Is to have another still nearer to the Horse-shoe opened in July. My
last sight of that scene (last Sunday) was thus: We went up to the
rapids above the Horse-shoe--say two miles from it--and through the
great cloud of spray. Everything in the magnificent valley--buildings,
forest, high banks, air, water, everything--was _made of rainbow_.
Turner's most imaginative drawing in his finest day has nothing in it so
ethereal, so gorgeous in fancy, so celestial. We said to one another
(Dolby and I), "Let it for evermore remain so," and shut our eyes and
came away.
God bless you and all dear to you, my dear old Friend!
I am ever your affectionate and loving.
[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
PORTLAND, _Sunday, March 29th, 1868._
I should have written to you by the last mail, but I really was too
unwell to do it. The writing day was last Friday, when I ought to have
left Boston for New Bedford (fifty-five miles) before eleven in the
morning. But I was so exhausted that I could not be got up, and had to
take my chance of an evening's train producing me in time to read, which
it just did. With the return of snow, nine days ago, the "true American"
(which had lulled) came back as bad as ever. I have coughed from two or
three in the morning until five or six, and have been absolutely
sleepless. I have had no appetite besides, and no taste. Last night here
I took some laudanum, and it is the only thing that has done me good.
But the life in this climate is so very hard. When I did manage to get
from Boston to New Bedford, I read with my utmost force and vigour.
Next morning, well or ill, I must turn out at seven to get back to
Boston on my way here.
I dine at Boston at three, and at five must come on here (a hundred and
thirty miles or so), for to-morrow night; there being no Sunday train.
To-morrow night I read here in a very large place, and Tuesday morning
at six I must start again to get back to Boston once more. But after
to-morrow night, I have only the Boston and New York farewells, thank
God! I am most grateful to think that when we came to devise the details
of the tour, I foresaw that it could never be done, as Dolby and Osgood
proposed, by one unassisted man, as if he were a machine. If I had not
cut out the work, and cut out Canada, I could never have gone there, I
am quite sure. Even as it is, I have just now written to Dolby (who is
in New York), to see my doctor there, and ask him to send me some
composing medicine that I can take at night, inasmuch as without sleep I
cannot get through. However sympathetic and devoted the people are about
me, they _can not_ be got to comprehend that one's being able to do the
two hours with spirit when the time comes round, may be co-existent with
the consciousness of great depression and fatigue. I don't mind saying
all this, now that the labour is so nearly over. You shall have a
brighter account of me, please God, when I close this at Boston.
_Monday, March 30th._
Without any artificial aid, I got a splendid night's rest last night,
and consequently am very much freshened up to-day. Yesterday I had a
fine walk by the sea, and to-day I have had another on the heights
overlooking it.
BOSTON, _Tuesday, 31st._
I have safely arrived here, just in time to add a line to that effect,
and get this off by to-morrow's English mail from New York. Catarrh
rather better. Everything triumphant last night, except no sleep again.
I suppose Dolby to be now on his way back to join me here. I am much
mistaken if the political crisis do not damage the farewells by almost
one half.
I hope that I am certainly better altogether.
My room well decorated with flowers, of course, and Mr. and Mrs. Fields
coming to dinner. They are the most devoted of friends, and never in the
way and never out of it.
[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
BOSTON, _Wednesday, April 1st, 1868._
I received your letter of from the 14th to the 17th of March, here, last
night. My New York doctor has prescribed for me promptly, and I hope I
am better. I am certainly no worse. We shall do (to the best of my
belief) _very well_ with the farewells here and at New York, but not
greatly. Everything is at a standstill, pending the impeachment and the
next presidential election. I forgot whether I told you that the New
York press are going to give me a public dinner, on Saturday, the 18th.
I hear (but not from himself) that Wills has had a bad fall in hunting,
and is, or has been, laid up. I am supposed, I take it, not to know this
until I hear it from himself.
_Thursday._
My notion of the farewells is pretty certain now to turn out right. It
is not at all probable that we shall do anything enormous. Every pulpit
in Massachusetts will resound to violent politics to-day and to-night.
You remember the Hutchinson family?[24] I have had a grateful letter
from John Hutchinson. He speaks of "my sister Abby" as living in New
York. The immediate object of his note is to invite me to the marriage
of his daughter, twenty-one years of age.
