We had often talked together of the addition to his _répertoire_ of some
scenes from "Oliver Twist," and the following letter explains itself:--
Glasgow, Wednesday, December 16, 1868.
Mr Dear ----: ...And first, as you are curious about the Oliver
murder, I will tell you about that trial of the same at which you
_ought_ to have assisted. There were about a hundred people present
in all. I have changed my stage. Besides that back screen which you
know so well, there are two large screens of the same color, set
off, one on either side, like the "wings" at a theatre. And besides
those again, we have a quantity of curtains of the same color, with
which to close in any width of room from wall to wall. Consequently,
the figure is now completely isolated, and the slightest action
becomes much more important. This was used for the first time on the
occasion. But behind the stage--the orchestra being very large and
built for the accommodation of a numerous chorus--there was ready,
on the level of the platform, a very long table, beautifully
lighted, with a large staff of men ready to open oysters and set
champagne corks flying. Directly I had done, the screens being
whisked off by my people, there was disclosed one of the prettiest
banquets you can imagine; and when all the people came up, and the
gay dresses of the ladies were lighted by those powerful lights of
mine, the scene was exquisitely pretty; the hall being newly
decorated, and very elegantly; and the whole looking like a great
bed of flowers and diamonds.
Now, you must know that all this company were, before the wine went
round, unmistakably pale, and had horror-stricken faces. Next
morning, Harness (Fields knows--Rev. William--did an edition of
Shakespeare--old friend of the Kembles and Mrs. Siddons), writing to
me about it, and saying it was "a most amazing and terrific thing,"
added, "but I am bound to tell you that I had an almost irresistible
impulse upon me to _scream_, and that, if any one had cried out, I
am certain I should have followed." He had no idea that on the night
P----, the great ladies' doctor, had taken me aside and said, "My
dear Dickens, you may rely upon it that if only one woman cries out
when you murder the girl, there will be a contagion of hysteria all
over this place." It is impossible to soften it without spoiling it,
and you may suppose that I am rather anxious to discover how it goes
on the 5th of January!!! We are afraid to announce it elsewhere,
without knowing, except that I have thought it pretty safe to put it
up once in Dublin. I asked Mrs. K----, the famous actress, who was
at the experiment: "What do _you_ say? Do it, or not?" "Why, of
course, do it," she replied. "Having got at such an effect as that,
it must be done. But," rolling her large black eyes very slowly, and
speaking very distinctly, "the public have been looking out for a
sensation these last fifty years or so, and by Heaven they have got
it!" With which words, and a long breath and a long stare, she
became speechless. Again, you may suppose that I am a little
anxious! I had previously tried it, merely sitting over the fire in
a chair, upon two ladies separately, one of whom was G----. They had
both said, "O, good gracious! if you are going to do _that_, it
ought to be seen; but it's awful." So once again you may suppose I
am a little anxious!...
Not a day passes but Dolby and I talk about you both, and recall
where we were at the corresponding time of last year. My old
likening of Boston to Edinburgh has been constantly revived within
these last ten days. There is a certain remarkable similarity of
tone between the two places. The audiences are curiously alike,
except that the Edinburgh audience has a quicker sense of humor and
is a little more genial. No disparagement to Boston in this, because
I consider an Edinburgh audience perfect.
I trust, my dear Eugenius, that you have recognized yourself in a
certain Uncommercial, and also some small reference to a name rather
dear to you? As an instance of how strangely something comic springs
up in the midst of the direst misery, look to a succeeding
Uncommercial, called "A Small Star in the East," published to-day,
by the by. I have described, with _exactness_, the poor places into
which I went, and how the people behaved, and what they said. I was
wretched, looking on; and yet the boiler-maker and the poor man with
the legs filled me with a sense of drollery not to be kept down by
any pressure.
The atmosphere of this place, compounded of mists from the highlands
and smoke from the town factories, is crushing my eyebrows as I
write, and it rains as it never does rain anywhere else, and always
does rain here. It is a dreadful place, though much improved and
possessing a deal of public spirit. Improvement is beginning to
knock the old town of Edinburgh about, here and there; but the
Canongate and the most picturesque of the horrible courts and wynds
are not to be easily spoiled, or made fit for the poor wretches who
people them to live in. Edinburgh is so changed as to its
notabilities, that I had the only three men left of the Wilson and
Jeffrey time to dine with me there, last Saturday.
I read here to-night and to-morrow, go back to Edinburgh on Friday
morning, read there on Saturday morning, and start southward by the
mail that same night. After the great experiment of the 5th,--that
is to say, on the morning of the 6th,--we are off to Belfast and
Dublin. On every alternate Tuesday I am due in London, from
wheresoever I may be, to read at St. James's Hall.
I think you will find "Fatal Zero" (by Percy Fitzgerald) a very
curious analysis of a mind, as the story advances. A new beginner in
A.Y.R. (Hon. Mrs. Clifford, Kinglake's sister), who wrote a story in
the series just finished, called "The Abbot's Pool," has just sent
me another story. I have a strong impression that, with care, she
will step into Mrs. Graskell's vacant place. W---- is no better, and
I have work enough even in that direction.
God bless the woman with the black mittens, for making me laugh so
this morning! I take her to be a kind of public-spirited Mrs.
Sparsit, and as such take her to my bosom. God bless you both, my
dear friends, in this Christmas and New Year time, and in all times,
seasons, and places, and send you to Gad's Hill with the next
flowers!