-office clerks care to receive letters? I have my
doubts. They get into a dreadful habit of indifference. A postman, I
imagine, is quite callous. Conceive his delivering one to himself,
without being startled by a preliminary double knock!
Always your faithful Friend.
FOOTNOTES:
[12] A Dissenting minister, once himself a workhouse boy, and writing on
the character of Oliver Twist. This letter was published in "Harper's
New Monthly Magazine," in 1862.
[13] This, and all other Letters addressed to the Countess of
Blessington, were printed in "Literary Life and Correspondence of the
Countess of Blessington."
[14] The death of his correspondent's twin-brother, Willis Gaylord
Clark.
[15] On the occasion of the sudden death of Mrs. Hogarth's son, George.
[16] This, and all other Letters addressed to Mr. Washington Irving,
were printed in "The Life and Letters of Washington Irving," edited by
his nephew, Pierre M. Irving.
1842.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Professor%20Felton/746Charles Dickens
1842-03-14[Sidenote: Professor Felton.]
FULLER'S HOTEL, WASHINGTON, _Monday, March 14th, 1842._
MY DEAR FELTON,[17]
I was more delighted than I can possibly tell you, to receive (last
Saturday night) your welcome letter. We and the oysters missed you
terribly in New York. You carried away with you more than half the
delight and pleasure of my New World; and I heartily wish you could
bring it back again.
There are very interesting men in this place--highly interesting, of
course--but it's not a comfortable place; is it? If spittle could wait
at table we should be nobly attended, but as that property has not been
imparted to it in the present state of mechanical science, we are rather
lonely and orphan-like, in respect of "being looked arter." A blithe
black was introduced on our arrival, as our peculiar and especial
attendant. He is the only gentleman in the town who has a peculiar
delicacy in intruding upon my valuable time. It usually takes seven
rings and a threatening message from ---- to produce him; and when he
comes he goes to fetch something, and, forgetting it by the way, comes
back no more.
We have been in great distress, really in distress, at the non-arrival
of the _Caledonia_. You may conceive what our joy was, when, while we
were dining out yesterday, H. arrived with the joyful intelligence of
her safety. The very news of her having really arrived seemed to
diminish the distance between ourselves and home, by one half at least.
And this morning (though we have not yet received our heap of
despatches, for which we are looking eagerly forward to this night's
mail)--this morning there reached us unexpectedly, through the
Government bag (Heaven knows how they came there!), two of our many and
long-looked-for letters, wherein was a circumstantial account of the
whole conduct and behaviour of our pets; with marvellous narrations of
Charley's precocity at a Twelfth Night juvenile party at Macready's; and
tremendous predictions of the governess, dimly suggesting his having got
out of pot-hooks and hangers, and darkly insinuating the possibility of
his writing us a letter before long; and many other workings of the same
prophetic spirit, in reference to him and his sisters, very gladdening
to their mother's heart, and not at all depressing to their father's.
There was, also, the doctor's report, which was a clean bill; and the
nurse's report, which was perfectly electrifying; showing as it did how
Master Walter had been weaned, and had cut a double tooth, and done many
other extraordinary things, quite worthy of his high descent. In short,
we were made very happy and grateful; and felt as if the prodigal father
and mother had got home again.
What do you think of this incendiary card being left at my door last
night? "General G. sends compliments to Mr. Dickens, and called with two
literary ladies. As the two L. L.'s are ambitious of the honour of a
personal introduction to Mr. D., General G. requests the honour of an
appointment for to-morrow." I draw a veil over my sufferings. They are
sacred. We shall be in Buffalo, please Heaven, on the 30th of April. If
I don't find a letter from you in the care of the postmaster at that
place, I'll never write to you from England.
But if I _do_ find one, my right hand shall forget its cunning, before I
forget to be your truthful and constant correspondent; not, dear Felton,
because I promised it, nor because I have a natural tendency to
correspond (which is far from being the case), nor because I am truly
grateful to you for, and have been made truly proud by, that
affectionate and elegant tribute which ---- sent me, but because you are
a man after my own heart, and I love you _well_. And for the love I bear
you, and the pleasure with which I shall always think of you, and the
glow I shall feel when I see your handwriting in my own home, I hereby
enter into a solemn league and covenant to write as many letters to you
as you write to me, at least. Amen.
Come to England! Come to England! Our oysters are small, I know; they
are said by Americans to be coppery; but our hearts are of the largest
size. We are thought to excel in shrimps, to be far from despicable in
point of lobsters, and in periwinkles are considered to challenge the
universe. Our oysters, small though they be, are not devoid of the
refreshing influence which that species of fish is supposed to exercise
in these latitudes. Try them and compare.
Affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Washington%20Irving/747Charles Dickens
1842-03-21[Sidenote: Mr. Washington Irving.]
WASHINGTON, _Monday Afternoon, March 21st, 1842._
MY DEAR IRVING,
We passed through--literally passed through--this place again to-day. I
did not come to see you, for I really have not the heart to say
"good-bye" again, and felt more than I can tell you when we shook hands
last Wednesday.
You will not be at Baltimore, I fear? I thought, at the time, that you
only said you might be there, to make our parting the gayer.
Wherever you go, God bless you! What pleasure I have had in seeing and
talking with you, I will not attempt to say. I shall never forget it as
long as I live. What would I give, if we could have but a quiet week
together! Spain is a lazy place, and its climate an indolent one. But if
you have ever leisure under its sunny skies to think of a man who loves
you, and holds communion with your spirit oftener, perhaps, than any
other person alive--leisure from listlessness, I mean--and will write to
me in London, you will give me an inexpressible amount of pleasure.
Your affectionate friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Professor%20Felton/748Charles Dickens
1842-05-21[Sidenote: Professor Felton.]
MONTREAL, _Saturday, 21st May, 1842._
MY DEAR FELTON,
I was delighted to receive your letter yesterday, and was well pleased
with its contents. I anticipated objection to Carlyle's[18] letter. I
called particular attention to it for three reasons. Firstly, because he
boldly _said_ what all the others _think_, and therefore deserved to be
manfully supported. Secondly, because it is my deliberate opinion that I
have been assailed on this subject in a manner in which no man with any
pretensions to public respect or with the remotest right to express an
opinion on a subject of universal literary interest would be assailed in
any other country. . . .
I really cannot sufficiently thank you, dear Felton, for your warm and
hearty interest in these proceedings. But it would be idle to pursue
that theme, so let it pass.
The wig and whiskers are in a state of the highest preservation. The
play comes off next Wednesday night, the 25th. What would I give to see
you in the front row of the centre box, your spectacles gleaming not
unlike those of my dear friend Pickwick, your face radiant with as broad
a grin as a staid professor may indulge in, and your very coat,
waistcoat, and shoulders expressive of what we should take together when
the performance was over! I would give something (not so much, but still
a good round sum) if you could only stumble into that very dark and
dusty theatre in the daytime (at any minute between twelve and three),
and see me with my coat off, the stage manager and universal director,
urging impracticable ladies and impossible gentlemen on to the very
confines of insanity, shouting and driving about, in my own person, to
an extent which would justify any philanthropic stranger in clapping me
into a strait-waistcoat without further inquiry, endeavouring to goad H.
into some dim and faint understanding of a prompter's duties, and
struggling in such a vortex of noise, dirt, bustle, confusion, and
inextricable entanglement of speech and action as you would grow giddy
in contemplating. We perform "A Roland for an Oliver," "A Good Night's
Rest," and "Deaf as a Post." This kind of voluntary hard labour used to
be my great delight. The _furor_ has come strong upon me again, and I
begin to be once more of opinion that nature intended me for the lessee
of a national theatre, and that pen, ink, and paper have spoiled a
manager.
Oh, how I look forward across that rolling water to home and its small
tenantry! How I busy myself in thinking how my books look, and where
the tables are, and in what positions the chairs stand relatively to the
other furniture; and whether we shall get there in the night, or in the
morning, or in the afternoon; and whether we shall be able to surprise
them, or whether they will be too sharply looking out for us; and what
our pets will say; and how they'll look, and who will be the first to
come and shake hands, and so forth! If I could but tell you how I have
set my heart on rushing into Forster's study (he is my great friend, and
writes at the bottom of all his letters: "My love to Felton"), and into
Maclise's painting-room, and into Macready's managerial ditto, without a
moment's warning, and how I picture every little trait and circumstance
of our arrival to myself, down to the very colour of the bow on the
cook's cap, you would almost think I had changed places with my eldest
son, and was still in pantaloons of the thinnest texture. I left all
these things--God only knows what a love I have for them--as coolly and
calmly as any animated cucumber; but when I come upon them again I shall
have lost all power of self-restraint, and shall as certainly make a
fool of myself (in the popular meaning of that expression) as ever
Grimaldi did in his way, or George the Third in his.
And not the less so, dear Felton, for having found some warm hearts, and
left some instalments of earnest and sincere affection, behind me on
this continent. And whenever I turn my mental telescope hitherward,
trust me that one of the first figures it will descry will wear
spectacles so like yours that the maker couldn't tell the difference,
and shall address a Greek class in such an exact imitation of your
voice, that the very students hearing it should cry, "That's he! Three
cheers. Hoo-ray-ay-ay-ay-ay!"
About those joints of yours, I think you are mistaken. They _can't_ be
stiff. At the worst they merely want the air of New York, which, being
impregnated with the flavour of last year's oysters, has a surprising
effect in rendering the human frame supple and flexible in all cases of
rust.
A terrible idea occurred to me as I wrote those words. The
oyster-cellars--what do they do when oysters are not in season? Is
pickled salmon vended there? Do they sell crabs, shrimps, winkles,
herrings? The oyster-openers--what do _they_ do? Do they commit suicide
in despair, or wrench open tight drawers and cupboards and
hermetically-sealed bottles for practice? Perhaps they are dentists out
of the oyster season. Who knows?
Affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Professor%20Felton/749Charles Dickens
1842-07-31[Sidenote: The same.]
1, DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, YORK GATE, REGENT'S PARK,
LONDON, _Sunday, July 31st, 1842._
MY DEAR FELTON,
Of all the monstrous and incalculable amount of occupation that ever
beset one unfortunate man, mine has been the most stupendous since I
came home. The dinners I have had to eat, the places I have had to go
to, the letters I have had to answer, the sea of business and of
pleasure in which I have been plunged, not even the genius of an ---- or
the pen of a ---- could describe.
Wherefore I indite a monstrously short and wildly uninteresting epistle
to the American Dando; but perhaps you don't know who Dando was. He was
an oyster-eater, my dear Felton. He used to go into oyster-shops,
without a farthing of money, and stand at the counter eating natives,
until the man who opened them grew pale, cast down his knife, staggered
backward, struck his white forehead with his open hand, and cried, "You
are Dando!!!" He has been known to eat twenty dozen at one sitting, and
would have eaten forty, if the truth had not flashed upon the
shopkeeper. For these offences he was constantly committed to the House
of Correction. During his last imprisonment he was taken ill, got worse
and worse, and at last began knocking violent double knocks at Death's
door. The doctor stood beside his bed, with his fingers on his pulse.
"He is going," says the doctor. "I see it in his eye. There is only one
thing that would keep life in him for another hour, and that
is--oysters." They were immediately brought. Dando swallowed eight, and
feebly took a ninth. He held it in his mouth and looked round the bed
strangely. "Not a bad one, is it?" says the doctor. The patient shook
his head, rubbed his trembling hand upon his stomach, bolted the oyster,
and fell back--dead. They buried him in the prison-yard, and paved his
grave with oyster-shells.
We are all well and hearty, and have already begun to wonder what time
next year you and Mrs. Felton and Dr. Howe will come across the briny
sea together. To-morrow we go to the seaside for two months. I am
looking out for news of Longfellow, and shall be delighted when I know
that he is on his way to London and this house.
I am bent upon striking at the piratical newspapers with the sharpest
edge I can put upon my small axe, and hope in the next session of
Parliament to stop their entrance into Canada. For the first time within
the memory of man, the professors of English literature seem disposed to
act together on this question. It is a good thing to aggravate a
scoundrel, if one can do nothing else, and I think we _can_ make them
smart a little in this way. . . .
I wish you had been at Greenwich the other day, where a party of friends
gave me a private dinner; public ones I have refused. C---- was
perfectly wild at the reunion, and, after singing all manner of marine
songs, wound up the entertainment by coming home (six miles) in a
little open phaeton of mine, _on his head_, to the mingled delight and
indignation of the metropolitan police. We were very jovial indeed; and
I assure you that I drank your health with fearful vigour and energy.
On board that ship coming home I established a club, called the United
Vagabonds, to the large amusement of the rest of the passengers. This
holy brotherhood committed all kinds of absurdities, and dined always,
with a variety of solemn forms, at one end of the table, below the mast,
away from all the rest. The captain being ill when we were three or four
days out, I produced my medicine-chest and recovered him. We had a few
more sick men after that, and I went round "the wards" every day in
great state, accompanied by two Vagabonds, habited as Ben Allen and Bob
Sawyer, bearing enormous rolls of plaster and huge pairs of scissors. We
were really very merry all the way, breakfasted in one party at
Liverpool, shook hands, and parted most cordially. . . .
Affectionately your faithful friend.
P.S.--I have looked over my journal, and have decided to produce my
American trip in two volumes. I have written about half the first since
I came home, and hope to be out in October. This is "exclusive news," to
be communicated to any friends to whom you may like to intrust it, my
dear F----.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Professor%20Felton/750Charles Dickens
1842-09-01[Sidenote: The same.]
1, DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, YORK GATE, REGENT'S PARK,
LONDON, _September 1st, 1842._
MY DEAR FELTON,
Of course that letter in the papers was as foul a forgery as ever felon
swung for. . . . I have not contradicted it publicly, nor shall I. When
I tilt at such wringings out of the dirtiest mortality, I shall be another
man--indeed, almost the creature they would make me.
I gave your message to Forster, who sends a despatch-box full of kind
remembrances in return. He is in a great state of delight with the first
volume of my American book (which I have just finished), and swears
loudly by it. It is _True_ and Honourable I know, and I shall hope to
send it you, complete, by the first steamer in November.
Your description of the porter and the carpet-bags prepares me for a
first-rate facetious novel, brimful of the richest humour, on which I
have no doubt you are engaged. What is it called? Sometimes I imagine
the title-page thus:
OYSTERS
IN
EVERY STYLE
OR
OPENINGS
OF
LIFE
BY
YOUNG DANDO.
As to the man putting the luggage on his head, as a sort of sign, I
adopt it from this hour.
I date this from London, where I have come, as a good profligate,
graceless bachelor, for a day or two; leaving my wife and babbies at the
seaside. . . . Heavens! if you were but here at this minute! A piece of
salmon and a steak are cooking in the kitchen; it's a very wet day, and
I have had a fire lighted; the wine sparkles on a side table; the room
looks the more snug from being the only _un_dismantled one in the house;
plates are warming for Forster and Maclise, whose knock I am momentarily
expecting; that groom I told you of, who never comes into the house,
except when we are all out of town, is walking about in his
shirt-sleeves without the smallest consciousness of impropriety; a great
mound of proofs are waiting to be read aloud, after dinner. With what a
shout I would clap you down into the easiest chair, my genial Felton, if
you could but appear, and order you a pair of slippers instantly!
Since I have written this, the aforesaid groom--a very small man (as the
fashion is), with fiery red hair (as the fashion is _not_)--has looked
very hard at me and fluttered about me at the same time, like a giant
butterfly. After a pause, he says, in a Sam Wellerish kind of way: "I
vent to the club this mornin', sir. There vorn't no letters, sir." "Very
good, Topping." "How's missis, sir?" "Pretty well, Topping." "Glad to
hear it, sir. _My_ missis ain't wery well, sir." "No!" "No, sir, she's
a goin', sir, to have a hincrease wery soon, and it makes her rather
nervous, sir; and ven a young voman gets at all down at sich a time,
sir, she goes down wery deep, sir." To this sentiment I replied
affirmatively, and then he adds, as he stirs the fire (as if he were
thinking out loud): "Wot a mystery it is! Wot a go is natur'!" With
which scrap of philosophy, he gradually gets nearer to the door, and so
fades out of the room.
This same man asked me one day, soon after I came home, what Sir John
Wilson was. This is a friend of mine, who took our house and servants,
and everything as it stood, during our absence in America. I told him an
officer. "A wot, sir?" "An officer." And then, for fear he should think
I meant a police-officer, I added, "An officer in the army." "I beg your
pardon, sir," he said, touching his hat, "but the club as I always drove
him to wos the United Servants."
The real name of this club is the United Service, but I have no doubt he
thought it was a high-life-below-stairs kind of resort, and that this
gentleman was a retired butler or superannuated footman.
There's the knock, and the Great Western sails, or steams rather,
to-morrow. Write soon again, dear Felton, and ever believe me. . . .
Your affectionate friend.
P.S.--All good angels prosper Dr. Howe! He, at least, will not like me
the less, I hope, for what I shall say of Laura.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Professor%20Felton/751Charles Dickens
1842-12-31[Sidenote: The same.]
1, DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, YORK GATE, REGENT'S PARK,
LONDON, _31st December, 1842._
MY DEAR FELTON,
Many and many happy New Years to you and yours! As many happy children
as may be quite convenient (no more!), and as many happy meetings
between them and our children, and between you and us, as the kind fates
in their utmost kindness shall favourably decree!
The American book (to begin with that) has been a most complete and
thorough-going success. Four large editions have now been sold _and paid
for_, and it has won golden opinions from all sorts of men, except our
friend in F----, who is a miserable creature; a disappointed man in
great poverty, to whom I have ever been most kind and considerate (I
need scarcely say that); and another friend in B----, no less a person
than an illustrious gentleman named ----, who wrote a story called ----.
They have done no harm, and have fallen short of their mark, which, of
course, was to annoy me. Now I am perfectly free from any diseased
curiosity in such respects, and whenever I hear of a notice of this
kind, I never read it; whereby I always conceive (don't you?) that I get
the victory. With regard to your slave-owners, they may cry, till they
are as black in the face as their own slaves, that Dickens lies. Dickens
does not write for their satisfaction, and Dickens will not explain for
their comfort. Dickens has the name and date of every newspaper in
which every one of those advertisements appeared, as they know perfectly
well; but Dickens does not choose to give them, and will not at any time
between this and the day of judgment. . . .
I have been hard at work on my new book, of which the first number has
just appeared. The Paul Joneses who pursue happiness and profit at other
men's cost will no doubt enable you to read it, almost as soon as you
receive this. I hope you will like it. And I particularly commend, my
dear Felton, one Mr. Pecksniff and his daughters to your tender regards.
I have a kind of liking for them myself.
Blessed star of morning, such a trip as we had into Cornwall, just after
Longfellow went away! The "we" means Forster, Maclise, Stanfield (the
renowned marine painter), and the Inimitable Boz. We went down into
Devonshire by the railroad, and there we hired an open carriage from an
innkeeper, patriotic in all Pickwick matters, and went on with
post-horses. Sometimes we travelled all night, sometimes all day,
sometimes both. I kept the joint-stock purse, ordered all the dinners,
paid all the turnpikes, conducted facetious conversations with the
post-boys, and regulated the pace at which we travelled. Stanfield (an
old sailor) consulted an enormous map on all disputed points of
wayfaring; and referred, moreover, to a pocket-compass and other
scientific instruments. The luggage was in Forster's department; and
Maclise, having nothing particular to do, sang songs. Heavens! If you
could have seen the necks of bottles--distracting in their immense
varieties of shape--peering out of the carriage pockets! If you could
have witnessed the deep devotion of the post-boys, the wild attachment
of the hostlers, the maniac glee of the waiters! If you could have
followed us into the earthy old churches we visited, and into the
strange caverns on the gloomy sea-shore, and down into the depths of
mines, and up to the tops of giddy heights where the unspeakably green
water was roaring, I don't know how many hundred feet below! If you
could have seen but one gleam of the bright fires by which we sat in the
big rooms of ancient inns at night, until long after the small hours had
come and gone, or smelt but one steam of the hot punch (not white, dear
Felton, like that amazing compound I sent you a taste of, but a rich,
genial, glowing brown) which came in every evening in a huge broad china
bowl! I never laughed in my life as I did on this journey. It would have
done you good to hear me. I was choking and gasping and bursting the
buckle off the back of my stock, all the way. And Stanfield (who is very
much of your figure and temperament, but fifteen years older) got into
such apoplectic entanglements that we were often obliged to beat him on
the back with portmanteaus before we could recover him. Seriously, I do
believe there never was such a trip. And they made such sketches, those
two men, in the most romantic of our halting-places, that you would
have sworn we had the Spirit of Beauty with us, as well as the Spirit of
Fun. But stop till you come to England--I say no more.
The actuary of the national debt couldn't calculate the number of
children who are coming here on Twelfth Night, in honour of Charley's
birthday, for which occasion I have provided a magic lantern and divers
other tremendous engines of that nature. But the best of it is that
Forster and I have purchased between us the entire stock-in-trade of a
conjurer, the practice and display whereof is intrusted to me. And O my
dear eyes, Felton, if you could see me conjuring the company's watches
into impossible tea-caddies, and causing pieces of money to fly, and
burning pocket-handkerchiefs without hurting 'em, and practising in my
own room, without anybody to admire, you would never forget it as long
as you live. In those tricks which require a confederate, I am assisted
(by reason of his imperturbable good humour) by Stanfield, who always
does his part exactly the wrong way, to the unspeakable delight of all
beholders. We come out on a small scale, to-night, at Forster's, where
we see the old year out and the new one in. Particulars shall be
forwarded in my next.
I have quite made up my mind that F---- really believes he _does_ know
you personally, and has all his life. He talks to me about you with such
gravity that I am afraid to grin, and feel it necessary to look quite
serious. Sometimes he _tells_ me things about you, doesn't ask me, you
know, so that I am occasionally perplexed beyond all telling, and begin
to think it was he, and not I, who went to America. It's the queerest
thing in the world.
The book I was to have given Longfellow for you is not worth sending by
itself, being only a Barnaby. But I will look up some manuscript for you
(I think I have that of the American Notes complete), and will try to
make the parcel better worth its long conveyance. With regard to
Maclise's pictures, you certainly are quite right in your impression of
them; but he is "such a discursive devil" (as he says about himself) and
flies off at such odd tangents, that I feel it difficult to convey to
you any general notion of his purpose. I will try to do so when I write
again. I want very much to know about ---- and that charming girl. . . .
Give me full particulars. Will you remember me cordially to Sumner, and
say I thank him for his welcome letter? The like to Hillard, with many
regards to himself and his wife, with whom I had one night a little
conversation which I shall not readily forget. The like to Washington
Allston, and all friends who care for me and have outlived my book. . . .
Always, my dear Felton,
With true regard and affection, yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Tom%20Hood/752Charles Dickens
[Sidenote: Mr. Tom Hood.]
MY DEAR HOOD,
I can't state in figures (not very well remembering how to get beyond a
million) the number of candidates for the Sanatorium matronship, but if
you will ask your little boy to trace figures in the beds of your
garden, beginning at the front wall, going down to the cricket-ground,
coming back to the wall again, and "carrying over" to the next door, and
will then set a skilful accountant to add up the whole, the product, as
the Tutor's Assistants say, will give you the amount required. I have
pledged myself (being assured of her capability) to support a near
relation of Miss E----'s; otherwise, I need not say how glad I should
have been to forward any wish of yours.
Very faithfully yours.
FOOTNOTES:
[17] This, and all other Letters addressed to Professor Felton, were
printed in Mr. Field's "Yesterdays with Authors," originally published
in _The Atlantic Monthly Magazine_.
[18] On the subject of International Copyright.
1843.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Macvey%20Napier/753Charles Dickens
1843-01-21[Sidenote: Mr. Macvey Napier.]
[19]DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, LONDON, _January 21st, 1843._
MY DEAR SIR,
Let me hasten to say, in the fullest and most explicit manner, that you
have acted a most honourable, open, fair and manly part in the matter of
my complaint,[20] for which I beg you to accept my best thanks, and the
assurance of my friendship and regard. I would on no account publish the
letter you have sent me for that purpose, as I conceive that by doing
so, I should not reciprocate the spirit in which you have written to me
privately. But if you should, upon consideration, think it not
inexpedient to set the _Review_ right in regard to this point of fact,
by a note in the next number, I should be glad to see it there.
In reference to the article itself, it did, by repeating this statement,
hurt my feelings excessively; and is, in this respect, I still conceive,
most unworthy of its author. I am at a loss to divine who its author is.
I _know_ he read in some cut-throat American paper, this and other
monstrous statements, which I could at any time have converted into
sickening praise by the payment of some fifty dollars. I know that he is
perfectly aware that his statement in the _Review_ in corroboration of
these lies, would be disseminated through the whole of the United
States; and that my contradiction will never be heard of. And though I
care very little for the opinion of any person who will set the
statement of an American editor (almost invariably an atrocious
scoundrel) against my character and conduct, such as they may be; still,
my sense of justice does revolt from this most cavalier and careless
exhibition of me to a whole people, as a traveller under false
pretences, and a disappointed intriguer. The better the acquaintance
with America, the more defenceless and more inexcusable such conduct is.
For, I solemnly declare (and appeal to any man but the writer of this
paper, who has travelled in that country, for confirmation of my
statement) that the source from which he drew the "information" so
recklessly put forth again in England, is infinitely more obscene,
disgusting, and brutal than the very worst Sunday newspaper that has
ever been printed in Great Britain. Conceive _The Edinburgh Review_
quoting _The Satirist_, or _The Man about Town_, as an authority against
a man with one grain of honour, or feather-weight of reputation.
With regard to yourself, let me say again that I thank you with all
sincerity and heartiness, and fully acquit you of anything but kind and
generous intentions towards me. In proof of which, I do assure you that
I am even more desirous than before to write for the _Review_, and to
find some topic which would at once please me and you.
Always faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Professor%20Felton/754Charles Dickens
1843-03-02[Sidenote: Professor Felton.]
1, DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, YORK GATE, REGENT'S PARK,
LONDON, _March 2nd, 1843._
MY DEAR FELTON,
I don't know where to begin, but plunge headlong with a terrible splash
into this letter, on the chance of turning up somewhere.
Hurrah! Up like a cork again, with _The North American Review_ in my
hand. Like you, my dear ----, and I can say no more in praise of it,
though I go on to the end of the sheet. You cannot think how much notice
it has attracted here. Brougham called the other day, with the number
(thinking I might not have seen it), and I being out at the time, he
left a note, speaking of it, and of the writer, in terms that warmed my
heart. Lord Ashburton (one of whose people wrote a notice in the
_Edinburgh_ which they have since publicly contradicted) also wrote to
me about it in just the same strain. And many others have done the like.
I am in great health and spirits and powdering away at Chuzzlewit, with
all manner of facetiousness rising up before me as I go on. As to news,
I have really none, saving that ---- (who never took any exercise in his
life) has been laid up with rheumatism for weeks past, but is now, I
hope, getting better. My little captain, as I call him--he who took me
out, I mean, and with whom I had that adventure of the cork soles--has
been in London too, and seeing all the lions under my escort. Good
heavens! I wish you could have seen certain other mahogany-faced men
(also captains) who used to call here for him in the morning, and bear
him off to docks and rivers and all sorts of queer places, whence he
always returned late at night, with rum-and-water tear-drops in his
eyes, and a complication of punchy smells in his mouth! He was better
than a comedy to us, having marvellous ways of tying his
pocket-handkerchief round his neck at dinner-time in a kind of jolly
embarrassment, and then forgetting what he had done with it; also of
singing songs to wrong tunes, and calling land objects by sea names, and
never knowing what o'clock it was, but taking midnight for seven in the
evening; with many other sailor oddities, all full of honesty,
manliness, and good temper. We took him to Drury Lane Theatre to see
"Much Ado About Nothing." But I never could find out what he meant by
turning round, after he had watched the first two scenes with great
attention, and inquiring "whether it was a Polish piece." . . .
On the 4th of April I am going to preside at a public dinner for the
benefit of the printers; and if you were a guest at that table, wouldn't
I smite you on the shoulder, harder than ever I rapped the well-beloved
back of Washington Irving at the City Hotel in New York!
You were asking me--I love to say asking, as if we could talk
together--about Maclise. He is such a discursive fellow, and so
eccentric in his might, that on a mental review of his pictures I can
hardly tell you of them as leading to any one strong purpose. But the
annual Exhibition of the Royal Academy comes off in May, and then I will
endeavour to give you some notion of him. He is a tremendous creature,
and might do anything. But, like all tremendous creatures, he takes his
own way, and flies off at unexpected breaches in the conventional wall.
You know H----'s Book, I daresay. Ah! I saw a scene of mingled
comicality and seriousness at his funeral some weeks ago, which has
choked me at dinner-time ever since. C---- and I went as mourners; and
as he lived, poor fellow, five miles out of town, I drove C---- down. It
was such a day as I hope, for the credit of nature, is seldom seen in
any parts but these--muddy, foggy, wet, dark, cold, and unutterably
wretched in every possible respect. Now, C---- has enormous whiskers,
which straggle all down his throat in such weather, and stick out in
front of him, like a partially unravelled bird's-nest; so that he looks
queer enough at the best, but when he is very wet, and in a state
between jollity (he is always very jolly with me) and the deepest
gravity (going to a funeral, you know), it is utterly impossible to
resist him; especially as he makes the strangest remarks the mind of man
can conceive, without any intention of being funny, but rather meaning
to be philosophical. I really cried with an irresistible sense of his
comicality all the way; but when he was dressed out in a black cloak
and a very long black hat-band by an undertaker (who, as he whispered me
with tears in his eyes--for he had known H---- many years--was a
"character, and he would like to sketch him"), I thought I should have
been obliged to go away. However, we went into a little parlour where
the funeral party was, and God knows it was miserable enough, for the
widow and children were crying bitterly in one corner, and the other
mourners--mere people of ceremony, who cared no more for the dead man
than the hearse did--were talking quite coolly and carelessly together
in another; and the contrast was as painful and distressing as anything
I ever saw. There was an Independent clergyman present, with his bands
on and a bible under his arm, who, as soon as we were seated, addressed
---- thus, in a loud emphatic voice: "Mr. C----, have you seen a
paragraph respecting our departed friend, which has gone the round of
the morning papers?" "Yes, sir," says C----, "I have," looking very hard
at me the while, for he had told me with some pride coming down that it
was his composition. "Oh!" said the clergyman. "Then you will agree with
me, Mr. C----, that it is not only an insult to me, who am the servant
of the Almighty, but an insult to the Almighty, whose servant I am."
"How is that, sir?" said C----. "It is stated, Mr. C----, in that
paragraph," says the minister, "that when Mr. H---- failed in business
as a bookseller, he was persuaded by _me_ to try the pulpit; which is
false, incorrect, unchristian, in a manner blasphemous, and in all
respects contemptible. Let us pray." With which, my dear Felton, and in
the same breath, I give you my word, he knelt down, as we all did, and
began a very miserable jumble of an extemporary prayer. I was really
penetrated with sorrow for the family, but when C---- (upon his knees,
and sobbing for the loss of an old friend) whispered me, "that if that
wasn't a clergyman, and it wasn't a funeral, he'd have punched his
head," I felt as if nothing but convulsions could possibly relieve
me. . . .
Faithfully always, my dear Felton.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Georgina%20Hogarth/755Charles Dickens
1843-05-08[Sidenote: Mrs. Hogarth.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _8th May, 1843._
MY DEAR MRS. HOGARTH,
I was dressing to go to church yesterday morning--thinking, very sadly,
of that time six years--when your kind note and its accompanying packet
were brought to me. The best portrait that was ever painted would be of
little value to you and me, in comparison with that unfading picture we
have within us; and of the worst (which ----'s really is) I can only
say, that it has no interest in my eyes, beyond being something which
she sat near in its progress, full of life and beauty. In that light, I
set some store by the copy you have sent me; and as a mark of your
affection, I need not say I value it very much. As any record of that
dear face, it is utterly worthless.
I trace in many respects a strong resemblance between her mental
features and Georgina's--so strange a one, at times, that when she and
Kate and I are sitting together, I seem to think that what has happened
is a melancholy dream from which I am just awakening. The perfect like
of what she was, will never be again, but so much of her spirit shines
out in this sister, that the old time comes back again at some seasons,
and I can hardly separate it from the present.
After she died, I dreamed of her every night for many months--I think
for the better part of a year--sometimes as a spirit, sometimes as a
living creature, never with any of the bitterness of my real sorrow, but
always with a kind of quiet happiness, which became so pleasant to me
that I never lay down at night without a hope of the vision coming back
in one shape or other. And so it did. I went down into Yorkshire, and
finding it still present to me, in a strange scene and a strange bed, I
could not help mentioning the circumstance in a note I wrote home to
Kate. From that moment I have never dreamed of her once, though she is
so much in my thoughts at all times (especially when I am successful,
and have prospered in anything) that the recollection of her is an
essential part of my being, and is as inseparable from my existence as
the beating of my heart is.
Always affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Professor%20Felton/756Charles Dickens
1843-09-01[Sidenote: Professor Felton.]
BROADSTAIRS, KENT, _September 1st, 1843._
MY DEAR FELTON,
If I thought it in the nature of things that you and I could ever agree
on paper, touching a certain Chuzzlewitian question whereupon F----
tells me you have remarks to make, I should immediately walk into the
same, tooth and nail. But as I don't, I won't. Contenting myself with
this prediction, that one of these years and days, you will write or say
to me: "My dear Dickens, you were right, though rough, and did a world
of good, though you got most thoroughly hated for it." To which I shall
reply: "My dear Felton, I looked a long way off and not immediately
under my nose." . . . At which sentiment you will laugh, and I shall
laugh; and then (for I foresee this will all happen in my land) we shall
call for another pot of porter and two or three dozen of oysters.
Now, don't you in your own heart and soul quarrel with me for this long
silence? Not half so much as I quarrel with myself, I know; but if you
could read half the letters I write to you in imagination, you would
swear by me for the best of correspondents. The truth is, that when I
have done my morning's work, down goes my pen, and from that minute I
feel it a positive impossibility to take it up again, until imaginary
butchers and bakers wave me to my desk. I walk about brimful of letters,
facetious descriptions, touching morsels, and pathetic friendships, but
can't for the soul of me uncork myself. The post-office is my rock
ahead. My average number of letters that _must_ be written every day is,
at the least, a dozen. And you could no more know what I was writing to
you spiritually, from the perusal of the bodily thirteenth, than you
could tell from my hat what was going on in my head, or could read my
heart on the surface of my flannel waistcoat.