You will see by the evidence of this piece of paper that I am using up
my stationery. Scott has just been making anxious calculations as to our
powers of holding out in the articles of tooth-powder, etc. The
calculations encourage him to believe that we shall just hold out, and
no more. I think I am still better to-day than I was yesterday; but I am
far from strong, and have no appetite. To see me at my little table at
night, you would think me the freshest of the fresh. And this is the
marvel of Fields' life.
I don't forget that this is Forster's birthday.
_Friday Afternoon, 3rd._
Catarrh worse than ever! And we don't know (at four) whether I can read
to-night or must stop. Otherwise all well.
[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
BOSTON, _Tuesday, April 7th, 1868._
I not only read last Friday, when I was doubtful of being able to do so,
but read as I never did before, and astonished the audience quite as
much as myself. You never saw or heard such a scene of excitement.
Longfellow and all the Cambridge men urged me to give in. I have been
very near doing so, but feel stronger to-day. I cannot tell whether the
catarrh may have done me any lasting injury in the lungs or other
breathing organs, until I shall have rested and got home. I hope and
believe not. Consider the weather. There have been two snowstorms since
I wrote last, and to-day the town is blotted out in a ceaseless whirl of
snow and wind.
I cannot eat (to anything like the ordinary extent), and have
established this system: At seven in the morning, in bed, a tumbler of
new cream and two tablespoonsful of rum. At twelve, a sherry cobbler and
a biscuit. At three (dinner time), a pint of champagne. At five minutes
to eight, an egg beaten up with a glass of sherry. Between the parts,
the strongest beef tea that can be made, drunk hot. At a quarter-past
ten, soup, and anything to drink that I can fancy. I don't eat more than
half a pound of solid food in the whole four-and-twenty hours, if so
much.
If I hold out, as I hope to do, I shall be greatly pressed in leaving
here and getting over to New York before next Saturday's mail from
there. Do not, therefore, _if all be well_, expect to hear from me by
Saturday's mail, but look for my last letter from America by the mail of
the following Wednesday, the 15th. _Be sure_ that you shall hear,
however, by Saturday's mail, if I should knock up as to reading. I am
tremendously "beat," but I feel really and unaffectedly so much stronger
to-day, both in my body and hopes, that I am much encouraged. I have a
fancy that I turned my worst time last night.
Dolby is as tender as a woman and as watchful as a doctor. He never
leaves me during the reading now, but sits at the side of the platform
and keeps his eye upon me all the time. Ditto George, the gasman,
steadiest and most reliable man I ever employed. I am the more hopeful
of my not having to relinquish a reading, because last night was
"Copperfield" and "Bob"--by a quarter of an hour the longest, and, in
consideration of the storm, by very much the most trying. Yet I was far
fresher afterwards than I have been these three weeks.
I have "Dombey" to do to-night, and must go through it carefully; so
here ends my report. The personal affection of the people in this place
is charming to the last.
[Sidenote: The Hon. Mrs. Watson.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, _Monday, May 11th, 1868._
MY DEAR MRS. WATSON,
I am delighted to have your letter. It comes to me like a faithful voice
from dear old Rockingham, and awakens many memories.
The work in America has been so very hard, and the winter there has been
so excessively severe, that I really have been very unwell for some
months. But I had not been at sea three days on the passage home when I
became myself again.
If you will arrange with Mary Boyle any time for coming here, we shall
be charmed to see you, and I will adapt my arrangements accordingly. I
make this suggestion because she generally comes here early in the
summer season. But if you will propose yourself _anyhow_, giving me a
margin of a few days in case of my being pre-engaged for this day or
that, we will (as my American friends say) "fix it."
What with travelling, reading night after night, and speech-making day
after day, I feel the peace of the country beyond all expression. On
board ship coming home, a "deputation" (two in number, of whom only one
could get into my cabin, while the other looked in at my window) came to
ask me to read to the passengers that evening in the saloon. I
respectfully replied that sooner than do it, I would assault the
captain, and be put in irons.
Ever affectionately yours.
