altogether from the editorship of "All the Year Round." Charles
Dickens's own letters express the regret which he felt at the
dissolution of this long and always pleasant association. Mr. Wills's
place at the office was filled by Charles Dickens's eldest son, now sole
editor and proprietor of the journal.
In September Charles Dickens went to Birmingham, accompanied by his son
Harry, and presided at the opening of the session of (what he calls in
his letter to Mr. Arthur Ryland, "_our_ Institution") the Midland
Institute. He made a speech on education to the young students, and
promised to go back early in the following year and distribute the
prizes. In one of the letters which we give to Mr. Ryland, he speaks of
himself as "being in full force again," and "going to finish his
farewell readings soon after Christmas." He had obtained the sanction of
Sir Thomas Watson to giving twelve readings, _in London only_, which he
had fixed for the beginning of the following year.
The letter to his friend Mr. Finlay, which opens the year, was in reply
to a proposal for a public banquet at Belfast, projected by the Mayor of
that town, and conveyed through Mr. Finlay. This gentleman was at that
time proprietor of _The Northern Whig_ newspaper at Belfast, and he was
son-in-law to Mr. Alexander Russel, editor of _The Scotsman_.
Charles Dickens's letter this New Year to M. de Cerjat was his last.
That faithful and affectionate friend died very shortly afterwards.
To Miss Mary Boyle he writes to acknowledge a New Year's gift, which he
had been much touched by receiving from her, at a time when he knew she
was deeply afflicted by the sudden death of her brother, Captain
Cavendish Boyle, for whom Charles Dickens had a true regard and
friendship.
While he was giving his series of London readings in the spring, he
received a numerously signed circular letter from actors and actresses
of the various London theatres. They were very curious about his new
reading of the "Oliver Twist" murder, and representing to him the
impossibility of their attending an evening, requested him to give a
morning reading, for their especial benefit. We give his answer,
complying with the request. And the occasion was, to him, a most
gratifying and deeply interesting one.
The letter to Mr. Edmund Ollier was in answer to an invitation to be
present at the inauguration of a bust of Mr. Leigh Hunt, which was to be
placed over his grave at Kensal Green.
The letter to Mr. Shirley Brooks, the well-known writer, who succeeded
Mr. Mark Lemon as editor of "Punch," and for whom Charles Dickens had a
cordial regard, was on the subject of a memorial on behalf of Mrs. Peter
Cunningham, whose husband had recently died.
The "remarkable story," of which he writes to his daughter in August,
was called "An Experience." It was written by a lady (who prefers to be
anonymous) who had been a contributor to "Household Words" from its
first starting, and was always highly valued in this capacity by Charles
Dickens.
Our latest letters for this year are in October. One to Mr. Charles
Kent, sympathising with him on a disappointment which he had experienced
in a business undertaking, and one to Mr. Macready, in which he tells
him of his being in the "preliminary agonies" of a new book. The first
number of "Edwin Drood" was to appear before the end of his course of
readings in March; and he was at work so long beforehand with a view to
sparing himself, and having some numbers ready before the publication of
the first one.
[Sidenote: Mr. F. D. Finlay.]
THE ATHENAEUM (CLUB), _New Year's Day, 1869._
MY DEAR FINLAY,
First my heartfelt wishes for many prosperous and happy years. Next, as
to the mayor's kind intentions. I feel really grateful to him and
gratified by the whole idea, but acceptance of the distinction on my
part would be impracticable. My time in Ireland is all anticipated, and
I could not possibly prolong my stay, because I _must_ be back in London
to read on Tuesday fortnight, and then must immediately set forth for
the West of England. It is not likely, besides, that I shall get through
these farewells before the end of May. And the work is so hard, and my
voice is so precious, that I fear to add an ounce to the fatigue, or I
might be overweighted. The avoidance of gas and crowds when I am not in
the act of being cooked before those lights of mine, is an essential
part of the training to which (as I think you know) I strictly adhere,
and although I have accepted the Liverpool invitation, I have done so as
an exception; the Liverpool people having always treated me in our
public relations with a kind of personal affection.