This is a little fishing-place; intensely quiet; built on a cliff,
whereon--in the centre of a tiny semicircular bay--our house stands; the
sea rolling and dashing under the windows. Seven miles out are the
Goodwin Sands (you've heard of the Goodwin Sands?) whence floating
lights perpetually wink after dark, as if they were carrying on
intrigues with the servants. Also there is a big lighthouse called the
North Foreland on a hill behind the village, a severe parsonic light,
which reproves the young and giddy floaters, and stares grimly out upon
the sea. Under the cliff are rare good sands, where all the children
assemble every morning and throw up impossible fortifications, which the
sea throws down again at high water. Old gentlemen and ancient ladies
flirt after their own manner in two reading-rooms and on a great many
scattered seats in the open air. Other old gentlemen look all day
through telescopes and never see anything. In a bay-window in a one-pair
sits, from nine o'clock to one, a gentleman with rather long hair and no
neckcloth, who writes and grins as if he thought he were very funny
indeed. His name is Boz. At one he disappears, and presently emerges
from a bathing-machine, and may be seen--a kind of salmon-coloured
porpoise--splashing about in the ocean. After that he may be seen in
another bay-window on the ground-floor, eating a strong lunch; after
that, walking a dozen miles or so, or lying on his back in the sand
reading a book. Nobody bothers him unless they know he is disposed to be
talked to; and I am told he is very comfortable indeed. He's as brown as
a berry, and they _do_ say is a small fortune to the innkeeper who sells
beer and cold punch. But this is mere rumour. Sometimes he goes up to
London (eighty miles, or so, away), and then I'm told there is a sound
in Lincoln's Inn Fields at night, as of men laughing, together with a
clinking of knives and forks and wine-glasses.
I never shall have been so near you since we parted aboard the _George
Washington_ as next Tuesday. Forster, Maclise, and I, and perhaps
Stanfield, are then going aboard the Cunard steamer at Liverpool, to bid
Macready good-bye, and bring his wife away. It will be a very hard
parting. You will see and know him of course. We gave him a splendid
dinner last Saturday at Richmond, whereat I presided with my accustomed
grace. He is one of the noblest fellows in the world, and I would give a
great deal that you and I should sit beside each other to see him play
Virginius, Lear, or Werner, which I take to be, every way, the greatest
piece of exquisite perfection that his lofty art is capable of
attaining. His Macbeth, especially the last act, is a tremendous
reality; but so indeed is almost everything he does. You recollect,
perhaps, that he was the guardian of our children while we were away. I
love him dearly. . . .
You asked me, long ago, about Maclise. He is such a wayward fellow in
his subjects, that it would be next to impossible to write such an
article as you were thinking of about him. I wish you could form an idea
of his genius. One of these days a book will come out, "Moore's Irish
Melodies," entirely illustrated by him, on every page. _When_ it comes,
I'll send it to you. You will have some notion of him then. He is in
great favour with the Queen, and paints secret pictures for her to put
upon her husband's table on the morning of his birthday, and the like.
But if he has a care, he will leave his mark on more enduring things
than palace walls.
And so L---- is married. I remember _her_ well, and could draw her
portrait, in words, to the life. A very beautiful and gentle creature,
and a proper love for a poet. My cordial remembrances and
congratulations. Do they live in the house where we breakfasted? . . .
I very often dream I am in America again; but, strange to say, I never
dream of you. I am always endeavouring to get home in disguise, and have
a dreary sense of the distance. _À propos_ of dreams, is it not a
strange thing if writers of fiction never dream of their own creations;
recollecting, I suppose, even in their dreams, that they have no real
existence? _I_ never dreamed of any of my own characters, and I feel it
so impossible that I would wager Scott never did of his, real as they
are. I had a good piece of absurdity in my head a night or two ago. I
dreamed that somebody was dead. I don't know who, but it's not to the
purpose. It was a private gentleman, and a particular friend; and I was
greatly overcome when the news was broken to me (very delicately) by a
gentleman in a cocked hat, top boots, and a sheet. Nothing else. "Good
God!" I said, "is he dead?" "He is as dead, sir," rejoined the
gentleman, "as a door-nail. But we must all die, Mr. Dickens, sooner or
later, my dear sir." "Ah!" I said. "Yes, to be sure. Very true. But what
did he die of?" The gentleman burst into a flood of tears, and said, in
a voice broken by emotion: "He christened his youngest child, sir, with
a toasting-fork." I never in my life was so affected as at his having
fallen a victim to this complaint. It carried a conviction to my mind
that he never could have recovered. I knew that it was the most
interesting and fatal malady in the world; and I wrung the gentleman's
hand in a convulsion of respectful admiration, for I felt that this
explanation did equal honour to his head and heart!
What do you think of Mrs. Gamp? And how do you like the undertaker? I
have a fancy that they are in your way. Oh heaven! such green woods as I
was rambling among down in Yorkshire, when I was getting that done last
July! For days and weeks we never saw the sky but through green boughs;
and all day long I cantered over such soft moss and turf, that the
horse's feet scarcely made a sound upon it. We have some friends in that
part of the country (close to Castle Howard, where Lord Morpeth's father
dwells in state, _in_ his park indeed), who are the jolliest of the
jolly, keeping a big old country house, with an ale cellar something
larger than a reasonable church, and everything, like Goldsmith's bear
dances, "in a concatenation accordingly." Just the place for you,
Felton! We performed some madnesses there in the way of forfeits,
picnics, rustic games, inspections of ancient monasteries at midnight,
when the moon was shining, that would have gone to your heart, and, as
Mr. Weller says, "come out on the other side." . . .
Write soon, my dear Felton; and if I write to you less often than I
would, believe that my affectionate heart is with you always. Loves and
regards to all friends, from yours ever and ever.
Very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Macvey%20Napier/757Charles Dickens
1843-09-16[Sidenote: Mr. Macvey Napier.]
BROADSTAIRS, _September 16th, 1843._
MY DEAR SIR,
I hinted, in a letter of introduction I gave Mr. Hood to you, that I had
been thinking of a subject for the _Edinburgh_. Would it meet the
purposes of the _Review_ to come out strongly against any system of
education based exclusively on the principles of the Established Church?
If it would, I should like to show why such a thing as the Church
Catechism is wholly inapplicable to the state of ignorance that now
prevails; and why no system but one, so general in great religious
principles as to include all creeds, can meet the wants and
understandings of the dangerous classes of society. This is the only
broad ground I could hold, consistently with what I feel and think on
such a subject. But I could give, in taking it, a description of certain
voluntary places of instruction, called "the ragged schools," now
existing in London, and of the schools in jails, and of the ignorance
presented in such places, which would make a very striking paper,
especially if they were put in strong comparison with the effort making,
by subscription, to maintain exclusive Church instruction. I could show
these people in a state so miserable and so neglected, that their very
nature rebels against the simplest religion, and that to convey to them
the faintest outlines of any system of distinction between right and
wrong is in itself a giant's task, before which mysteries and squabbles
for forms _must_ give way. Would this be too much for the _Review_?
Faithfully yours.
FOOTNOTES:
[19] This, and all other Letters addressed to Mr. Macvey Napier, were
printed in "Selection from the Correspondence of the late Macvey Napier,
Esq.," editor of _The Edinburgh Review_, edited by his son Macvey
Napier.
[20] His complaint was that the reviewer of his "American Notes," in the
number for January, 1843, had represented him as having gone to America
as a missionary in the cause of international copyright--an allegation
which Charles Dickens repudiated, and which was rectified in the way he
himself suggested.
1844.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Professor%20Felton/758Charles Dickens
1844-01-02[Sidenote: Professor Felton.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, LONDON, _January 2nd, 1844._
MY VERY DEAR FELTON,
You are a prophet, and had best retire from business straightway.
Yesterday morning, New Year's Day, when I walked into my little workroom
after breakfast, and was looking out of window at the snow in the
garden--not seeing it particularly well in consequence of some
staggering suggestions of last night, whereby I was beset--the postman
came to the door with a knock, for which I denounced him from my heart.
Seeing your hand upon the cover of a letter which he brought, I
immediately blessed him, presented him with a glass of whisky, inquired
after his family (they are all well), and opened the despatch with a
moist and oystery twinkle in my eye. And on the very day from which the
new year dates, I read your New Year congratulations as punctually as if
you lived in the next house. Why don't you?
Now, if instantly on the receipt of this you will send a free and
independent citizen down to the Cunard wharf at Boston, you will find
that Captain Hewett, of the _Britannia_ steamship (my ship), has a small
parcel for Professor Felton of Cambridge; and in that parcel you will
find a Christmas Carol in prose; being a short story of Christmas by
Charles Dickens. Over which Christmas Carol Charles Dickens wept and
laughed and wept again, and excited himself in a most extraordinary
manner in the composition; and thinking whereof he walked about the
black streets of London, fifteen and twenty miles many a night when all
the sober folks had gone to bed. . . . Its success is most prodigious.
And by every post all manner of strangers write all manner of letters
to him about their homes and hearths, and how this same Carol is read
aloud there, and kept on a little shelf by itself. Indeed, it is the
greatest success, as I am told, that this ruffian and rascal has ever
achieved.
Forster is out again; and if he don't go in again, after the manner in
which we have been keeping Christmas, he must be very strong indeed.
Such dinings, such dancings, such conjurings, such blindman's-buffings,
such theatre-goings, such kissings-out of old years and kissings-in of
new ones, never took place in these parts before. To keep the Chuzzlewit
going, and do this little book, the Carol, in the odd times between two
parts of it, was, as you may suppose, pretty tight work. But when it was
done I broke out like a madman. And if you could have seen me at a
children's party at Macready's the other night, going down a country
dance with Mrs. M., you would have thought I was a country gentleman of
independent property, residing on a tiptop farm, with the wind blowing
straight in my face every day. . . .
Your friend, Mr. P----, dined with us one day (I don't know whether I
told you this before), and pleased us very much. Mr. C---- has dined
here once, and spent an evening here. I have not seen him lately, though
he has called twice or thrice; for K---- being unwell and I busy, we
have not been visible at our accustomed seasons. I wonder whether H----
has fallen in your way. Poor H----! He was a good fellow, and has the
most grateful heart I ever met with. Our journeyings seem to be a dream
now. Talking of dreams, strange thoughts of Italy and France, and maybe
Germany, are springing up within me as the Chuzzlewit clears off. It's a
secret I have hardly breathed to anyone, but I "think" of leaving
England for a year, next midsummer, bag and baggage, little ones and
all--then coming out with _such_ a story, Felton, all at once, no parts,
sledgehammer blow.
I send you a Manchester paper, as you desire. The report is not exactly
done, but very well done, notwithstanding. It was a very splendid sight,
I assure you, and an awful-looking audience. I am going to preside at a
similar meeting at Liverpool on the 26th of next month, and on my way
home I may be obliged to preside at another at Birmingham. I will send
you papers, if the reports be at all like the real thing.
I wrote to Prescott about his book, with which I was perfectly charmed.
I think his descriptions masterly, his style brilliant, his purpose
manly and gallant always. The introductory account of Aztec civilisation
impressed me exactly as it impressed you. From beginning to end the
whole history is enchanting and full of genius. I only wonder that,
having such an opportunity of illustrating the doctrine of visible
judgments, he never remarks, when Cortes and his men tumble the idols
down the temple steps and call upon the people to take notice that their
gods are powerless to help themselves, that possibly if some intelligent
native had tumbled down the image of the Virgin or patron saint after
them nothing very remarkable might have ensued in consequence.
Of course you like Macready. Your name's Felton. I wish you could see
him play Lear. It is stupendously terrible. But I suppose he would be
slow to act it with the Boston company.
Hearty remembrances to Sumner, Longfellow, Prescott, and all whom you
know I love to remember. Countless happy years to you and yours, my dear
Felton, and some instalment of them, however slight, in England, in the
loving company of
THE PROSCRIBED ONE.
Oh, breathe not his name!http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Sir%20Edward%20Bulwer%20Lytton/759Charles Dickens
1844-01-25[Sidenote: Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton.]
ATHENAEUM, _Thursday Afternoon, 25th January, 1844._
MY DEAR SIR EDWARD,
I received your kind cheque yesterday, in behalf of the Elton family;
and am much indebted to you on their behalf.
Pray do not believe that the least intentional neglect has prevented me
from calling on you, or that I am not sincerely desirous to avail myself
of any opportunity of cultivating your friendship. I venture to say this
to you in an unaffected and earnest spirit, and I hope it will not be
displeasing to you.
At the time when you called, and for many weeks afterwards, I was so
closely occupied with my little Carol (the idea of which had just
occurred to me), that I never left home before the owls went out, and
led quite a solitary life. When I began to have a little time and to go
abroad again, I knew that you were in affliction, and I then thought it
better to wait, even before I left a card at your door, until the
pressure of your distress had past.
I fancy a reproachful spirit in your note, possibly because I knew that
I may appear to deserve it. But _do_ let me say to you that it would
give me real pain to retain the idea that there was any coldness between
us, and that it would give me heartfelt satisfaction to know the
reverse.
I shall make a personal descent upon you before Sunday, in the hope of
telling you this myself. But I cannot rest easy without writing it also.
And if this should lead to a better knowledge in each of us, of the
other, believe me that I shall always look upon it as something I have
long wished for.
Always faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Thompson/760Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. Thompson.]
[21]LIVERPOOL, _Wednesday Night, 28th February,
Half-past ten at night._
MY DEAR THOMPSON,
There never were such considerate people as they are here. After
offering me unbounded hospitality and my declining it, they leave me to
myself like gentlemen. They saved me from all sorts of intrusion at the
Town Hall--brought me back--and left me to my quiet supper (now on the
table) as they had left me to my quiet dinner.
I wish you had come. It was really a splendid sight. The Town Hall was
crammed to the roof by, I suppose, two thousand persons. The ladies were
in full dress and immense numbers; and when Dick showed himself, the
whole assembly stood up, rustling like the leaves of a wood. Dick, with
the heart of a lion, dashed in bravely. He introduced that about the
genie in the casket with marvellous effect; and was applauded to the
echo, which did applaud again. He was horribly nervous when he arrived
at Birmingham,[22] but when he stood upon the platform, I don't believe
his pulse increased ten degrees. A better and quicker audience never
listened to man.
The ladies had hung the hall (do you know what an immense place it is?)
with artificial flowers all round. And on the front of the great
gallery, immediately fronting this young gentleman, were the words in
artificial flowers (you'll observe) "Welcome Boz" in letters about six
feet high. Behind his head, and about the great organ, were immense
transparencies representing several Fames crowning a corresponding
number of Dicks, at which Victoria (taking out a poetic licence) was
highly delighted.
I am going to bed. The landlady is not literary, and calls me Mr.
Digzon. In other respects it is a good house.
My dear Thompson, always yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Countess%20of%20Blessington/761Charles Dickens
1844-03-10[Sidenote: Countess of Blessington.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _March 10th, 1844._
MY DEAR LADY BLESSINGTON,
I have made up my mind to "see the world," and mean to decamp, bag and
baggage, next midsummer for a twelvemonth. I purpose establishing my
family in some convenient place, from whence I can make personal ravages
on the neighbouring country, and, somehow or other, have got it into my
head that Nice would be a favourable spot for head-quarters. You are so
well acquainted with these matters, that I am anxious to have the
benefit of your kind advice. I do not doubt that you can tell me whether
this same Nice be a healthy place the year through, whether it be
reasonably cheap, pleasant to look at and to live in, and the like. If
you will tell me, when you have ten minutes to spare for such a client,
I shall be delighted to come to you, and guide myself by your opinion. I
will not ask you to forgive me for troubling you, because I am sure
beforehand that you will do so. I beg to be kindly remembered to Count
D'Orsay and to your nieces--I was going to say "the Misses Power," but
it looks so like the blue board at a ladies' school, that I stopped
short.
Very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Thompson/762Charles Dickens
1844-03-13[Sidenote: Mr. Thompson.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _March 13th, 1844._
MY DEAR THOMPSON,
Think of Italy! Don't give that up! Why, my house is entered at
Phillips's and at Gillow's to be let for twelve months; my letter of
credit lies ready at Coutts's; my last number of Chuzzlewit comes out in
June; and the first week, if not the first day in July, sees me, God
willing, steaming off towards the sun.
Yes. We must have a few books, and everything that is idle, sauntering,
and enjoyable. We must lie down at the bottom of those boats, and devise
all kinds of engines for improving on that gallant holiday. I see myself
in a striped shirt, moustache, blouse, red sash, straw hat, and white
trousers, sitting astride a mule, and not caring for the clock, the day
of the month, or the week. Tinkling bells upon the mule, I hope. I look
forward to it day and night, and wish the time were come. Don't _you_
give it up. That's all.
Always, my dear Thompson,
Faithfully your friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Thompson/763Charles Dickens
1844-03-24[Sidenote: The same.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Sunday, March 24th, 1844._
MY DEAR THOMPSON,
My study fireplace having been suddenly seized with symptoms of
insanity, I have been in great affliction. The bricklayer was called in,
and considered it necessary to perform an extensive operation without
delay. I don't know whether you are aware of a peculiar bricky
raggedness (not unaccompanied by pendent stalactites of mortar) which is
exposed to view on the removal of a stove, or are acquainted with the
suffocating properties of a kind of accidental snuff which flies out of
the same cavernous region in great abundance. It is very distressing. I
have been walking about the house after the manner of the dove before
the waters subsided for some days, and have no pens or ink or paper.
Hence this gap in our correspondence which I now repair.
What are you doing??? When are you coming away???? Why are you stopping
there????? Do enlighten me, for I think of you constantly, and have a
true and real interest in your proceedings.
D'Orsay, who knows Italy very well indeed, strenuously insists there is
no such place for headquarters as Pisa. Lady Blessington says so also.
What do you say? On the first of July! The first of July! Dick turns his
head towards the orange groves.
Daniel not having yet come to judgment, there is no news stirring. Every
morning I proclaim: "At home to Mr. Thompson." Every evening I ejaculate
with Monsieur Jacques[23]: "But he weel come. I know he weel." After
which I look vacantly at the boxes; put my hands to my gray wig, as if
to make quite sure that it is still on my head, all safe: and go off,
first entrance O.P. to soft music.
Always faithfully your friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Ebenezer%20Jones/764Charles Dickens
1844-04-15[Sidenote: Mr. Ebenezer Jones.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, YORK GATE, REGENT'S PARK,
_Monday, 15th April, 1844._
DEAR SIR,
I don't know how it has happened that I have been so long in
acknowledging the receipt of your kind present of your poems[24]; but I
_do_ know that I have often thought of writing to you, and have very
often reproached myself for not carrying that thought into execution.
I have not been neglectful of the poems themselves, I assure you, but
have read them with very great pleasure. They struck me at the first
glance as being remarkably nervous, picturesque, imaginative, and
original. I have frequently recurred to them since, and never with the
slightest abatement of that impression. I am much flattered and
gratified by your recollection of me. I beg you to believe in my
unaffected sympathy with, and appreciation of, your powers; and I
entreat you to accept my best wishes, and genuine though tardy thanks.
Dear Sir, faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Charles%20Babbage/765Charles Dickens
1844-05-28[Sidenote: Mr. Charles Babbage.]
9, OSNABURGH TERRACE, NEW ROAD, _28th May, 1844._
MY DEAR SIR,
I regret to say that we are placed in the preposterous situation of
being obliged to postpone our little dinner-party on Saturday, by reason
of having no house to dine in. We have not been burnt out; but a
desirable widow (as a tenant, I mean) proposed, only last Saturday, to
take our own house for the whole term of our intended absence abroad, on
condition that she had possession of it to-day. We fled, and were driven
into this place, which has no convenience for the production of any
other banquet than a cold collation of plate and linen, the only
comforts we have not left behind us.
My consolation lies in knowing what sort of dinner you would have had if
you had come _here_, and in looking forward to claiming the fulfilment
of your kind promise when we are again at home.
Always believe me, my dear Sir, faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Countess%20of%20Blessington/766Charles Dickens
1844-11-20[Sidenote: Countess of Blessington.]
MILAN, _Wednesday, November 20th, 1844._
MY DEAR LADY BLESSINGTON,
Appearances are against me. Don't believe them. I have written you, in
intention, fifty letters, and I can claim no credit for anyone of them
(though they were the best letters you ever read), for they all
originated in my desire to live in your memory and regard. Since I heard
from Count D'Orsay, I have been beset in I don't know how many ways.
First of all, I went to Marseilles and came back to Genoa. Then I moved
to the Peschiere. Then some people, who had been present at the
Scientific Congress here, made a sudden inroad on that establishment,
and overran it. Then they went away, and I shut myself up for a month,
close and tight, over my little Christmas book, "The Chimes." All my
affections and passions got twined and knotted up in it, and I became as
haggard as a murderer, long before I wrote "The End." When I had done
that, like "_The_ man of Thessaly," who having scratched his eyes out in
a quickset hedge, plunged into a bramble-bush to scratch them in again,
I fled to Venice, to recover the composure I had disturbed. From thence
I went to Verona and to Mantua. And now I am here--just come up from
underground, and earthy all over, from seeing that extraordinary tomb in
which the dead saint lies in an alabaster case, with sparkling jewels
all about him to mock his dusty eyes, not to mention the twenty-franc
pieces which devout votaries were ringing down upon a sort of sky-light
in the cathedral pavement above, as if it were the counter of his
heavenly shop. You know Verona? You know everything in Italy, _I_ know.
The Roman Amphitheatre there delighted me beyond expression. I never saw
anything so full of solemn ancient interest. There are the
four-and-forty rows of seats, as fresh and perfect as if their occupants
had vacated them but yesterday--the entrances, passages, dens, rooms,
corridors, the numbers over some of the arches. An equestrian troop had
been there some days before, and had scooped out a little ring at one
end of the arena, and had their performances in that spot. I should
like to have seen it, of all things, for its very dreariness. Fancy a
handful of people sprinkled over one corner of the great place (the
whole population of Verona wouldn't fill it now); and a spangled
cavalier bowing to the echoes, and the grass-grown walls! I climbed to
the topmost seat, and looked away at the beautiful view for some
minutes; when I turned round, and looked down into the theatre again, it
had exactly the appearance of an immense straw hat, to which the helmet
in the Castle of Otranto was a baby; the rows of seats representing the
different plaits of straw, and the arena the inside of the crown. I had
great expectations of Venice, but they fell immeasurably short of the
wonderful reality. The short time I passed there went by me in a dream.
I hardly think it possible to exaggerate its beauties, its sources of
interest, its uncommon novelty and freshness. A thousand and one
realisations of the Thousand and one Nights, could scarcely captivate
and enchant me more than Venice.
Your old house at Albaro--Il Paradiso--is spoken of as yours to this
day. What a gallant place it is! I don't know the present inmate, but I
hear that he bought and furnished it not long since, with great
splendour, in the French style, and that he wishes to sell it. I wish I
were rich and could buy it. There is a third-rate wine shop below
Byron's house, and the place looks dull and miserable, and ruinous
enough. Old ---- is a trifle uglier than when I first arrived. He has
periodical parties, at which there are a great many flowerpots and a few
ices--no other refreshments. He goes about, constantly charged with
extemporaneous poetry, and is always ready, like tavern dinners, on the
shortest notice and the most reasonable terms. He keeps a gigantic harp
in his bedroom, together with pen, ink, and paper, for fixing his ideas
as they flow, a kind of profane King David, but truly good-natured and
very harmless.
Pray say to Count D'Orsay everything that is cordial and loving from me.
The travelling purse he gave me has been of immense service. It has been
constantly opened. All Italy seems to yearn to put its hand in it. I
think of hanging it, when I come back to England, on a nail as a trophy,
and of gashing the brim like the blade of an old sword, and saying to my
son and heir, as they do upon the stage: "You see this notch, boy? Five
hundred francs were laid low on that day, for post-horses. Where this
gap is, a waiter charged your father treble the correct amount--and got
it. This end, worn into teeth like the rasped edge of an old file, is
sacred to the Custom Houses, boy, the passports, and the shabby soldiers
at town-gates, who put an open hand and a dirty coat-cuff into the coach
windows of all 'Forestieri.' Take it, boy. Thy father has nothing else
to give!"
My desk is cooling itself in a mail-coach, somewhere down at the back
of the cathedral, and the pens and ink in this house are so detestable,
that I have no hope of your ever getting to this portion of my letter.
But I have the less misery in this state of mind, from knowing that it
has nothing in it to repay you for the trouble of perusal.
Very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Countess%20of%20Blessington/767Charles Dickens
1844-00-00[Sidenote: The same.]
COVENT GARDEN, _Sunday, Noon (December, 1844)._
MY DEAR LADY BLESSINGTON,
Business for other people (and by no means of a pleasant kind) has held
me prisoner during two whole days, and will so detain me to-day, in the
very agony of my departure for Italy again, that I shall not even be
able to reach Gore House once more, on which I had set my heart. I
cannot bear the thought of going away without some sort of reference to
the happy day you gave me on Monday, and the pleasure and delight I had
in your earnest greeting. I shall never forget it, believe me. It would
be worth going to China--it would be worth going to America, to come
home again for the pleasure of such a meeting with you and Count
D'Orsay--to whom my love, and something as near it to Miss Power and her
sister as it is lawful to send. It will be an unspeakable satisfaction
to me (though I am not maliciously disposed) to know under your own
hand at Genoa that my little book made you cry. I hope to prove a better
correspondent on my return to those shores. But better or worse, or any
how, I am ever, my dear Lady Blessington, in no common degree, and not
with an every-day regard, yours.
Very faithfully yours.
FOOTNOTES:
[21] On the occasion of a great meeting of the Mechanics' Institution at
Liverpool, with Charles Dickens in the chair.
[22] He had also presided two evenings previously at a meeting of the
Polytechnic Institution at Birmingham.
[23] A character in a Play, well known at this time.
[24] "Studies of Sensation and Event."
1845.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Countess%20of%20Blessington/768Charles Dickens
1845-05-09[Sidenote: The same.]
GENOA, _May 9th, 1845._
MY DEAR LADY BLESSINGTON,
Once more in my old quarters, and with rather a tired sole to my foot,
from having found such an immense number of different resting-places for
it since I went away. I write you my last Italian letter for this bout,
designing to leave here, please God, on the ninth of next month, and to
be in London again by the end of June. I am looking forward with great
delight to the pleasure of seeing you once more, and mean to come to
Gore House with such a swoop as shall astonish the poodle, if, after
being accustomed to his own size and sense, he retain the power of being
astonished at anything in the wide world. You know where I have been,
and every mile of ground I have travelled over, and every object I have
seen. It is next to impossible, surely, to exaggerate the interest of
Rome; though, I think, it _is_ very possible to find the main source of
interest in the wrong things. Naples disappointed me greatly. The
weather was bad during a great part of my stay there. But if I had not
had mud, I should have had dust, and though I had had sun, I must still
have had the Lazzaroni. And they are so ragged, so dirty, so abject, so
full of degradation, so sunken and steeped in the hopelessness of better
things, that they would make heaven uncomfortable, if they could ever
get there. I didn't expect to see a handsome city, but I expected
something better than that long dull line of squalid houses, which
stretches from the Chiaja to the quarter of the Porta Capuana; and while
I was quite prepared for a miserable populace, I had some dim belief
that there were bright rays among them, and dancing legs, and shining
sun-browned faces. Whereas the honest truth is, that connected with
Naples itself, I have not one solitary recollection. The country round
it charmed me, I need not say. Who can forget Herculaneum and Pompeii?
As to Vesuvius, it burns away in my thoughts, beside the roaring waters
of Niagara, and not a splash of the water extinguishes a spark of the
fire; but there they go on, tumbling and flaming night and day, each in
its fullest glory.
I have seen so many wonders, and each of them has such a voice of its
own, that I sit all day long listening to the roar they make as if it
were in a sea-shell, and have fallen into an idleness so complete, that
I can't rouse myself sufficiently to go to Pisa on the twenty-fifth,
when the triennial illumination of the Cathedral and Leaning Tower, and
Bridges, and what not, takes place. But I have already been there; and
it cannot beat St. Peter's, I suppose. So I don't think I shall pluck
myself up by the roots, and go aboard a steamer for Leghorn. Let me
thank you heartily for the "Keepsake" and the "Book of Beauty." They
reached me a week or two ago. I have been very much struck by two papers
in them--one, Landor's "Conversations," among the most charming,
profound, and delicate productions I have ever read; the other, your
lines on Byron's room at Venice. I am as sure that you wrote them from
your heart, as I am that they found their way immediately to mine.
It delights me to receive such accounts of Maclise's fresco. If he will
only give his magnificent genius fair play, there is not enough cant and
dulness even in the criticism of art from which Sterne prayed kind
heaven to defend him, as the worst of all the cants continually canted
in this canting world--to keep the giant down an hour.
Our poor friend, the naval governor,[25] has lost his wife, I am sorry
to hear, since you and I spoke of his pleasant face. Do not let your
nieces forget me, if you can help it, and give my love to Count D'Orsay,
with many thanks to him for his charming letter. I was greatly amused by
his account of ----. There was a cold shade of aristocracy about it, and
a dampness of cold water, which entertained me beyond measure.
Always faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Macvey%20Napier/769Charles Dickens
1845-07-28[Sidenote: Mr. Macvey Napier.]
1, DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _July 28th, 1845._
MY DEAR SIR,
As my note is to bear reference to business, I will make it as short and
plain as I can. I think I could write a pretty good and a well-timed
article on the _Punishment of Death_, and sympathy with great criminals,
instancing the gross and depraved curiosity that exists in reference to
them, by some of the outrageous things that were written, done, and said
in recent cases. But as I am not sure that my views would be yours, and
as their statement would be quite inseparable from such a paper, I will
briefly set down their purport that you may decide for yourself.
Society, having arrived at that state in which it spares bodily torture
to the worst criminals, and having agreed, if criminals be put to death
at all, to kill them in the speediest way, I consider the question with
reference to society, and not at all with reference to the criminal,
holding that, in a case of cruel and deliberate murder, he is already
mercifully and sparingly treated. But, as a question for the deliberate
consideration of all reflective persons, I put this view of the case.
With such very repulsive and odious details before us, may it not be
well to inquire whether the punishment of death be beneficial to
society? I believe it to have a horrible fascination for many of those
persons who render themselves liable to it, impelling them onward to the
acquisition of a frightful notoriety; and (setting aside the strong
confirmation of this idea afforded in individual instances) I presume
this to be the case in very badly regulated minds, when I observe the
strange fascination which everything connected with this punishment, or
the object of it, possesses for tens of thousands of decent, virtuous,
well-conducted people, who are quite unable to resist the published
portraits, letters, anecdotes, smilings, snuff-takings, of the bloodiest
and most unnatural scoundrel with the gallows before him. I observe that
this strange interest does not prevail to anything like the same degree
where death is not the penalty. Therefore I connect it with the dread
and mystery surrounding death in any shape, but especially in this
avenging form, and am disposed to come to the conclusion that it
produces crime in the criminally disposed, and engenders a diseased
sympathy--morbid and bad, but natural and often irresistible--among the
well-conducted and gentle. Regarding it as doing harm to both these
classes, it may even then be right to inquire, whether it has any
salutary influence on those small knots and specks of people, mere
bubbles in the living ocean, who actually behold its infliction with
their proper eyes. On this head it is scarcely possible to entertain a
doubt, for we know that robbery, and obscenity, and callous indifference
are of no commoner occurrence anywhere than at the foot of the scaffold.
Furthermore, we know that all exhibitions of agony and death have a
tendency to brutalise and harden the feelings of men, and have always
been the most rife among the fiercest people. Again, it is a great
question whether ignorant and dissolute persons (ever the great body of
spectators, as few others will attend), seeing _that_ murder done, and
not having seen the other, will not, almost of necessity, sympathise
with the man who dies before them, especially as he is shown, a martyr
to their fancy, tied and bound, alone among scores, with every kind of
odds against him.
I should take all these threads up at the end by a vivid little sketch
of the origin and progress of such a crime as Hooker's, stating a
somewhat parallel case, but an imaginary one, pursuing its hero to his
death, and showing what enormous harm he does _after_ the crime for
which he suffers. I should state none of these positions in a positive
sledge-hammer way, but tempt and lure the reader into the discussion of
them in his own mind; and so we come to this at last--whether it be for
the benefit of society to elevate even this crime to the awful dignity
and notoriety of death; and whether it would not be much more to its
advantage to substitute a mean and shameful punishment, degrading the
deed and the committer of the deed, and leaving the general compassion
to expend itself upon the only theme at present quite forgotten in the
history, that is to say, the murdered person.
I do not give you this as an outline of the paper, which I think I could
make attractive. It is merely an exposition of the inferences to which
its whole philosophy must tend.
Always faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Thompson/770Charles Dickens
1845-10-17[Sidenote: Mr. Thompson.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _17th October, 1845._
MY DEAR THOMPSON,
Roche has not returned; and from what I hear of your movements, I fear I
cannot answer for his being here in time for you.
I enclose you, lest I should forget it, the letter to the Peschiere
agent. He is the Marquis Pallavicini's man of business, and speaks the
most abominable Genoese ever heard. He is a rascal of course; but a
more reliable villain, in his way, than the rest of his kind.
You recollect what I told you of the Swiss banker's wife, the English
lady? If you would like Christiana[26] to have a friend at Genoa in the
person of a most affectionate and excellent little woman, and if you
would like to have a resource in the most elegant and comfortable family
there, I need not say that I shall be delighted to give you a letter to
those who would die to serve me.
Always yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/H%20P%20Smith/771Charles Dickens
1845-11-04[Sidenote: Mr. H. P. Smith.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _4th November, 1845._
MY DEAR SMITH,
My chickens and their little aunt will be delighted to do honour to the
Lord Mayor on the ninth. So should I be, but I am hard at it, grinding
my teeth.