[Sidenote: Mrs. George Cattermole.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Saturday, May 16th, 1868._
MY DEAR MRS. CATTERMOLE,
On my return from America just now, I accidentally heard that George had
been ill. My sister-in-law had heard it from Forster, but vaguely. Until
I received your letter of Wednesday's date, I had no idea that he had
been very ill; and should have been greatly shocked by knowing it, were
it not for the hopeful and bright assurance you give me that he is
greatly better.
My old affection for him has never cooled. The last time he dined with
me, I asked him to come again that day ten years, for I was perfectly
certain (this was my small joke) that I should not set eyes upon him
sooner. The time being fully up, I hope you will remind him, with my
love, that he is due. His hand is upon these walls here, so I should
like him to see for himself, and _you_ to see for _yourself_, and in
this hope I shall pursue his complete recovery.
I heartily sympathise with you in your terrible anxiety, and in your
vast relief; and, with many thanks for your letter, am ever, my dear
Mrs. Cattermole,
Affectionately yours.
[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
GAD'S HILL, _Wednesday, June 10th, 1868._
MY DEAREST MACREADY,
Since my return from America, I have been so overwhelmed with business
that I have not had time even to write to you. You may imagine what six
months of arrear are to dispose of; added to this, Wills has received a
concussion of the brain (from an accident in the hunting-field), and is
sent away by the doctors, and strictly prohibited from even writing a
note. Consequently all the business and money details of "All the Year
Round" devolve upon me. And I have had to get them up, for I have never
had experience of them. Then I am suddenly entreated to go to Paris, to
look after the French version of "No Thoroughfare" on the stage. And I
go, and come back, leaving it a great success.
I hope Mrs. Macready and you have not abandoned the idea of coming here?
The expression of this hope is the principal, if not the only, object of
this present note. May the amiable secretary vouchsafe a satisfactory
reply!
Katie, Mary, and Georgina send their very best love to your Katie and
Mrs. Macready. The undersigned is in his usual brilliant condition, and
indeed has greatly disappointed them at home here, by coming back "so
brown and looking so well." They expected a wreck, and were, at first,
much mortified. But they are getting over it now.
To my particular friends, the noble boy and Johnny, I beg to be warmly
remembered.
Ever, my dearest Macready,
Your most affectionate.
[Sidenote: Mrs. Henry Austin.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Tuesday, July 21st, 1868._
ON THE DEATH OF MR. HENRY AUSTIN.[25]
MY DEAR LETITIA,
You will have had a telegram from me to-day. I received your sad news by
this morning's post. They never, without express explanation, mind
"Immediate" on a letter addressed to the office, because half the people
who write there on business that does not press, or on no business at
all, so mark their letters.
On Thursday I have people to see and matters to attend to, both at the
office and at Coutts', which, in Wills's absence, I cannot forego or
depute to another. But, _between ourselves_, I must add something else:
I have the greatest objection to attend a funeral in which my affections
are not strongly and immediately concerned. I have no notion of a
funeral as a matter of form or ceremony. And just as I should expressly
prohibit the summoning to my own burial of anybody who was not very near
or dear to me, so I revolt from myself appearing at that solemn rite
unless the deceased were very near or dear to me. I cannot endure being
dressed up by an undertaker as part of his trade show. I was not in this
poor good fellow's house in his lifetime, and I feel that I have no
business there when he lies dead in it. My mind is penetrated with
sympathy and compassion for the young widow, but that feeling is a real
thing, and my attendance as a mourner would not be--to myself. It would
be to you, I know, but it would not be to myself. I know full well that
you cannot delegate to me your memories of and your associations with
the deceased, and the more true and tender they are the more invincible
is my objection to become a form in the midst of the most awful
realities.
With love and condolence from Georgina, Mary, and Katie,
Believe me, ever your affectionate Brother.
[Sidenote: Mrs. George Cattermole.]
GAD'S HILL, _Wednesday, July 22nd, 1868._
MY DEAR MRS. CATTERMOLE,
Of course I will sign your memorial to the Academy. If you take either
of the Landseers, certainly take Edwin (1, St. John's Wood Road, N.W.)
But, if you would be content with Frith, I have already spoken to him,
and believe that I can answer for him. I shall be at "All the Year
Round" Office, 26, Wellington Street, London, to-morrow, from eleven to
three. Frith will be here on Saturday, and I shall be here too. I spoke
to him a fortnight ago, and I found him most earnest in the cause. He
said he felt absolutely sure that the whole profession in its best and
highest representation would do anything for George. I sounded him,
having the opportunity of meeting him at dinner at Cartwright's.