I am sincerely anxious that the Mayor of Belfast should know how the
case stands with me. If you will kindly set me straight and right, I
shall be truly obliged to you.
My sister-in-law has been very unwell (though she is now much better),
and is recommended a brisk change. As she is a good sailor, I mean to
bring her to Ireland with me; at which she is highly delighted.
Faithfully yours ever.
[Sidenote: M. de Cerjat.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Monday, Jan. 4th, 1869._
MY DEAR CERJAT,
I will answer your question first. Have I done with my farewell
readings? Lord bless you, no; and I shall think myself well out of it if
I get done by the end of May. I have undertaken one hundred and six, and
have as yet only vanquished twenty-eight. To-morrow night I read in
London for the first time the "Murder" from "Oliver Twist," which I have
re-arranged for the purpose. Next day I start for Dublin and Belfast. I
am just back from Scotland for a few Christmas holidays. I go back there
next month; and in the meantime and afterwards go everywhere else.
Take my guarantee for it, you may be quite comfortable on the subject of
papal aspirations and encroachments. The English people are in
unconquerable opposition to that church. They have the animosity in the
blood, derived from the history of the past, though perhaps
unconsciously. But they do sincerely want to win Ireland over if they
can. They know that since the Union she has been hardly used. They know
that Scotland has _her_ religion, and a very uncomfortable one. They
know that Scotland, though intensely anti-papal, perceives it to be
unjust that Ireland has not _her_ religion too, and has very
emphatically declared her opinion in the late elections. They know that
a richly-endowed church, forced upon a people who don't belong to it, is
a grievance with these people. They know that many things, but
especially an artfully and schemingly managed institution like the
Romish Church, thrive upon a grievance, and that Rome has thriven
exceedingly upon this, and made the most of it. Lastly, the best among
them know that there is a gathering cloud in the West, considerably
bigger than a man's hand, under which a powerful Irish-American body,
rich and active, is always drawing Ireland in that direction; and that
these are not times in which other powers would back our holding Ireland
by force, unless we could make our claim good in proving fair and equal
government.
Poor Townshend charged me in his will "to publish without alteration his
religious opinions, which he sincerely believed would tend to the
happiness of mankind." To publish them without alteration is absolutely
impossible; for they are distributed in the strangest fragments through
the strangest note-books, pocket-books, slips of paper and what not, and
produce a most incoherent and tautological result. I infer that he must
have held some always-postponed idea of fitting them together. For these
reasons I would certainly publish nothing about them, if I had any
discretion in the matter. Having none, I suppose a book must be made.
His pictures and rings are gone to the South Kensington Museum, and are
now exhibiting there.
Charley Collins is no better and no worse. Katie looks very young and
very pretty. Her sister and Miss Hogarth (my joint housekeepers) have
been on duty this Christmas, and have had enough to do. My boys are now
all dispersed in South America, India, and Australia, except Charley,
whom I have taken on at "All the Year Round" Office, and Henry, who is
an undergraduate at Trinity Hall, and I hope will make his mark there.
All well.
The Thames Embankment is (faults of ugliness in detail apart) the finest
public work yet done. From Westminster Bridge to near Waterloo it is now
lighted up at night, and has a fine effect. They have begun to plant it
with trees, and the footway (not the road) is already open to the
Temple. Besides its beauty, and its usefulness in relieving the crowded
streets, it will greatly quicken and deepen what is learnedly called
the "scour" of the river. But the Corporation of London and some other
nuisances have brought the weirs above Twickenham into a very bare and
unsound condition, and they already begin to give and vanish, as the
stream runs faster and stronger.
Your undersigned friend has had a few occasional reminders of his "true
American catarrh." Although I have exerted my voice very much, it has
not yet been once touched. In America I was obliged to patch it up
constantly.