I came down with Thompson the other day, hoping to see you. You are
keeping it up, however, in some holiday region, and your glass-case
looked like a large pantry, out of which some giant had stolen the meat.
Best regards to Mrs. Smith from all of us. Kate quite hearty, and the
baby, like Goldsmith's bear, "in a concatenation" accordingly.
Always, my dear Smith, faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Macvey%20Napier/772Charles Dickens
1845-11-10[Sidenote: Mr. Macvey Napier.]
_November 10th, 1845._
MY DEAR SIR,
I write to you in great haste. I most bitterly regret the being obliged
to disappoint and inconvenience you (as I fear I shall do), but I find
it will be _impossible_ for me to write the paper on Capital Punishment
for your next number. The fault is really not mine. I have been involved
for the last fortnight in one maze of distractions, which nothing could
have enabled me to anticipate or prevent. Everything I have had to do
has been interfered with and cast aside. I have never in my life had so
many insuperable obstacles crowded into the way of my pursuits. It is as
little my fault, believe me, as though I were ill and wrote to you from
my bed. And pray bear as gently as you can with the vexation I occasion
you, when I tell you how very heavily it falls upon myself.
Faithfully yours.
FOOTNOTES:
[25] Lieut. Tracey, R.N., who was at this time Governor of Tothill
Fields Prison.
[26] Mrs. Thompson.
1846.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20J%20Fox/773Charles Dickens
1846-01-21[Sidenote: Mr. W. J. Fox.]
OFFICE OF THE "DAILY NEWS," WHITEFRIARS,
_21st January, 1846._
MY DEAR FOX,[27]
The boy is in waiting. I need not tell you how our Printer failed us
last night.[28] I hope for better things to-night, and am bent on a fight
for it. If we can get a good paper to-morrow, I believe we are as safe
as such a thing can be.
Your leader most excellent. I made bold to take out ---- for reasons
that I hinted at the other day, and which I think have validity in them.
He is unscrupulous and indiscreet. Cobden never so.
It didn't offend you?
Ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Thompson/774Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. Thompson.]
ROSEMONT, _Tuesday Morning._
MY DEAR THOMPSON,
All kinds of hearty and cordial congratulations on the event.[29] We are
all delighted that it is at last well over. There is an uncertainty
attendant on angelic strangers (as Miss Tox says) which it is a great
relief to have so happily disposed of.
Ever yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Thompson/775Charles Dickens
1846-12-02[Sidenote: The same.]
48, RUE DE COURCELLES, ST. HONORÉ, PARIS,
_2nd December, 1846._
MY DEAR THOMPSON,
We got to Paris, in due course, on the Friday evening. We had a pleasant
and prosperous journey, having rather cold weather in Switzerland and on
the borders thereof, and a slight detention of three hours and a half at
the frontier Custom House, atop of a mountain, in a hard frost and a
dense fog. We came into this house last Thursday. It has a pretty
drawing-room, approached through four most extraordinary chambers. It is
the most ridiculous and preposterous house in the world, I should think.
It belongs to a Marquis Castellane, but was fitted (so Paul Pry Poole
said, who dined here yesterday) by ---- in a fit of temporary insanity,
I have no doubt. The dining-room is mere midsummer madness, and is
designed to represent a bosky grove.
At this present writing, snow is falling in the street, and the weather
is very cold, but not so cold as it was yesterday. I dined with Lord
Normanby on Sunday last. Everything seems to be queer and uncomfortable
in the diplomatic way, and he is rather bothered and worried, to my
thinking. I found young Sheridan (Mrs. Norton's brother) the attaché. I
know him very well, and he is a good man for my sight-seeing purposes.
There are to be no theatricals unless the times should so adjust
themselves as to admit of their being French, to which the Markis seems
to incline, as a bit of conciliation and a popular move.
Lumley, of Italian opera notoriety, also dined here yesterday, and seems
hugely afeard of the opposition opera at Covent Garden, who have already
spirited away Grisi and Mario, which he affects to consider a great
comfort and relief. I gave him some uncompromising information on the
subject of his pit, and told him that if he didn't conciliate the middle
classes, he might depend on being damaged, very decidedly. The danger of
the Covent Garden enterprise seems to me to be that they are going in
for ballet too, and I really don't think the house is large enough to
repay the double expense.
Forster writes me that Mac has come out with tremendous vigour in the
Christmas Book, and took off his coat at it with a burst of such
alarming energy that he has done four subjects! Stanfield has done
three. Keeleys are making that "change"[30] I was so hot upon at
Lausanne, and seem ready to spend money with bold hearts, but the cast
(as far as I know it, at present) would appear to be black despair and
moody madness. J. W. Leigh Murray, from the Princess's, is to be the
Alfred, and Forster says there is a Mrs. Gordon at Bolton's who must be
got for Grace. I am horribly afraid ---- will do one of the lawyers, and
there seems to be nobody but ---- for Marion. I shall run over and carry
consternation into the establishment, as soon as I have done the number.
But I have not begun it yet, though I hope to do so to-night, having
been quite put out by chopping and changing about, and by a vile touch
of biliousness, that makes my eyes feel as if they were yellow bullets.
"Dombey" has passed its thirty thousand already. Do you remember a
mysterious man in a straw hat low-crowned, and a Petersham coat, who was
a sort of manager or amateur man-servant at Miss Kelly's? Mr. Baynton
Bolt, sir, came out, the other night, as Macbeth, at the Royal Surrey
Theatre.
There's all my news for you! Let me know, in return, whether you have
fought a duel yet with your milingtary landlord, and whether Lausanne is
still that giddy whirl of dissipation it was wont to be, also full
particulars of your fairer and better half, and of the baby. I will send
a Christmas book to Clermont as soon as I get any copies. And so no more
at present from yours ever.
FOOTNOTES:
[27] Mr. W. J. Fox, afterwards M.P. for Oldham, well known for his
eloquent advocacy of the Repeal of the Corn Laws, was engaged to write
the political articles in the first numbers of the _Daily News_.
[28] The first issue of the _Daily News_ was a sad failure, as to
printing.
[29] The birth, at Lausanne, of Mr. Thompson's eldest daughter,
Elizabeth Thompson, now Mrs. Butler, the celebrated artist.
[30] In the dramatised "Battle of Life."
1847.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Sir%20Edward%20Bulwer%20Lytton/776Charles Dickens
1847-01-12[Sidenote: Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _January 12th, 1847._
MY DEAR SIR EDWARD,
The Committee of the General Theatrical Fund (who are all actors) are
anxious to prefer a petition to you to preside at their next annual
dinner at the London Tavern, and having no personal knowledge of you,
have requested me, as one of their Trustees, through their Secretary,
Mr. Cullenford, to give them some kind of presentation to you.
I will only say that I have felt great interest in their design, which
embraces all sorts and conditions of actors from the first, and it has
been maintained by themselves with extraordinary perseverance and
determination. It has been in existence some years, but it is only two
years since they began to dine. At their first festival I presided, at
their second, Macready. They very naturally hold that if they could
prevail on you to reign over them now they would secure a most powerful
and excellent advocate, whose aid would serve and grace their cause
immensely. I sympathise with their feeling so cordially, and know so
well that it would certainly be mine if I were in their case (as,
indeed, it is, being their friend), that I comply with their request
for an introduction. And I will not ask you to excuse my troubling you,
feeling sure that I may use this liberty with you.
Believe me always, very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Countess%20of%20Blessington/777Charles Dickens
1847-01-24[Sidenote: Countess of Blessington.]
48, RUE DE COURCELLES, PARIS, _January 24th, 1847._
MY DEAR LADY BLESSINGTON,
I feel very wicked in beginning this note, and deeply remorseful for not
having begun and ended it long ago. But _you_ know how difficult it is
to write letters in the midst of a writing life; and as you know too (I
hope) how earnestly and affectionately I always think of you, wherever I
am, I take heart, on a little consideration, and feel comparatively good
again.
Forster has been cramming into the space of a fortnight every
description of impossible and inconsistent occupation in the way of
sight-seeing. He has been now at Versailles, now in the prisons, now at
the opera, now at the hospitals, now at the Conservatoire, and now at
the Morgue, with a dreadful insatiability. I begin to doubt whether I
had anything to do with a book called "Dombey," or ever sat over number
five (not finished a fortnight yet) day after day, until I half began,
like the monk in poor Wilkie's story, to think it the only reality in
life, and to mistake all the realities for short-lived shadows.
Among the multitude of sights, we saw our pleasant little bud of a
friend, Rose Chéri, play Clarissa Harlowe the other night. I believe she
does it in London just now, and perhaps you may have seen it. A most
charming, intelligent, modest, affecting piece of acting it is, with a
death superior to anything I ever saw on the stage, except Macready's
Lear. The theatres are admirable just now. We saw "Gentil Bernard" at
the Variétés last night, acted in a manner that was absolutely perfect.
It was a little picture of Watteau, animated and talking from beginning
to end. At the Cirque there is a new show-piece called the "French
Revolution," in which there is a representation of the National
Convention, and a series of battles (fought by some five hundred people,
who look like five thousand) that are wonderful in their extraordinary
vigour and truth. Gun-cotton gives its name to the general annual jocose
review at the Palais Royal, which is dull enough, saving for the
introduction of Alexandre Dumas, sitting in his study beside a pile of
quarto volumes about five feet high, which he says is the first tableau
of the first act of the first piece to be played on the first night of
his new theatre. The revival of Molière's "Don Juan," at the Français,
has drawn money. It is excellently played, and it is curious to observe
how different _their_ Don Juan and valet are from our English ideas of
the master and man. They are playing "Lucretia Borgia" again at the
Porte St. Martin, but it is poorly performed and hangs fire drearily,
though a very remarkable and striking play. We were at Victor Hugo's
house last Sunday week, a most extraordinary place, looking like an old
curiosity shop, or the property-room of some gloomy, vast, old theatre.
I was much struck by Hugo himself, who looks like a genius as he is,
every inch of him, and is very interesting and satisfactory from head to
foot. His wife is a handsome woman, with flashing black eyes. There is
also a charming ditto daughter of fifteen or sixteen, with ditto eyes.
Sitting among old armour and old tapestry, and old coffers, and grim old
chairs and tables, and old canopies of state from old palaces, and old
golden lions going to play at skittles with ponderous old golden balls,
they made a most romantic show and looked like a chapter out of one of
his own books.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Edward%20Chapman/778Charles Dickens
1847-05-03[Sidenote: Mr. Edward Chapman.]
CHESTER PLACE, _Monday, 3rd May, 1847._
MY DEAR SIR,
Here is a young lady--Miss Power, Lady Blessington's niece--has "gone
and been" and translated a story by Georges Sand, the French writer,
which she has printed, and got four woodcuts engraved ready for. She
wants to get it published--something in the form of the Christmas books.
I know the story, and it is a very fine one.
Will you do it for her? There is no other risk than putting a few covers
on a few copies. Half-profits is what she expects and no loss. She has
made appeal to me, and if there is to be a hard-hearted ogre in the
business at all, I would rather it should be you than I; so I have told
her I would make proposals to your mightiness.
Answer this straightway, for I have no doubt the fair translator thinks
I am tearing backwards and forwards in a cab all day to bring the
momentous affair to a conclusion.
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/James%20Sheridan%20Knowles/779Charles Dickens
1847-05-26[Sidenote: Mr. James Sheridan Knowles.]
[31]148, KING'S ROAD, BRIGHTON, _26th May, 1847._
MY DEAR KNOWLES,
I have learned, I hope, from the art we both profess (if you will
forgive this classification of myself with you) to respect a man of
genius in his mistakes, no less than in his triumphs. You have so often
read the human heart well that I can readily forgive your reading mine
ill, and greatly wronging me by the supposition that any sentiment
towards you but honour and respect has ever found a place in it.
You write as few lines which, dying, you would wish to blot, as most
men. But if you ever know me better, as I hope you may (the fault shall
not be mine if you do not), I know you will be glad to have received the
assurance that some part of your letter has been written on the sand and
that the wind has already blown over it.
Faithfully yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Dr%20Hodgson/780Charles Dickens
1847-06-04[Sidenote: Dr. Hodgson.[32]]
REGENT'S PARK, LONDON, _Friday, 4th June, 1847._
MY DEAR SIR,
I have rarely, if ever, seen a more remarkable effort of what I may call
intellectual memory than the enclosed. It is evidence, I think, of very
uncommon power. I have read it with the greatest interest and surprise,
and I am truly obliged to you for giving me the opportunity. If you
should see no objection to telling the young lady herself this much,
pray do so, as it is sincere praise.
Your criticism of Coombe's pamphlet is as justly felt as it is
earnestly and strongly written. I undergo more astonishment and disgust
in connection with that question of education almost every day of my
life than is awakened in me by any other member of the whole magazine of
social monsters that are walking about in these times.
You were in my thoughts when your letter arrived this morning, for we
have a half-formed idea of reviving our old amateur theatrical company
for a special purpose, and even of bringing it bodily to Manchester and
Liverpool, on which your opinion would be very valuable. If we should
decide on Monday, when we meet, to pursue our idea in this warm weather,
I will explain it to you in detail, and ask counsel of you in regard of
a performance at Liverpool. Meantime it is mentioned to no one.
Your interest in "Dombey" gives me unaffected pleasure. I hope you will
find no reason to think worse of it as it proceeds. There is a great
deal to do--one or two things among the rest that society will not be
the worse, I hope, for thinking about a little.
May I beg to be remembered to Mrs. Hodgson? You always remember me
yourself, I hope, as one who has a hearty interest in all you do and in
all you have so admirably done for the advancement of the best objects.
Always believe me very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Dr%20Hodgson/781Charles Dickens
1847-06-12[Sidenote: The same.]
REGENT'S PARK, LONDON, _June 12th, 1847._
MY DEAR SIR,
I write to you in reference to a scheme to which you may, perhaps,
already have seen some allusion in the London _Athenæum_ of to-day.
The party of amateurs connected with literature and art, who acted in
London two years ago, have resolved to play again at one of the large
theatres here for the benefit of Leigh Hunt, and to make a great appeal
to all classes of society in behalf of a writer who should have received
long ago, but has not yet, some enduring return from his country for all
he has undergone and all the good he has done. It is believed that such
a demonstration by literature on behalf of literature, and such a mark
of sympathy by authors and artists, for one who has written so well,
would be of more service, present and prospective, to Hunt than almost
any other means of help that could be devised. And we know, from
himself, that it would be most gratifying to his own feelings.
The arrangements are, as yet, in an imperfect state; for the date of
their being carried out depends on our being able to get one of the
large theatres before the close of the present London season. In the
event of our succeeding, we purpose acting in London, on Wednesday the
14th of July, and on Monday the 19th. On the first occasion we shall
play "Every Man in His Humour," and a farce; on the second, "The Merry
Wives of Windsor," and a farce.
But we do not intend to stop here. Believing that Leigh Hunt has done
more to instruct the young men of England, and to lend a helping hand to
those who educate themselves, than any writer in England, we are
resolved to come down, in a body, to Liverpool and Manchester, and to
act one night at each place. And the object of my letter is, to ask you,
as the representative of the great educational establishment of
Liverpool, whether we can count on your active assistance; whether you
will form a committee to advance our object; and whether, if we send you
our circulars and addresses, you will endeavour to secure us a full
theatre, and to enlist the general sympathy and interest in behalf of
the cause we have at heart?
I address, by this post, a letter, which is almost the counterpart of
the present, to the honorary secretaries of the Manchester Athenæum. If
we find in both towns such a response as we confidently expect, I would
propose, on behalf of my friends, that the Liverpool and Manchester
Institutions should decide for us, at which town we shall first appear,
and which play we shall act in each place.
I forbear entering into any more details, however, until I am favoured
with your reply.
Always believe me, my dear Sir,
faithfully your Friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Alexander%20Ireland/782Charles Dickens
1847-06-17[Sidenote: Mr. Alexander Ireland.]
REGENT'S PARK, LONDON, _June 17th, 1847._
DEAR SIR,[33]
In the hope that I may consider myself personally introduced to you by
Dr. Hodgson, of Liverpool, I take the liberty of addressing you in this
form.
I hear from that friend of ours, that you are greatly interested in all
that relates to Mr. Leigh Hunt, and that you will be happy to promote
our design in reference to him. Allow me to assure you of the
gratification with which I have received this intelligence, and of the
importance we shall all attach to your valuable co-operation.
I have received a letter from Mr. Langley, of the Athenæum, informing me
that a committee is in course of formation, composed of directors of
that institution (acting as private gentlemen) and others. May I hope to
find that you are one of this body, and that I may soon hear of its
proceedings, and be in communication with it?
Allow me to thank you beforehand for your interest in the cause, and to
look forward to the pleasure of doing so in person, when I come to
Manchester.
Dear Sir, very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Alexander%20Ireland/783Charles Dickens
1847-06-26[Sidenote: The same.]
ATHENAEUM CLUB, LONDON, _Saturday, June 26th, 1847._
MY DEAR SIR,
The news of Mr. Hunt's pension is quite true. We do not propose to act
in London after this change in his affairs, but we do still distinctly
propose to act in Manchester and Liverpool. I have set forth the plain
state of the case in a letter to Mr. Robinson by this post (a
counterpart of which I have addressed to Liverpool), and to which, in
the midst of a most laborious correspondence on the subject, I beg to
refer you.
It will be a great satisfaction to us to believe that we shall still be
successful in Manchester. There is great and urgent need why we should
be so, I assure you.
If you can help to bring the matter speedily into a practical and plain
shape, you will render Hunt the greatest service.
I fear, in respect to your kind invitation, that neither Jerrold nor I
will feel at liberty to accept it. There was a pathetic proposal among
us that we should "keep together;" and, as president of the society, I
am bound, I fear, to stand by the brotherhood with particular constancy.
Nor do I think that we shall have more than one very short evening in
Manchester.
I write in great haste. The sooner I can know (at Broadstairs, in Kent)
the Manchester and Liverpool nights, and what the managers say, the
better (I hope) will be the entertainments.
My dear Sir, very faithfully yours.
P.S.--I enclose a copy of our London circular, issued before the
granting of the pension.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Alexander%20Ireland/784Charles Dickens
1847-07-11[Sidenote: The same.]
BROADSTAIRS, KENT, _July 11th, 1847._
MY DEAR SIR,
I am much indebted to you for the present of your notice of Hunt's
books. I cannot praise it better or more appropriately than by saying it
is in Hunt's own spirit, and most charmingly expressed. I had the most
sincere and hearty pleasure in reading it.[34]
Your announcement of "The Working Man's Life" had attracted my attention
by reason of the title, which had a great interest for me.[35] I hardly
know if there is something wanting to my fancy in a certain genuine
simple air I had looked for in the first part. But there is great
promise in it, and I shall be earnest to know how it proceeds.
Now, to leave these pleasant matters, and resume my managerial
character, which I shall be heartily glad (between ourselves) to lay
down again, though I have none but pleasant correspondents, and the most
easily governable company of actors on earth.
I have written to Mr. Robinson by this post that I wish these words,
from our original London circular, to stand at top of the bills, after
"For the Benefit of Mr. Leigh Hunt":
"It is proposed to devote a portion of the proceeds of this benefit to
the assistance of another celebrated writer, whose literary career is at
an end, and who has no provision for the decline of his life."
I have also told him that there is no objection to its being known that
this is Mr. Poole, the author of "Paul Pry," and "Little Pedlington,"
and many comic pieces of great merit, and whose farce of "Turning the
Tables" we mean to finish with in Manchester. Beyond what he will get
from these benefits, he has no resource in this wide world, _I know_.
There are reasons which make it desirable to get this fact abroad, and
if you see no objection to paragraphing it at your office (sending the
paragraph round, if you should please, to the other Manchester papers),
I should be much obliged to you.
You may like to know, as a means of engendering a more complete
individual interest in our actors, who they are. Jerrold and myself you
have heard of; Mr. George Cruikshank and Mr. Leech (the best
caricaturists of any time perhaps) need no introduction. Mr. Frank Stone
(a Manchester man) and Mr. Egg are artists of high reputation. Mr.
Forster is the critic of _The Examiner_, the author of "The Lives of the
Statesmen of the Commonwealth," and very distinguished as a writer in
_The Edinburgh Review_. Mr. Lewes is also a man of great attainments in
polite literature, and the author of a novel published not long since,
called "Ranthorpe." Mr. Costello is a periodical writer, and a gentleman
renowned as a tourist. Mr. Mark Lemon is a dramatic author, and the
editor of _Punch_--a most excellent actor, as you will find. My brothers
play small parts, for love, and have no greater note than the Treasury
and the City confer on their disciples. Mr. Thompson is a private
gentleman. You may know all this, but I thought it possible you might
like to hold the key to our full company. Pray use it as you will.
My dear Sir,
Faithfully yours always.
FOOTNOTES:
[31] Written to Mr. Sheridan Knowles after some slight misunderstanding,
the cause of which is unknown to the Editors.
[32] Dr. Hodgson, then Principal of the Liverpool Institute, and
Principal of the Chorlton High School, Manchester.
[33] Mr. Alexander Ireland, the manager and one of the proprietors of
_The Manchester Examiner_.
[34] This refers to an essay on "The Genius and Writings of Leigh Hunt,"
contributed to _The Manchester Examiner_.
[35] The "Autobiography of a Working Man," by "One who has whistled at
the Plough" (Alex. Somerville), originally appeared in _The Manchester
Examiner_, and afterwards was published as a volume, 1848.
1848.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Sir%20Edward%20Bulwer%20Lytton/785Charles Dickens
1848-04-10[Sidenote: Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _10th April, 1848, Monday Evening._
MY DEAR BULWER LYTTON,
I confess to small faith in any American profits having international
copyright for their aim. But I will carefully consider Blackwood's
letter (when I get it) and will call upon you and tell you what occurs
to me in reference to it, before I communicate with that northern light.
I have been "going" to write to you for many a day past, to thank you
for your kindness to the General Theatrical Fund people, and for your
note to me; but I have waited until I should hear of your being
stationary somewhere. What you said of the "Battle of Life" gave me
great pleasure. I was thoroughly wretched at having to use the idea for
so short a story. I did not see its full capacity until it was too late
to think of another subject, and I have always felt that I might have
done a great deal better if I had taken it for the groundwork of a more
extended book. But for an insuperable aversion I have to trying back in
such a case, I should certainly forge that bit of metal again, as you
suggest--one of these days perhaps.
I have not been special constable myself to-day--thinking there was
rather an epidemic in that wise abroad. I walked over and looked at the
preparations, without any baggage of staff, warrant, or affidavit.
Very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Cowden%20Clarke/786Charles Dickens
1848-04-14[Sidenote: Mrs. Cowden Clarke.]
[36]DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _14th April, 1848._
DEAR MRS. COWDEN CLARKE,
I did not understand, when I had the pleasure of conversing with you the
other evening, that you had really considered the subject, and desired
to play. But I am very glad to understand it now; and I am sure there
will be a universal sense among us of the grace and appropriateness of
such a proceeding. Falstaff (who depends very much on Mrs. Quickly) may
have in his modesty, some timidity about acting with an amateur actress.
But I have no question, as you have studied the part, and long wished to
play it, that you will put him completely at his ease on the first night
of your rehearsal. Will you, towards that end, receive this as a solemn
"call" to rehearsal of "The Merry Wives" at Miss Kelly's theatre,
to-morrow (Saturday) _week_ at seven in the evening?
And will you let me suggest another point for your consideration? On the
night when "The Merry Wives" will _not_ be played, and when "Every Man
in his Humour" _will_ be, Kenny's farce of "Love, Law, and Physic" will
be acted. In that farce there is a very good character (one Mrs. Hilary,
which I have seen Mrs. Orger, I think, act to admiration), that would
have been played by Mrs. C. Jones, if she had acted Dame Quickly, as we
at first intended. If you find yourself quite comfortable and at ease
among us, in Mrs. Quickly, would you like to take this other part too?
It is an excellent farce, and is safe, I hope, to be very well done.
We do not play to purchase the house[37] (which may be positively
considered as paid for), but towards endowing a perpetual curatorship of
it, for some eminent literary veteran. And I think you will recognise in
this even a higher and more gracious object than the securing, even, of
the debt incurred for the house itself.
Believe me, very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Alexander%20Ireland/787Charles Dickens
1848-05-22[Sidenote: Mr. Alexander Ireland.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _May 22nd, 1848._
MY DEAR SIR,
You very likely know that my company of amateurs have lately been
playing, with a great reputation, in London here. The object is, "The
endowment of a perpetual curatorship of Shakespeare's house, to be
always held by some one distinguished in literature, and more especially
in dramatic literature," and we have already a pledge from the
Shakespeare House Committee that Sheridan Knowles shall be recommended
to the Government as the first curator. This pledge, which is in the
form of a minute, we intend to advertise in our country bills.
Now, on Monday, the 5th of June, we are going to play at Liverpool,
where we are assured of a warm reception, and where an active committee
for the issuing of tickets is already formed. Do you think the
Manchester people would be equally glad to see us again, and that the
house could be filled, as before, at our old prices? _If yes, would you
and our other friends go, at once, to work in the cause?_ The only night
on which we could play in Manchester would be Saturday, the 3rd of June.
It is possible that the depression of the times may render a performance
in Manchester unwise. In that case I would immediately abandon the idea.
But what I want to know, _by return of post_ is, is it safe or unsafe?
If the former, here is the bill as it stood in London, with the
addition, on the back, of a paragraph I would insert in Manchester, of
which immediate use can be made. If the latter, my reason for wishing to
settle the point immediately is that we may make another use of that
Saturday night.
Assured of your generous feeling I make no apology for troubling you. A
sum of money, got together by these means, will insure to literature (I
will take good care of that) a proper expression of itself in the
bestowal of an essentially literary appointment, not only now but
henceforth. Much is to be done, time presses, and the least added the
better.
I have addressed a counterpart of this letter to Mr. Francis Robinson,
to whom perhaps you will communicate the bill.
Faithfully yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Cowden%20Clarke/788Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mrs. Cowden Clarke.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Monday Evening,
July 22nd, 1848._
MY DEAR MRS. CLARKE,
I have no energy whatever, I am very miserable. I loathe domestic
hearths. I yearn to be a vagabond. Why can't I marry Mary?[38] Why have I
seven children--not engaged at sixpence a-night apiece, and dismissable
for ever, if they tumble down, not taken on for an indefinite time at a
vast expense, and never,--no never, never,--wearing lighted candles
round their heads.[39] I am deeply miserable. A real house like this is
insupportable, after that canvas farm wherein I was so happy. What is a
humdrum dinner at half-past five, with nobody (but John) to see me eat
it, compared with _that_ soup, and the hundreds of pairs of eyes that
watched its disappearance? Forgive this tear.[40] It is weak and foolish,
I know.
Pray let me divide the little excursional excesses of the journey among
the gentlemen, as I have always done before, and pray believe that I
have had the sincerest pleasure and gratification in your co-operation
and society, valuable and interesting on all public accounts, and
personally of no mean worth, nor held in slight regard.
You had a sister once, when we were young and happy--I think they called
her Emma. If she remember a bright being who once flitted like a vision
before her, entreat her to bestow a thought upon the "Gas" of departed
joys. I can write no more.
Y. G.[41] THE (DARKENED) G. L. B.[42]
P.S.--"I am completely _blasé_--literally used up. I am dying for
excitement. Is it possible that nobody can suggest anything to make my
heart beat violently, my hair stand on end--but no!"
Where did I hear those words (so truly applicable to my forlorn
condition) pronounced by some delightful creature? In a previous state
of existence, I believe.
Oh, Memory, Memory!
Ever yours faithfully.
Y--no C. G.--no D. C. D. I think it is--but I don't know--"there's
nothing in it."
FOOTNOTES:
[36] This and following letters to Mr. and Mrs. Cowden Clarke appeared
in a volume entitled "Recollections of Writers."
[37] The house in which Shakespeare was born, at Stratford-on-Avon.
[38] A character in "Used Up."
[39] As fairies in "Merry Wives."
[40] A huge blot of smeared ink.
[41] "Young Gas."}
[42] "Gas-Light Boy."} Names he had playfully given himself.
1849.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Sir%20Edward%20Bulwer%20Lytton/789Charles Dickens
1849-02-23[Sidenote: Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _23rd February, 1849._
MY DEAR SIR EDWARD,
I have not written sooner to thank you for "King Arthur" because I felt
sure you would prefer my reading it before I should do so, and because I
wished to have an opportunity of reading it with the sincerity and
attention which such a composition demands.
This I have done. I do not write to express to you the measure of my
gratification and pleasure (for I should find that very difficult to be
accomplished to my own satisfaction), but simply to say that I have read
the poem, and dwelt upon it with the deepest interest, admiration, and
delight; and that I feel proud of it as a very good instance of the
genius of a great writer of my own time. I should feel it as a kind of
treason to what has been awakened in me by the book, if I were to try to
set off my thanks to you, or if I were tempted into being diffuse in its
praise. I am too earnest on the subject to have any misgiving but that I
shall convey something of my earnestness to you in the briefest and most
unaffected flow of expression.
Accept it for what a genuine word of homage is worth, and believe me,
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/C%20Cowden%20Clarke/790Charles Dickens
1849-05-05[Sidenote: Mr. C. Cowden Clarke.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _May 5th, 1849._
MY DEAR SIR,
I am very sorry to say that my Orphan Working School vote is promised in
behalf of an unfortunate young orphan, who, after being canvassed for,
polled for, written for, quarrelled for, fought for, called for, and
done all kind of things for, by ladies who wouldn't go away and wouldn't
be satisfied with anything anybody said or did for them, was floored at
the last election and comes up to the scratch next morning, for the next
election, fresher than ever. I devoutly hope he may get in, and be lost
sight of for evermore.
Pray give my kindest regards to my quondam Quickly, and believe me,
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Joseph%20C%20King/791Charles Dickens
1849-12-01[Sidenote: Mr. Joseph C. King.[43]]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Saturday, December 1st, 1849._
MY DEAR SIR,
I hasten to let you know what took place at Eton to-day. I found that I
_did_ stand in some sort committed to Mr. Evans, though not so much so
but that I could with perfect ease have declined to place Charley in his
house if I had desired to do so. I must say, however, that after seeing
Mr. Cookesley (a most excellent man in his way) and seeing Mr. Evans,
and Mr. Evans's house, I think I should, under any circumstances, have
given the latter the preference as to the domestic part of Charley's
life. I would certainly prefer to try it. I therefore thought it best to
propose to have Mr. Cookesley for his tutor, and to place him as a
boarder with Mr. Evans. Both gentlemen seemed satisfied with this
arrangement, and Dr. Hawtrey expressed his approval of it also.
Mr. Cookesley, wishing to know what Charley could do, asked me if I
would object to leaving him there for half-an-hour or so. As Charley
appeared not at all afraid of this proposal, I left him then and there.
On my return, Mr. Cookesley said, in high and unqualified terms, that he
had been thoroughly well grounded and well taught--that he had examined
him in Virgil and Herodotus, and that he not only knew what he was about
perfectly well, but showed an intelligence in reference to those authors
which did his tutor great credit. He really appeared most interested and
pleased, and filled me with a grateful feeling towards you, to whom
Charley owes so much.
He said there were certain verses in imitation of Horace (I really
forget what sort of verses) to which Charley was unaccustomed, and which
were a little matter enough in themselves, but were made a great point
of at Eton, and could be got up well in a month "_from an Old Etonian_."
For this purpose he would desire Charley to be sent every day to a
certain Mr. Hardisty, in Store Street, Bedford Square, to whom he had
already (in my absence) prepared a note. Between ourselves, I must not
hesitate to tell you plainly that this appeared to me to be a
conventional way of bestowing a little patronage. But, of course, I had
nothing for it but to say it should be done; upon which, Mr. Cookesley
added that he was then certain that Charley, on coming after the
Christmas holidays, would be placed at once in "the remove," which
seemed to surprise Mr. Evans when I afterwards told him of it as a high
station.
I will take him to this gentleman on Monday, and arrange for his going
there every day; but, if you will not object, I should still like him to
remain with you, and to have the advantage of preparing these annoying
verses under your eye until the holidays. That Mr. Cookesley may have
his own way thoroughly, I will send Charley to Mr. Hardisty daily until
the school at Eton recommences.
Let me impress upon you in the strongest manner, not only that I was
inexpressibly delighted myself by the readiness with which Charley went
through this ordeal with a stranger, but that I also saw you would have
been well pleased and much gratified if you could have seen Mr.
Cookesley afterwards. He had evidently not expected such a result, and
took it as not at all an ordinary one.
My dear Sir, yours faithfully and obliged.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Alexander%20Ireland/792Charles Dickens
1849-12-24[Sidenote: Mr. Alexander Ireland.]
[Private.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, LONDON, _24th December, 1849._
MY DEAR SIR,
You will not be offended by my saying that (in common with many other
men) I think "our London correspondent" one of the greatest nuisances of
this kind, inasmuch as our London correspondent, seldom knowing
anything, feels bound to know everything, and becomes in consequence a
very reckless gentleman in respect of the truthfulness of his
intelligence.
In your paper, sent to me this morning, I see the correspondent mentions
one ----, and records how I was wont to feast in the house of the said
----. As I never was in the man's house in my life, or within five miles
of it that I know of, I beg you will do me the favour to contradict
this.
You will be the less surprised by my begging you to set this right, when
I tell you that, hearing of his book, and knowing his history, I wrote
to New York denouncing him as "a forger and a thief;" that he thereupon
put the gentleman who published my letter into prison, and that having
but one day before the sailing of the last steamer to collect the proofs
printed in the accompanying sheet (which are but a small part of the
villain's life), I got them together in short time, and sent them out to
justify the character I gave him. It is not agreeable to me to be
supposed to have sat at this amiable person's feasts.
Faithfully yours.
FOOTNOTE:
[43] Mr. Joseph Charles King, the friend of many artists and literary
men, conducted a private school, at which the sons of Mr. Macready and
of Charles Dickens were being educated at this time.
1850.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Sir%20Edward%20Bulwer%20Lytton/793Charles Dickens
1850-09-03[Sidenote: Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton.]
