O, breathe not his name.
* * * * *
Here is a portfolio of Dickens's letters, written to me from time to
time during the past ten years. As long ago as the spring of 1858 I
began to press him very hard to come to America and give us a course of
readings from his works. At that time I had never heard him read in
public, but the fame of his wonderful performances rendered me eager to
have my own country share in the enjoyment of them. Being in London in
the summer of 1859, and dining with him one day in his town residence,
Tavistock House, Tavistock Square, we had much talk in a corner of his
library about coming to America. I thought him over-sensitive with
regard to his reception here, and I tried to remove any obstructions
that might exist in his mind at that time against a second visit across
the Atlantic. I followed up our conversation with a note setting forth
the certainty of his success among his Transatlantic friends, and urging
him to decide on a visit during the year. He replied to me, dating from
"Gad's Hill Place, Higham by Rochester, Kent."
"I write to you from my little Kentish country house, on the very
spot where Falstaff ran away.
"I cannot tell you how very much obliged to you I feel for your kind
suggestion, and for the perfectly frank and unaffected manner in
which it is conveyed to me.
"It touches, I will admit to you frankly, a chord that has several
times sounded in my breast, since I began my readings. I should very
much like to read in America. But the idea is a mere dream as yet.
Several strong reasons would make the journey difficult to me,
and--even were they overcome--I would never make it, unless I had
great general reason to believe that the American people really
wanted to hear me.
"Through the whole of this autumn I shall be reading in various
parts of England, Ireland, and Scotland. I mention this, in
reference to the closing paragraph of your esteemed favor.
"Allow me once again to thank you most heartily, and to remain,
"Gratefully and faithfully yours,
"CHARLES DICKENS."
Early in the month of July, 1859, I spent a day with him in his
beautiful country retreat in Kent. He drove me about the leafy lanes in
his basket wagon, pointing out the lovely spots belonging to his
friends, and ending with a visit to the ruins of Rochester Castle. We
climbed up the time-worn walls and leaned out of the ivied windows,
looking into the various apartments below. I remember how vividly he
reproduced a probable scene in the great old banqueting-room, and how
graphically he imagined the life of _ennui_ and every-day tediousness
that went on in those lazy old times. I recall his fancy picture of the
dogs stretched out before the fire, sleeping and snoring with their
masters. That day he seemed to revel in the past, and I stood by,
listening almost with awe to his impressive voice, as he spoke out whole
chapters of a romance destined never to be written. On our way back to
Gad's Hill Place, he stopped in the road, I remember, to have a crack
with a gentleman who he told me was a son of Sydney Smith. The only
other guest at his table that day was Wilkie Collins; and after dinner
we three went out and lay down on the grass, while Dickens showed off a
raven that was hopping about, and told anecdotes of the bird and of his
many predecessors. We also talked about his visiting America, I putting
as many spokes as possible into that favorite wheel of mine. A day or
two after I returned to London I received this note from him:--
"...Only to say that I heartily enjoyed our day, and shall long
remember it. Also that I have been perpetually repeating the ----
experience (of a more tremendous sort in the way of ghastly
comicality, experience there is none) on the grass, on my back.
Also, that I have not forgotten Cobbett. Also, that I shall trouble
you at greater length when the mysterious oracle, of New York,
pronounces.
"Wilkie Collins begs me to report that he declines pale horse, and
all other horse exercise--and all exercise, except eating, drinking,
smoking, and sleeping--in the dog days.
"With united kind regards, believe me always cordially yours,
"CHARLES DICKENS."
An agent had come out from New York with offers to induce him to arrange
for a speedy visit to America, and Dickens was then waiting to see the
man who had been announced as on his way to him. He was evidently giving
the subject serious consideration, for on the 20th of July he sends me
this note:--
"As I have not yet heard from Mr. ---- of New York, I begin to think
it likely (or, rather, I begin to think it more likely than I
thought it before) that he has not backers good and sufficient, and
that his 'mission' will go off. It is possible that I may hear from
him before the month is out, and I shall not make any reading
arrangements until it has come to a close; but I do not regard it as
being very probable that the said ---- will appear satisfactorily,
either in the flesh or the spirit.
"Now, considering that it would be August before I could move in the
matter, that it would be indispensably necessary to choose some
business connection and have some business arrangements made in
America, and that I am inclined to think it would not be easy to
originate and complete all the necessary preparations for beginning
in October, I want your kind advice on the following points:--
"1. Suppose I postponed the idea for a year.
"2. Suppose I postponed it until after Christmas.
"3. Suppose I sent some trusty person out to America _now_, to
negotiate with some sound, responsible, trustworthy man of business
in New York, accustomed to public undertakings of such a nature; my
negotiator being fully empowered to conclude any arrangements with
him that might appear, on consultation, best.
