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.
[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.
[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.
[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.
[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.
[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.
[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.
[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.
[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.
[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
ROYAL HOTEL, DERBY, _Friday, Oct. 22nd, 1858._
MY DEAREST MAMIE,