BROADSTAIRS, KENT, _Tuesday, 3rd September, 1850._
MY DEAR SIR EDWARD,
I have had the long-contemplated talk with Forster about the play, and
write to assure you that I shall be delighted to come down to Knebworth
and do Bobadil, or anything else, provided it would suit your
convenience to hold the great dramatic festival in the last week of
October. The concluding number of "Copperfield" will prevent me from
leaving here until Saturday, the 26th of that month. If I were at my own
disposal, I hope I need not say I should be at yours.
Forster will tell you with what men we must do the play, and what
laurels we would propose to leave for the gathering of new aspirants; of
whom I hope you have a reasonable stock in your part of the country.
Do you know Mary Boyle--daughter of the old Admiral? because she is the
very best actress I ever saw off the stage, and immeasurably better than
a great many I have seen on it. I have acted with her in a country house
in Northamptonshire, and am going to do so again next November. If you
know her, I think she would be more than pleased to play, and by giving
her something good in a farce we could get her to do Mrs. Kitely. In
that case my little sister-in-law would "go on" for the second lady,
and you could do without actresses, besides giving the thing a
particular grace and interest.
If we could get Mary Boyle, we would do "Used Up," which is a delightful
piece, as the farce. But maybe you know nothing about the said Mary, and
in that case I should like to know what you would think of doing.
You gratify me more than I can tell you by what you say about
"Copperfield," the more so as I hope myself that some heretofore-deficient
qualities are there. You are not likely to misunderstand me when I say
that I like it very much, and am deeply interested in it, and that I
have kept and am keeping my mind very steadily upon it.
Believe me always, very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Sir%20Edward%20Bulwer%20Lytton/794Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: The same.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Sunday Night,
November 3rd, 1850._
MY DEAR BULWER LYTTON,
I should have waited at home to-day on the chance of your calling, but
that I went over to look after Lemon; and I went for this reason: the
surgeon opines that there is no possibility of Mrs. Dickens being able
to play, although she is going on "as well as possible," which I
sincerely believe.
Now, _when_ the accident happened, Mrs. Lemon told my little
sister-in-law that she would gladly undertake the part if it should
become necessary. Going after her to-day, I found that she and Lemon had
gone out of town, but will be back to-night. I have written to her,
earnestly urging her to the redemption of her offer. I have no doubt of
being able to see her well up in the characters; and I hope you approve
of this remedy. If she once screws her courage to the sticking place, I
have no fear of her whatever. This is what I would say to you. If I
don't see you here, I will write to you at Forster's, reporting
progress. Don't be discouraged, for I am full of confidence, and resolve
to do the utmost that is in me--and I well know they all will--to make
the nights at Knebworth _triumphant_. Once in a thing like this--once in
everything, to my thinking--it must be carried out like a mighty
enterprise, heart and soul.
Pray regard me as wholly at the disposal of the theatricals, until they
shall be gloriously achieved.
My unfortunate other half (lying in bed) is very anxious that I should
let you know that she means to break her heart if she should be
prevented from coming as one of the audience, and that she has been
devising means all day of being brought down in the brougham with her
foot upon a T.
Ever faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Sir%20Edward%20Bulwer%20Lytton/795Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: The same.]
OFFICE OF "HOUSEHOLD WORDS," _Wednesday Evening,
November 13th, 1850._
MY DEAR BULWER LYTTON,
On the principle of postponing nothing connected with the great scheme,
I have been to Ollivier's, where I found our friend the choremusicon in
a very shattered state--his mouth wide open--the greater part of his
teeth out--his bowels disclosed to the public eye--and his whole system
frightfully disordered. In this condition he is speechless. I cannot,
therefore, report touching his eloquence, but I find he is a piano as
well as a choremusicon--that he requires to pass through no intermediate
stage between choremusicon and piano, and therefore that he can easily
and certainly accompany songs.
Now, will you have it? I am inclined to believe that on the whole, it is
the best thing.
I have not heard of anything else having happened to anybody.
If I should not find you gone to Australia or elsewhere, and should not
have occasion to advertise in the third column of _The Times_, I shall
hope not to add to your misfortunes--I dare not say to afford you
consolation--by shaking hands with you to-morrow night, and afterwards
keeping every man connected with the theatrical department to his duty.
Ever faithfully yours.
1851.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Sir%20Edward%20Bulwer%20Lytton/796Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: The same.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Sunday Night,
January 5th, 1851._
MY DEAR BULWER,
I am so sorry to have missed you! I had gone down to Forster, comedy in
hand.
I think it _most admirable_.[44] Full of character, strong in interest,
rich in capital situations, and _certain to go nobly_. You know how
highly I thought of "Money," but I sincerely think these three acts
finer. I did not think of the slight suggestions you make, but I said,
_en passant_, that perhaps the drunken scene might do better on the
stage a little concentrated. I don't believe it would require even that,
with the leading-up which you propose. I cannot say too much of the
comedy to express what I think and feel concerning it; and I look at it,
too, remember, with the yellow eye of an actor! I should have taken to
it (need I say so!) _con amore_ in any case, but I should have been
jealous of your reputation, exactly as I appreciate your generosity. If
I had a misgiving of ten lines I should have scrupulously mentioned it.
Stone will take the Duke capitally; and I will answer for his being got
into doing it _very well_. Looking down the perspective of a few winter
evenings here, I am confident about him. Forster will be thoroughly
sound and real. Lemon is so surprisingly sensible and trustworthy on
the stage, that I don't think any actor could touch his part as he will;
and I hope you will have opportunities of testing the accuracy of this
prediction. Egg ought to do the Author to absolute perfection. As to
Jerrold--there he stands in the play! I would propose Leech (well made
up) for Easy. He is a good name, and I see nothing else for him.
This brings me to my own part. If we had anyone, or could get anyone,
for Wilmot, I could do (I think) something so near your meaning in Sir
Gilbert, that I let him go with a pang. Assumption has charms for me--I
hardly know for how many wild reasons--so delightful, that I feel a loss
of, oh! I can't say what exquisite foolery, when I lose a chance of
being someone in voice, etc., not at all like myself. But--I speak quite
freely, knowing you will not mistake me--I know from experience that we
could find nobody to hold the play together in Wilmot if I didn't do it.
I think I could touch the gallant, generous, careless pretence, with the
real man at the bottom of it, so as to take the audience with him from
the first scene. I am quite sure I understand your meaning; and I am
absolutely certain that as Jerrold, Forster, and Stone came in, I could,
as a mere little bit of mechanics, present them better by doing that
part, and paying as much attention to their points as my own, than
another amateur actor could. Therefore I throw up my cap for Wilmot, and
hereby devote myself to him, heart and head!
I ought to tell you that in a play we once rehearsed and never played
(but rehearsed several times, and very carefully), I saw Lemon do a
piece of reality with a rugged pathos in it, which I felt, as I stood on
the stage with him to be extraordinarily good. In the serious part of
Sir Gilbert he will surprise you. And he has an intuitive discrimination
in such things which will just keep the suspicious part from being too
droll at the outset--which will just show a glimpse of something in the
depths of it.
The moment I come back to town (within a fortnight, please God!) I will
ascertain from Forster where you are. Then I will propose to you that we
call our company together, agree upon one general plan of action, and
that you and I immediately begin to see and book our Vice-Presidents,
etc. Further, I think we ought to see about the Queen. I would suggest
our playing first about three weeks before the opening of the
Exhibition, in order that it may be the town talk before the country
people and foreigners come. Macready thinks with me that a very large
sum of money may be got in London.
I propose (for cheapness and many other considerations) to make a
theatre expressly for the purpose, which we can put up and take
down--say in the Hanover Square Rooms--and move into the country. As
Watson wanted something of a theatre made for his forthcoming Little Go,
I have made it a sort of model of what I mean, and shall be able to test
its working powers before I see you. Many things that, for portability,
were to be avoided in Mr. Hewitt's theatre, I have replaced with less
expensive and weighty contrivances.
Now, my dear Bulwer, I have come to the small hours, and am writing
alone here, as if _I_ were writing something to do what your comedy
will. At such a time the temptation is strong upon me to say a great
deal more, but I will only say this--in mercy to you--that I do devoutly
believe that this plan carried, will entirely change the status of the
literary man in England, and make a revolution in his position, which no
Government, no power on earth but his own, could ever effect. I have
implicit confidence in the scheme--so splendidly begun--if we carry it
out with a steadfast energy. I have a strong conviction that we hold in
our hands the peace and honour of men of letters for centuries to come,
and that you are destined to be their best and most enduring benefactor.
Oh! what a procession of New Years might walk out of all this, after we
are very dusty!
Ever yours faithfully.
P.S.--I have forgotten something. I suggest this title: "Knowing the
World; or, Not So Bad As We Seem."http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Sir%20Edward%20Bulwer%20Lytton/797Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: The same.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Tuesday Night, March 4th, 1851._
MY DEAR BULWER,
I know you will be glad to hear what I have to tell you.
I wrote to the Duke of Devonshire this morning, enclosing him the rough
proof of the scheme, and plainly telling him what we wanted, _i.e._, to
play for the first time at his house, to the Queen and Court. Within a
couple of hours he wrote me as follows:
"DEAR SIR,
"I have read with very great interest the
prospectus of the new endowment which you have
confided to my perusal.
"Your manner of doing so is a proof that I am
honoured by your goodwill and approbation.
"I'm truly happy to offer you my earnest and
sincere co-operation. My services, my house,
and my subscription will be at your orders. And
I beg you to let me see you before long, not
merely to converse upon this subject, but
because I have long had the greatest wish to
improve our acquaintance, which has, as yet,
been only one of crowded rooms."
This is quite princely, I think, and will push us along as brilliantly
as heart could desire. Don't you think so too?
Yesterday Lemon and I saw the Secretary of the National Provident
Institution (the best Office for the purpose, I am inclined to think)
and stated all our requirements. We appointed to meet the chairman and
directors next Tuesday; so on the day of our reading and dining I hope
we shall have that matter in good time.
The theatre is also under consultation; and directly after the reading
we shall go briskly to work in all departments.
I hear nothing but praises of your Macready speech--of its eloquence,
delicacy, and perfect taste, all of which it is good to hear, though I
know it all beforehand as well as most men can tell it me.
Ever cordially.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Sir%20Edward%20Bulwer%20Lytton/798Charles Dickens
1851-03-25[Sidenote: The same.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Tuesday Morning, 25th March, 1851._
MY DEAR BULWER,
Coming home at midnight last night after our first rehearsal, I find
your letter. I write to entreat you, if you make any change in the first
three acts, to let it be only of the slightest kind. Because we are now
fairly under way, everybody is already drilled into his place, and in
two or three rehearsals those acts will be in a tolerably presentable
state.
It is of vital importance that we should get the last two acts _soon_.
The Queen and Prince are coming--Phipps wrote me yesterday the most
earnest letter possible--the time is fearfully short, and we _must_ have
the comedy in such a state as that it will go like a machine. Whatever
you do, for heaven's sake don't be persuaded to endanger that!
Even at the risk of your falling into the pit with despair at beholding
anything of the comedy in its present state, if you can by any
possibility come down to Covent Garden Theatre to-night, do. I hope you
will see in Lemon the germ of a very fine presentation of Sir Geoffrey.
I think Topham, too, will do Easy admirably.
We really did wonders last night in the way of arrangement. I see the
ground-plan of the first three acts distinctly. The dressing and
furnishing and so forth, will be a perfect picture, and I will answer
for the men in three weeks' time.
In great haste, my dear Bulwer,
Ever faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Cowden%20Clarke/799Charles Dickens
1851-03-29[Sidenote: Mrs. Cowden Clarke.]
GREAT MALVERN, _29th March, 1851._
MY DEAR MRS. COWDEN CLARKE,
Ah, those were days indeed, when we were so fatigued at dinner that we
couldn't speak, and so revived at supper that we couldn't go to bed;
when wild in inns the noble savage ran; and all the world was a stage,
gas-lighted in a double sense--by the Young Gas and the old one! When
Emmeline Montague (now Compton, and the mother of two children) came to
rehearse in our new comedy[45] the other night, I nearly fainted. The
gush of recollection was so overpowering that I couldn't bear it.
I use the portfolio[46] for managerial papers still. That's something.
But all this does not thank you for your book.[47] I have not got it yet
(being here with Mrs. Dickens, who has been very unwell), but I shall be
in town early in the week, and shall bring it down to read quietly on
these hills, where the wind blows as freshly as if there were no Popes
and no Cardinals whatsoever--nothing the matter anywhere. I thank you a
thousand times, beforehand, for the pleasure you are going to give me. I
am full of faith. Your sister Emma, she is doing work of some sort on
the P.S. side of the boxes, in some dark theatre, _I know_, but where, I
wonder? W.[48] has not proposed to her yet, has he? I understood he was
going to offer his hand and heart, and lay his leg[49] at her feet.
Ever faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Thomas%20Mitton/800Charles Dickens
1851-04-19[Sidenote: Mr. Mitton.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _19th April, 1851._
MY DEAR MITTON,
I have been in trouble, or I should have written to you sooner. My wife
has been, and is, far from well. My poor father's death caused me much
distress. I came to London last Monday to preside at a public
dinner--played with little Dora, my youngest child, before I went--and
was told when I left the chair that she had died in a moment. I am quite
happy again, but I have undergone a good deal.
I am not going back to Malvern, but have let this house until September,
and taken the "Fort," at Broadstairs.
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Sir%20Edward%20Bulwer%20Lytton/801Charles Dickens
1851-04-28[Sidenote: Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton.]
DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Monday, 28th April, 1851._
MY DEAR BULWER,
I see you are so anxious, that I shall endeavour to send you this letter
by a special messenger. I think I can relieve your mind completely.
The Duke has read the play. He asked for it a week ago, and had it. He
has been at Brighton since. He called here before eleven on Saturday
morning, but I was out on the play business, so I went to him at
Devonshire House yesterday. He almost knows the play by heart. He is
supremely delighted with it, and critically understands it. In proof of
the latter part of this sentence I may mention that he had made two or
three memoranda of trivial doubtful points, _every one of which had
attracted our attention in rehearsal_, as I found when he showed them to
me. He thoroughly understands and appreciates the comedy of the
Duke--threw himself back in his chair and laughed, as I say of Walpole,
"till I thought he'd have choked," about his first Duchess, who was a
Percy. He suggested that he shouldn't say: "You know how to speak to the
heart of a Noble," because it was not likely that he would call himself
a Noble. He thought we might close up the Porter and Softhead a little
more (already done) and was so charmed and delighted to recall the
comedy that he was more pleased than any boy you ever saw when I
repeated two or three of the speeches in my part for him. He is coming
to the rehearsal to-day (we rehearse now at Devonshire House, three days
a-week, all day long), and, since he read the play, has conceived a most
magnificent and noble improvement in the Devonshire House plan, by
which, I daresay, we shall get another thousand or fifteen hundred
pounds. There is not a grain of distrust or doubt in him. I am perfectly
certain that he would confide to me, and does confide to me, his whole
mind on the subject.
More than this, the Duke comes out the best man in the play. I am happy
to report to you that Stone does the honourable manly side of that
pride inexpressibly better than I should have supposed possible in him.
The scene where he makes that reparation to the slandered woman is
_certain_ to be an effect. He is _not_ a jest upon the order of Dukes,
but a great tribute to them. I have sat looking at the play (as you may
suppose) pretty often, and carefully weighing every syllable of it. I
see, in the Duke, the most estimable character in the piece. I am as
sure that I represent the audience in this as I am that I hear the words
when they are spoken before me. The first time that scene with Hardman
was seriously done, it made an effect on the company that quite
surprised and delighted me; and whenever and wherever it is done (but
most of all at Devonshire House) the result will be the same.
Everyone is greatly improved. I wrote an earnest note to Forster a few
days ago on the subject of his being too loud and violent. He has since
subdued himself with the most admirable pains, and improved the part a
thousand per cent. All the points are gradually being worked and
smoothed out with the utmost neatness all through the play. They are all
most heartily anxious and earnest, and, upon the least hitch, will do
the same thing twenty times over. The scenery, furniture, etc., are
rapidly advancing towards completion, and will be beautiful. The dresses
are a perfect blaze of colour, and there is not a pocket-flap or a scrap
of lace that has not been made according to Egg's drawings to the
quarter of an inch. Every wig has been made from an old print or
picture. From the Duke's snuff-box to Will's Coffee-house, you will
find everything in perfect truth and keeping. I have resolved that
whenever we come to a weak place in the acting, it must, somehow or
other, be made a strong one. The places that I used to be most afraid of
are among the best points now.
Will you come to the dress rehearsal on the Tuesday evening before the
Queen's night? There will be no one present but the Duke.
I write in the greatest haste, for the rehearsal time is close at hand,
and I have the master carpenter and gasman to see before we begin.
Miss Coutts is one of the most sensible of women, and if I had not seen
the Duke yesterday, I would have shown her the play directly. But there
can't be any room for anxiety on the head that has troubled you so much.
You may clear it from your mind as completely as Gunpowder Plot.
In great haste, ever cordially.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Eden/802Charles Dickens
1851-09-28[Sidenote: The Hon. Miss Eden.[50]]
BROADSTAIRS, _Sunday, 28th September, 1851._
MY DEAR MISS EDEN,
Many thanks for the grapes; which must have come from the identical vine
a man ought to sit under. They were a prodigy of excellence.
I have been concerned to hear of your indisposition, but thought the
best thing I could do, was to make no formal calls when you were really
ill. I have been suffering myself from another kind of malady--a severe,
spasmodic, house-buying-and-repairing attack--which has left me
extremely weak and all but exhausted. The seat of the disorder has been
the pocket.
I had the kindest of notes from the kindest of men this morning, and am
going to see him on Wednesday. Of course I mean the Duke of Devonshire.
Can I take anything to Chatsworth for you?
Very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Frank%20Stone/803Charles Dickens
1851-09-08[Sidenote: Mr. Frank Stone.]
EXTRACT FROM LETTER TO MR. STONE.
_8th September, 1851._
You never saw such a sight as the sands between this and Margate
presented yesterday. This day fortnight a steamer laden with cattle
going from Rotterdam to the London market, was wrecked on the
Goodwin--on which occasion, by-the-bye, the coming in at night of our
Salvage Luggers laden with dead cattle, which where hoisted up upon the
pier where they lay in heaps, was a most picturesque and striking sight.
The sea since Wednesday has been very rough, blowing in straight upon
the land. Yesterday, the shore was strewn with hundreds of oxen, sheep,
and pigs (and with bushels upon bushels of apples), in every state and
stage of decay--burst open, rent asunder, lying with their stiff hoofs
in the air, or with their great ribs yawning like the wrecks of
ships--tumbled and beaten out of shape, and yet with a horrible sort of
humanity about them. Hovering among these carcases was every kind of
water-side plunderer, pulling the horns out, getting the hides off,
chopping the hoofs with poleaxes, etc. etc., attended by no end of
donkey carts, and spectral horses with scraggy necks, galloping wildly
up and down as if there were something maddening in the stench. I never
beheld such a demoniacal business!
Very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Henry%20Austin/804Charles Dickens
1851-09-08[Sidenote: Mr. Henry Austin.]
BROADSTAIRS, _Monday, 8th September, 1851._
MY DEAR HENRY,
Your letter, received this morning, has considerably allayed the anguish
of my soul. Our letters crossed, of course, as letters under such
circumstances always do.
I am perpetually wandering (in fancy) up and down the house[51] and
tumbling over the workmen; when I feel that they are gone to dinner I
become low, when I look forward to their total abstinence on Sunday, I
am wretched. The gravy at dinner has a taste of glue in it. I smell
paint in the sea. Phantom lime attends me all the day long. I dream that
I am a carpenter and can't partition off the hall. I frequently dance
(with a distinguished company) in the drawing-room, and fall into the
kitchen for want of a pillar.
A great to-do here. A steamer lost on the Goodwins yesterday, and our
men bringing in no end of dead cattle and sheep. I stood a supper for
them last night, to the unbounded gratification of Broadstairs. They
came in from the wreck very wet and tired, and very much disconcerted by
the nature of their prize--which, I suppose, after all, will have to be
recommitted to the sea, when the hides and tallow are secured. One
lean-faced boatman murmured, when they were all ruminative over the
bodies as they lay on the pier: "Couldn't sassages be made on it?" but
retired in confusion shortly afterwards, overwhelmed by the execrations
of the bystanders.
Ever affectionately.
P.S.--Sometimes I think ----'s bill will be too long to be added up
until Babbage's calculating machine shall be improved and finished.
Sometimes that there is not paper enough ready made, to carry it over
and bring it forward upon.
I dream, also, of the workmen every night. They make faces at me, and
won't do anything.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Austen%20Henry%20Layard/805Charles Dickens
1851-12-16[Sidenote: Mr. Austen Henry Layard.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, TAVISTOCK SQUARE, _16th December, 1851._
MY DEAR LAYARD,[52]
I want to renew your recollection of "the last time we parted"--not at
Wapping Old Stairs, but at Miss Coutts's--when we vowed to be more
intimate after all nations should have departed from Hyde Park, and I
should be able to emerge from my cave on the sea-shore.
Can you, and will you, be in town on Wednesday, the last day of the
present old year? If yes, will you dine with us at a quarter after six,
and see the New Year in with such extemporaneous follies of an exploded
sort (in genteel society) as may occur to us? Both Mrs. Dickens and I
would be really delighted if this should find you free to give us the
pleasure of your society.
Believe me always, very faithfully yours.
FOOTNOTES:
[44] "Not So Bad As We Seem; or, Many Sides to a Character."
[45] "Not So Bad As We Seem."
[46] An embroidered blotting-book given by Mrs. Cowden Clarke.
[47] One of the series in "The Girlhood of Shakespeare's Heroines,"
dedicated to Charles Dickens.
[48] Wilmot, the clever veteran prompter, who was engaged to accompany
the acting-tours.
[49] A wooden one.
[50] Miss Eden had a cottage at Broadstairs, and was residing there at
this time.
[51] Tavistock House.
[52] Now Sir Austen Henry Layard.
1852.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/James%20Bower%20Harrison/806Charles Dickens
1852-01-05[Sidenote: Mr. James Bower Harrison.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, TAVISTOCK SQUARE, _5th January, 1852._
DEAR SIR,
I have just received the work[53] you have had the kindness to send me,
and beg to thank you for it, and for your obliging note, cordially. It
is a very curious little volume, deeply interesting, and written (if I
may be allowed to say so) with as much power of knowledge and plainness
of purpose as modesty.
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Sir%20Edward%20Bulwer%20Lytton/807Charles Dickens
1852-02-15[Sidenote: Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Sunday Night, 15th February, 1852._
MY DEAR BULWER,
I left Liverpool at four o'clock this morning, and am so blinded by
excitement, gas, and waving hats and handkerchiefs, that I can hardly
see to write, but I cannot go to bed without telling you what a triumph
we have had. Allowing for the necessarily heavy expenses of all kinds, I
believe we can hardly fund less than a Thousand Pounds out of this trip
alone. And, more than that, the extraordinary interest taken in the idea
of the Guild by "this grand people of England" down in these vast hives,
and the enthusiastic welcome they give it, assure me that we may do what
we will if we will only be true and faithful to our design. There is a
social recognition of it which I cannot give you the least idea of. I
sincerely believe that we have the ball at our feet, and may throw it up
to the very Heaven of Heavens. And I don't speak for myself alone, but
for all our people, and not least of all for Forster, who has been
absolutely stunned by the tremendous earnestness of these great places.
To tell you (especially after your affectionate letter) what I would
have given to have had you there would be idle. But I can most seriously
say that all the sights of the earth turned pale in my eyes, before the
sight of three thousand people with one heart among them, and no
capacity in them, in spite of all their efforts, of sufficiently
testifying to you how they believe you to be right, and feel that they
cannot do enough to cheer you on. They understood the play (_far better
acted by this time than ever you have seen it_) as well as you do. They
allowed nothing to escape them. They rose up, when it was over, with a
perfect fury of delight, and the Manchester people sent a requisition
after us to Liverpool to say that if we will go back there in May, when
we act at Birmingham (as of course we shall) they will joyfully
undertake to fill the Free Trade Hall again. Among the Tories of
Liverpool the reception was equally enthusiastic. We played, two nights
running, to a hall crowded to the roof--more like the opera at Genoa or
Milan than anything else I can compare it to. We dined at the Town Hall
magnificently, and it made no difference in the response. I said what we
were quietly determined to do (when the Guild was given as the toast of
the night), and really they were so noble and generous in their
encouragement that I should have been more ashamed of myself than I hope
I ever shall be, if I could have felt conscious of having ever for a
moment faltered in the work.
I will answer for Birmingham--for any great working town to which we
chose to go. We have won a position for the idea which years upon years
of labour could not have given it. I believe its worldly fortunes have
been advanced in this last week fifty years at least. I feebly express
to you what Forster (who couldn't be at Liverpool, and has not those
shouts ringing in his ears) has felt from the moment he set foot in
Manchester. Believe me we may carry a perfect fiery cross through the
North of England, and over the Border, in this cause, if need be--not
only to the enrichment of the cause, but to the lasting enlistment of
the people's sympathy.
I have been so happy in all this that I could have cried on the shortest
notice any time since Tuesday. And I do believe that our whole body
would have gone to the North Pole with me if I had shown them good
reason for it.
I hope I am not so tired but that you may be able to read this. I have
been at it almost incessantly, day and night for a week, and I am afraid
my handwriting suffers. But in all other respects I am only a giant
refreshed.
We meet next Saturday you recollect? Until then, and ever afterwards,
Believe me, heartily yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Cowden%20Clarke/808Charles Dickens
1852-03-03[Sidenote: Mrs. Cowden Clarke.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _3rd March, 1852._
MY DEAR MRS. CLARKE,
It is almost an impertinence to tell you how delightful your flowers
were to me; for you who thought of that beautiful and delicately-timed
token of sympathy and remembrance, must know it very well already.
I do assure you that I have hardly ever received anything with so much
pleasure in all my life. They are not faded yet--are on my table
here--but never can fade out of my remembrance.
I should be less than a Young Gas, and more than an old Manager--that
commemorative portfolio is here too--if I could relieve my heart of half
that it could say to you. All my house are my witnesses that you have
quite filled it, and this note is my witness that I can _not_ empty it.
Ever faithfully and gratefully your friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/James%20Bower%20Harrison/809Charles Dickens
1852-03-26[Sidenote: Mr. James Bower Harrison.]
LONDON, TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _26th March, 1852._
DEAR SIR,
I beg to thank you for your interesting pamphlet, and to add that I
shall be very happy to accept an article from you on the subject[54] for
"Household Words." I should already have suggested to you that I should
have great pleasure in receiving contributions from one so well and
peculiarly qualified to treat of many interesting subjects, but that I
felt a delicacy in encroaching on your other occupations. Will you
excuse my remarking that to make an article on this particular subject
useful, it is essential to address the employed as well as the
employers? In the case of the Sheffield grinders the difficulty was, for
many years, not with the masters, but the men. Painters who use white
lead are with the greatest difficulty persuaded to be particular in
washing their hands, and I daresay that I need not remind you that one
could not generally induce domestic servants to attend to the commonest
sanitary principles in their work without absolutely forcing them to
experience their comfort and convenience.
Dear Sir, very faithfully yours.
FOOTNOTES:
[53] The "Medical Aspects of Death, and the Medical Aspects of the Human
Mind."
[54] The injurious effects of the manufacture of lucifer matches on the
employed.
1853.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/810Charles Dickens
1853-03-04[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
1, JUNCTION PARADE, BRIGHTON,
_Thursday night, 4th March, 1853._
MY DEAR WILLS,
I am sorry, but Brutus sacrifices unborn children of his own as well as
those of other people. "The Sorrows of Childhood," long in type, and
long a mere mysterious name, must come out. The paper really is, like
the celebrated ambassadorial appointment, "too bad."
"A Doctor of Morals," _impossible of insertion as it stands_. A mere
puff, with all the difficult facts of the question blinked, and many
statements utterly at variance with what I am known to have written. It
is exactly because the great bulk of offences in a great number of
places are committed by professed thieves, that it will not do to have
pet prisoning advocated without grave remonstrance and great care. That
class of prisoner is not to be reformed. We must begin at the beginning
and prevent, by stringent correction and supervision of wicked parents,
that class of prisoner from being regularly supplied as if he were a
human necessity.
Do they teach trades in workhouses and try to fit _their_ people (the
worst part of them) for society? Come with me to Tothill Fields
Bridewell, and I will show you what a workhouse girl is. Or look to my
"Walk in a Workhouse" (in "H. W.") and to the glance at the youths I saw
in one place positively kept like wolves.
Mr. ---- thinks prisons could be made nearly self-supporting. Have you
any idea of the difficulty that is found in disposing of Prison-work, or
does he think that the Treadmills didn't grind the air because the State
or the Magistracy objected to the competition of prison-labour with
free-labour, but because the work _could not be got_?
I never can have any kind of prison-discipline disquisition in "H. W."
that does not start with the first great principle I have laid down,
and that does not protest against Prisons being considered _per se_.
Whatever chance is given to a man in a prison must be given to a man in
a refuge for distress.
The article in itself is very good, but it must have these points in it,
otherwise I am not only compromising opinions I am known to hold, but
the journal itself is blowing hot and cold, and playing fast and loose
in a ridiculous way.
"Starting a Paper in India" is very droll to us. But it is full of
references that the public don't understand, and don't in the least care
for. Bourgeois, brevier, minion, and nonpareil, long primer, turn-ups,
dunning advertisements, and reprints, back forme, imposing-stone, and
locking-up, are all quite out of their way, and a sort of slang that
they have no interest in.
Let me see a revise when you have got it together, and if you can
strengthen it--do. I mention all the objections that occur to me as I go
on, not because you can obviate them (except in the case of the
prison-paper), but because if I make a point of doing so always you will
feel and judge the more readily both for yourself and me too when I take
an Italian flight.
YOU:
How are the eyes getting on?
ME:
I have been at work all day.
Ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/811Charles Dickens
1853-08-07[Sidenote: The same.]
BOULOGNE, _Sunday, 7th August, 1853._
MY DEAR WILLS,
Can't possibly write autographs until I have written "Bleak House." My
work has been very hard since I have been here; and when I throw down my
pen of a day, I throw down myself, and can take up neither article.
The "C. P." is very well done, but I cannot make up my mind to lend my
blow to the great Forge-bellows of puffery at work. I so heartily desire
to have nothing to do with it, that I wish you would cancel this article
altogether, and substitute something else. As to the guide-books, I
think they are a sufficiently flatulent botheration in themselves,
without being discussed. A lurking desire is always upon me to put Mr.
----'s speech on Accidents to the public, as chairman of the Brighton
Railway, against his pretensions as a chairman of public instructors and
guardians. And I don't know but that I may come to it at some odd time.
This strengthens me in my wish to avoid the bellows.
How two men can have gone, one after the other, to the Camp, and have
written nothing about it, passes my comprehension. I have been in great
doubt about the end of ----. I wish you would suggest to him from me,
when you see him, how wrong it is. Surely he cannot be insensible to the
fact that military preparations in England at this time mean Defence.
Woman, says ----, means Home, love, children, Mother. Does he not find
any protection for these things in a wise and moderate means of
Defence; and is not the union between these things and those means one
of the most natural, significant, and plain in the world?
I wish you would send friend Barnard here a set of "Household Words," in
a paid parcel (on the other side is an inscription to be neatly pasted
into vol. i. before sending), with a post-letter beforehand from
yourself, saying that I had begged you to forward the books, feeling so
much obliged to him for his uniform attention and politeness. Also that
you will not fail to continue his set, as successive volumes appear.
ASPECTS OF NATURE.
We have had a tremendous sea here. Steam-packet in the harbour frantic,
and dashing her brains out against the stone walls.
Ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Rev%20James%20White/812Charles Dickens
1853-09-30[Sidenote: Rev. James White.]
BOULOGNE, _September 30th, 1853._
MY DEAR WHITE,
As you wickedly failed in your truth to the writer of books you adore, I
write something that I hoped to have said, and meant to have said, in
the confidence of the Pavilion among the trees.
Will you write another story for the Christmas No.? It will be exactly
(I mean the Xmas No.) on the same plan as the last.
I shall be at the office from Monday to Thursday, and shall hope to
receive a cheery "Yes," in reply.
Loves from all to all, and my particular love to Mrs. White.
Ever cordially yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Catherine%20Dickens/813Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mrs. Charles Dickens.]
HOTEL DE LONDRES, CHAMOUNIX,
_Thursday Night, 20th October, 1853._
MY DEAREST KATE,
We[55] came here last night after a very long journey over very bad
roads, from Geneva, and leave here (for Montigny, by the Tête Noire) at
6 to-morrow morning. Next morning early we mean to try the Simplon.
After breakfast to-day we ascended to the Mer de Glace--wonderfully
different at this time of the year from when we saw it--a great portion
of the ascent being covered with snow, and the climbing very difficult.
Regardless of my mule, I walked up and walked down again, to the great
admiration of the guides, who pronounced me "an Intrepid." The little
house at the top being closed for the winter, and Edward having
forgotten to carry any brandy, we had nothing to drink at the top--which
was a considerable disappointment to the Inimitable, who was streaming
with perspiration from head to foot. But we made a fire in the snow with
some sticks, and after a not too comfortable rest came down again. It
took a long time--from 10 to 3.
The appearance of Chamounix at this time of year is very remarkable. The
travellers are over for the season, the inns are generally shut up, all
the people who can afford it are moving off to Geneva, the snow is low
on the mountains, and the general desolation and grandeur
extraordinarily fine. I wanted to pass by the Col de Balme, but the snow
lies too deep upon it.
You would have been quite delighted if you could have seen the warmth of
our old Lausanne friends, and the heartiness with which they crowded
down on a fearfully bad morning to see us off. We passed the night at
the Ecu de Genève, in the rooms once our old rooms--at that time (the
day before yesterday) occupied by the Queen of the French (ex- I mean)
and Prince Joinville and his family.
Tell Sydney that all the way here from Geneva, and up to the Sea of Ice
this morning, I wore his knitting, which was very comfortable indeed. I
mean to wear it on the long mule journey to Martigny to-morrow.
We get on extremely well. Edward continues as before. He had never been
here, and I took him up to the Mer de Glace this morning, and had a mule
for him.
