sorry to add that I must not go a-visiting. For this reason: So
incessantly have I been "reading," that I have not once been at home at
Gad's Hill since last January, and am little likely to get there before
the middle of May. Judge how the master's eye must be kept on the place
when it does at length get a look at it after so long an absence! I hope
you will descry in this a reason for coming to me again, instead of my
coming to you.
The extinct prize-fighters, as a body, I take to be a good subject, for
much the same reason as George Barrington. Their patrons were a class of
men now extinct too, and the whole ring of those days (not to mention
Jackson's rooms in Bond Street) is a piece of social history. Now Vaux
is not, nor is he even a phenomenon among thieves.
Faithfully yours always.
[Sidenote: Mr. Clarkson Stanfield, R.A.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER,
_Thursday, April 18th, 1867._
MY DEAR STANNY,
The time of year reminds me how the months have gone, since I last heard
from you through Mrs. Stanfield.
I hope you have not thought me unmindful of you in the meanwhile. I have
been almost constantly travelling and reading. England, Ireland, and
Scotland have laid hold of me by turns, and I have had no rest. As soon
as I had finished this kind of work last year, I had to fall to work
upon "All the Year Round" and the Christmas number. I was no sooner quit
of that task, and the Christmas season was but run out to its last day,
when I was tempted into another course of fifty readings that are not
yet over. I am here now for two days, and have not seen the place since
Twelfth Night. When a reading in London has been done, I have been
brought up for it from some great distance, and have next morning been
carried back again. But the fifty will be "paid out" (as we say at sea)
by the middle of May, and then I hope to see you.
Reading at Cheltenham the other day, I saw Macready, who sent his love
to you. His face was much more massive and as it used to be, than when I
saw him previous to his illness. His wife takes admirable care of him,
and is on the happiest terms with his daughter Katie. His boy by the
second marriage is a jolly little fellow, and leads a far easier life
than the children you and I remember, who used to come in at dessert and
have each a biscuit and a glass of water, in which last refreshment I
was always convinced that they drank, with the gloomiest malignity,
"Destruction to the gormandising grown-up company!"
I hope to look up your latest triumphs on the day of the Academy dinner.
Of course as yet I have had no opportunity of even hearing of what
anyone has done. I have been (in a general way) snowed up for four
months. The locomotive with which I was going to Ireland was dug out of
the snow at midnight, in Wales. Both passages across were made in a
furious snowstorm. The snow lay ankle-deep in Dublin, and froze hard at
Belfast. In Scotland it slanted before a perpetual east wind. In
Yorkshire, it derived novelty from thunder and lightning. Whirlwinds
everywhere I don't mention.
God bless you and yours. If I look like some weather-beaten pilot when
we meet, don't be surprised. Any mahogany-faced stranger who holds out
his hand to you will probably turn out, on inspection, to be the old
original Dick.
Ever, my dear Stanny, your faithful and affectionate.
P.S.--I wish you could have been with me (of course in a snowstorm) one
day on the pier at Tynemouth. There was a very heavy sea running, and a
perfect fleet of screw merchantmen were plunging in and out on the turn
of the tide at high-water. Suddenly there came a golden horizon, and a
most glorious rainbow burst out, arching one large ship, as if she were
sailing direct for heaven. I was so enchanted by the scene, that I
became oblivious of a few thousand tons of water coming on in an
enormous roller, and was knocked down and beaten by its spray when it
broke, and so completely wetted through and through, that the very
pockets in my pocket-book were full of sea.
[Sidenote: Mr. George Stanfield.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Sunday, May 19th, 1867._
ON THE DEATH OF HIS FATHER.
MY DEAR GEORGE,
When I came up to the house this afternoon and saw what had happened, I
had not the courage to ring, though I had thought I was fully prepared
by what I heard when I called yesterday. No one of your father's friends
can ever have loved him more dearly than I always did, or can have
better known the worth of his noble character.
It is idle to suppose that I can do anything for you; and yet I cannot
help saying that I am staying here for some days, and that if I could,
it would be a much greater relief to me than it could be a service to
you.
Your poor mother has been constantly in my thoughts since I saw the
quiet bravery with which she preserved her composure. The beauty of her
ministration sank into my heart when I saw him for the last time on
earth. May God be with her, and with you all, in your great loss.