Ever yours affectionately.
[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
_Friday, July 31st, 1868._
MY DEAR WILLS,
I had such a hard day at the office yesterday, that I had not time to
write to you before I left. So I write to-day.
I am very unwilling to abandon the Christmas number, though even in the
case of my little Christmas books (which were immensely profitable) I
let the idea go when I thought it was wearing out. Ever since I came
home, I have hammered at it, more or less, and have been uneasy about
it. I have begun something which is very droll, but it manifestly shapes
itself towards a book, and could not in the least admit of even that
shadowy approach to a congruous whole on the part of other contributors
which they have ever achieved at the best. I have begun something else
(aboard the American mail-steamer); but I don't like it, because the
stories must come limping in after the old fashion, though, of course,
what I _have_ done will be good for A. Y. R. In short, I have cast about
with the greatest pains and patience, and I have been wholly unable to
find what I want.
And yet I cannot quite make up my mind to give in without another fight
for it. I offered one hundred pounds reward at Gad's to anybody who
could suggest a notion to satisfy me. Charles Collins suggested one
yesterday morning, in which there is _something_, though not much. I
will turn it over and over, and try a few more starts on my own account.
Finally, I swear I will not give it up until August is out. Vow
registered.
I am clear that a number by "various writers" would not do. If we have
not the usual sort of number, we must call the current number for that
date the Christmas number, and make it as good as possible.
I sit in the Chalet,[26] like Mariana in the Moated Grange, and to as
much purpose.
I am buying the freehold of the meadow at Gad's, and of an adjoining
arable field, so that I shall now have about eight-and-twenty freehold
acres in a ring-fence. No more now.
I made up a very good number yesterday. You will see in it a very short
article that I have called "Now!" which is a highly remarkable piece of
description. It is done by a new man, from whom I have accepted another
article; but he will never do anything so good again.
Ever affectionately.
[Sidenote: M. de Cerjat.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Wednesday, Aug. 26th, 1868._
MY DEAR CERJAT,
I was happy to receive your esteemed letter a few days ago.
The severity of the winter in America (which was quite exceptional even
in that rigorous climate), combined with the hard work I had to do,
tried me a good deal. Neuralgia and colds beset me, either by turns or
both together, and I had often much to do to get through at night. But
the sea voyage home again did wonders in restoring me, and I have been
very well indeed, though a little fatigued, ever since. I am now
preparing for a final reading campaign in England, Scotland, and
Ireland. It will begin on the 6th of October, and will probably last,
with short occasional intermissions, until June.
The great subject in England for the moment is the horrible accident to
the Irish mail-train. It is now supposed that the petroleum (known to be
a powerful anaesthetic) rendered the unfortunate people who were burnt
almost instantly insensible to any sensation. My escape in the
Staplehurst accident of three years ago is not to be obliterated from my
nervous system. To this hour I have sudden vague rushes of terror, even
when riding in a hansom cab, which are perfectly unreasonable but quite
insurmountable. I used to make nothing of driving a pair of horses
habitually through the most crowded parts of London. I cannot now drive,
with comfort to myself, on the country roads here; and I doubt if I
could ride at all in the saddle. My reading secretary and companion
knows so well when one of these odd momentary seizures comes upon me in
a railway carriage, that he instantly produces a dram of brandy, which
rallies the blood to the heart and generally prevails. I forget whether
I ever told you that my watch (a chronometer) has never gone exactly
since the accident? So the Irish catastrophe naturally revives the
dreadful things I saw that day.
The only other news here you know as well as I; to wit, that the country
is going to be ruined, and that the Church is going to be ruined, and
that both have become so used to being ruined, that they will go on
perfectly well.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND," NO. 26, WELLINGTON STREET,
STRAND, LONDON, W.C.,
_Saturday, Sept. 26th, 1868._
MY DEAREST MAMIE,
I will add a line to this at the Athenaeum, after seeing Plorn off, to
tell you how he went away.
ATHENAEUM, _Quarter to Six._
I can honestly report that he went away, poor dear fellow, as well as
could possibly be expected. He was pale, and had been crying, and (Harry
said) had broken down in the railway carriage after leaving Higham
station; but only for a short time.