I shall leave this open, as usual, to add a word or two on our arrival
at Martigny. We have had an amusingly absurd incident this afternoon.
When we came here, I saw added to the hotel--our old hotel, and I am now
writing in the room where we once dined at the table d'hote--some baths,
cold and hot, down on the margin of the torrent below. This induced us
to order three hot baths. Thereupon the keys of the bath-rooms were
found with immense difficulty, women ran backwards and forwards across
the bridge, men bore in great quantities of wood, a horrible furnace was
lighted, and a smoke was raised which filled the whole valley. This
began at half-past three, and we congratulated each other on the
distinction we should probably acquire by being the cause of the
conflagration of the whole village. We sat by the fire until half-past
five (dinner-time), and still no baths. Then Edward came up to say that
the water was as yet only "tippit," which we suppose to be tepid, but
that by half-past eight it would be in a noble state. Ever since the
smoke has poured forth in enormous volume, and the furnace has blazed,
and the women have gone and come over the bridge, and piles of wood have
been carried in; but we observe a general avoidance of us by the
establishment which still looks like failure. We have had a capital
dinner, the dessert whereof is now on the table. When we arrived, at
nearly seven last night, all the linen in the house, newly washed, was
piled in the sitting-room, all the curtains were taken down, and all
the chairs piled bottom upwards. They cleared away as much as they could
directly, and had even got the curtains up at breakfast this morning.
I am looking forward to letters at Genoa, though I doubt if we shall get
there (supposing all things right at the Simplon) before Monday night or
Tuesday morning. I found there last night what F---- would call "Mr.
Smith's" story of Mont Blanc, and took it to bed to read. It is
extremely well and unaffectedly done. You would be interested in it.
MARTIGNY, _Friday Afternoon, October 21st._
Safely arrived here after a most delightful day, without a cloud. I
walked the whole way. The scenery most beautifully presented. We are in
the hotel where our old St. Bernard party assembled.
I should like to see you all very much indeed.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Catherine%20Dickens/814Charles Dickens
1853-10-25[Sidenote: The same.]
HOTEL DE LA VILLE, MILAN, _25th October, 1853._
MY DEAREST CATHERINE,
The road from Chamounix here takes so much more time than I supposed
(for I travelled it day and night, and my companions don't at all
understand the idea of never going to bed) that we only reached Milan
last night, though we had been travelling twelve and fifteen hours a
day. We crossed the Simplon on Sunday, when there was not (as there is
not now) a particle of cloud in the whole sky, and when the pass was as
nobly grand and beautiful as it possibly can be. There was a good deal
of snow upon the top, but not across the road, which had been cleared.
We crossed the Austrian frontier yesterday, and, both there and at the
gate of Milan, received all possible consideration and politeness.
I have not seen Bairr yet. He has removed from the old hotel to a larger
one at a few hours' distance. The head-waiter remembered me very well
last night after I had talked to him a little while, and was greatly
interested in hearing about all the family, and about poor Roche. The
boy we used to have at Lausanne is now seventeen-and-a-half--very tall,
he says. The elder girl, fifteen, very like her mother, but taller and
more beautiful. He described poor Mrs. Bairr's death (I am speaking of
the head-waiter before mentioned) in most vivacious Italian. It was all
over in ten minutes, he said. She put her hands to her head one day,
down in the courtyard, and cried out that she heard little bells ringing
violently in her ears. They sent off for Bairr, who was close by. When
she saw him, she stretched out her arms, said in English, "Adieu, my
dear!" and fell dead. He has not married again, and he never will. She
was a good woman (my friend went on), excellent woman, full of charity,
loved the poor, but _un poco furiosa_--that was nothing!
The new hotel is just like the old one, admirably kept, excellently
furnished, and a model of comfort. I hope to be at Genoa on Thursday
morning, and to find your letter there. We have agreed to drop Sicily,
and to return home by way of Marseilles. Our projected time for reaching
London is the 10th of December.
As this house is full, I daresay we shall meet some one we know at the
table d'hote to-day. It is extraordinary that the only travellers we
have encountered, since we left Paris, have been one horribly vapid
Englishman and wife whom we dropped at Basle, one boring Englishman whom
we found (and, thank God, left) at Geneva, and two English maiden
ladies, whom we found sitting on a rock (with parasols) the day before
yesterday, in the most magnificent part of the Gorge of Gondo, the most
awful portion of the Simplon--there awaiting their travelling chariot,
in which, with their money, their parasols, and a perfect shop of
baskets, they were carefully _locked up_ by an English servant in sky
blue and silver buttons. We have been in the most extraordinary
vehicles--like swings, like boats, like Noah's arks, like barges and
enormous bedsteads. After dark last night, a landlord, where we changed
horses, discovered that the luggage would certainly be stolen from
_questo porco d'uno carro_--this pig of a cart--his complimentary
description of our carriage, unless cords were attached to each of the
trunks, which cords were to hang down so that we might hold them in our
hands all the way, and feel any tug that might be made at our treasures.
You will imagine the absurdity of our jolting along some twenty miles in
this way, exactly as if we were in three shower-baths and were afraid to
pull the string.
We are going to the Scala to-night, having got the old box belonging to
the hotel, the old key of which is lying beside me on the table. There
seem to be no singers of note here now, and it appears for the time to
have fallen off considerably. I shall now bring this to a close, hoping
that I may have more interesting jottings to send you about the old
scenes and people, from Genoa, where we shall stay two days. You are
now, I take it, at Macready's. I shall be greatly interested by your
account of your visit there. We often talk of you all.
Edward's Italian is (I fear) very weak. When we began to get really into
the language, he reminded me of poor Roche in Germany. But he seems to
have picked up a little this morning. He has been unfortunate with the
unlucky Egg, leaving a pair of his shoes (his favourite shoes) behind in
Paris, and his flannel dressing-gown yesterday morning at Domo d'Ossola.
In all other respects he is just as he was.
Egg and Collins have gone out to kill the lions here, and I take
advantage of their absence to write to you, Georgie, and Miss Coutts.
Wills will have told you, I daresay, that Cerjat accompanied us on a
miserably wet morning, in a heavy rain, down the lake. By-the-bye, the
wife of one of his cousins, born in France of German parents, living in
the next house to Haldimand's, is one of the most charming, natural,
open-faced, and delightful women I ever saw. Madame de ---- is set up as
the great attraction of Lausanne; but this capital creature shuts her up
altogether. We have called her (her--the real belle), ever since, the
early closing movement.
I am impatient for letters from home; confused ideas are upon me that
you are going to White's, but I have no notion when.
Take care of yourself, and God bless you.
Ever most affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Catherine%20Williams/815Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: The same.]
CROCE DI MALTA, GENOA,
_Friday Night, October 29th, 1853._
MY DEAREST CATHERINE,
As we arrived here later than I had expected (in consequence of the
journey from Milan being most horribly slow) I received your welcome
letter only this morning. I write this before going to bed, that I may
be sure of not being taken by any engagement off the post time
to-morrow.
We came in last night between seven and eight. The railroad to Turin is
finished and opened to within twenty miles of Genoa. Its effect upon
the whole town, and especially upon that part of it lying down beyond
the lighthouse and away by San Pietro d'Arena, is quite wonderful. I
only knew the place by the lighthouse, so numerous were the new
buildings, so wide the streets, so busy the people, and so thriving and
busy the many signs of commerce. To-day I have seen ----, the ----, the
----, and the ----, the latter of whom live at Nervi, fourteen or
fifteen miles off, towards Porto Fino. First, of the ----. They are just
the same, except that Mrs. ----'s face is larger and fuller, and her
hair rather gray. As I rang at their bell she came out walking, and
stared at me. "What! you don't know me?" said I; upon which she
recognised me very warmly, and then said in her old quiet way: "I
expected to find a ruin. We heard you had been so ill; and I find you
younger and better-looking than ever. But it's so strange to see you
without a bright waistcoat. Why haven't you got a bright waistcoat on?"
I apologised for my black one, and was sent upstairs, when ----
presently appeared in a hideous and demoniacal nightdress, having turned
out of bed to greet his distinguished countryman. After a long talk, in
the course of which I arranged to dine there on Sunday early, before
starting by the steamer for Naples, and in which they told me every
possible and impossible particular about their minutest affairs, and
especially about ----'s marriage, I set off for ----, at ----. I had
found letters from him here, and he had been here over and over again,
and had driven out no end of times to the Gate to leave messages for me,
and really is (in his strange uncouth way) crying glad to see me. I
found him and his wife in a little comfortable country house,
overlooking the sea, sitting in a small summer-house on wheels, exactly
like a bathing machine. I found her rather pretty, extraordinarily cold
and composed, a mere piece of furniture, _talking broken English_.
Through eight months in the year they live in this country place. She
never reads, never works, never talks, never gives an order or directs
anything, has only a taste for going to the theatre (where she never
speaks either) and buying clothes. They sit in the garden all day, dine
at four, _smoke their cigars_, go in at eight, sit about till ten, and
then go to bed. The greater part of this I had from ---- himself in a
particularly unintelligible confidence in the garden, the only portion
of which that I could clearly understand were the words "and one thing
and another," repeated one hundred thousand times. He described himself
as being perfectly happy, and seemed very fond of his wife. "But that,"
said ---- to me this morning, looking like the figure-head of a ship,
with a nutmeg-grater for a face, "that he ought to be, and must be, and
is bound to be--he couldn't help it."
Then I went on to the ----'s, and found them living in a beautiful
situation in a ruinous Albaro-like palace. Coming upon them unawares, I
found ----, with a pointed beard, smoking a great German pipe, in a pair
of slippers; the two little girls very pale and faint from the climate,
in a singularly untidy state--one (heaven knows why!) without stockings,
and both with their little short hair cropped in a manner never before
beheld, and a little bright bow stuck on the top of it. ---- said she
had invented this headgear as a picturesque thing, adding that perhaps
it was--and perhaps it was not. She was greatly flushed and agitated,
but looked very well, and seems to be greatly liked here. We had
disturbed her at her painting in oils, and I rather received an
impression that, what with that, and what with music, the household
affairs went a little to the wall. ---- was teaching the two little
girls the multiplication table in a disorderly old billiard-room with
all manner of maps in it.
Having obtained a gracious permission from the lady of the school, I am
going to show my companions the Sala of the Peschiere this morning. It
is raining intensely hard in the regular Genoa manner, so that I can
hardly hope for Genoa's making as fine an impression as I could desire.
Our boat for Naples is a large French mail boat, and we hope to get
there on Tuesday or Wednesday. If the day after you receive this you
write to the Poste Restante, Rome, it will be the safest course.
Friday's letter write Poste Restante, Florence. You refer to a letter
you suppose me to have received from Forster--to whom my love. No letter
from him has come to hand.
I will resume my report of this place in my next. In the meantime, I
will not fail to drink dear Katey's health to-day. Edward has just come
in with mention of an English boat on Tuesday morning, superior to
French boat to-morrow, and faster. I shall inquire at ---- and take the
best. When I next write I will give you our route in detail.
I am pleased to hear of Mr. Robson's success in a serious part, as I
hope he will now be a fine actor. I hope you will enjoy yourself at
Macready's, though I fear it must be sometimes but a melancholy visit.
Good-bye, my dear, and believe me ever most affectionately.
_Sunday, 30th October._
We leave for Naples to-morrow morning by the Peninsular and Oriental
Company's steamer the _Valletta_. I send a sketch of our movements that
I have at last been able to make.
Mrs. ---- quite came out yesterday. So did Mrs. ---- (in a different
manner), by violently attacking Mrs. ---- for painting ill in oils when
she might be playing well on the piano. It rained hard all yesterday,
but is finer this morning. We went over the Peschiere in the wet
afternoon. The garden is sorely neglected now, and the rooms are all
full of boarding-school beds, and most of the fireplaces are closed up,
but the old beauty and grandeur of the place were in it still.
This will find you, I suppose, at Sherborne. My heartiest love to dear
Macready, and to Miss Macready, and to all the house. I hope my godson
has not forgotten me.
I will think of Charley (from whom I have heard here) and soon write to
him definitely. At present I think he had better join me at Boulogne. I
shall not bring the little boys over, as, if we keep our time, it would
be too long before Christmas Day.
With love to Georgy, ever most affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Catherine%20Williams/816Charles Dickens
1853-11-04[Sidenote: The same.]
HOTEL DES ÉTRANGERS, NAPLES,
_Friday Night, November 4th, 1853._
MY DEAREST CATHERINE,
We arrived here at midday--two days after our intended time, under
circumstances which I reserve for Georgina's letter, by way of
variety--in what Forster used to call good health and sp--p--pirits. We
have a charming apartment opposite the sea, a little lower down than the
Victoria--in the direction of the San Carlo Theatre--and the windows are
now wide open as on an English summer night. The first persons we found
on board at Genoa, were Emerson Tennent, Lady Tennent, their son and
daughter. They are all here too, in an apartment over ours, and we have
all been constantly together in a very friendly way, ever since our
meeting. We dine at the table d'hote--made a league together on
board--and have been mutually agreeable. They have no servant with them,
and have profited by Edward. He goes on perfectly well, is always
cheerful and ready, has been sleeping on board (upside down, I believe),
in a corner, with his head in the wet and his heels against the side of
the paddle-box--but has been perpetually gay and fresh.
As soon as we got our luggage from the custom house, we packed complete
changes in a bag, set off in a carriage for some warm baths, and had a
most refreshing cleansing after our long journey. There was an odd
Neapolitan attendant--a steady old man--who, bringing the linen into my
bath, proposed to "soap me." Upon which I called out to the other two
that I intended to have everything done to me that could be done, and
gave him directions accordingly. I was frothed all over with Naples
soap, rubbed all down, scrubbed with a brush, had my nails cut, and all
manner of extraordinary operations performed. He was as much
disappointed (apparently) as surprised not to find me dirty, and kept on
ejaculating under his breath, "Oh, Heaven! how clean this Englishman
is!" He also remarked that the Englishman is as fair as a beautiful
woman. Some relations of Lord John Russell's, going to Malta, were
aboardship, and we were very pleasant. Likewise there was a Mr. Young
aboard--an agreeable fellow, not very unlike Forster in person--who
introduced himself as the brother of the Miss Youngs whom we knew at
Boulogne. He was musical and had much good-fellowship in him, and we
were very agreeable together also. On the whole I became decidedly
popular, and was embraced on all hands when I came over the side this
morning. We are going up Vesuvius, of course, and to Herculaneum and
Pompeii, and the usual places. The Tennents will be our companions in
most of our excursions, but we shall leave them here behind us. Naples
looks just the same as when we left it, except that the weather is much
better and brighter.
On the day before we left Genoa, we had another dinner with ---- at his
country place. He was the soul of hospitality, and really seems to love
me. You would have been quite touched if you could have seen the honest
warmth of his affection. On the occasion of this second banquet, Egg
made a brilliant mistake that perfectly convulsed us all. I had
introduced all the games with great success, and we were playing at the
"What advice would you have given that person?" game. The advice was
"Not to bully his fellow-creatures." Upon which, Egg triumphantly and
with the greatest glee, screamed, "Mr. ----!" utterly forgetting ----'s
relationship, which I had elaborately impressed upon him. The effect was
perfectly irresistible and uncontrollable; and the little woman's way of
humouring the joke was in the best taste and the best sense. While I am
upon Genoa I may add, that when we left the Croce the landlord, in
hoping that I was satisfied, told me that as I was an old inhabitant, he
had charged the prices "as to a Genoese." They certainly were very
reasonable.
Mr. and Mrs. Sartoris have lately been staying in this house, but are
just gone. It is kept by an English waiting-maid who married an Italian
courier, and is extremely comfortable and clean. I am getting impatient
to hear from you with all home news, and shall be heartily glad to get
to Rome, and find my best welcome and interest at the post-office there.
That ridiculous ---- and her mother were at the hotel at Leghorn the day
before yesterday, where the mother (poor old lady!) was so ill from the
fright and anxiety consequent on her daughter's efforts at martyrdom,
that it is even doubtful whether she will recover. I learnt from a lady
friend of ----, that all this nonsense originated at Nice, where she was
stirred up by Free Kirk parsons--itinerant--any one of whom I take her
to be ready to make a semi-celestial marriage with. The dear being who
told me all about her was a noble specimen--single, forty, in a clinging
flounced black silk dress, which wouldn't drape, or bustle, or fall, or
do anything of that sort--and with a leghorn hat on her head, at least
(I am serious) _six feet round_. The consequence of its immense size,
was, that whereas it had an insinuating blue decoration in the form of a
bow in front, it was so out of her knowledge behind, that it was all
battered and bent in that direction--and, viewed from that quarter, she
looked drunk.
My best love to Mamey and Katey, and Sydney the king of the nursery, and
Harry and the dear little Plornishghenter. I kiss almost all the
children I encounter in remembrance of their sweet faces, and talk to
all the mothers who carry them. I hope to hear nothing but good news
from you, and to find nothing but good spirits in your expected letter
when I come to Rome. I already begin to look homeward, being now at the
remotest part of the journey, and to anticipate the pleasure of return.
Ever most affectionately.
FOOTNOTE:
[55] Charles Dickens, Mr. Wilkie Collins, Mr. Augustus Egg, and Edward
the courier.
1854.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Frederick%20Grew/817Charles Dickens
1854-01-13[Sidenote: Mr. Frederick Grew.[56]]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, LONDON, _13th January, 1854._
MY DEAR SIR,
I beg, through you, to assure the artizans' committee in aid of the
Birmingham and Midland Institute, that I have received the resolution
they have done me the honour to agree upon for themselves and their
fellow-workmen, with the highest gratification. I awakened no pleasure
or interest among them at Birmingham which they did not repay to me with
abundant interest. I have their welfare and happiness sincerely at
heart, and shall ever be their faithful friend.
Your obedient servant.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Elizabeth%20Gaskell/818Charles Dickens
1854-02-18[Sidenote: Mrs. Gaskell.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _February 18th, 1854._
MY DEAR MRS. GASKELL,
I am sorry to say that I am not one of the Zoologicals, or I should have
been delighted to have had a hand in the introduction of a child to the
lions and tigers. But Wills shall send up to the gardens this morning,
and see if Mr. Mitchell, the secretary, can be found. If he be
producible I have no doubt that I can send you what you want in the
course of the day.
Such has been the distraction of _my_ mind in _my_ story, that I have
twice forgotten to tell you how much I liked the Modern Greek Songs. The
article is printed and at press for the very next number as ever is.
Don't put yourself out at all as to the division of the story into
parts; I think you had far better write it in your own way. When we come
to get a little of it into type, I have no doubt of being able to make
such little suggestions as to breaks of chapters as will carry us over
all that easily.
My dear Mrs. Gaskell,
Always faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Rev%20W%20Harness/819Charles Dickens
1854-05-19[Sidenote: Rev. W. Harness.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Friday Evening, May 19th, 1854._
MY DEAR HARNESS,
On Thursday, the first of June, we shall be delighted to come. (Might I
ask for the mildest whisper of the dinner-hour?) I am more than ever
devoted to your niece, if possible, for giving me the choice of two
days, as on the second of June I am a fettered mortal.
I heard a manly, Christian sermon last Sunday at the Foundling--with
_great satisfaction_. If you should happen to know the preacher of it,
pray thank him from me.
Ever cordially yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Rev%20James%20White/820Charles Dickens
1854-05-26[Sidenote: Rev. James White.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _May 26th, 1854._
MY DEAR WHITE,
Here is Conolly in a dreadful state of mind because you won't dine with
him on the 7th of June next to meet Stratford-on-Avon people, writing to
me, to ask me to write to you and ask you what you mean by it.
What _do_ you mean by it?
It appears to Conolly that your supposing you _can_ have anything to do
is a clear case of monomania, one of the slight instances of perverted
intellect, wherein a visit to him cannot fail to be beneficial. After
conference with my learned friend I am of the same opinion.
Loves from all in Tavistock to all in Bonchurch.
Ever faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/821Charles Dickens
1854-08-02[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
BOULOGNE, _Wednesday, August 2nd, 1854._
MY DEAR WILLS,
I will endeavour to come off my back (and the grass) to do an opening
paper for the starting number of "North and South." I can't positively
answer for such a victory over the idleness into which I have
delightfully sunk, as the achievement of this feat; but let us hope.
During a fête on Monday night the meteor flag of England (forgotten to
be struck at sunset) was _stolen!!!_
Manage the proofs of "H. W." so that I may not have to correct them on a
Sunday. I am not going over to the Sabbatarians, but like the haystack
(particularly) on a Sunday morning.
I should like John to call on M. Henri, Townshend's servant, 21, Norfolk
Street, Park Lane, and ask him if, when he comes here with his master,
he can take charge of a trap bat and ball. If yea, then I should like
John to proceed to Mr. Darke, Lord's Cricket Ground, and purchase said
trap bat and ball of the best quality. Townshend is coming here on the
15th, probably will leave town a day or two before.
Pray be in a condition to drink a glass of the 1846 champagne when _you_
come.
I think I have no more to say at present. I cannot sufficiently admire
my prodigious energy in coming out of a stupor to write this letter.
Ever faithfully.
FOOTNOTE:
[56] Secretary to the Artizans' Committee in aid of the Birmingham and
Midland Institute.
1855.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20King/822Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Miss King.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Friday Evening,
February 9th, 1855._
MY DEAR MISS KING,
I wish to get over the disagreeable part of my letter in the beginning.
I have great doubts of the possibility of publishing your story in
portions.
But I think it possesses _very great merit_. My doubts arise partly from
the nature of the interest which I fear requires presentation as a
whole, and partly on your manner of relating the tale. The people do not
sufficiently work out their own purposes in dialogue and dramatic
action. You are too much their exponent; what you do for them, they
ought to do for themselves. With reference to publication in detached
portions (or, indeed, with a reference to the force of the story in any
form), that long stoppage and going back to possess the reader with the
antecedents of the clergyman's biography, are rather crippling. I may
mention that I think the boy (the child of the second marriage) a little
too "slangy." I know the kind of boyish slang which belongs to such a
character in these times; but, considering his part in the story, I
regard it as the author's function to elevate such a characteristic, and
soften it into something more expressive of the ardour and flush of
youth, and its romance. It seems to me, too, that the dialogues between
the lady and the Italian maid are conventional but not natural. This
observation I regard as particularly applying to the maid, and to the
scene preceding the murder. Supposing the main objection surmountable, I
would venture then to suggest to you the means of improvement in this
respect.
The paper is so full of good touches of character, passion, and natural
emotion, that I very much wish for a little time to reconsider it, and
to try whether condensation here and there would enable us to get it say
into four parts. I am not sanguine of this, for I observed the
difficulties as I read it the night before last; but I am very
unwilling, I assure you, to decline what has so much merit.
I am going to Paris on Sunday morning for ten days or so. I purpose
being back again within a fortnight. If you will let me think of this
matter in the meanwhile, I shall at least have done all I can to satisfy
my own appreciation of your work.
But if, in the meantime, you should desire to have it back with any
prospect of publishing it through other means, a letter--the shortest in
the world--from you to Mr. Wills at the "Household Words" office will
immediately produce it. I repeat with perfect sincerity that I am much
impressed by its merits, and that if I had read it as the production of
an entire stranger, I think it would have made exactly this effect upon
me.
My dear Miss King,
Very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20King/823Charles Dickens
1855-02-24[Sidenote: The same.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _24th February, 1855._
MY DEAR MISS KING,
I have gone carefully over your story again, and quite agree with you
that the episode of the clergyman could be told in a very few lines.
Startling as I know it will appear to you, I am bound to say that I
think the purpose of the whole tale would be immensely strengthened by
great compression. I doubt if it could not be told more forcibly in half
the space.
It is certainly too long for "Household Words," and I fear my idea of it
is too short for you. I am, if possible, more unwilling than I was at
first to decline it; but the more I have considered it, the longer it
has seemed to grow. Nor can I ask you to try to present it free from
that objection, because I already perceive the difficulty, and pain, of
such an effort.
To the best of my knowledge, you are wrong about the Lady at last, and
to the best of my observation, you do not express what you explain
yourself to mean in the case of the Italian attendant. I have met with
such talk in the romances of Maturin's time--certainly never in Italian
life.
These, however, are slight points easily to be compromised in an hour.
The great obstacle I must leave wholly to your own judgment, in looking
over the tale again.
Believe me always, very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20M%20Thackeray/824Charles Dickens
1855-03-23[Sidenote: Mr. W. M. Thackeray.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Friday Evening, 23rd March, 1855._
MY DEAR THACKERAY,[57]
I have read in _The Times_ to-day an account of your last night's
lecture, and cannot refrain from assuring you in all truth and
earnestness that I am profoundly touched by your generous reference to
me. I do not know how to tell you what a glow it spread over my heart.
Out of its fulness I do entreat you to believe that I shall never forget
your words of commendation. If you could wholly know at once how you
have moved me, and how you have animated me, you would be the happier I
am very certain.
Faithfully yours ever.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Forster/825Charles Dickens
1855-03-29[Sidenote: Mr. Forster.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Friday, 29th March, 1855._
MY DEAR FORSTER,
I have hope of Mr. Morley,[58] whom one cannot see without knowing to be
a straightforward, earnest man. _I_ also think Higgins[59] will
materially help them.[60] Generally, I quite agree with you that they
hardly know what to be at; but it is an immensely difficult subject to
start, and they must have every allowance. At any rate, it is not by
leaving them alone and giving them no help, that they can be urged on to
success. (Travers, too, I think, a man of the Anti-Corn-Law-League
order.)
Higgins told me, after the meeting on Monday night, that on the previous
evening he had been closeted with ----, whose letter in that day's paper
he had put right for _The Times_. He had never spoken to ---- before, he
said, and found him a rather muddle-headed Scotchman as to his powers of
conveying his ideas. He (Higgins) had gone over his documents
judicially, and with the greatest attention; and not only was ---- wrong
in every particular (except one very unimportant circumstance), but, in
reading documents to the House, had stopped short in sentences where no
stop was, and by so doing had utterly perverted their meaning.
This is to come out, of course, when said ---- gets the matter on. I
thought the case so changed, before I knew this, by his letter and that
of the other shipowners, that I told Morley, when I went down to the
theatre, that I felt myself called upon to relieve him from the
condition I had imposed.
For the rest, I am quite calmly confident that I only do justice to the
strength of my opinions, and use the power which circumstances have
given me, conscientiously and moderately, with a right object, and
towards the prevention of nameless miseries. I should be now
reproaching myself if I had not gone to the meeting, and, having been, I
am very glad.
A good illustration of a Government office. ---- very kindly wrote to me
to suggest that "Houses of Parliament" illustration. After I had dined
on Wednesday, and was going to jog slowly down to Drury Lane, it
suddenly came into my head that perhaps his details were wrong. I had
just time to turn to the "Annual Register," and _not one of them was
correct_!
This is, of course, in close confidence.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Maria%20Winter/826Charles Dickens
1855-04-03[Sidenote: Mrs. Winter.]
_Tuesday, 3rd April, 1855._
MY DEAR MARIA,[61]
A necessity is upon me now--as at most times--of wandering about in my
old wild way, to think. I could no more resist this on Sunday or
yesterday than a man can dispense with food, or a horse can help himself
from being driven. I hold my inventive capacity on the stern condition
that it must master my whole life, often have complete possession of me,
make its own demands upon me, and sometimes, for months together, put
everything else away from me. If I had not known long ago that my place
could never be held, unless I were at any moment ready to devote myself
to it entirely, I should have dropped out of it very soon. All this I
can hardly expect you to understand--or the restlessness and waywardness
of an author's mind. You have never seen it before you, or lived with
it, or had occasion to think or care about it, and you cannot have the
necessary consideration for it. "It is only half-an-hour,"--"It is only
an afternoon,"--"It is only an evening," people say to me over and over
again; but they don't know that it is impossible to command one's self
sometimes to any stipulated and set disposal of five minutes,--or that
the mere consciousness of an engagement will sometimes worry a whole
day. These are the penalties paid for writing books. Whoever is devoted
to an art must be content to deliver himself wholly up to it, and to
find his recompense in it. I am grieved if you suspect me of not wanting
to see you, but I can't help it; I must go my way whether or no.
I thought you would understand that in sending the card for the box I
sent an assurance that there was nothing amiss. I am pleased to find
that you were all so interested with the play. My ladies say that the
first part is too painful and wants relief. I have been going to see it
a dozen times, but have never seen it yet, and never may. Madame Céleste
is injured thereby (you see how unreasonable people are!) and says in
the green-room, "M. Dickens est artiste! Mais il n'a jamais vu 'Janet
Pride!'"
It is like a breath of fresh spring air to know that that unfortunate
baby of yours is out of her one close room, and has about half-a-pint of
very doubtful air per day. I could only have become her Godfather on the
condition that she had five hundred gallons of open air at any rate
every day of her life; and you would soon see a rose or two in the face
of my other little friend, Ella, if you opened all your doors and
windows throughout the whole of all fine weather, from morning to night.
I am going off; I don't know where or how far, to ponder about I don't
know what. Sometimes I am half in the mood to set off for France,
sometimes I think I will go and walk about on the seashore for three or
four months, sometimes I look towards the Pyrenees, sometimes
Switzerland. I made a compact with a great Spanish authority last week,
and vowed I would go to Spain. Two days afterwards Layard and I agreed
to go to Constantinople when Parliament rises. To-morrow I shall
probably discuss with somebody else the idea of going to Greenland or
the North Pole. The end of all this, most likely, will be, that I shall
shut myself up in some out-of-the-way place I have not yet thought of,
and go desperately to work there.
Once upon a time I didn't do such things you say. No. But I have done
them through a good many years now, and they have become myself and my
life.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Maria%20Winter/827Charles Dickens
1855-06-30[Sidenote: The same.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Wednesday, June 30th, 1855._
MY DEAR MRS. WINTER,
I am truly grieved to hear of your affliction in the loss of your
darling baby. But if you be not, even already, so reconciled to the
parting from that innocent child for a little while, as to bear it
gently and with a softened sorrow, I know that that not unhappy state of
mind must soon arise. The death of infants is a release from so much
chance and change--from so many casualties and distresses--and is a
thing so beautiful in its serenity and peace--that it should not be a
bitterness, even in a mother's heart. The simplest and most affecting
passage in all the noble history of our Great Master, is His
consideration for little children, and in reference to yours, as many
millions of bereaved mothers poor and rich will do in reference to
theirs until the end of time, you may take the comfort of the generous
words, "And He took a child, and set it in the midst of them."
In a book, by one of the greatest English writers, called "A Journey
from this World to the Next," a parent comes to the distant country
beyond the grave, and finds the little girl he had lost so long ago,
engaged in building a bower to receive him in, when his aged steps
should bring him there at last. He is filled with joy to see her, so
young--so bright--so full of promise--and is enraptured to think that
she never was old, wan, tearful, withered. This is always one of the
sources of consolation in the deaths of children. With no effort of the
fancy, with nothing to undo, you will always be able to think of the
pretty creature you have lost, _as a child_ in heaven.
A poor little baby of mine lies in Highgate cemetery--and I laid her
just as you think of laying yours, in the catacombs there, until I made
a resting-place for all of us in the free air.
It is better that I should not come to see you. I feel quite sure of
that, and will think of you instead.
God bless and comfort you! Mrs. Dickens and her sister send their
kindest condolences to yourself and Mr. Winter. I add mine with all my
heart.
Affectionately your friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Wilkie%20Collins/828Charles Dickens
1855-07-08[Sidenote: Mr. Wilkie Collins.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Sunday, 8th July, 1855._
MY DEAR COLLINS,
I don't know whether you may have heard from Webster, or whether the
impression I derived from Mark's manner on Friday may be altogether
correct. But it strongly occurred to me that Webster was going to
decline the play, and that he really has worried himself into a fear of
playing Aaron.
Now, when I got this into my head--which was during the rehearsal--I
considered two things:--firstly, how we could best put about the success
of the piece more widely and extensively even than it has yet reached;
and secondly, how you could be best assisted against a bad production
of it hereafter, or no production of it. I thought I saw immediately,
that the point would be to have this representation noticed in the
newspapers. So I waited until the rehearsal was over and we had
profoundly astonished the family, and then asked Colonel Waugh what he
thought of sending some cards for Tuesday to the papers. He highly
approved, and I yesterday morning directed Mitchell to send to all the
morning papers, and to some of the weekly ones--a dozen in the whole.
I dined at Lord John's yesterday (where Meyerbeer was, and said to me
after dinner: "Ah, mon ami illustre! que c'est noble de vous entendre
parler d'haute voix morale, à la table d'un ministre!" for I gave them a
little bit of truth about Sunday that was like bringing a Sebastopol
battery among the polite company), I say, after this long parenthesis, I
dined at Lord John's, and found great interest and talk about the play,
and about what everybody who had been here had said of it. And I was
confirmed in my decision that the thing for you was the invitation to
the papers. Hence I write to tell you what I have done.
I dine at home at half-past five if you are disengaged, and I shall be
at home all the evening.
Ever faithfully.
NOTE (by Mr. Wilkie Collins).--This
characteristically kind endeavour to induce
managers of theatres to produce "The
Lighthouse," after the amateur performances of
the play, was not attended with any immediate
success. The work remained in the author's desk
until Messrs. Robson and Emden undertook the
management of the Olympic Theatre. They opened
their first season with "The Lighthouse;" the
part of Aaron Gurnock being performed by Mr. F.
Robson.--W. C.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Emily%20Jolly/829Charles Dickens
1855-07-17[Sidenote: Miss Emily Jolly.]
3, ALBION VILLAS, FOLKESTONE, KENT,
_Tuesday, 17th July, 1855._
DEAR MADAM,[62]
Your manuscript, entitled a "Wife's Story," has come under my own
perusal within these last three or four days. I recognise in it such
great merit and unusual promise, and I think it displays so much power
and knowledge of the human heart, that I feel a strong interest in you
as its writer.
I have begged the gentleman, who is in my confidence as to the
transaction of the business of "Household Words," to return the MS. to
you by the post, which (as I hope) will convey this note to you. My
object is this: I particularly entreat you to consider the catastrophe.