Affectionately yours always.
[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
_Thursday, June 6th, 1867._
MY DEAR WILLS,
I cannot tell you how warmly I feel your letter, or how deeply I
appreciate the affection and regard in which it originates. I thank you
for it with all my heart.
You will not suppose that I make light of any of your misgivings if I
present the other side of the question. Every objection that you make
strongly impresses me, and will be revolved in my mind again and again.
When I went to America in '42, I was so much younger, but (I think) very
much weaker too. I had had a painful surgical operation performed
shortly before going out, and had had the labour from week to week of
"Master Humphrey's Clock." My life in the States was a life of continual
speech-making (quite as laborious as reading), and I was less patient
and more irritable then than I am now. My idea of a course of readings
in America is, that it would involve far less travelling than you
suppose, that the large first-class rooms would absorb the whole course,
and that the receipts would be very much larger than your estimate,
unless the demand for the readings is ENORMOUSLY EXAGGERATED ON ALL
HANDS. There is considerable reason for this view of the case. And I can
hardly think that all the speculators who beset, and all the private
correspondents who urge me, are in a conspiracy or under a common
delusion.
* * * * *
I shall never rest much while my faculties last, and (if I know myself)
have a certain something in me that would still be active in rusting and
corroding me, if I flattered myself that I was in repose. On the other
hand, I think that my habit of easy self-abstraction and withdrawal into
fancies has always refreshed and strengthened me in short intervals
wonderfully. I always seem to myself to have rested far more than I have
worked; and I do really believe that I have some exceptional faculty of
accumulating young feelings in short pauses, which obliterates a
quantity of wear and tear.
My worldly circumstances (such a large family considered) are very good.
I don't want money. All my possessions are free and in the best order.
Still, at fifty-five or fifty-six, the likelihood of making a very great
addition to one's capital in half a year is an immense consideration....
I repeat the phrase, because there should be something large to set
against the objections.
I dine with Forster to-day, to talk it over. I have no doubt he will
urge most of your objections and particularly the last, though American
friends and correspondents he has, have undoubtedly staggered him more
than I ever knew him to be staggered on the money question. Be assured
that no one can present any argument to me which will weigh more
heartily with me than your kind words, and that whatever comes of my
present state of abeyance, I shall never forget your letter or cease to
be grateful for it.
Ever, my dear Wills, faithfully yours.
[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Sunday, June 13th, 1867._
MY DEAR WILLS,
I have read the first three numbers of Wilkie's story this morning, and
have gone minutely through the plot of the rest to the last line. It
gives a series of "narratives," but it is a very curious story, wild,
and yet domestic, with excellent character in it, and great mystery. It
is prepared with extraordinary care, and has every chance of being a
hit. It is in many respects much better than anything he has done. The
question is, how shall we fill up the blank between Mabel's progress and
Wilkie? What do you think of proposing to Fitzgerald to do a story three
months long? I daresay he has some unfinished or projected something by
him.
I have an impression that it was not Silvester who tried Eliza Fenning,
but Knowles. One can hardly suppose Thornbury to make such a mistake,
but I wish you would look into the Annual Register. I have added a final
paragraph about the unfairness of the judge, whoever he was. I
distinctly recollect to have read of his "putting down" of Eliza
Fenning's father when the old man made some miserable suggestion in his
daughter's behalf (this is not noticed by Thornbury), and he also
stopped some suggestion that a knife thrust into a loaf adulterated with
alum would present the appearance that these knives presented. But I may
have got both these points from looking up some pamphlets in Upcott's
collection which I once had.
Your account of your journey reminds me of one of the latest American
stories, how a traveller by stage-coach said to the driver: "Did you
ever see a snail, sir?" "Yes, sir." "Where did you meet him, sir?" "I
_didn't_ meet him, sir!" "Wa'al, sir, I think you did, if you'll excuse
me, for I'm damned if you ever overtook him."
Ever faithfully.
[Sidenote: Mrs. Henderson.]
GAD'S HILL, _Thursday, July 4th, 1867._
MY DEAR MRS. HENDERSON,
I was more shocked than surprised by the receipt of your mother's
announcement of our poor dear Marguerite's death. When I heard of the
consultation, and recalled what had preceded it and what I have seen
here, my hopes were very slight.