I like to read your patriarchal account of yourself among your Swiss
vines and fig-trees. You wouldn't recognise Gad's Hill now; I have so
changed it, and bought land about it. And yet I often think that if Mary
were to marry (which she won't) I should sell it and go genteelly
vagabondising over the face of the earth. Then indeed I might see
Lausanne again. But I don't seem in the way of it at present, for the
older I get, the more I do and the harder I work.
Yours ever affectionately.
[Sidenote: Miss Mary Boyle.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND,"
_Wednesday, Jan. 6th, 1869._
MY DEAR MARY,
I was more affected than you can easily believe, by the sight of your
gift lying on my dressing-table on the morning of the new year. To be
remembered in a friend's heart when it is sore is a touching thing; and
that and the remembrance of the dead quite overpowered me, the one being
inseparable from the other.
You may be sure that I shall attach a special interest and value to the
beautiful present, and shall wear it as a kind of charm. God bless you,
and may we carry the friendship through many coming years!
My preparations for a certain murder that I had to do last night have
rendered me unfit for letter-writing these last few days, or you would
have heard from me sooner. The crime being completely off my mind and
the blood spilled, I am (like many of my fellow-criminals) in a highly
edifying state to-day.
Ever believe me, your affectionate Friend.
[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
TORQUAY, _Wednesday, Jan. 27th, 1869._
MY DEAREST MAMIE,
We have been doing immensely.
This place is most beautiful, though colder now than one would expect.
This hotel, an immense place, built among picturesque broken rocks out
in the blue sea, is quite delicious. There are bright green trees in the
garden, and new peas a foot high. Our rooms are _en suite_, all
commanding the sea, and each with two very large plate-glass windows.
Everything good and well served.
A _pantomime_ was being done last night, in the place where I am to read
to-night. It is something between a theatre, a circus, a riding-school,
a Methodist chapel, and a cow-house. I was so disgusted with its
acoustic properties on going in to look at it, that the whole
unfortunate staff have been all day, and now are, sticking up baize and
carpets in it to prevent echoes.
I have rarely seen a more uncomfortable edifice than I thought it last
night.
At Clifton, on Monday night, we had a contagion of fainting. And yet the
place was not hot. I should think we had from a dozen to twenty ladies
borne out, stiff and rigid, at various times. It became quite
ridiculous.
[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
BATH, _Friday, Jan. 29th, 1869._
MY DEAREST GEORGY,
You must not trust blank places in my list, because many have been, and
will be, gradually filled up. After the Tuesday's reading in London, I
have TWO for that same week in the country--Nottingham and Leicester. In
the following week I have none; but my arrangements are all at sea as
yet, for I must somehow and somewhere do an "Uncommercial" in that week,
and I also want to get poor Chauncey's "opinions" to the printer.
This mouldy old roosting-place comes out mouldily as to let of course. I
hate the sight of the bygone assembly-rooms, and the Bath chairs
trundling the dowagers about the streets. As to to-morrow morning in the
daylight!----
I have no cold to speak of. Dolby sends kindest regard.
[Sidenote: Mrs. Lehmann.]
OFFICE, _Wednesday, Feb. 3rd, 1869._
DEAR MRS. LEHMANN,
Before getting your kind note, I had written to Lehmann, explaining why
I cannot allow myself any social pleasure while my farewell task is yet
unfinished. The work is so very hard, that every little scrap of rest
_and silence_ I can pick up is precious. And even those morsels are so
flavoured with "All the Year Round," that they are not quite the genuine
article.
Joachim[28] came round to see me at the hall last night, and I told him
how sorry I was to forego the pleasure of meeting him (he is a noble
fellow!) at your pleasant table.