You write to be read, of course. The close of the story is unnecessarily
painful--will throw off numbers of persons who would otherwise read it,
and who (as it stands) will be deterred by hearsay from so doing, and is
so tremendous a piece of severity, that it will defeat your purpose. All
my knowledge and experience, such as they are, lead me straight to the
recommendation that you will do well to spare the life of the husband,
and of one of the children. Let her suppose the former dead, from seeing
him brought in wounded and insensible--lose nothing of the progress of
her mental suffering afterwards when that doctor is in attendance upon
her--but bring her round at last to the blessed surprise that her
husband is still living, and that a repentance which can be worked out,
_in the way of atonement for the misery she has occasioned to the man
whom she so ill repaid for his love, and made so miserable_, lies before
her. So will you soften the reader whom you now as it were harden, and
so you will bring tears from many eyes, which can only have their spring
in affectionately and gently touched hearts. I am perfectly certain that
with this change, all the previous part of your tale will tell for
twenty times as much as it can in its present condition. And it is
because I believe you have a great fame before you if you do justice to
the remarkable ability you possess, that I venture to offer you this
advice in what I suppose to be the beginning of your career.
I observe some parts of the story which would be strengthened, even in
their psychological interest, by condensation here and there. If you
will leave that to me, I will perform the task as conscientiously and
carefully as if it were my own. But the suggestion I offer for your
acceptance, no one but yourself can act upon.
Let me conclude this hasty note with the plain assurance that I have
never been so much surprised and struck by any manuscript I have read,
as I have been by yours.
Your faithful Servant.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Emily%20Jolly/830Charles Dickens
1855-07-21[Sidenote: The same.]
3, ALBION VILLAS, FOLKESTONE, _July 21st, 1855._
DEAR MADAM,
I did not enter, in detail, on the spirit of the alteration I propose in
your story; because I thought it right that you should think out that
for yourself if you applied yourself to the change. I can now assure you
that you describe it exactly as I had conceived it; and if I had wanted
anything to confirm me in my conviction of its being right, our both
seeing it so precisely from the same point of view, would be ample
assurance to me.
I would leave her new and altered life to be inferred. It does not
appear to me either necessary or practicable (within such limits) to do
more than that. Do not be uneasy if you find the alteration demanding
time. I shall quite understand that, and my interest will keep. _When_
you finish the story, send it to Mr. Wills. Besides being in daily
communication with him, I am at the office once a week; and I will go
over it in print, before the proof is sent to you.
Very faithfully yours.
1855.[63]http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Captain%20Morgan/831Charles Dickens
[Sidenote: Captain Morgan.]
DEAR FRIEND,[64]
I am always delighted to hear from you. Your genial earnestness does me
good to think of. And every day of my life I feel more and more that to
be thoroughly in earnest is everything, and to be anything short of it
is nothing. You see what we have been doing to our valiant soldiers.[65]
You see what miserable humbugs we are. And because we have got involved
in meshes of aristocratic red tape to our unspeakable confusion, loss,
and sorrow, the gentlemen who have been so kind as to ruin us are going
to give us a day of humiliation and fasting the day after to-morrow. I
am sick and sour to think of such things at this age of the world. . . .
I am in the first stage of a new book, which consists in going round and
round the idea, as you see a bird in his cage go about and about his
sugar before he touches it.
Always most cordially yours.
FOOTNOTES:
[57] The Editors have great pleasure in publishing another note to Mr.
Thackeray, which has been found and sent to them by his daughter, Mrs.
Ritchie, since the publication of the first two volumes.
[58] Chairman of the "Administrative Reform League" Meeting at Drury
Lane Theatre.
[59] Mr. Higgins, best known as a writer in _The Times_, under the name
of "Jacob Omnium."
[60] The Members of the Administrative Reform League.
[61] Mrs. Winter, a very dear friend and companion of Charles Dickens in
his youth.
[62] Miss Emily Jolly, authoress of "Mr. Arle," and many other clever
novels.
[63] This, and another Letter to Captain Morgan which appears under date
of 1860, were published in _Scribner's Monthly_, October, 1877.
[64] Captain Morgan was a captain in the American Merchant Service. He
was an intimate friend of Mr. Leslie, R.A. (the great painter), by whom
he was made known to Charles Dickens.
[65] This Letter was written during the Crimean war.
1856.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/T%20Ross%20Mr%20J%20Kenny/832Charles Dickens
1856-05-19[Sidenote: Mr. T. Ross. Mr. J. Kenny.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Monday, 19th May, 1856._
GENTLEMEN,
I have received a letter signed by you (which I assume to be written
mainly on behalf of what are called Working-Men and their families)
inviting me to attend a meeting in our Parish Vestry Hall this evening
on the subject of the stoppage of the Sunday bands in the Parks.
I thoroughly agree with you that those bands have afforded an innocent
and healthful enjoyment on the Sunday afternoon, to which the people
have a right. But I think it essential that the working people should,
of themselves and by themselves, assert that right. They have been
informed, on the high authority of their first Minister (lately rather
in want of House of Commons votes I am told) that they are almost
indifferent to it. The correction of that mistake, if official
omniscience can be mistaken, lies with themselves. In case it should be
considered by the meeting, which I prefer for this reason not to attend,
expedient to unite with other Metropolitan parishes in forming a fund
for the payment of such expenses as may be incurred in peaceably and
numerously representing to the governing powers that the harmless
recreation they have taken away is very much wanted, I beg you to put
down my name as a subscriber of ten pounds.
And I am, your faithful Servant.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Washington%20Irving/833Charles Dickens
1856-07-05[Sidenote: Mr. Washington Irving.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _London, July 5th, 1856._
MY DEAR IRVING,
If you knew how often I write to you individually and personally in my
books, you would be no more surprised in seeing this note than you were
in seeing me do my duty by that flowery julep (in what I dreamily
apprehend to have been a former state of existence) at Baltimore.
Will you let me present to you a cousin of mine, Mr. B----, who is
associated with a merchant's house in New York? Of course he wants to
see you, and know you. How can _I_ wonder at that? How can anybody?
I had a long talk with Leslie at the last Academy dinner (having
previously been with him in Paris), and he told me that you were
flourishing. I suppose you know that he wears a moustache--so do I for
the matter of that, and a beard too--and that he looks like a portrait
of Don Quixote.
Holland House has four-and-twenty youthful pages in it now--twelve for
my lord, and twelve for my lady; and no clergyman coils his leg up under
his chair all dinner-time, and begins to uncurve it when the hostess
goes. No wheeled chair runs smoothly in with that beaming face in it;
and ----'s little cotton pocket-handkerchief helped to make (I believe)
this very sheet of paper. A half-sad, half-ludicrous story of Rogers is
all I will sully it with. You know, I daresay, that for a year or so
before his death he wandered, and lost himself like one of the Children
in the Wood, grown up there and grown down again. He had Mrs. Procter
and Mrs. Carlyle to breakfast with him one morning--only those two. Both
excessively talkative, very quick and clever, and bent on entertaining
him. When Mrs. Carlyle had flashed and shone before him for about
three-quarters of an hour on one subject, he turned his poor old eyes on
Mrs. Procter, and pointing to the brilliant discourser with his poor old
finger, said (indignantly), "Who is _she_?" Upon this, Mrs. Procter,
cutting in, delivered (it is her own story) a neat oration on the life
and writings of Carlyle, and enlightened him in her happiest and airiest
manner; all of which he heard, staring in the dreariest silence, and
then said (indignantly, as before), "And who are _you_?"
Ever, my dear Irving,
Most affectionately and truly yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Frank%20Stone%20ARA/834Charles Dickens
1856-07-09[Sidenote: Mr. Frank Stone, A.R.A]
VILLE DES MOULINEAUX, BOULOGNE,
_Wednesday, 9th July, 1856._
MY DEAR STONE,
I have got a capital part for you in the farce,[66] not a difficult one
to learn, as you never say anything but "Yes" and "No." You are called
in the _dramatis personæ_ an able-bodied British seaman, and you are
never seen by mortal eye to do anything (except inopportunely producing
a mop) but stand about the deck of the boat in everybody's way, with
your hair immensely touzled, one brace on, your hands in your pockets,
and the bottoms of your trousers tucked up. Yet you are inextricably
connected with the plot, and are the man whom everybody is inquiring
after. I think it is a very whimsical idea and extremely droll. It made
me laugh heartily when I jotted it all down yesterday.
Loves from all my house to all yours.
Ever affectionately.
FOOTNOTE:
[66] The farce alluded to, however, was never written. It had been
projected to be played at the Amateur Theatricals at Tavistock House.
1857.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Sir%20Edward%20Bulwer%20Lytton/835Charles Dickens
1857-01-28[Sidenote: Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Wednesday, 28th January, 1857._
MY DEAR BULWER,
I thought Wills had told you as to the Guild (for I begged him to) that
he can do absolutely nothing until our charter is seven years old. It is
the stringent and express prohibition of the Act of Parliament--for
which things you members, thank God, are responsible and not I. When I
observed this clause (which was just as we were going to grant a
pension, if we could agree on a good subject), I caused our Counsel's
opinion to be taken on it, and there is not a doubt about it. I
immediately recommended that there should be no expenses--that the
interest on the capital should be all invested as it accrued--that the
chambers should be given up and the clerk discharged--and that the Guild
should have the use of the "Household Words" office rent free, and the
services of Wills on the same terms. All of which was done.
A letter is now copying, to be sent round to all the members,
explaining, with the New Year, the whole state of the thing. You will
receive this. It appears to me that it looks wholesome enough. But if a
strong idiot comes and binds your hands, or mine, or both, for seven
years, what is to be done against him?
As to greater matters than this, however--as to all matters on this
teeming Earth--it appears to me that the House of Commons and Parliament
altogether, is just the dreariest failure and nuisance that has bothered
this much-bothered world.
Ever yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Emily%20Jolly/836Charles Dickens
1857-04-10[Sidenote: Miss Emily Jolly.]
GRAVESEND, KENT, _10th April, 1857._
DEAR MADAM,
As I am away from London for a few days, your letter has been forwarded
to me.
I can honestly encourage and assure you that I believe the depression
and want of confidence under which you describe yourself as labouring
to have no sufficient foundation.
First as to "Mr. Arle." I have constantly heard it spoken of with great
approval, and I think it a book of considerable merit. If I were to tell
you that I see no evidence of inexperience in it, that would not be
true. I think a little more stir and action to be desired also; but I am
surprised by your being despondent about it, for I assure you that I had
supposed it (always remembering that it is your first novel) to have met
with a very good reception.
I can bring to my memory--here, with no means of reference at hand--only
two papers of yours that have been unsuccessful at "Household Words." I
think the first was called "The Brook." It appeared to me to break down
upon a confusion that pervaded it, between a Coroner's Inquest and a
Trial. I have a general recollection of the mingling of the two, as to
facts and forms that should have been kept apart, in some inextricable
manner that was beyond my powers of disentanglement. The second was
about a wife's writing a Novel and keeping the secret from her husband
until it was done. I did not think the incident of sufficient force to
justify the length of the narrative. But there is nothing fatal in
either of these mischances.
Mr. Wills told me when I spoke to him of the latter paper that you had
it in contemplation to offer a longer story to "Household Words." If you
should do so, I assure you I shall be happy to read it myself, and that
I shall have a sincere desire to accept it, if possible.
I can give you no better counsel than to look into the life about you,
and to strive for what is noblest and true. As to further encouragement,
I do not, I can most strongly add, believe that you have any reason to
be downhearted.
Very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Miss%20Emily%20Jolly/837Charles Dickens
1857-05-30[Sidenote: The same.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Saturday Morning, 30th May, 1857._
DEAR MADAM,
I read your story, with all possible attention, last night. I cannot
tell you with what reluctance I write to you respecting it, for my
opinion of it is _not_ favourable, although I perceive your heart in it,
and great strength.
Pray understand that I claim no infallibility. I merely express my own
honest opinion, formed against my earnest desire. I do not lay it down
as law for others, though, of course, I believe that many others would
come to the same conclusion. It appears to me that the story is one that
cannot possibly be told within the compass to which you have limited
yourself. The three principal people are, every one of them, in the
wrong with the reader, and you cannot put any of them right, without
making the story extend over a longer space of time, and without
anatomising the souls of the actors more slowly and carefully. Nothing
would justify the departure of Alice, but her having some strong reason
to believe that in taking that step, _she saved her lover_. In your
intentions as to that lover's transfer of his affections to Eleanor, I
descry a striking truth; but I think it confusedly wrought out, and all
but certain to fail in expressing itself. Eleanor, I regard as forced
and overstrained. The natural result is, that she carries a train of
anti-climax after her. I particularly notice this at the point when she
thinks she is going to be drowned.
The whole idea of the story is sufficiently difficult to require the
most exact truth and the greatest knowledge and skill in the colouring
throughout. In this respect I have no doubt of its being extremely
defective. The people do not talk as such people would; and the little
subtle touches of description which, by making the country house and the
general scene real, would give an air of reality to the people (much to
be desired) are altogether wanting. The more you set yourself to the
illustration of your heroine's passionate nature, the more indispensable
this attendant atmosphere of truth becomes. It would, in a manner,
oblige the reader to believe in her. Whereas, for ever exploding like a
great firework without any background, she glares and wheels and hisses,
and goes out, and has lighted nothing.
Lastly, I fear she is too convulsive from beginning to end. Pray
reconsider, from this point of view, her brow, and her eyes, and her
drawing herself up to her full height, and her being a perfumed
presence, and her floating into rooms, also her asking people how they
dare, and the like, on small provocation. When she hears her music being
played, I think she is particularly objectionable.
I have a strong belief that if you keep this story by you three or four
years, you will form an opinion of it not greatly differing from mine.
There is so much good in it, so much reflection, so much passion and
earnestness, that, if my judgment be right, I feel sure you will come
over to it. On the other hand, I do not think that its publication, as
it stands, would do you service, or be agreeable to you hereafter.
I have no means of knowing whether you are patient in the pursuit of
this art; but I am inclined to think that you are not, and that you do
not discipline yourself enough. When one is impelled to write this or
that, one has still to consider: "How much of this will tell for what I
mean? How much of it is my own wild emotion and superfluous energy--how
much remains that is truly belonging to this ideal character and these
ideal circumstances?" It is in the laborious struggle to make this
distinction, and in the determination to try for it, that the road to
the correction of faults lies. [Perhaps I may remark, in support of the
sincerity with which I write this, that I am an impatient and impulsive
person myself, but that it has been for many years the constant effort
of my life to practise at my desk what I preach to you.]
I should not have written so much, or so plainly, but for your last
letter to me. It seems to demand that I should be strictly true with
you, and I am so in this letter, without any reservation either way.
Very faithfully yours.
1858.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Albert%20Smith/838Charles Dickens
1858-12-01[Sidenote: Mr. Albert Smith.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, TAVISTOCK SQUARE, LONDON, W.C.,
_Wednesday Night, 1st December, 1858._
MY DEAR ALBERT,
I cannot tell you how grieved I am for poor dear Arthur (even you can
hardly love him better than I do), or with what anxiety I shall wait for
further news of him.
Pray let me know how he is to-morrow. Tell them at home that Olliffe is
the kindest and gentlest of men--a man of rare experience and
opportunity--perfect master of his profession, and to be confidently and
implicitly relied upon. There is no man alive, in whose hands I would
more thankfully trust myself.
I will write a cheery word to the dear fellow in the morning.
Ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Arthur%20Smith/839Charles Dickens
1858-12-02[Sidenote: Mr. Arthur Smith.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, TAVISTOCK SQUARE, LONDON, W.C.,
_Thursday, 2nd December, 1858._
MY DEAR ARTHUR,
I cannot tell you how surprised and grieved I was last night to hear
from Albert of your severe illness. It is not my present intention to
give you the trouble of reading anything like a letter, but I MUST send
you my loving word; and tell you how we all think of you.
And here am I going off to-morrow to that meeting at Manchester without
_you!_ the wildest and most impossible of moves as it seems to me. And
to think of my coming back by Coventry, on Saturday, to receive the
chronometer--also without you!
If you don't get perfectly well soon, my dear old fellow, I shall come
over to Paris to look after you, and to tell Olliffe (give him my love,
and the same for Lady Olliffe) what a Blessing he is.
With kindest regards to Mrs. Arthur and her sister,
Ever heartily and affectionately yours.
1859.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20P%20Frith%20RA/840Charles Dickens
1859-01-12[Sidenote: Mr. W. P. Frith, R.A.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER,
_Wednesday, 12th January, 1859._
MY DEAR FRITH,
At eleven on Monday morning next, the gifted individual whom you will
transmit to posterity,[67] will be at Watkins'. Table also shall be
there, and chair. Velvet coat likewise if the tailor should have sent it
home. But the garment is more to be doubted than the man whose signature
here follows.
Faithfully yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Cowden%20Clark/841Charles Dickens
1859-08-21[Sidenote: Mrs. Cowden Clark.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_21st August, 1859._
MY DEAR MRS. COWDEN CLARKE,
I cannot tell you how much pleasure I have derived from the receipt of
your earnest letter. Do not suppose it possible that such praise can be
"less than nothing" to your old manager. It is more than all else.
Here in my little country house on the summit of the hill where Falstaff
did the robbery, your words have come to me in the most appropriate and
delightful manner. When the story can be read all at once, and my
meaning can be better seen, I will send it to you (sending it to Dean
Street, if you tell me of no better way), and it will be a hearty
gratification to think that you and your good husband are reading it
together. For you must both take notice, please, that I have a reminder
of you always before me. On my desk, here, stand two green leaves[68]
which I every morning station in their ever-green place at my elbow. The
leaves on the oak-trees outside the window are less constant than these,
for they are with me through the four seasons.
Lord! to think of the bygone day when you were stricken mute (was it not
at Glasgow?) and, being mounted on a tall ladder at a practicable
window, stared at Forster, and with a noble constancy refused to utter
word! Like the Monk among the pictures with Wilkie, I begin to think
_that_ the real world, and this the sham that goes out with the lights.
God bless you both.
Ever faithfully yours.
FOOTNOTES:
[67] The portrait by Mr. Frith is now in the Forster Collection, at the
South Kensington Museum.
[68] A porcelain paper-weight with two green leaves enamelled on it,
between which were placed the initials C. D. A present from Mrs. C.
Clarke.
1860.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Henry%20F%20Chorley/842Charles Dickens
1860-02-00[Sidenote: Mr. Henry F. Chorley.]
[69]TAVISTOCK HOUSE, TAVISTOCK SQUARE, W.C.,
_Friday Night, Feb. 3, 1860._
MY DEAR CHORLEY,
I can most honestly assure you that I think "Roccabella" a very
remarkable book indeed. Apart--quite apart--from my interest in you, I
am certain that if I had taken it up under any ordinarily favourable
circumstances as a book of which I knew nothing whatever, I should
not--could not--have relinquished it until I had read it through. I had
turned but a few pages, and come to the shadow on the bright sofa at the
foot of the bed, when I knew myself to be in the hands of an artist.
That rare and delightful recognition I never lost for a moment until I
closed the second volume at the end. I am "a good audience" when I have
reason to be, and my girls would testify to you, if there were need,
that I cried over it heartily. Your story seems to me remarkably
ingenious. I had not the least idea of the purport of the sealed paper
until you chose to enlighten me; and then I felt it to be quite natural,
quite easy, thoroughly in keeping with the character and presentation of
the Liverpool man. The position of the Bell family in the story has a
special air of nature and truth; is quite new to me, and is so
dexterously and delicately done that I find the deaf daughter no less
real and distinct than the clergyman's wife. The turn of the story round
that damnable Princess I pursued with a pleasure with which I could
pursue nothing but a true interest; and I declare to you that if I were
put upon finding anything better than the scene of Roccabella's death, I
should stare round my bookshelves very much at a loss for a long time.
Similarly, your characters have really surprised me. From the lawyer to
the Princess, I swear to them as true; and in your fathoming of Rosamond
altogether, there is a profound wise knowledge that I admire and respect
with a heartiness not easily overstated in words.
I am not quite with you as to the Italians. Your knowledge of the
Italian character seems to me surprisingly subtle and penetrating;
but I think we owe it to those most unhappy men and their political
wretchedness to ask ourselves mercifully, whether their faults
are not essentially the faults of a people long oppressed and
priest-ridden;--whether their tendency to slink and conspire is not a
tendency that spies in every dress, from the triple crown to a lousy
head, have engendered in their ancestors through generations? Again,
like you, I shudder at the distresses that come of these unavailing
risings; my blood runs hotter, as yours does, at the thought of the
leaders safe, and the instruments perishing by hundreds; yet what is to
be done? Their wrongs are so great that they _will_ rise from time to
time somehow. It would be to doubt the eternal providence of God to
doubt that they will rise successfully at last. Unavailing struggles
against a dominant tyranny precede all successful turning against it.
And is it not a little hard in us Englishman, whose forefathers have
risen so often and striven against so much, to look on, in our own
security, through microscopes, and detect the motes in the brains of men
driven mad? Think, if you and I were Italians, and had grown from
boyhood to our present time, menaced in every day through all these
years by that infernal confessional, dungeons, and soldiers, could we be
better than these men? Should we be so good? I should not, I am afraid,
if I know myself. Such things would make of me a moody, bloodthirsty,
implacable man, who would do anything for revenge; and if I compromised
the truth--put it at the worst, habitually--where should I ever have had
it before me? In the old Jesuits' college at Genoa, on the Chiaja at
Naples, in the churches of Rome, at the University of Padua, on the
Piazzo San Marco at Venice, where? And the government is in all these
places, and in all Italian places. I have seen something of these men. I
have known Mazzini and Gallenga; Manin was tutor to my daughters in
Paris; I have had long talks about scores of them with poor Ary
Scheffer, who was their best friend. I have gone back to Italy after ten
years, and found the best men I had known there exiled or in jail. I
believe they have the faults you ascribe to them (nationally, not
individually), but I could not find it in my heart, remembering their
miseries, to exhibit those faults without referring them back to their
causes. You will forgive my writing this, because I write it exactly as
I write my cordial little tribute to the high merits of your book. If
it were not a living reality to me, I should care nothing about this
point of disagreement; but you are far too earnest a man, and far too
able a man, to be left unremonstrated with by an admiring reader. You
cannot write so well without influencing many people. If you could tell
me that your book had but twenty readers, I would reply, that so good a
book will influence more people's opinions, through those twenty, than a
worthless book would through twenty thousand; and I express this with
the perfect confidence of one in whose mind the book has taken, for good
and all, a separate and distinct place.
Accept my thanks for the pleasure you have given me. The poor
acknowledgment of testifying to that pleasure wherever I go will be my
pleasure in return. And so, my dear Chorley, good night, and God bless
you.
Ever faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Sir%20John%20Bowring/843Charles Dickens
1860-10-31[Sidenote: Sir John Bowring.]
GAD'S HILL, _Wednesday, 31st October, 1860._
MY DEAR SIR JOHN,[70]
First let me congratulate you on your marriage and wish you all
happiness and prosperity.
Secondly, I must tell you that I was greatly vexed with the Chatham
people for not giving me early notice of your lecture. In that case I
should (of course) have presided, as President of the Institution, and I
should have asked you to honour my Falstaff house here. But when they
made your kind intention known to me, I had made some important business
engagements at the "All the Year Round" office for that evening, which I
could not possibly forego. I charged them to tell you so, and was going
to write to you when I found your kind letter.
Thanks for your paper, which I have sent to the Printer's with much
pleasure.
We heard of your accident here, and of your "making nothing of it." I
said that you didn't make much of disasters, and that you took poison
(from natives) as quite a matter of course in the way of business.
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/A%20H%20Layard/844Charles Dickens
1860-12-04[Sidenote: Mr. A. H. Layard.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Tuesday, 4th December, 1860._
MY DEAR LAYARD,
I know you will readily believe that I would come if I could, and that I
am heartily sorry I cannot.
A new story of my writing, nine months long, is just begun in "All the
Year Round." A certain allotment of my time when I have that
story-demand upon me, has, all through my author life, been an essential
condition of my health and success. I have just returned here to work
so many hours every day for so many days. It is really impossible for me
to break my bond.
There is not a man in England who is more earnestly your friend and
admirer than I am. The conviction that you know it, helps me out through
this note. You are a man of so much mark to me, that I even regret your
going into the House of Commons--for which assembly I have but a scant
respect. But I would not mention it to the Southwark electors if I could
come to-morrow; though I should venture to tell them (and even that your
friends would consider very impolitic) that I think them very much
honoured by having such a candidate for their suffrages.
My daughter and sister-in-law want to know what you have done with your
"pledge" to come down here again. If they had votes for Southwark they
would threaten to oppose you--but would never do it. I was solemnly
sworn at breakfast to let you know that we should be delighted to see
you. Bear witness that I kept my oath.
Ever, my dear Layard,
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Captain%20Morgan/845Charles Dickens
[Sidenote: Captain Morgan.]
DEAR FRIEND,
I am heartily obliged to you for your seasonable and welcome
remembrance. It came to the office (while I was there) in the
pleasantest manner, brought by two seafaring men as if they had swum
across with it. I have already told ---- what I am very well assured of
concerning you, but you are such a noble fellow that I must not pursue
that subject. But you will at least take my cordial and affectionate
thanks. . . . We have a touch of most beautiful weather here now, and
this country is most beautiful too. I wish I could carry you off to a
favourite spot of mine between this and Maidstone, where I often smoke
your cigars and think of you. We often take our lunch on a hillside
there in the summer, and then I lie down on the grass--a splendid
example of laziness--and say, "Now for my Morgan!"
My daughter and her aunt declare that they know the true scent of the
true article (which I don't in the least believe), and sometimes they
exclaim, "That's not a Morgan," and the worst of it is they were once
right by accident. . . . I hope you will have seen the Christmas number
of "All the Year Round."[71] Here and there, in the description of the
sea-going hero, I have given a touch or two of remembrance of Somebody
you know; very heartily desiring that thousands of people may have some
faint reflection of the pleasure I have for many years derived from the
contemplation of a most amiable nature and most remarkable man.
With kindest regards, believe me, dear Morgan,
Ever affectionately yours.
FOOTNOTES:
[69] This and all other Letters addressed to Mr. H. F. Chorley, were
printed in "Autobiography, Memoir, and Letters of Henry Fothergill
Chorley," compiled by Mr. H. G. Hewlett.
[70] Sir John Bowring, formerly Her Majesty's Plenipotentiary in China,
and Governor of Hong Kong.
[71] "A Message from the Sea."
1861.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Malleson/846Charles Dickens
1861-01-14[Sidenote: Mrs. Malleson.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Monday, 14th January, 1861._
MY DEAR MRS. MALLESON,
I am truly sorry that I cannot have the pleasure of dining with you on
Thursday. Although I consider myself quite well, and although my doctor
almost admits the fact when I indignantly tax him with it, I am not
discharged. His treatment renders him very fearful that I should take
cold in going to and fro; and he makes excuses, therefore (as I darkly
suspect), for keeping me here until said treatment is done with. This
morning he tells me he must see me "once more, on Wednesday." As he has
said the like for a whole week, my confidence is not blooming enough at
this present writing to justify me in leaving a possibility of Banquo's
place at your table. Hence this note. It is screwed out of me.
With kind regards to Mr. Malleson, believe me,
Ever faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Sir%20Edward%20Bulwer%20Lytton/847Charles Dickens
1861-01-23[Sidenote: Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Wednesday, 23rd January, 1861._
MY DEAR BULWER LYTTON,
I am delighted to receive your letter, and to look forward with
confidence to having such a successor in August. I can honestly assure
you that I never have been so pleased at heart in all my literary life,
as I am in the proud thought of standing side by side with you before
this great audience.
In regard of the story,[72] I have perfect faith in such a master-hand as
yours; and I know that what such an artist feels to be terrible and
original, is unquestionably so. You whet my interest by what you write
of it to the utmost extent.
Believe me ever affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Sir%20Edward%20Bulwer%20Lytton/848Charles Dickens
1861-04-28[Sidenote: The same.]
3, HANOVER TERRACE, REGENT'S PARK,
_Sunday, 28th April, 1861._
MY DEAR BULWER LYTTON,
My story will finish in the first week in August. Yours ought to begin
in the last week of July, or the last week but one. Wilkie Collins will
be at work to follow you. The publication has made a very great success
with "Great Expectations," and could not present a finer time for you.
The question of length may be easily adjusted.
Of the misgiving you entertain I cannot of course judge until you give
me leave to rush to the perusal. I swear that I never thought I had half
so much self-denial as I have shown in this case! I think I shall come
out at Exeter Hall as a choice vessel on the strength of it. In the
meanwhile I have quickened the printer and told him to get on fast.
You cannot think how happy you make me by what you write of "Great
Expectations." There is nothing like the pride of making such an effect
on such a writer as you.
Ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Sir%20Edward%20Bulwer%20Lytton/849Charles Dickens
1861-05-08[Sidenote: The same.]
3, HANOVER TERRACE, REGENT'S PARK,
_Wednesday, 8th May, 1861._
MY DEAR BULWER LYTTON,
I am anxious to let you know that Mr. Frederic Lehmann, who is coming
down to Knebworth to see you (with his sister Mrs. Benzon) is a
particular friend of mine, for whom I have a very high and warm regard.
Although he will sufficiently enlist your sympathy on his own behalf, I
am sure that you will not be the less interested in him because I am.
Ever faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Sir%20Edward%20Bulwer%20Lytton/850Charles Dickens
1861-05-12[Sidenote: The same.]
3, HANOVER TERRACE, _Sunday, 12th May, 1861._
MY DEAR BULWER LYTTON,
I received your revised proofs only yesterday, and I sat down to read
them last night. And before I say anything further I may tell you that I
COULD NOT lay them aside, but was obliged to go on with them in my
bedroom until I got into a very ghostly state indeed. This morning I
have taken them again and have gone through them with the utmost
attention.
Of the beauty and power of the writing I say not a word, or of its
originality and boldness, or of its quite extraordinary constructive
skill. I confine myself solely to your misgiving, and to the question
whether there is any sufficient foundation for it.
On the last head I say, without the faintest hesitation, most decidedly
there is NOT sufficient foundation for it. I do not share it in the
least. I believe that the readers who have here given their minds (or
perhaps had any to give) to those strange psychological mysteries in
ourselves, of which we are all more or less conscious, will accept your
wonders as curious weapons in the armoury of fiction, and will submit
themselves to the Art with which said weapons are used. Even to that
class of intelligence the marvellous addresses itself from a very strong
position; and that class of intelligence is not accustomed to find the
marvellous in such very powerful hands as yours. On more imaginative
readers the tale will fall (or I am greatly mistaken) like a spell. By
readers who combine some imagination, some scepticism, and some
knowledge and learning, I hope it will be regarded as full of strange
fancy and curious study, startling reflections of their own thoughts and
speculations at odd times, and wonder which a master has a right to
evoke. In the last point lies, to my thinking, the whole case. If you
were the Magician's servant instead of the Magician, these potent
spirits would get the better of you; but you _are_ the Magician, and
they don't, and you make them serve your purpose.
Occasionally in the dialogue I see an expression here and there which
might--always solely with a reference to your misgiving--be better away;
and I think that the vision, to use the word for want of a better--in
the museum, should be made a little less abstruse. I should not say
that, if the sale of the journal was below the sale of _The Times_
newspaper; but as it is probably several thousands higher, I do. I would
also suggest that after the title we put the two words--A ROMANCE. It is
an absurdly easy device for getting over your misgiving with the
blockheads, but I think it would be an effective one. I don't, on
looking at it, like the title. Here are a few that have occurred to me.
"The Steel Casket."
"The Lost Manuscript."
"Derval Court."
"Perpetual Youth."
"Maggie."
"Dr. Fenwick."
"Life and Death."
The four last I think the best. There is an objection to "Dr. Fenwick"
because there has been "Dr. Antonio," and there is a book of Dumas'
which repeats the objection. I don't think "Fenwick" startling enough.
It appears to me that a more startling title would take the (John) Bull
by the horns, and would be a serviceable concession to your misgiving,
as suggesting a story off the stones of the gas-lighted Brentford Road.
The title is the first thing to be settled, and cannot be settled too
soon.
For the purposes of the weekly publication the divisions of the story
will often have to be greatly changed, though afterwards, in the
complete book, you can, of course, divide it into chapters, free from
that reference. For example: I would end the first chapter on the third
slip at "and through the ghostly streets, under the ghostly moon, went
back to my solitary room." The rest of what is now your first chapter
might be made Chapter II., and would end the first weekly part.
I think I have become, by dint of necessity and practice, rather cunning
in this regard; and perhaps you would not mind my looking closely to
such points from week to week. It so happens that if you had written the
opening of this story expressly for the occasion its striking incidents
could not possibly have followed one another better. One other merely
mechanical change I suggest now. I would not have an initial letter for
the town, but would state in the beginning that I gave the town a
fictitious name. I suppose a blank or a dash rather fends a good many
people off--because it always has that effect upon me.
Be sure that I am perfectly frank and open in all I have said in this
note, and that I have not a grain of reservation in my mind. I think the
story a very fine one, one that no other man could write, and that there
is no strength in your misgiving for the two reasons: firstly, that the
work is professedly a work of Fancy and Fiction, in which the reader is
not required against his will to take everything for Fact; secondly,
that it is written by the man who can write it. The Magician's servant
does not know what to do with the ghost, and has, consequently, no
business with him. The Magician does know what to do with him, and has
all the business with him that he can transact.
I am quite at ease on the points that you have expressed yourself as not
at ease upon. Quite. I cannot too often say that if they were carried on
weak shoulders they would break the bearer down. But in your mastering
of them lies the mastery over the reader.
This will reach you at Knebworth, I hope, to-morrow afternoon. Pray give
your doubts to the winds of that high spot, and believe that if I had
them I would swarm up the flag-staff quite as nimbly as Margrave and
nail the Fenwick colours to the top.
Ever affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Sir%20Edward%20Bulwer%20Lytton/851Charles Dickens
1861-05-00[Sidenote: The same.]
3, HANOVER TERRACE, REGENT'S PARK,
_Monday, Twentieth May, 1861._
MY DEAR BULWER LYTTON,
I did not read from Australia till the end, because I was obliged to be
hard at work that day, and thought it best that the MS. should come back
to you rather than that I should detain it. Of course, I _can_ read it,
whenever it suits you. As to Isabel's dying and Fenwick's growing old, I
would say that, beyond question, whatever the meaning of the story tends
to, is the proper end.