Your letter did not reach me until last night, and thus I could not
avoid remaining here to-day, to keep an American appointment of unusual
importance. You and your mother both know, I think, that I had a great
affection for Marguerite, that we had many dear remembrances together,
and that her self-reliance and composed perseverance had awakened my
highest admiration in later times. No one could have stood by her grave
to-day with a better knowledge of all that was great and good in her
than I have, or with a more loving remembrance of her through all her
phases since she first came to London a pretty timid girl.
I do not trouble your mother by writing to her separately. It is a sad,
sad task to write at all. God help us!
Faithfully yours.
[Sidenote: Mr. Percy Fitzgerald.]
GAD'S HILL, _July 21st, 1867._
MY DEAR FITZGERALD,
I am heartily glad to get your letter, and shall be thoroughly well
pleased to study you again in the pages of A. Y. R.
I have settled nothing yet about America, but am going to send Dolby out
on the 3rd of next month to survey the land, and come back with a report
on some heads whereon I require accurate information. Proposals (both
from American and English speculators) of a very tempting nature have
been repeatedly made to me; but I cannot endure the thought of binding
myself to give so many readings there whether I like it or no; and if I
go at all, am bent on going with Dolby single-handed.
I have been doing two things for America; one, the little story to which
you refer; the other, four little papers for a child's magazine. I like
them both, and think the latter a queer combination of a child's mind
with a grown-up joke. I have had them printed to assure correct printing
in the United States. You shall have the proof to read, with the
greatest pleasure. On second thoughts, why shouldn't I send you the
children's proof by this same post? I will, as I have it here, send it
under another cover. When you return it, you shall have the short story.
Believe me, always heartily yours.
[Sidenote: Mr. Percy Fitzgerald.]
EXTRACT.
_July 28th, 1867._
I am glad you like the children, and particularly glad you like the
pirate. I remember very well when I had a general idea of occupying that
place in history at the same age. But I loved more desperately than
Boldheart.
[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
ADELPHI HOTEL, LIVERPOOL, _Friday Night, Aug. 2nd, 1867._
MY DEAREST GEORGY,
I cannot get a boot on--wear a slipper on my left foot, and consequently
am here under difficulties. My foot is occasionally painful, but not
very. I don't think it worth while consulting anybody about it as yet. I
make out so many reasons against supposing it to be gouty, that I really
do not think it is.
Dolby begs me to send all manner of apologetic messages for his going to
America. He is very cheerful and hopeful, but evidently feels the
separation from his wife and child very much. His sister[17] was at
Euston Square this morning, looking very well. Sainton too, very light
and jovial.
With the view of keeping myself and my foot quiet, I think I will not
come to Gad's Hill until Monday. If I don't appear before, send basket
to Gravesend to meet me, leaving town by the 12.10 on Monday. This is
important, as I couldn't walk a quarter of a mile to-night for five
hundred pounds.
Love to all at Gad's.
[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
GAD'S HILL, _Monday, Sept. 2nd, 1867._
MY DEAR WILLS,
Like you, I was shocked when this new discovery burst upon me on Friday,
though, unlike you, I never could believe in ----, solely (I think)
because, often as I have tried him, I never found him standing by my
desk when I was writing a letter without trying to read it.
I fear there is no doubt that since ----'s discharge, he (----) has
stolen money at the readings. A case of an abstracted shilling seems to
have been clearly brought home to him by Chappell's people, and they
know very well what _that_ means. I supposed a very clear keeping off
from Anne's husband (whom I recommended for employment to Chappell) to
have been referable only to ----; but now I see how hopeless and unjust
it would be to expect belief from him with two such cases within his
knowledge.
But don't let the thing spoil your holiday. If we try to do our duty by
people we employ, by exacting their proper service from them on the one
hand, and treating them with all possible consistency, gentleness, and
consideration on the other, we know that we do right. Their doing wrong
cannot change our doing right, and that should be enough for us.
So I have given _my_ feathers a shake, and am all right again. Give
_your_ feathers a shake, and take a cheery flutter into the air of
Hertfordshire.
Great reports from Dolby and also from Fields! But I keep myself quite
calm, and hold my decision in abeyance until I shall have book, chapter,
and verse before me. Dolby hoped he could leave Uncle Sam on the 11th of
this month.
