"Although I perpetually see in the papers that I am coming out with
a new serial, I assure you I know no more of it at present. I am
_not_ writing (except for Christmas number of 'All the Year Round'),
and am going to begin, in the middle of January, a series of
forty-two readings. Those will probably occupy me until Easter.
Early in the summer I hope to get to work upon a story that I have
in my mind. But in what form it will appear I do not yet know,
because when the time comes I shall have to take many circumstances
into consideration.....
"A faint outline of a castle in the air always dimly hovers between
me and Rochester, in the great hall of which I see myself reading to
American audiences. But my domestic surroundings must change before
the castle takes tangible form. And perhaps _I_ may change first,
and establish a castle in the other world. So no more at present.
"Believe me ever faithfully yours,
"CHARLES DICKENS."
In June, 1867, things begin to look more promising, and I find in one
of his letters, dated the 3d of that month, some good news, as
follows:--
"I cannot receive your pleasantest of notes, without assuring you of
the interest and gratification that _I_ feel on _my_ side in our
alliance. And now I am going to add a piece of intelligence that I
hope may not be disagreeable.
"I am trying hard so to free myself, as to be able to come over to
read this next winter! Whether I may succeed in this endeavor or no
I cannot yet say, but I am trying HARD. So in the mean time don't
contradict the rumor. In the course of a few mails I hope to be able
to give you positive and definite information on the subject.
"My daughter (whom I shall not bring if I come) will answer for
herself by and by. Understand that I am really endeavoring tooth and
nail to make my way personally to the American public, and that no
light obstacles will turn me aside, now that my hand is in.
"My dear Fields, faithfully yours always,
"CHARLES DICKENS."
This was followed up by another letter, dated the 13th, in which he
says:--
"I have this morning resolved to send out to Boston, in the first
week in August, Mr. Dolby, the secretary and manager of my readings.
He is profoundly versed in the business of those delightful
intellectual feasts (!), and will come straight to Ticknor and
Fields, and will hold solemn council with them, and will then go to
New York, Philadelphia, Hartford, Washington, etc., etc., and see
the rooms for himself, and make his estimates. He will then
telegraph to me: 'I see my way to such and such results. Shall I go
on?' If I reply, 'Yes,' I shall stand committed to begin reading in
America with the month of December. If I reply, 'No,' it will be
because I do not clearly see the game to be worth so large a candle.
In either case he will come back to me.
"He is the brother of Madame Sainton Dolby, the celebrated singer. I
have absolute trust in him and a great regard for him. He goes with
me everywhere when I read, and manages for me to perfection.
"We mean to keep all this STRICTLY SECRET, as I beg of you to do,
until I finally decide for or against. I am beleaguered by every
kind of speculator in such things on your side of the water; and it
is very likely that they would take the rooms over our heads,--to
charge me heavily for them,--or would set on foot unheard-of
devices for buying up the tickets, etc., etc., if the probabilities
oozed out. This is exactly how the case stands now, and I confide it
to you within a couple of hours after having so far resolved. Dolby
quite understands that _he_ is to confide in you, similarly, without
a particle of reserve.
"Ever faithfully yours,
"CHARLES DICKENS."