All the alterations you mention in your last, are excellent.
As to title, "Margrave, a Tale of Mystery," would be sufficiently
striking. I prefer "Wonder" to "Mystery," because I think it suggests
something higher and more apart from ordinary complications of plot, or
the like, which "Mystery" might seem to mean. Will you kindly remark
that the title PRESSES, and that it will be a great relief to have it as
soon as possible. The last two months of my story are our best time for
announcement and preparation. Of course, it is most desirable that your
story should have the full benefit of them.
Ever faithfully.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Lady%20Olliffe/852Charles Dickens
1861-05-00[Sidenote: Lady Olliffe.]
LORD WARDEN HOTEL, DOVER,
_Sunday, Twenty-sixth May, 1861._
MY DEAR LADY OLLIFFE,
I have run away to this sea-beach to get rid of my neuralgic face.
Touching the kind invitations received from you this morning, I feel
that the only course I can take--without being a Humbug--is to decline
them. After the middle of June I shall be mostly at Gad's Hill--I know
that I cannot do better than keep out of the way of hot rooms and late
dinners, and what would you think of me, or call me, if I were to accept
and not come!
No, no, no. Be still my soul. Be virtuous, eminent author. Do _not_
accept, my Dickens. She is to come to Gad's Hill with her spouse. Await
her _there_, my child. (Thus the voice of wisdom.)
My dear Lady Olliffe,
Ever affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Milner%20Gibson/853Charles Dickens
1861-07-00[Sidenote: Mrs. Milner Gibson.]
GAD'S HILL, _Monday, Eighth July, 1861._
MY DEAR MRS. GIBSON,
I want very affectionately and earnestly to congratulate you on your
eldest daughter's approaching marriage. Up to the moment when Mary told
me of it, I had foolishly thought of her always as the pretty little
girl with the frank loving face whom I saw last on the sands at
Broadstairs. I rubbed my eyes and woke at the words "going to be
married," and found I had been walking in my sleep some years.
I want to thank you also for thinking of me on the occasion, but I feel
that I am better away from it. I should really have a misgiving that I
was a sort of shadow on a young marriage, and you will understand me
when I say so, and no more.
But I shall be with you in the best part of myself, in the warmth of
sympathy and friendship--and I send my love to the dear girl, and
devoutly hope and believe that she will be happy. The face that I
remember with perfect accuracy, and could draw here, if I could draw at
all, was made to be happy and to make a husband so.
I wonder whether you ever travel by railroad in these times! I wish Mary
could tempt you to come by any road to this little place.
With kind regard to Milner Gibson, believe me ever,
Affectionately and faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Sir%20Edward%20Bulwer%20Lytton/854Charles Dickens
1861-09-00[Sidenote: Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Tuesday, Seventeenth September, 1861._
MY DEAR BULWER LYTTON,
I am delighted with your letter of yesterday--delighted with the
addition to the length of the story--delighted with your account of it,
and your interest in it--and even more than delighted by what you say of
our working in company.
Not one dissentient voice has reached me respecting it. Through the
dullest time of the year we held our circulation most gallantly. And it
could not have taken a better hold. I saw Forster on Friday (newly
returned from thousands of provincial lunatics), and he really was more
impressed than I can tell you by what he had seen of it. Just what you
say you think it will turn out to be, _he_ was saying, almost in the
same words.
I am burning to get at the whole story;--and you inflame me in the
maddest manner by your references to what I don't know. The exquisite
art with which you have changed it, and have overcome the difficulties
of the mode of publication, has fairly staggered me. I know pretty well
what the difficulties are; and there is no other man who could have done
it, I ween.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/H%20G%20Adams/855Charles Dickens
1861-10-00[Sidenote: Mr. H. G. Adams.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Sunday, Sixth October, 1861._
MY DEAR MR. ADAMS,
My readings are a sad subject to me just now, for I am going away on the
28th to read fifty times, and I have lost Mr. Arthur Smith--a friend
whom I can never replace--who always went with me, and transacted, as no
other man ever can, all the business connected with them, and without
whom, I fear, they will be dreary and weary to me. But this is not to
the purpose of your letter.
I desire to be useful to the Institution of the place with which my
childhood is inseparably associated, and I will serve it this next
Christmas if I can. Will you tell me when I could do you most good by
reading for you?
Faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/B%20W%20Procter/856Charles Dickens
1861-11-00[Sidenote: Mr. B. W. Procter.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Tuesday, Twelfth November, 1861._
MY DEAR PROCTER,
I grieve to reply to your note, that I am obliged to read at Newcastle
on the 21st. Poor Arthur Smith had pledged me to do so before I knew
that my annual engagement with you was being encroached on. I am
heartily sorry for this, and shall miss my usual place at your table,
quite as much (to say the least) as my place can possibly miss me. You
may be sure that I shall drink to my dear old friend in a bumper that
day, with love and best wishes. Don't leave me out next year for having
been carried away north this time.
Ever yours affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Sir%20Edward%20Bulwer%20Lytton/857Charles Dickens
1861-11-00[Sidenote: Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton.]
QUEEN'S HEAD HOTEL, NEWCASTLE-ON-TYNE,
_Wednesday Night, Twentieth November, 1861._
MY DEAR BULWER LYTTON,
I have read here, this evening, very attentively, Nos. 19 and 20. I have
not the least doubt of the introduced matter; whether considered for its
policy, its beauty, or its wise bearing on the story, it is decidedly a
great improvement. It is at once very suggestive and very new to have
these various points of view presented to the reader's mind.
That the audience is good enough for anything that is well presented to
it, I am quite sure.
When you can avoid _notes_, however, and get their substance into the
text, it is highly desirable in the case of so large an audience, simply
because, as so large an audience necessarily reads the story in small
portions, it is of the greater importance that they should retain as
much of its argument as possible. Whereas the difficulty of getting
numbers of people to read notes (which they invariably regard as
interruptions of the text, not as strengtheners or elucidators of it) is
wonderful.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Sir%20Edward%20Bulwer%20Lytton/858Charles Dickens
[Sidenote: The same.]
"ALL THE YEAR ROUND" OFFICE,
_Eighteenth December_, 1861.
MY DEAR BULWER LYTTON,
I have not had a moment in which to write to you. Even now I write with
the greatest press upon me, meaning to write in detail in a day or two.
But I have _read_, at all events, though not written. And I say, Most
masterly and most admirable! It is impossible to lay the sheets down
without finishing them. I showed them to Georgina and Mary, and they
read and read and never stirred until they had read all. There cannot be
a doubt of the beauty, power, and artistic excellence of the whole.
I counsel you most strongly NOT to append the proposed dialogue between
Fenwick and Faber, and NOT to enter upon any explanation beyond the
title-page and the motto, unless it be in some very brief preface.
Decidedly I would not help the reader, if it were only for the reason
that that anticipates his being in need of help, and his feeling
objections and difficulties that require solution. Let the book explain
itself. It speaks _for_ itself with a noble eloquence.
Ever affectionately.
FOOTNOTE:
[72] "A Strange Story."
1862.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Sir%20Edward%20Bulwer%20Lytton/859Charles Dickens
1862-01-00[Sidenote: The same.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Friday, Twenty-fourth January, 1862._
MY DEAR BULWER LYTTON,
I have considered your questions, and here follow my replies.
1. I think you undoubtedly _have_ the right to forbid the turning of
your play into an opera.
2. I do _not_ think the production of such an opera in the slightest
degree likely to injure the play or to render it a less valuable
property than it is now. If it could have any effect on so standard and
popular a work as "The Lady of Lyons," the effect would, in my judgment,
be beneficial. But I believe the play to be high above any such
influence.
3. Assuming you do consent to the adaptation, in a desire to oblige
Oxenford, I would not recommend your asking any pecuniary compensation.
This for two reasons: firstly, because the compensation could only be
small at the best; secondly, because your taking it would associate you
(unreasonably, but not the less assuredly) with the opera.
The only objection I descry is purely one of feeling. Pauline trotting
about in front of the float, invoking the orchestra with a limp
pocket-handkerchief, is a notion that makes goose-flesh of my back. Also
a yelping tenor going away to the wars in a scene a half-an-hour long is
painful to contemplate. Damas, too, as a bass, with a grizzled bald
head, blatently bellowing about
Years long ago,
When the sound of the drum
First made his blood glow
With a rum ti tum tum--
rather sticks in my throat; but there really seems to me to be no other
objection, if you can get over this.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Baylis/860Charles Dickens
1862-02-00[Sidenote: Mr. Baylis.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Saturday, First February, 1862._
MY DEAR MR. BAYLIS,
I have just come home. Finding your note, I write to you at once, or you
might do me the wrong of supposing me unmindful of it and you.
I agree with you about Smith himself, and I don't think it necessary to
pursue the painful subject. Such things are at an end, I think, for the
time being;--fell to the ground with the poor man at Cremorne. If they
should be resumed, then they must be attacked; but I hope the fashion
(far too much encouraged in its Blondin-beginning by those who should
know much better) is over.
It always appears to me that the common people have an excuse in their
patronage of such exhibitions which people above them in condition have
not. Their lives are full of physical difficulties, and they like to see
such difficulties overcome. They go to see them overcome. If I am in
danger of falling off a scaffold or a ladder any day, the man who claims
that he can't fall from anything is a very wonderful and agreeable
person to me.
Faithfully yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Henry%20F%20Chorley/861Charles Dickens
1862-03-01[Sidenote: Mr. Henry F. Chorley.]
16, HYDE PARK GATE, SOUTH KENSINGTON GORE, W.,
_Saturday, 1st March, 1862._
MY DEAR CHORLEY,
I was at your lecture[73] this afternoon, and I hope I may venture to
tell you that I was extremely pleased and interested. Both the matter of
the materials and the manner of their arrangement were quite admirable,
and a modesty and complete absence of any kind of affectation pervaded
the whole discourse, which was quite an example to the many whom it
concerns. If you could be a very little louder, and would never let a
sentence go for the thousandth part of an instant until the last word
is out, you would find the audience more responsive.
A spoken sentence will never run alone in all its life, and is never to
be trusted to itself in its most insignificant member. See it _well
out_--with the voice--and the part of the audience is made surprisingly
easier. In that excellent description of the Spanish mendicant and his
guitar, as well as the very happy touches about the dance and the
castanets, the people were really desirous to express very hearty
appreciation; but by giving them rather too much to do in watching and
listening for latter words, you stopped them. I take the liberty of
making the remark, as one who has fought with beasts (oratorically) in
divers arenas. For the rest nothing could be better. Knowledge,
ingenuity, neatness, condensation, good sense, and good taste in
delightful combination.
Affectionately always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Austin/862Charles Dickens
1862-11-00[Sidenote: Mrs. Austin.]
PARIS, RUE DU FAUBOURG ST. HONORÉ, 27,
_Friday, Seventh November, 1862._
MY DEAR LETITIA,
I should have written to you from here sooner, but for having been
constantly occupied.
Your improved account of yourself is very cheering and hopeful. Through
determined occupation and action, lies the way. Be sure of it.
I came over to France before Georgina and Mary, and went to Boulogne to
meet them coming in by the steamer on the great Sunday--the day of the
storm. I stood (holding on with both hands) on the pier at Boulogne,
five hours. The Sub-Marine Telegraph had telegraphed their boat as
having come out of Folkestone--though the companion boat from Boulogne
didn't try it--and at nine o'clock at night, she being due at six, there
were no signs of her. My principal dread was, that she would try to get
into Boulogne; which she could not possibly have done without carrying
away everything on deck. The tide at nine o'clock being too low for any
such desperate attempt, I thought it likely that they had run for the
Downs and would knock about there all night. So I went to the Inn to dry
my pea-jacket and get some dinner anxiously enough, when, at about ten,
came a telegram from them at Calais to say they had run in there. To
Calais I went, post, next morning, expecting to find them half-dead (of
course, they had arrived half-drowned), but I found them elaborately got
up to come on to Paris by the next Train, and the most wonderful thing
of all was, that they hardly seem to have been frightened! Of course,
they had discovered at the end of the voyage, that a young bride and her
husband, the only other passengers on deck, and with whom they had been
talking all the time, were an officer from Chatham whom they knew very
well (when dry), just married and going to India! So they all set up
house-keeping together at Dessin's at Calais (where I am well known),
and looked as if they had been passing a mild summer there.
We have a pretty apartment here, but house-rent is awful to mention.
Mrs. Bouncer (muzzled by the Parisian police) is also here, and is a
wonderful spectacle to behold in the streets, restrained like a raging
Lion.
I learn from an embassy here, that the Emperor has just made an earnest
proposal to our Government to unite with France (and Russia, if Russia
will) in an appeal to America to stop the brutal war. Our Government's
answer is not yet received, but I think I clearly perceive that the
proposal will be declined, on the ground "that the time has not yet
come."
Ever affectionately.
FOOTNOTE:
[73] The first of the series on "National Music."
1863.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Henry%20F%20Chorley/863Charles Dickens
1863-12-18[Sidenote: Mr. Henry F. Chorley.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Friday, December 18th, 1863._
MY DEAR CHORLEY,
This is a "Social Science" note, touching prospective engagements.
If you are obliged, as you were last year, to go away between Christmas
Day and New Year's Day, then we rely upon your coming back to see the
old year out. Furthermore, I rely upon you for this: Lady Molesworth
says she will come down for a day or two, and I have told her that I
shall ask you to be her escort, and to arrange a time. Will you take
counsel with her, and arrange accordingly? After our family visitors are
gone, Mary is going a-hunting in Hampshire; but if you and Lady
Molesworth could make out from Saturday, the 9th of January, as your day
of coming together, or for any day between that and Saturday, the 16th,
it would be beforehand with her going and would suit me excellently.
There is a new officer at the dockyard, _vice_ Captain ---- (now an
admiral), and I will take that opportunity of paying him and his wife
the attention of asking them to dine in these gorgeous halls. For all of
which reasons, if the Social Science Congress of two could meet and
arrive at a conclusion, the conclusion would be thankfully booked by the
illustrious writer of these lines.
On Christmas Eve there is a train from your own Victoria Station at 4.35
p.m., which will bring you to Strood (Rochester Bridge Station) in an
hour, and there a majestic form will be descried in a Basket.
Yours affectionately.
1864.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/864Charles Dickens
1864-10-16[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
LORD WARDEN HOTEL, DOVER,
_Sunday, 16th October, 1864._
MY DEAR WILLS,
I was unspeakably relieved, and most agreeably surprised to get your
letter this morning. I had pictured you as lying there waiting full
another week. Whereas, please God, you will now come up with a wet sheet
and a flowing sail--as we say in these parts.
My expectations of "Mrs. Lirriper's" sale are not so mighty as yours,
but I am heartily glad and grateful to be honestly able to believe that
she is nothing but a good 'un. It is the condensation of a quantity of
subjects and the very greatest pains.
George Russell knew nothing whatever of the slightest doubt of your
being elected at the Garrick. Rely on my probing the matter to the
bottom and ascertaining everything about it, and giving you the fullest
information in ample time to decide what shall be done. Don't bother
yourself about it. I have spoken. On my eyes be it.
As next week will not be my working-time at "Our Mutual Friend," I shall
devote the day of Friday (_not_ the evening) to making up news.
Therefore I write to say that if you would rather stay where you are
than come to London, _don't come_. I shall throw my hat into the ring at
eleven, and shall receive all the punishment that can be administered by
two Nos. on end like a British Glutton.
Ever.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20H%20Wills/865Charles Dickens
1864-11-30[Sidenote: The same.]
GAD'S HILL, _Wednesday, 30th November, 1864._
MY DEAR WILLS,
I found the beautiful and perfect Brougham[74] awaiting me in triumph at
the Station when I came down yesterday afternoon. Georgina and Marsh
were both highly mortified that it had fallen dark, and the beauties of
the carriage were obscured. But of course I had it out in the yard the
first thing this morning, and got in and out at both the doors, and let
down and pulled up the windows, and checked an imaginary coachman, and
leaned back in a state of placid contemplation.
It is the lightest and prettiest and best carriage of the class ever
made. But you know that I value it for higher reasons than these. It
will always be dear to me--far dearer than anything on wheels could ever
be for its own sake--as a proof of your ever generous friendship and
appreciation, and a memorial of a happy intercourse and a perfect
confidence that have never had a break, and that surely never can have
any break now (after all these years) but one.
Ever your faithful.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Mary%20Boyle/866Charles Dickens
1864-12-31[Sidenote: Miss Mary Boyle.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Saturday, 31st December, 1864._
MY DEAR MARY,
Many happy years to you and those who are near and dear to you. These
and a thousand unexpressed good wishes of his heart from the humble Jo.
And also an earnest word of commendation of the little Christmas
book.[75] Very gracefully and charmingly done. The right feeling, the
right touch; a very neat hand, and a very true heart.
Ever your affectionate.
FOOTNOTES:
[74] A present from Mr. Wills.
[75] The book was called "Woodland Gossip."
1865.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Sir%20Edward%20Bulwer%20Lytton/867Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Thursday, 20th July, 1865._
MY DEAR BULWER LYTTON,
I am truly sorry to reply to your kind and welcome note that we cannot
come to Knebworth on a visit at this time: firstly, because I am tied by
the leg to my book. Secondly, because my married daughter and her
husband are with us. Thirdly, because my two boys are at home for their
holidays.
But if you would come out of that murky electioneering atmosphere and
come to us, you don't know how delighted we should be. You should have
your own way as completely as though you were at home. You should have a
cheery room, and you should have a Swiss châlet all to yourself to write
in. _Smoking regarded as a personal favour to the family._ Georgina is
so insupportably vain on account of being a favourite of yours, that you
might find _her_ a drawback; but nothing else would turn out in that
way, I hope.
_Won't_ you manage it? _Do_ think of it. If, for instance, you would
come back with us on that Guild Saturday. I have turned the house upside
down and inside out since you were here, and have carved new rooms out
of places then non-existent. Pray do think of it, and do manage it. I
should be heartily pleased.
I hope you will find the purpose and the plot of my book very plain when
you see it as a whole piece. I am looking forward to sending you the
proofs complete about the end of next month. It is all sketched out and
I am working hard on it, giving it all the pains possible to be bestowed
on a labour of love. Your critical opinion two months in advance of the
public will be invaluable to me. For you know what store I set by it,
and how I think over a hint from you.
I notice the latest piece of poisoning ingenuity in Pritchard's case.
When he had made his medical student boarders sick, by poisoning the
family food, he then quietly walked out, took an emetic, and made
himself sick. This with a view to ask them, in examination on a
possible trial, whether he did not present symptoms at the time like the
rest?--A question naturally asked for him and answered in the
affirmative. From which I get at the fact.
If your constituency don't bring you in they deserve to lose you, and
may the Gods continue to confound them! I shudder at the thought of such
public life as political life. Would there not seem to be something
horribly rotten in the system of it, when one stands amazed how any
man--not forced into it by position, as you are--can bear to live it?
But the private life here is my point, and again I urge upon you. Do
think of it, and Do come.
I want to tell you how I have been impressed by the "Boatman." It haunts
me as only a beautiful and profound thing can. The lines are always
running in my head, as the river runs with me.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Henry%20F%20Chorley/868Charles Dickens
1865-10-28[Sidenote: Mr. Henry F. Chorley.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
NO. 26, WELLINGTON STREET, STRAND, W.C.,
_Saturday, 28th of October, 1865._
MY DEAR CHORLEY,
I find your letter here only to-day. I shall be delighted to dine with
you on Tuesday, the 7th, but I cannot answer for Mary, as she is staying
with the Lehmanns. To the best of my belief, she is coming to Gad's
this evening to dine with a neighbour. In that case, she will
immediately answer for herself. I have seen the _Athenæum_, and most
heartily and earnestly thank you. Trust me, there is nothing I could
have wished away, and all that I read there affects and delights me. I
feel so generous an appreciation and sympathy so very strongly, that if
I were to try to write more, I should blur the words by seeing them
dimly.
Ever affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Adelaide%20Anne%20Procter/869Charles Dickens
1865-10-29[Sidenote: Mrs. Procter.]
GAD'S HILL, _Sunday, 29th October, 1865._
MY DEAR MRS. PROCTER,
The beautiful table-cover was a most cheering surprise to me when I came
home last night, and I lost not a moment in finding a table for it,
where it stands in a beautiful light and a perfect situation. Accept my
heartiest thanks for a present on which I shall set a peculiar and
particular value.
Enclosed is the MS. of the introduction.[76] The printers have cut it
across and mended it again, because I always expect them to be quick,
and so they distribute my "copy" among several hands, and apparently
not very clean ones in this instance.
Odd as the poor butcher's feeling appears, I think I can understand it.
Much as he would not have liked his boy's grave to be without a
tombstone, had he died ashore and had a grave, so he can't bear him to
drift to the depths of the ocean unrecorded.
My love to Procter.
Ever affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/W%20B%20Rye/870Charles Dickens
1865-11-03[Sidenote: Mr. W. B. Rye.[77]]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Friday, 3rd November, 1865._
DEAR SIR,
I beg you to accept my cordial thanks for your curious "Visits to
Rochester." As I peeped about its old corners with interest and wonder
when I was a very little child, few people can find a greater charm in
that ancient city than I do.
Believe me, yours faithfully and obliged.
FOOTNOTES:
[76] Written by Charles Dickens for a new edition of Miss Adelaide
Procter's Poems, which was published after her death.
[77] Late keeper of printed books at the British Museum, now of Exeter.
1866.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Forster/871Charles Dickens
1866-01-26[Sidenote: Mr. Forster.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Friday, 26th January, 1866._
MY DEAR FORSTER,
I most heartily hope that your doleful apprehensions will prove
unfounded. These changes from muggy weather to slight sharp frost, and
back again, touch weak places, as I find by my own foot; but the touch
goes by. May it prove so with you!
Yesterday Captain ----, Captain ----, and Captain ----, dined at Gad's.
They are, all three, naval officers of the highest reputation. ---- is
supposed to be the best sailor in our Service. I said I had been
remarking at home, _à propos_ of the _London_, that I knew of no
shipwreck of a large strong ship (not carrying weight of guns) in the
open sea, and that I could find none such in the shipwreck books. They
all agreed that the unfortunate Captain Martin _must_ have been
unacquainted with the truth as to what can and what can not be done with
a Steamship having rigging and canvas; and that no sailor would dream of
turning a ship's stern to such a gale--_unless his vessel could run
faster than the sea_. ---- said (and the other two confirmed) that the
_London_ was the better for everything that she lost aloft in such a
gale, and that with her head kept to the wind by means of a storm
topsail--which is hoisted from the deck and requires no man to be sent
aloft, and can be set under the worst circumstances--the disaster could
not have occurred. If he had no such sail, he could have improvised it,
even of hammocks and the like. They said that under a Board of Enquiry
into the wreck, any efficient witness must of necessity state this as
the fact, and could not possibly avoid the conclusion that the
seamanship was utterly bad; and as to the force of the wind, for which I
suggested allowance, they all had been in West Indian hurricanes and in
Typhoons, and had put the heads of their ships to the wind under the
most adverse circumstances.
I thought you might be interested in this, as you have no doubt been
interested in the case. They had a great respect for the unfortunate
Captain's character, and for his behaviour when the case was hopeless,
but they had not the faintest doubt that he lost the ship and those two
hundred and odd lives.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/R%20M%20Ross/872Charles Dickens
1866-02-19[Sidenote: Mr. R. M. Ross.[78]]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Monday, 19th February, 1866._
DEAR SIR,
I have the honour to acknowledge the receipt of your obliging letter
enclosing a copy of the Resolution passed by the members of the St.
George Club on my last past birthday. Do me the kindness to assure
those friends of mine that I am touched to the heart by their
affectionate remembrance, and that I highly esteem it. To have
established such relations with readers of my books is a great happiness
to me, and one that I hope never to forfeit by being otherwise than
manfully and truly in earnest in my vocation.
I am, dear sir,
Your faithful servant.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/R%20Browning/873Charles Dickens
1866-03-12[Sidenote: Mr. R. Browning.]
6, SOUTHWICK PLACE, HYDE PARK,
_Monday, 12th March, 1866._
MY DEAR BROWNING,[79]
Will you dine here next Sunday at half-past six punctually, instead of
with Forster? I am going to read Thirty times, in London and elsewhere,
and as I am coming out with "Doctor Marigold," I had written to ask
Forster to come on Sunday and hear me sketch him. Forster says (with his
own boldness) that he is sure it would not bore you to have that taste
of his quality after dinner. I should be delighted if this should prove
true. But I give warning that in that case I shall exact a promise from
you to come to St. James's Hall one evening in April or May, and hear
"David Copperfield," my own particular favourite.
Ever affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Lord%20Lytton/874Charles Dickens
1866-07-16[Sidenote: Lord Lytton.]
GAD'S HILL, _Monday, 16th July, 1866._
MY DEAR LYTTON,
First, let me congratulate you on the honour which Lord Derby has
conferred upon the peerage. And next, let me thank you heartily for your
kind letter.
I am very sorry to report that we are so encumbered with engagements in
the way of visitors coming here that we cannot see our way to getting to
Knebworth yet.
Mary and Georgina send you their kind regard, and hope that the delight
of coming to see you is only deferred.
Fitzgerald will be so proud of your opinion of his "Mrs. Tillotson," and
will (I know) derive such great encouragement from it that I have
faithfully quoted it, word for word, and sent it on to him in Ireland.
He is a very clever fellow (you may remember, perhaps, that I brought
him to Knebworth on the Guild day) and has charming sisters and an
excellent position.
Ever affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/George%20William%20Rusden/875Charles Dickens
1866-09-00[Sidenote: Mr. Rusden.[80]]
_September, 1866._
MY DEAR SIR,
Again I have to thank you very heartily for your kindness in writing to
me about my son. The intelligence you send me concerning him is a great
relief and satisfaction to my mind, and I cannot separate those
feelings from a truly grateful recognition of the advice and assistance
for which he is much beholden to you, or from his strong desire to
deserve your good opinion.
Believe me always, my dear sir,
Your faithful and truly obliged.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Anonymous/876Charles Dickens
1866-12-27[Sidenote: Anonymous.]
GAD'S HILL, _Thursday, 27th December, 1866._
DEAR MADAM,[81]
You make an absurd, though common mistake, in supposing that any human
creature can help you to be an authoress, if you cannot become one in
virtue of your own powers. I know nothing about "impenetrable barrier,"
"outsiders," and "charmed circles." I know that anyone who can write
what is suitable to the requirements of my own journal--for instance--is
a person I am heartily glad to discover, and do not very often find. And
I believe this to be no rare case in periodical literature. I cannot
undertake to advise you in the abstract, as I number my unknown
correspondents by the hundred. But if you offer anything to me for
insertion in "All the Year Round," you may be sure that it will be
honestly read, and that it will be judged by no test but its own merits
and adaptability to those pages.
But I am bound to add that I do not regard successful fiction as a thing
to be achieved in "leisure moments."
Faithfully yours.
FOOTNOTES:
[78] The honorary secretary of the St. George Club, Manchester.
[79] Robert Browning, the Poet, a dear and valued friend.
[80] Mr. Rusden was, at this time, Clerk to the House of Parliament, in
Melbourne. He was the kindest of friends to the two sons of Charles
Dickens, in Australia, from the time that the elder of the two first
went out there. And Charles Dickens had the most grateful regard for
him, and maintained a frequent correspondence with him--as a
friend--although they never saw each other.
[81] Anonymous.
1867.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Hon%20Robert%20Lytton/877Charles Dickens
1867-04-17[Sidenote: Hon. Robert Lytton.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Wednesday, 17th April, 1867._
MY DEAR ROBERT LYTTON,[82]
It would have been really painful to me, if I had seen you and yours at
a Reading of mine in right of any other credentials than my own. Your
appreciation has given me higher and purer gratification than your
modesty can readily believe. When I first entered on this interpretation
of myself (then quite strange in the public ear) I was sustained by the
hope that I could drop into some hearts, some new expression of the
meaning of my books, that would touch them in a new way. To this hour
that purpose is so strong in me, and so real are my fictions to myself,
that, after hundreds of nights, I come with a feeling of perfect
freshness to that little red table, and laugh and cry with my hearers,
as if I had never stood there before. You will know from this what a
delight it is to be delicately understood, and why your earnest words
cannot fail to move me.
We are delighted to be remembered by your charming wife, and I am
entrusted with more messages from this house to her, than you would care
to give or withhold, so I suppress them myself and absolve you from the
difficulty.
Affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Henry%20W%20Phillips/878Charles Dickens
1867-04-16[Sidenote: Mr. Henry W. Phillips.]
GAD'S HILL, _Thursday, 16th April, 1867._
MY DEAR MR. PHILLIPS,[83]
Although I think the scheme has many good points, I have this doubt:
Would boys so maintained at any one of our great public schools stand at
a decided disadvantage towards boys not so maintained? Foundation
Scholars, in many cases, win their way into public schools and so
enforce respect and even assert superiority. In many other cases their
patron is a remote and misty person, or Institution, sanctioned by Time
and custom. But the proposed position would be a very different one for
a student to hold, and boys are too often inconsiderate, proud, and
cruel. I should like to know whether this point has received
consideration from the projectors of the design?
Faithfully yours always.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Henry%20F%20Chorley/879Charles Dickens
1867-06-02[Sidenote: Mr. Henry F. Chorley.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Sunday, June 2nd, 1867._
MY DEAR CHORLEY,
Thank God I have come triumphantly through the heavy work of the
fifty-one readings, and am wonderfully fresh. I grieve to hear of your
sad occupation. You know where to find rest, and quiet, and sympathy,
when you can change the dreary scene.
I saw poor dear Stanfield (on a hint from his eldest son) in a day's
interval between two expeditions. It was clear that the shadow of the
end had fallen on him.
It happened well that I had seen, on a wild day at Tynemouth, a
remarkable sea-effect, of which I wrote a description to him, and he had
kept it under his pillow. This place is looking very pretty. The
freshness and repose of it, after all those thousands of gas-lighted
faces, sink into the soul.[84]http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/James%20T%20Fields/880Charles Dickens
1867-09-03[Sidenote: Mr. James T. Fields.]
_September 3rd, 1867._
MY DEAR FIELDS,[85]
Your cheering letter of the 21st of August arrived here this morning. A
thousand thanks for it. I begin to think (nautically) that I "head
west'ard." You shall hear from me fully and finally as soon as Dolby
shall have reported personally.
The other day I received a letter from Mr. ----, of New York (who came
over in the winning yacht, and described the voyage in _The Times_),
saying he would much like to see me. I made an appointment in London,
and observed that when he _did_ see me he was obviously astonished.
While I was sensible that the magnificence of my appearance would fully
account for his being overcome, I nevertheless angled for the cause of
his surprise. He then told me that there was a paragraph going round the
papers to the effect that I was "in a critical state of health." I asked
him if he was sure it wasn't "cricketing" state of health. To which he
replied, Quite. I then asked him down here to dinner, and he was again
staggered by finding me in sporting training; also much amused.
Yesterday's and to-day's post bring me this unaccountable paragraph from
hosts of uneasy friends, with the enormous and wonderful addition that
"eminent surgeons" are sending me to America for "cessation from
literary labour"!!! So I have written a quiet line to _The Times_,
certifying to my own state of health, and have also begged Dixon to do
the like in _The Athenæum_. I mention the matter to you, in order that
you may contradict, from me, if the nonsense should reach America
unaccompanied by the truth. But I suppose that _The New York Herald_
will probably have got the letter from Mr. ---- aforesaid. . . .
Charles Reade and Wilkie Collins are here; and the joke of the time is
to feel my pulse when I appear at table, and also to inveigle innocent
messengers to come over to the summer-house, where I write (the place is
quite changed since you were here, and a tunnel under the highroad
connects this shrubbery with the front garden), to ask, with their
compliments, how I find myself _now_.
If I come to America this next November, even you can hardly imagine
with what interest I shall try Copperfield on an American audience, or,
if they give me their heart, how freely and fully I shall give them
mine. We will ask Dolby then whether he ever heard it before.
I cannot thank you enough for your invaluable help to Dolby. He writes
that at every turn and moment the sense and knowledge and tact of Mr.
Osgood are inestimable to him.
Ever, my dear Fields, faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Lord%20Lytton/881Charles Dickens
1867-09-17[Sidenote: Lord Lytton.]
"ALL THE YEAR ROUND" OFFICE,
_Tuesday, 17th September, 1867._
MY DEAR LYTTON,
I am happy to tell you that the play was admirably done last night, and
made a marked impression. Pauline is weak, but so carefully trained and
fitted into the picture as to be never disagreeable, and sometimes (as
in the last scene) very pathetic. Fechter has played nothing nearly so
well as Claude since he played in Paris in the "Dame aux Camélias," or
in London as Ruy Blas. He played the fourth act as finely as Macready,
and the first much better. The dress and bearing in the fifth act are
quite new, and quite excellent.
Of the Scenic arrangements, the most noticeable are:--the picturesque
struggle of the cottage between the taste of an artist, and the domestic
means of poverty (expressed to the eye with infinite tact);--the view of
Lyons (Act v. Scene 1), with a foreground of quay wall which the
officers are leaning on, waiting for the general;--and the last scene--a
suite of rooms giving on a conservatory at the back, through which the
moon is shining. You are to understand that all these scenic appliances
are subdued to the Piece, instead of the Piece being sacrificed to them;
and that every group and situation has to be considered, not only with a
reference to each by itself, but to the whole story.
Beauséant's speaking the original contents of the letter was a decided
point, and the immense house was quite breathless when the Tempter and
the Tempted stood confronted as he made the proposal.
There was obviously a great interest in seeing a Frenchman play the
part. The scene between Claude and Gaspar (the small part very well
done) was very closely watched for the same reason, and was loudly
applauded. I cannot say too much of the brightness, intelligence,
picturesqueness, and care of Fechter's impersonation throughout. There
was a remarkable delicacy in his gradually drooping down on his way home
with his bride, until he fell upon the table, a crushed heap of shame
and remorse, while his mother told Pauline the story. His gradual
recovery of himself as he formed better resolutions was equally well
expressed; and his being at last upright again and rushing
enthusiastically to join the army, brought the house down.