Sydney has passed as a lieutenant, and appeared at home yesterday, all
of a sudden, with the consequent golden garniture on his sleeve, which
I, God forgive me, stared at without the least idea that it meant
promotion.
I am glad you see a certain unlikeness to anything in the American
story. Upon myself it has made the strangest impression of reality and
originality!! And I feel as if I had read something (by somebody else),
which I should never get out of my mind!!! The main idea of the
narrator's position towards the other people was the idea that I _had_
for my next novel in A. Y. R. But it is very curious that I did not in
the least see how to begin his state of mind until I walked into Hoghton
Towers one bright April day with Dolby.
Faithfully ever.
[Sidenote: Mr. F. D. Finlay.]
CONTRADICTING A NEWSPAPER REPORT OF HIS BEING IN A
CRITICAL STATE OF HEALTH.
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Tuesday, Sept. 3rd, 1867._
This is to certify that the undersigned victim of a periodical
paragraph-disease, which usually breaks out once in every seven years
(proceeding to England by the overland route to India and per Cunard
line to America, where it strikes the base of the Rocky Mountains, and,
rebounding to Europe, perishes on the steppes of Russia), is _not_ in a
"critical state of health," and has _not_ consulted "eminent surgeons,"
and never was better in his life, and is _not_ recommended to proceed to
the United States for "cessation from literary labour," and has not had
so much as a headache for twenty years.
CHARLES DICKENS.
[Sidenote: M. Charles Fechter.]
"ALL THE YEAR ROUND" OFFICE,
_Monday, Sept. 16th, 1867._
MY DEAR FECHTER,
Going over the prompt-book carefully, I see one change in your part to
which (on Lytton's behalf) I positively object, as I am quite certain he
would not consent to it. It is highly injudicious besides, as striking
out the best known line in the play.
Turn to your part in Act III., the speech beginning
Pauline, _by pride
Angels have fallen ere thy time_: by pride----
You have made a passage farther on stand:
_Then did I seek to rise
Out of my mean estate. Thy bright image, etc._
I must stipulate for your restoring it thus:
Then did I seek to rise
Out of the prison of my mean estate;
And, with such jewels as the exploring mind
Brings from the caves of knowledge, buy my ransom
From those twin jailers of the daring heart--
Low birth and iron fortune. Thy bright image, etc. etc.
The last figure has been again and again quoted; is identified with the
play; is fine in itself; and above all, I KNOW that Lytton would not let
it go. In writing to him to-day, fully explaining the changes in detail,
and saying that I disapprove of nothing else, I have told him that I
notice this change and that I immediately let you know that it must not
be made.
(There will not be a man in the house from any newspaper who would not
detect mutilations in that speech, moreover.)
Ever.
[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
_Monday, Sept. 30th, 1867._
MY DEAREST GEORGY,
The telegram is despatched to Boston: "Yes. Go ahead." After a very
anxious consultation with Forster, and careful heed of what is to be
said for and against, I have made up my mind to see it out. I do not
expect as much money as the calculators estimate, but I cannot set the
hope of a large sum of money aside.
I am so nervous with travelling and anxiety to decide something, that I
can hardly write. But I send you these few words as my dearest and best
friend.
[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND," NO. 26, WELLINGTON STREET, STRAND,
LONDON, W.C.,
_Monday, Sept. 30th, 1867._
MY DEAREST MAMIE,
You will have had my telegram that I go to America. After a long
discussion with Forster, and consideration of what is to be said on both
sides, I have decided to go through with it. I doubt the profit being as
great as the calculation makes it, but the prospect is sufficiently
alluring to turn the scale on the American side.
Unless I telegraph to the contrary, I will come to Gravesend (send
basket there) by 12 train on Wednesday. Love to all.
We have telegraphed "Yes" to Boston.
I begin to feel myself drawn towards America, as Darnay, in the "Tale of
Two Cities," was attracted to the Loadstone Rock, Paris.
[Sidenote: Mr. William Charles Kent.]