Just before the train started he cried a good deal, but not painfully.
(Tell dear Georgy that I bought him his cigars.) These are hard, hard
things, but they might have to be done without means or influence, and
then they would be far harder. God bless him!
PARLIAMENT. REPLY TO A PROPOSAL MADE THROUGH
ALEXANDER RUSSEL, OF "THE SCOTSMAN," THAT HE
SHOULD ALLOW HIMSELF TO BE PUT FORWARD AS A
CANDIDATE FOR THE REPRESENTATION OF EDINBURGH.
[Sidenote: Mr. F. D. Finlay.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Sunday, Oct. 4th, 1868._
MY DEAR FINLAY,
I am much obliged to you in all friendship and sincerity for your
letter. I have a great respect for your father-in-law and his paper, and
I am much attached to the Edinburgh people. You may suppose, therefore,
that if my mind were not fully made up on the parliamentary question, I
should waver now.
But my conviction that I am more useful and more happy as I am than I
could ever be in Parliament is not to be shaken. I considered it some
weeks ago, when I had a stirring proposal from the Birmingham people,
and I then set it up on a rock for ever and a day.
Do tell Mr. Russel that I truly feel this mark of confidence, and that I
hope to acknowledge it in person in Edinburgh before Christmas. There is
no man in Scotland from whom I should consider his suggestion a greater
honour.
Ever yours.
[Sidenote: M. Charles Fechter.]
* * * * *
Poor Plorn is gone to Australia. It was a hard parting at the last. He
seemed to me to become once more my youngest and favourite little child
as the day drew near, and I did not think I could have been so shaken.
You were his idol to the hour of his departure, and he asked me to tell
you how much he wanted to bid you good-bye.
Kindest love from all.
Ever heartily.
[Sidenote: The same.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Wednesday, Oct. 7th, 1868._
MY DEAR FECHTER,
I got your letter sent to Gad's Hill this morning. Until I received it,
I supposed the piece to have been put into English from your French by
young Ben. If I understand that the English is yours, then I say that it
is extraordinarily good, written by one in another country.
I do not read again in London until the 20th; and then "Copperfield."
But by that time you will be at work yourself.
Let us dine at six to-day, in order that we may not have to hurry for
the comic dog.
Ever faithfully.
[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
QUEEN'S HOTEL, MANCHESTER, _Sunday, Oct. 11th, 1868._
MY DEAREST GEORGY,
We had a fine audience last night in the Free Trade Hall, though not
what we consider a large money-house. The let in Liverpool is extremely
good, and we are going over there at half-past one. We got down here
pleasantly enough and in good time; so all has gone well you see.
Titiens, Santley, and an opera company of that class are at the theatre
here. They have been doing very poorly in Manchester.
There is the whole of my scanty news. I was in wonderful voice last
night, but croak a little this morning, after so much speaking in so
very large a place. Otherwise I am all right. I find myself constantly
thinking of Plorn.
[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
ADELPHI HOTEL, LIVERPOOL, _Monday, Oct. 12th, 1868._
MY DEAREST MAMIE,
Our lets here are excellent, and we shall have a great house to-night.
We had a very fine and enthusiastic audience in the Free Trade Hall, at
Manchester, on Saturday; but our first nights there never count up in
money, as the rest do. Yesterday, "Charlotte," Sainton, and Piatti
stayed with us here; and they went on to Hull this morning. It was
pleasant to be alone again, though they were all very agreeable.
The exertion of going on for two hours in that immense place at
Manchester being very great, I was hoarse all day yesterday, though I
was not much distressed on Saturday night. I am becoming melodious again
(at three in the afternoon) rapidly, and count on being quite restored
by a basin of turtle at dinner.
I am glad to hear about Armatage, and hope that a service begun in a
personal attachment to Plorn may go on well. I shall never be
over-confident in such matters, I think, any more.
The day is delicious here. We have had a blow on the Mersey this
morning, and exulted over the American steamers. With kind regard to Sir
William and Lady Humphery.
[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
ADELPHI HOTEL, LIVERPOOL, _Tuesday, Oct. 13th, 1868._
As I sent a line to Mary yesterday, I enclose you Alfred's letter.
Please send it on to her when you next write to Penton.