I wish you could have been there. He never spoke English half so well as
he spoke your English; and the audience heard it with the finest
sympathy and respect. I felt that I should have been very proud indeed
to have been the writer of the Play.
Ever affectionately.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/James%20T%20Fields/882Charles Dickens
1867-10-00[Sidenote: Mr. James T. Fields.]
[86]_October, 1867._
MY DEAR FIELDS,
I hope the telegraph clerks did not mutilate out of recognition or
reasonable guess the words I added to Dolby's last telegram to Boston.
"_Tribune_ London correspondent totally false." Not only is there not a
word of truth in the pretended conversation, but it is so absurdly
unlike me that I cannot suppose it to be even invented by anyone who
ever heard me exchange a word with mortal creature. For twenty years I
am perfectly certain that I have never made any other allusion to the
republication of my books in America than the good-humoured remark,
"that if there had been international copyright between England and the
States, I should have been a man of very large fortune, instead of a
man of moderate savings, always supporting a very expensive public
position." Nor have I ever been such a fool as to charge the absence of
international copyright upon individuals. Nor have I ever been so
ungenerous as to disguise or suppress the fact that I have received
handsome sums for advance sheets. When I was in the States, I said what
I had to say on the question, and there an end. I am absolutely certain
that I have never since expressed myself, even with soreness, on the
subject. Reverting to the preposterous fabrication of the London
correspondent, the statement that I ever talked about "these fellows"
who republished my books or pretended to know (what I don't know at this
instant) who made how much out of them, or ever talked of their sending
me "conscience money," is as grossly and completely false as the
statement that I ever said anything to the effect that I could not be
expected to have an interest in the American people. And nothing can by
any possibility be falser than that. Again and again in these pages
("All the Year Round") I have expressed my interest in them. You will
see it in the "Child's History of England." You will see it in the last
preface to "American Notes." Every American who has ever spoken with me
in London, Paris, or where not, knows whether I have frankly said, "You
could have no better introduction to me than your country." And for
years and years when I have been asked about reading in America, my
invariable reply has been, "I have so many friends there, and
constantly receive so many earnest letters from personally unknown
readers there, that, but for domestic reasons, I would go to-morrow." I
think I must, in the confidential intercourse between you and me, have
written you to this effect more than once.
The statement of the London correspondent from beginning to end is
false. It is false in the letter and false in the spirit. He may have
been misinformed, and the statement may not have originated with him.
With whomsoever it originated, it never originated with me, and
consequently is false. More than enough about it.
As I hope to see you so soon, my dear Fields, and as I am busily at work
on the Christmas number, I will not make this a longer letter than I can
help. I thank you most heartily for your proffered hospitality, and need
not tell you that if I went to any friend's house in America, I would go
to yours. But the readings are very hard work, and I think I cannot do
better than observe the rule on that side of the Atlantic which I
observe on this, of never, under such circumstances, going to a friend's
house, but always staying at a hotel. I am able to observe it here, by
being consistent and never breaking it. If I am equally consistent
there, I can (I hope) offend no one.
Dolby sends his love to you and all his friends (as I do), and is
girding up his loins vigorously.
Ever, my dear Fields,
Heartily and affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Thornbury/883Charles Dickens
1867-10-05[Sidenote: Mr. Thornbury.]
GAD'S HILL, _Saturday, 5th October, 1867._
MY DEAR THORNBURY,
Behold the best of my judgment on your questions.[87]
Susan Hopley and Jonathan Bradford? No. Too well known.
London Strikes and Spitalfields Cutters? Yes.
Fighting FitzGerald? Never mind him.
Duel of Lord Mohun and Duke of Hamilton? Ye-e-es.
Irish Abductions? I think not.
Brunswick Theatre? More Yes than No.
Theatrical Farewells? Yes.
Bow Street Runners (as compared with Modern Detectives)? Yes.
Vauxhall and Ranelagh in the Last Century? Most decidedly. Don't forget
Miss Burney.
Smugglers? No. Overdone.
Lacenaire? No. Ditto.
Madame Laffarge? No. Ditto.
Fashionable Life Last Century? Most decidedly yes.
Debates on the Slave Trade? Yes, generally. But beware of the Pirates,
as we did them in the beginning of "Household Words."
Certainly I acquit you of all blame in the Bedford case. But one cannot
do otherwise than sympathise with a son who is reasonably tender of his
father's memory. And no amount of private correspondence, we must
remember, reaches the readers of a printed and published statement.
I told you some time ago that I believed the arsenic in Eliza Fenning's
case to have been administered by the apprentice. I never was more
convinced of anything in my life than of the girl's innocence, and I
want words in which to express my indignation at the muddle-headed story
of that parsonic blunderer whose audacity and conceit distorted some
words that fell from her in the last days of her baiting.
Ever faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Lord%20Lytton/884Charles Dickens
1867-10-14[Sidenote: Lord Lytton.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Monday, 14th October, 1867._
MY DEAR LYTTON,
I am truly delighted to find that you are so well pleased with Fechter
in "The Lady of Lyons." It was a labour of love with him, and I hold him
in very high regard.
_Don't_ give way to laziness, and _do_ proceed with that play. There
never was a time when a good new play was more wanted, or had a better
opening for itself. Fechter is a thorough artist, and what he may
sometimes want in personal force is compensated by the admirable whole
he can make of a play, and his perfect understanding of its
presentation as a picture to the eye and mind.
I leave London on the 8th of November early, and sail from Liverpool on
the 9th.
Ever affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Sir%20Edward%20Bulwer%20Lytton/885Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: The same.]
"ALL THE YEAR ROUND" OFFICE,
_Friday, 25th October, 1867._
MY DEAR LYTTON,
I have read the Play[88] with great attention, interest, and admiration;
and I need not say to _you_ that the art of it--the fine
construction--the exquisite nicety of the touches--with which it is
wrought out--have been a study to me in the pursuit of which I have had
extraordinary relish.
Taking the Play as it stands, I have nothing whatever to add to your
notes and memoranda of the points to be touched again, except that I
have a little uneasiness in that burst of anger and inflexibility
consequent on having been deceived, coming out of Hegio. I see the kind
of actor who _must_ play Hegio, and I see that the audience will not
believe in his doing anything so serious. (I suppose it would be
impossible to get this effect out of the mother--or through the
mother's influence, instead of out of the godfather of Hegiopolis?)
Now, as to the classical ground and manners of the Play. I suppose the
objection to the Greek dress to be already--as Defoe would write it,
"gotten over" by your suggestion. I suppose the dress not to be
conventionally associated with stilts and boredom, but to be new to the
public eye and very picturesque. Grant all that;--the names remain. Now,
not only used such names to be inseparable in the public mind from
stately weariness, but of late days they have become inseparable in the
same public mind from silly puns upon the names, and from Burlesque. You
do not know (I hope, at least, for my friend's sake) what the Strand
Theatre is. A Greek name and a break-down nigger dance, have become
inseparable there. I do not mean to say that your genius may not be too
powerful for such associations; but I do most positively mean to say
that you would lose half the play in overcoming them. At the best you
would have to contend against them through the first three acts. The old
tendency to become frozen on classical ground would be in the best part
of the audience; the new tendency to titter on such ground would be in
the worst part. And instead of starting fair with the audience, it is my
conviction that you would start with them against you and would have to
win them over.
Furthermore, with reference to your note to me on this head, you take up
a position with reference to poor dear Talfourd's "Ion" which I
altogether dispute. It never was a popular play, I say. It derived a
certain amount of out-of-door's popularity from the circumstances under
which, and the man by whom, it was written. But I say that it never was
a popular play on the Stage, and never made out a case of attraction
there.
As to changing the ground to Russia, let me ask you, did you ever see
the "Nouvelles Russes" of Nicolas Gogol, translated into French by Louis
Viardot? There is a story among them called "Tarass Boulla," in which,
as it seems to me, all the conditions you want for such transplantation
are to be found. So changed, you would have the popular sympathy with
the Slave or Serf, or Prisoner of War, from the first. But I do not
think it is to be got, save at great hazard, and with lamentable waste
of force on the ground the Play now occupies.
I shall keep this note until to-morrow to correct my conviction if I can
see the least reason for correcting it; but I feel very confident indeed
that I cannot be shaken in it.
_Saturday._
I have thought it over again, and have gone over the play again with an
imaginary stage and actors before me, and I am still of the same mind.
Shall I keep the MS. till you come to town?
Believe me, ever affectionately yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/M%20Charles%20Fechter/886Charles Dickens
1868-02-03[Sidenote: Mr. Fechter.]
PARKER HOUSE, BOSTON, _3rd December, 1867._
MY DEAR FECHTER,
I have been very uneasy about you, seeing in the paper that you were
taken ill on the stage. But a letter from Georgy this morning reassures
me by giving me a splendid account of your triumphant last night at the
Lyceum.
I hope to bring out our Play[89] with Wallack in New York, and to have it
played in many other parts of the States. I have sent to Wilkie for
models, etc. If I waited for time to do more than write you my love, I
should miss the mail to-morrow. Take my love, then, my dear fellow, and
believe me ever
Your affectionate.
FOOTNOTES:
[82] The Hon. Robert Lytton--now the Earl of Lytton--in literature well
known as "Owen Meredith."
[83] Mr. Henry W. Phillips, at this time secretary of the Artists'
General Benevolent Society. He was eager to establish some educational
system in connection with that institution.
[84] The remainder has been cut off for the signature.
[85] This and all other Letters to Mr. J. T. Fields were printed in Mr.
Fields' "In and Out of Doors with Charles Dickens."
[86] A ridiculous paragraph in the papers following close on the public
announcement that Charles Dickens was coming to America in November,
drew from him this letter to Mr. Fields, dated early in October.
[87] As to subjects for articles in "All the Year Round."
[88] The Play referred to is founded on the "Captives" of Plautus, and
is entitled "The Captives." It has never been acted or published.
[89] "No Thoroughfare."
1868.
_3rd February, 1868._
[90]Articles of Agreement entered into at Baltimore, in the United States
of America, this third day of February in the year of our Lord one
thousand eight hundred and sixty-eight, between ---- ----, British
subject, _alias_ the man of Ross, and ---- ---- ----, American citizen,
_alias_ the Boston Bantam.
Whereas, some Bounce having arisen between the above men in reference to
feats of pedestrianism and agility, they have agreed to settle their
differences and prove who is the better man, by means of a walking-match
for two hats a side and the glory of their respective countries; and
whereas they agree that the said match shall come off, whatsoever the
weather, on the Mill Dam Road outside Boston, on Saturday, the
twenty-ninth day of this present month; and whereas they agree that the
personal attendants on themselves during the whole walk, and also the
umpires and starters and declarers of victory in the match shall be ----
---- of Boston, known in sporting circles as Massachusetts Jemmy, and
Charles Dickens of Falstaff's Gad's Hill, whose surprising performances
(without the least variation) on that truly national instrument, the
American catarrh, have won for him the well-merited title of the Gad's
Hill Gasper:
1. The men are to be started, on the day appointed, by Massachusetts
Jemmy and The Gasper.
2. Jemmy and The Gasper are, on some previous day, to walk out at the
rate of not less than four miles an hour by The Gasper's watch, for one
hour and a half. At the expiration of that one hour and a half they are
to carefully note the place at which they halt. On the match's coming
off they are to station themselves in the middle of the road, at that
precise point, and the men (keeping clear of them and of each other) are
to turn round them, right shoulder inward, and walk back to the
starting-point. The man declared by them to pass the starting-point
first is to be the victor and the winner of the match.
3. No jostling or fouling allowed.
4. All cautions or orders issued to the men by the umpires, starters,
and declarers of victory to be considered final and admitting of no
appeal.
A sporting narrative of the match to be written by The Gasper within one
week after its coming off, and the same to be duly printed (at the
expense of the subscribers to these articles) on a broadside. The said
broadside to be framed and glazed, and one copy of the same to be
carefully preserved by each of the subscribers to these articles.
6. The men to show on the evening of the day of walking at six o'clock
precisely, at the Parker House, Boston, when and where a dinner will be
given them by The Gasper. The Gasper to occupy the chair, faced by
Massachusetts Jemmy. The latter promptly and formally to invite, as soon
as may be after the date of these presents, the following guests to
honour the said dinner with their presence; that is to say [here follow
the names of a few of his friends, whom he wished to be invited].
Now, lastly. In token of their accepting the trusts and offices by these
articles conferred upon them, these articles are solemnly and formally
signed by Massachusetts Jemmy and by the Gad's Hill Gasper, as well as
by the men themselves.
Signed by the Man of Ross, otherwise ----.
Signed by the Boston Bantam, otherwise ----.
Signed by Massachusetts Jemmy, otherwise ----.
Signed by the Gad's Hill Gasper, otherwise Charles Dickens.
Witness to the signatures, ----.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Charles%20Lanman/887Charles Dickens
1868-02-05[Sidenote: Mr. Charles Lanman.]
WASHINGTON, _February 5th, 1868._
MY DEAR SIR,
Allow me to thank you most cordially for your kind letter, and for its
accompanying books. I have a particular love for books of travel, and
shall wander into the "Wilds of America" with great interest. I have
also received your charming Sketch with great pleasure and admiration.
Let me thank you for it heartily. As a beautiful suggestion of nature
associated with this country, it shall have a quiet place on the walls
of my house as long as I live.
Your reference to my dear friend Washington Irving renews the vivid
impressions reawakened in my mind at Baltimore the other day. I saw his
fine face for the last time in that city. He came there from New York to
pass a day or two with me before I went westward, and they were made
among the most memorable of my life by his delightful fancy and genial
humour. Some unknown admirer of his books and mine sent to the hotel a
most enormous mint julep, wreathed with flowers. We sat, one on either
side of it, with great solemnity (it filled a respectable-sized paper),
but the solemnity was of very short duration. It was quite an enchanted
julep, and carried us among innumerable people and places that we both
knew. The julep held out far into the night, and my memory never saw him
afterward otherwise than as bending over it, with his straw, with an
attempted gravity (after some anecdote, involving some wonderfully droll
and delicate observation of character), and then, as his eyes caught
mine, melting into that captivating laugh of his which was the brightest
and best I have ever heard.
Dear Sir, with many thanks, faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Pease/888Charles Dickens
1868-02-09[Sidenote: Mrs. Pease.]
BALTIMORE, _9th February, 1868._
DEAR MADAM,
Mr. Dolby has _not_ come between us, and I have received your letter. My
answer to it is, unfortunately, brief. I am not coming to Cleveland or
near it. Every evening on which I can possibly read during the remainder
of my stay in the States is arranged for, and the fates divide me from
"the big woman with two smaller ones in tow." So I send her my love (to
be shared in by the two smaller ones, if she approve--but not
otherwise), and seriously assure her that her pleasant letter has been
most welcome.
Dear madam, faithfully your friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/James%20T%20Fields/889Charles Dickens
0000-00-00[Sidenote: Mr. James T. Fields.]
ABOARD THE "RUSSIA," BOUND FOR LIVERPOOL,
_Sunday, 26th April, 1868._
MY DEAR FIELDS,
In order that you may have the earliest intelligence of me, I begin this
note to-day in my small cabin, purposing (if it should prove
practicable) to post it at Queenstown for the return steamer.
We are already past the Banks of Newfoundland, although our course was
seventy miles to the south, with the view of avoiding ice seen by
Judkins in the _Scotia_ on his passage out to New York. The _Russia_ is
a magnificent ship, and has dashed along bravely. We had made more than
thirteen hundred and odd miles at noon to-day. The wind, after being a
little capricious, rather threatens at the present time to turn against
us, but our run is already eighty miles ahead of the _Russia's_ last run
in this direction--a very fast one. . . . To all whom it may concern,
report the _Russia_ in the highest terms. She rolls more easily than
the other Cunard Screws, is kept in perfect order, and is most carefully
looked after in all departments. We have had nothing approaching to
heavy weather, still one can speak to the trim of the ship. Her captain,
a gentleman; bright, polite, good-natured, and vigilant. . . .
As to me, I am greatly better, I hope. I have got on my right boot
to-day for the first time; the "true American" seems to be turning
faithless at last; and I made a Gad's Hill breakfast this morning, as a
further advance on having otherwise eaten and drunk all day ever since
Wednesday.
You will see Anthony Trollope, I daresay. What was my amazement to see
him with these eyes come aboard in the mail tender just before we
started! He had come out in the _Scotia_ just in time to dash off again
in said tender to shake hands with me, knowing me to be aboard here. It
was most heartily done. He is on a special mission of convention with
the United States post-office.
We have been picturing your movements, and have duly checked off your
journey home, and have talked about you continually. But I have thought
about you both, even much, much more. You will never know how I love you
both; or what you have been to me in America, and will always be to me
everywhere; or how fervently I thank you.
All the working of the ship seems to be done on my forehead. It is
scrubbed and holystoned (my head--not the deck) at three every morning.
It is scraped and swabbed all day. Eight pairs of heavy boots are now
clattering on it, getting the ship under sail again. Legions of
ropes'-ends are flopped upon it as I write, and I must leave off with
Dolby's love.
_Thursday, 30th._
Soon after I left off as above we had a gale of wind which blew all
night. For a few hours on the evening side of midnight there was no
getting from this cabin of mine to the saloon, or _vice versâ_, so
heavily did the sea break over the decks. The ship, however, made
nothing of it, and we were all right again by Monday afternoon. Except
for a few hours yesterday (when we had a very light head-wind), the
weather has been constantly favourable, and we are now bowling away at a
great rate, with a fresh breeze filling all our sails. We expect to be
at Queenstown between midnight and three in the morning.
I hope, my dear Fields, you may find this legible, but I rather doubt
it, for there is motion enough on the ship to render writing to a
landsman, however accustomed to pen and ink, rather a difficult
achievement. Besides which, I slide away gracefully from the paper,
whenever I want to be particularly expressive. . . .
----, sitting opposite to me at breakfast, always has the following
items: A large dish of porridge into which he casts slices of butter and
a quantity of sugar. Two cups of tea. A steak. Irish stew. Chutnee and
marmalade. Another deputation of two has solicited a reading to-night.
Illustrious novelist has unconditionally and absolutely declined. More
love, and more to that, from your ever affectionate friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Jame%20T%20Fields/890Charles Dickens
1868-05-15[Sidenote: The same.]
"ALL THE YEAR ROUND" OFFICE, _May 15th, 1868._
MY DEAR FIELDS,
I have found it so extremely difficult to write about America (though
never so briefly) without appearing to blow trumpets on the one hand, or
to be inconsistent with my avowed determination _not_ to write about it
on the other, that I have taken the simple course enclosed. The number
will be published on the 6th of June. It appears to me to be the most
modest and manly course, and to derive some graceful significance from
its title.
Thank my dear Mrs. Fields for me for her delightful letter received on
the 16th. I will write to her very soon, and tell her about the dogs. I
would write by this post, but that Wills' absence (in Sussex, and
getting no better there as yet) so overwhelms me with business that I
can scarcely get through it.
Miss me? Ah, my dear fellow, but how do I miss _you_! We talk about you
both at Gad's Hill every day of our lives. And I never see the place
looking very pretty indeed, or hear the birds sing all day long and the
nightingales all night, without restlessly wishing that you were both
there.
With best love, and truest and most enduring regard, ever, my dear
Fields,
Your most affectionate.
. . . I hope you will receive by Saturday's Cunard a case containing:
1. A trifling supply of the pen-knibs that suited your hand.
2. A do. of unfailing medicine for cockroaches.
3. Mrs. Gamp, for ----.
The case is addressed to you at Bleecker Street, New York. If it should
be delayed for the knibs (or nibs) promised to-morrow, and should be too
late for the Cunard packet, it will in that case come by the next
following Inman steamer.
Everything here looks lovely, and I find it (you will be surprised to
hear) really a pretty place! I have seen "No Thoroughfare" twice.
Excellent things in it, but it drags to my thinking. It is, however, a
great success in the country, and is now getting up with great force in
Paris. Fechter is ill, and was ordered off to Brighton yesterday. Wills
is ill too, and banished into Sussex for perfect rest. Otherwise, thank
God, I find everything well and thriving. You and my dear Mrs. Fields
are constantly in my mind. Procter greatly better.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/M%20Charles%20Fechter/891Charles Dickens
1868-05-22[Sidenote: Mr. Fechter.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Friday, 22nd May, 1868._
MY DEAR FECHTER,
I have an idea about the bedroom act, which I should certainly have
suggested if I had been at our "repetitions" here.[91] I want it done _to
the sound of the Waterfall_. I want the sound of the Waterfall louder
and softer as the wind rises and falls, to be spoken through--like the
music. I want the Waterfall _listened to when spoken of, and not looked
out at_. The mystery and gloom of the scene would be greatly helped by
this, and it would be new and picturesquely fanciful.
I am very anxious to hear from you how the piece seems to go,[92] and how
the artists, who are to act it, seem to understand their parts. Pray
tell me, too, when you write, how you found Madame Fechter, and give all
our loves to all.
Ever heartily yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/James%20T%20Fields/892Charles Dickens
1868-05-25[Sidenote: Mrs. James T. Fields.]
GAD'S HILL, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_25th May, 1868._
MY DEAR MRS. FIELDS,
As you ask me about the dogs, I begin with them. When I came down first,
I came to Gravesend, five miles off. The two Newfoundland dogs, coming
to meet me with the usual carriage and the usual driver, and beholding
me coming in my usual dress out at the usual door, it struck me that
their recollection of my having been absent for any unusual time was at
once cancelled. They behaved (they are both young dogs) exactly in their
usual manner; coming behind the basket phaeton as we trotted along, and
lifting their heads to have their ears pulled--a special attention which
they receive from no one else. But when I drove into the stable-yard,
Linda (the St. Bernard) was greatly excited; weeping profusely, and
throwing herself on her back that she might caress my foot with her
great fore-paws. Mamie's little dog, too, Mrs. Bouncer, barked in the
greatest agitation on being called down and asked by Mamie, "Who is
this?" and tore round and round me, like the dog in the Faust outlines.
You must know that all the farmers turned out on the road in their
market-chaises to say, "Welcome home, sir!" and that all the houses
along the road were dressed with flags; and that our servants, to cut
out the rest, had dressed this house so that every brick of it was
hidden. They had asked Mamie's permission to "ring the alarm-bell" (!)
when master drove up, but Mamie, having some slight idea that that
compliment might awaken master's sense of the ludicrous, had recommended
bell abstinence. But on Sunday the village choir (which includes the
bell-ringers) made amends. After some unusually brief pious reflections
in the crowns of their hats at the end of the sermon, the ringers bolted
out, and rang like mad until I got home. There had been a conspiracy
among the villagers to take the horse out, if I had come to our own
station, and draw me here. Mamie and Georgy had got wind of it and
warned me.
Divers birds sing here all day, and the nightingales all night. The
place is lovely, and in perfect order. I have put five mirrors in the
Swiss châlet (where I write) and they reflect and refract in all kinds
of ways the leaves that are quivering at the windows, and the great
fields of waving corn, and the sail-dotted river. My room is up among
the branches of the trees; and the birds and the butterflies fly in and
out, and the green branches shoot in, at the open windows, and the
lights and shadows of the clouds come and go with the rest of the
company. The scent of the flowers, and indeed of everything that is
growing for miles and miles, is most delicious.
Dolby (who sends a world of messages) found his wife much better than he
expected, and the children (wonderful to relate!) perfect. The little
girl winds up her prayers every night with a special commendation to
Heaven of me and the pony--as if I must mount him to get there! I dine
with Dolby (I was going to write "him," but found it would look as if I
were going to dine with the pony) at Greenwich this very day, and if
your ears do not burn from six to nine this evening, then the Atlantic
is a non-conductor. We are already settling--think of this!--the details
of my farewell course of readings. I am brown beyond belief, and cause
the greatest disappointment in all quarters by looking so well. It is
really wonderful what those fine days at sea did for me! My doctor was
quite broken down in spirits when he saw me, for the first time since my
return, last Saturday. "Good Lord!" he said, recoiling, "seven years
younger!"
It is time I should explain the otherwise inexplicable enclosure. Will
you tell Fields, with my love (I suppose he hasn't used _all_ the pens
yet?), that I think there is in Tremont Street a set of my books, sent
out by Chapman, not arrived when I departed. Such set of the immortal
works of our illustrious, etc., is designed for the gentleman to whom
the enclosure is addressed. If T., F. and Co., will kindly forward the
set (carriage paid) with the enclosure to ----'s address, I will invoke
new blessings on their heads, and will get Dolby's little daughter to
mention them nightly.
"No Thoroughfare" is very shortly coming out in Paris, where it is now
in active rehearsal. It is still playing here, but without Fechter, who
has been very ill. The doctor's dismissal of him to Paris, however, and
his getting better there, enables him to get up the play there. He and
Wilkie missed so many pieces of stage-effect here, that, unless I am
quite satisfied with his report, I shall go over and try my
stage-managerial hand at the Vaudeville Theatre. I particularly want the
drugging and attempted robbing in the bedroom scene at the Swiss inn to
be done to the sound of a waterfall rising and falling with the wind.
Although in the very opening of that scene they speak of the waterfall
and listen to it, nobody thought of its mysterious music. I could make
it, with a good stage-carpenter, in an hour.
My dear love to Fields once again. Same to you and him from Mamie and
Georgy. I cannot tell you both how I miss you, or how overjoyed I should
be to see you here.
Ever, my dear Mrs. Fields,
Your most affectionate friend.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Alexander%20Ireland/893Charles Dickens
1868-05-30[Sidenote: Mr. Alexander Ireland.]
THE ATHENAEUM, _Saturday, 30th May, 1868._
DEAR MR. IRELAND,
Many thanks for the book[93] you have kindly lent me. My interest in its
subject is scarcely less than your own, and the book has afforded me
great pleasure. I hope it will prove a very useful tribute to Hazlett
and Hunt (in extending the general knowledge of their writings), as well
as a deservedly hearty and loving one.
You gratify me much by your appreciation of my desire to promote the
kindest feelings between England and America. But the writer of the
generous article in _The Manchester Examiner_ is quite mistaken in
supposing that I intend to write a book on the United States. The fact
is exactly the reverse, or I could not have spoken without some
appearance of having a purpose to serve.
Very faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/James%20T%20Fields/894Charles Dickens
1868-07-07[Sidenote: Mr. James T. Fields.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, _Tuesday, 7th July, 1868._
MY DEAR FIELDS,
I have delayed writing to you (and Mrs. Fields, to whom my love) until I
should have seen Longfellow. When he was in London the first time he
came and went without reporting himself, and left me in a state of
unspeakable discomfiture. Indeed, I should not have believed in his
having been here at all, if Mrs. Procter had not told me of his calling
to see Procter. However, on his return he wrote to me from the Langham
Hotel, and I went up to town to see him, and to make an appointment for
his coming here. He, the girls, and Appleton, came down last Saturday
night and stayed until Monday forenoon. I showed them all the
neighbouring country that could be shown in so short a time, and they
finished off with a tour of inspection of the kitchens, pantry,
wine-cellar, pickles, sauces, servants' sitting-room, general household
stores, and even the Cellar Book, of this illustrious establishment.
Forster and Kent (the latter wrote certain verses to Longfellow, which
have been published in _The Times_, and which I sent to D----) came down
for a day, and I hope we all had a really "good time." I turned out a
couple of postillions in the old red jacket of the old red royal Dover
Road, for our ride; and it was like a holiday ride in England fifty
years ago. Of course we went to look at the old houses in Rochester, and
the old cathedral, and the old castle, and the house for the six poor
travellers who, "not being rogues or procters, shall have lodging,
entertainment, and four pence each."
Nothing can surpass the respect paid to Longfellow here, from the Queen
downward. He is everywhere received and courted, and finds (as I told
him he would, when we talked of it in Boston) the working-men at least
as well acquainted with his books as the classes socially above
them. . . .
Last Thursday I attended, as sponsor, the christening of Dolby's son and
heir--a most jolly baby, who held on tight by the rector's left whisker
while the service was performed. What time, too, his little sister,
connecting me with the pony, trotted up and down the centre aisle,
noisily driving herself as that celebrated animal, so that it went very
hard with the sponsorial dignity.
Wills is not yet recovered from that concussion of the brain, and I have
all his work to do. This may account for my not being able to devise a
Christmas number, but I seem to have left my invention in America. In
case you should find it, please send it over. I am going up to town
to-day to dine with Longfellow. And now, my dear Fields, you know all
about me and mine.
You are enjoying your holiday? and are still thinking sometimes of our
Boston days, as I do? and are maturing schemes for coming here next
summer? A satisfactory reply to the last question is particularly
entreated.
I am delighted to find you both so well pleased with the Blind Book
scheme.[94] I said nothing of it to you when we were together, though I
had made up my mind, because I wanted to come upon you with that little
burst from a distance. It seemed something like meeting again when I
remitted the money and thought of your talking of it.
The dryness of the weather is amazing. All the ponds and surface-wells
about here are waterless, and the poor people suffer greatly. The people
of this village have only one spring to resort to, and it is a couple of
miles from many cottages. I do not let the great dogs swim in the canal,
because the people have to drink of it. But when they get into the
Medway it is hard to get them out again. The other day Bumble (the son,
Newfoundland dog) got into difficulties among some floating timber, and
became frightened. Don (the father) was standing by me, shaking off the
wet and looking on carelessly, when all of a sudden he perceived
something amiss, and went in with a bound and brought Bumble out by the
ear. The scientific way in which he towed him along was charming.
Ever your loving.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/J%20E%20Millais%20RA/895Charles Dickens
1868-07-19[Sidenote: Mr. J. E. Millais, R.A.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Sunday, 19th July, 1868._
MY DEAR MILLAIS,[95]
I received the enclosed letter yesterday, and I have, perhaps
unjustly--some vague suspicions of it. As I know how faithful and
zealous you have been in all relating to poor Leech, I make no apology
for asking you whether you can throw any light upon its contents.
You will be glad to hear that Charles Collins is decidedly better
to-day, and is out of doors.
Believe me always, faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/TJ%20Serle/896Charles Dickens
1868-07-29[Sidenote: Mr. Serle.]
GAD'S HILL, _Wednesday, 29th July, 1868._
MY DEAR SERLE,[96]
I do not believe there is the slightest chance of an international
Copyright law being passed in America for a long time to come. Some
Massachusetts men do believe in such a thing, but they fail (as I
think) to take into account the prompt western opposition.
Such an alteration as you suggest in the English law would give no
copyright in America, you see. The American publisher could buy no
absolute _right_ of priority. Any American newspaper could (and many
would, in a popular case) pirate from him, as soon as they could get the
matter set up. He could buy no more than he buys now when he arranges
for advance sheets from England, so that there may be simultaneous
publication in the two countries. And success in England is of so much
importance towards the achievement of success in America, that I greatly
doubt whether previous publications in America would often be worth more
to an American publisher or manager than simultaneous publication.
Concerning the literary man in Parliament who would undertake to bring
in a Bill for such an amendment of our copyright law, with weight enough
to keep his heart unbroken while he should be getting it through its
various lingering miseries, all I can say is--I decidedly don't know
him.
On that horrible Staplehurst day, I had not the slightest idea that I
knew anyone in the train out of my own compartment. Mrs. Cowden
Clarke[97] wrote me afterwards, telling me in the main what you tell me,
and I was astonished. It is remarkable that my watch (a special
chronometer) has never gone quite correctly since, and to this day there
sometimes comes over me, on a railway--in a hansom cab--or any sort of
conveyance--for a few seconds, a vague sense of dread that I have no
power to check. It comes and passes, but I cannot prevent its coming.
Believe me, always faithfully yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/George%20William%20Rusden/897Charles Dickens
1868-08-24[Sidenote: Mr. Rusden.]
_24th August, 1868._
MY DEAR SIR,
I should have written to you much sooner, but that I have been home from
the United States barely three months, and have since been a little
uncertain as to the precise time and way of sending my youngest son out
to join his brother Alfred.
It is now settled that he shall come out in the ship _Sussex_, 1000
tons, belonging to Messrs. Money, Wigram, and Co. She sails from
Gravesend, but he will join her at Plymouth on the 27th September, and
will proceed straight to Melbourne. Of this I apprise Alfred by this
mail. . . . I cannot sufficiently thank you for your kindness to Alfred.
I am certain that a becoming sense of it and desire to deserve it, has
done him great good.
Your report of him is an unspeakable comfort to me, and I most heartily
assure you of my gratitude and friendship.
In the midst of your colonial seethings and heavings, I suppose you have
some leisure to consult equally the hopeful prophets and the dismal
prophets who are all wiser than any of the rest of us as to things at
home here. My own strong impression is that whatsoever change the new
Reform Bill may effect will be very gradual indeed and quite wholesome.
Numbers of the middle class who seldom or never voted before will vote
now, and the greater part of the new voters will in the main be wiser as
to their electoral responsibilities and more seriously desirous to
discharge them for the common good than the bumptious singers of "Rule
Britannia," "Our dear old Church of England," and all the rest of it.
If I can ever do anything for any accredited friend of yours coming to
the old country, command me. I shall be truly glad of any opportunity of
testifying that I do not use a mere form of words in signing myself,
Cordially yours.http://www.opencorrespondence.org/letters/view/dickens/Russell%20Sturgis/898Charles Dickens
1868-12-14[Sidenote: Mr. Russell Sturgis.]
KENNEDY'S HOTEL, EDINBURGH,
_Monday, 14th December, 1868._[98]
MY DEAR MR. RUSSELL STURGIS,
I am "reading" here, and shall be through this week. Consequently I am
only this morning in receipt of your kind note of the 10th, forwarded
from my own house.
Believe me I am as much obliged to you for your generous and ready
response to my supposed letter as I should have been if I had really
written it. But I know nothing whatever of it or of "Miss Jeffries,"
except that I have a faint impression of having recently noticed that
name among my begging-letter correspondents, and of having associated it
in my mind with a regular professional hand. Your caution has, I hope,
disappointed this swindler. But my testimony is at your service if you
should need it, and I would take any opportunity of bringing one of
those v