26, WELLINGTON STREET, _Saturday, Oct. 19th, 1867._
MY DEAR KENT,
In the midst of the great trouble you are taking in the cause of your
undersigned affectionate friend, I hope the reading of the enclosed may
be a sort of small godsend. Of course it is very strictly private. The
printers are not yet trusted with the name, but the name will be, "No
Thoroughfare." I have done the greater part of it; may you find it
interesting!
My solicitor, a man of some mark and well known, is anxious to be on the
Committee:
Frederic Ouvry, Esquire,
66, Lincoln's Inn Fields.
Ever affectionately yours.
P.S.--My sailor son!
I forgot him!!
Coming up from Portsmouth for the dinner!!!
Der--er--oo not cur--ur--urse me, I implore.
Penitently.
[Sidenote: Mrs. Power.]
GAD'S HILL, _Wednesday, Oct. 23rd, 1867._
MY DEAR MRS. POWER,
I have a sad pleasure in the knowledge that our dear Marguerite so
remembered her old friend, and I shall preserve the token of her
remembrance with loving care. The sight of it has brought back many old
days.
With kind remembrance to Mrs. Henderson,
Believe me always, very faithfully yours.
[Sidenote: Mr. J. L. Toole.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Saturday, Nov. 2nd, 1867._
MY DEAR MR. TOOLE,
I heartily thank you for your elegant token of remembrance, and for your
earnest letter. Both have afforded me real pleasure, and the first-named
shall go with me on my journey.
Let me take this opportunity of saying that on receipt of your letter
concerning to-day's dinner, I immediately forwarded your request to the
honorary secretary. I hope you will understand that I could not, in
delicacy, otherwise take part in the matter.
Again thanking you most cordially,
Believe me, always faithfully yours.
[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
26, WELLINGTON STREET, _Sunday, Nov. 3rd, 1867._
MY DEAR WILLS,
If you were to write me many such warm-hearted letters as you send this
morning, my heart would fail me! There is nothing that so breaks down my
determination, or shows me what an iron force I put upon myself, and how
weak it is, as a touch of true affection from a tried friend.
All that you so earnestly say about the goodwill and devotion of all
engaged, I perceived and deeply felt last night. It moved me even more
than the demonstration itself, though I do suppose it was the most
brilliant ever seen. When I got up to speak, but for taking a desperate
hold of myself, I should have lost my sight and voice and sat down
again.
God bless you, my dear fellow. I am, ever and ever,
Your affectionate.
[Sidenote: The Hon. Mrs. Watson.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Tuesday, Nov. 5th, 1867._
MY DEAR MRS. WATSON,
A thousand thanks for your kind letter, and many congratulations on your
having successfully attained a dignity which I never allow to be
mentioned in my presence. Charley's children are instructed from their
tenderest months only to know me as "Wenerables," which they sincerely
believe to be my name, and a kind of title that I have received from a
grateful country.
Alas! I cannot have the pleasure of seeing you before I presently go to
Liverpool. Every moment of my time is preoccupied. But I send you my
sincere love, and am always truthful to the dear old days, and the
memory of one of the dearest friends I ever loved.
Affectionately yours.
[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
ABOARD THE "CUBA," QUEENSTOWN HARBOUR,
_Sunday, Nov. 10th, 1867._
MY DEAREST MAMIE,
We arrived here at seven this morning, and shall probably remain
awaiting our mail, until four or five this afternoon. The weather in the
passage here was delightful, and we had scarcely any motion beyond that
of the screw.
We are nearly but not quite full of passengers. At table I sit next the
captain, on his right, on the outside of the table and close to the
door. My little cabin is big enough for everything but getting up in and
going to bed in. As it has a good window which I can leave open all
night, and a door which I can set open too, it suits my chief
requirements of it--plenty of air--admirably. On a writing-slab in it,
which pulls out when wanted, I now write in a majestic manner.
Many of the passengers are American, and I am already on the best terms
with nearly all the ship.
We began our voyage yesterday a very little while after you left us,
which was a great relief. The wind is S.E. this morning, and if it would
keep so we should go along nobly. My dearest love to your aunt, and
also to Katie and all the rest. I am in very good health, thank God, and
as well as possible.
[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
ABOARD THE "CUBA," FIVE DAYS OUT,
_Wednesday, Nov. 13th, 1867._
MY DEAREST GEORGY,
As I wrote to Mamie last, I now write to you, or mean to do it, if the
motion of the ship will let me.