My Dear ----: 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. M----'s little dog too, Mrs. Bouncer, barked in the
greatest agitation on being called down and asked by M----, "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!" 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 M----'s permission to "ring
the alarm-bell (!) when master drove up"; but M----, 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 reflection 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. M---- and G---- 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 Chalet (where I write), and they reflect and refract in
all kinds of ways the leaves that are quivering at the windows, and
he 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 relief, 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., & 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. Is it not a curious thing that they want to
make me a governor of the Foundling Hospital, because, since the
Christmas number, they have had such an amazing access of visitors
and money?
My dear love to Fields once again. Same to you and him from M----
and G----. I cannot tell you both how I miss you, or how overjoyed I
should be to see you here.
Ever, my dear ----, your most affectionate friend,