"Have you any idea of any such person to whom you could recommend
me? Or of any such agent here? I only want to see my way distinctly,
and to have it prepared before me, out in the States. Now, I will
make no apology for troubling you, because I thoroughly rely on your
interest and kindness.
"I am at Gad's Hill, except on Tuesdays and the greater part of
Wednesdays.
"With kind regards, very faithfully yours,
"CHARLES DICKENS."
Various notes passed between us after this, during my stay in London in
1859. On the 6th of August he writes:--
"I have considered the subject in every way, and have consulted with
the few friends to whom I ever refer my doubts, and whose judgment
is in the main excellent. I have (this is between ourselves) come to
the conclusion _that I will not go now_.
"A year hence I may revive the matter, and your presence in America
will then be a great encouragement and assistance to me. I shall see
you (at least I count upon doing so) at my house in town before you
turn your face towards the locked-up house; and we will then,
reversing Macbeth, 'proceed further in this business.' ...
"Believe me always (and here I forever renounce 'Mr.,' as having
anything whatever to do with our communication, and as being a mere
preposterous interloper),
"Faithfully yours,
"CHARLES DICKENS."
When I arrived in Rome, early in 1860, one of the first letters I
received from London was from him. The project of coming to America was
constantly before him, and he wrote to me that he should have a great
deal to say when I came back to England in the spring; but the plan fell
through, and he gave up all hope of crossing the water again. However, I
did not let the matter rest; and when I returned home I did not cease,
year after year, to keep the subject open in my communications with him.
He kept a watchful eye on what was going forward in America, both in
literature and politics. During the war, of course, both of us gave up
our correspondence about the readings. He was actively engaged all over
Great Britain in giving his marvellous entertainments, and there
certainly was no occasion for his travelling elsewhere. In October,
1862, I sent him the proof-sheets of an article, that was soon to appear
in the Atlantic Monthly, on "Blind Tom," and on receipt of it he sent me
a letter, from which this is an extract:--
"I have read that affecting paper you have had the kindness to send
me, with strong interest and emotion. You may readily suppose that I
have been most glad and ready to avail myself of your permission to
print it. I have placed it in our Number made up to-day, which will
be published on the 18th of this month,--well before you,--as you
desire.
"Think of reading in America? Lord bless you, I think of reading in
the deepest depth of the lowest crater in the Moon, on my way there!
"There is no sun-picture of my Falstaff House as yet; but it shall
be done, and you shall have it. It has been much improved internally
since you saw it....
"I expect Macready at Gad's Hill on Saturday. You know that his
second wife (an excellent one) presented him lately with a little
boy? I was staying with him for a day or two last winter, and,
seizing an umbrella when he had the audacity to tell me he was
growing old, made at him with Macduff's defiance. Upon which he fell
into the old fierce guard, with the desperation of thirty years ago.
"Kind remembrances to all friends who kindly remember me.
"Ever heartily yours,
"CHARLES DICKENS."
Every time I had occasion to write to him after the war, I stirred up
the subject of the readings. On the 2d of May, 1866, he says:--
"Your letter is an excessively difficult one to answer, because I
really do not know that any sum of money that could be laid down
would induce me to cross the Atlantic to read. Nor do I think it
likely that any one on your side of the great water can be prepared
to understand the state of the case. For example, I am now just
finishing a series of thirty readings. The crowds attending them
have been so astounding, and the relish for them has so far outgone
all previous experience, that if I were to set myself the task, 'I
will make such or such a sum of money by devoting myself to readings
for a certain time,' I should have to go no further than Bond
Street or Regent Street, to have it secured to me in a day.
Therefore, if a specific offer, and a very large one indeed, were
made to me from America, I should naturally ask myself, 'Why go
through this wear and tear, merely to pluck fruit that grows on
every bough at home?' It is a delightful sensation to move a new
people; but I have but to go to Paris, and I find the brightest
people in the world quite ready for me. I say thus much in a sort of
desperate endeavor to explain myself to you. I can put no price upon
fifty readings in America, because I do not know that any possible
price could pay me for them. And I really cannot say to any one
disposed towards the enterprise, 'Tempt me,' because I have too
strong a misgiving that he cannot in the nature of things do it.
"This is the plain truth. If any distinct proposal be submitted to
me, I will give it a distinct answer. But the chances are a round
thousand to one that the answer will be no, and therefore I feel
bound to make the declaration beforehand.
"....This place has been greatly improved since you were here, and
we should be heartily glad if you and she could see it.
"Faithfully yours ever,
"CHARLES DICKENS."