I am glad you are coming to the "Murder" on the 2nd of March. (The house
will be prodigious.) Such little changes as I have made shall be
carefully presented to your critical notice, and I hope will be crowned
with your approval. But you are always such a fine audience that I have
no fear on that head. I saw Chorley yesterday in his own room. A sad and
solitary sight. The widowed Drake, with a certain _gin_coherence of
manner, presented a blooming countenance and buxom form in the passage;
so buxom indeed that she was obliged to retire before me like a modest
stopper, before I could get into the dining decanter where poor Chorley
reposed.
Faithfully yours always.
P.S.--My love to Rudie.
[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
GLASGOW, _Thursday, Feb. 25th, 1869._
I received your letter at Edinburgh this morning. I did not write to you
yesterday, as there had been no reading on the previous night.
The foot bears the fatigue wonderfully well, and really occasions me no
inconvenience beyond the necessity of wearing the big work of art. Syme
saw me again this morning, and utterly scouted the gout notion
altogether. I think the Edinburgh audience understood the "Murder"
better last night than any audience that has heard it yet. "Business" is
enormous, and Dolby jubilant.
It is a most deplorable afternoon here, deplorable even for Glasgow. A
great wind blowing, and sleet driving before it in a storm of heavy
blobs. We had to drive our train dead in the teeth of the wind, and got
in here late, and are pressed for time.
Strange that in the North we have had absolutely no snow. There was a
very thin scattering on the Pentlands for an hour or two, but no more.
[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
EDINBURGH, _Friday, Feb. 26th, 1869._
Writing to-morrow morning would be all but impracticable for me; would
be quite so for Dolby, who has to go to the agents and "settle up" in
the midst of his breakfast. So I write to-day, in reply to your note
received at Glasgow this morning.
The foot conducts itself splendidly. We had a most enormous cram at
Glasgow. Syme saw me again yesterday (before I left here for Glasgow),
and repeated "Gout!" with the greatest indignation and contempt, several
times. The aching is going off as the day goes on, if it be worth
mentioning again. The ride from Glasgow was charming this morning; the
sun shining brilliantly, and the country looking beautiful.
I told you what the Nortons were. Mabel Lowell is a charming little
thing, and very retiring in manner and expression.
We shall have a scene here to-night, no doubt. The night before last,
Ballantyne, unable to get in, had a seat behind the screen, and was
nearly frightened off it by the "Murder." Every vestige of colour had
left his face when I came off, and he sat staring over a glass of
champagne in the wildest way. I have utterly left off _my_ champagne,
and, I think, with good results. Nothing during the readings but a very
little weak iced brandy-and-water.
I hope you will find me greatly improved on Tuesday.
[Sidenote: Miss Dickens.]
BIRMINGHAM, _Friday, March 5th, 1869._
This is to send you my best love, and to wish you many and many happy
returns of to-morrow, which I miraculously remember to be your
birthday.
I saw this morning a very pretty fan here. I was going to buy it as a
remembrance of the occasion, when I was checked by a dim misgiving that
you had a fan not long ago from Chorley. Tell me what you would like
better, and consider me your debtor in that article, whatever it may be.
I have had my usual left boot on this morning, and have had an hour's
walk. It was in a gale of wind and a simoom of dust, but I greatly
enjoyed it. Immense enthusiasm at Wolverhampton last night over
"Marigold." Scott made a most amazing ass of himself yesterday. He
reported that he had left behind somewhere three books--"Boots,"
"Murder," and "Gamp." We immediately telegraphed to the office. Answer,
no books there. As my impression was that he must have left them at St.
James's Hall, we then arranged to send him up to London at seven this
morning. Meanwhile (though not reproached), he wept copiously and
audibly. I had asked him over and over again, was he sure he had not put
them in my large black trunk? Too sure, too sure. Hadn't opened that
trunk after Tuesday night's reading. He opened it to get some clothes
out when I went to bed, and there the books were! He produced them with
an air of injured surprise, as if we had put them there.
[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
QUEEN'S HOTEL, MANCHESTER, _Sunday, March 7th, 1869._
We have had our sitting-room chimney afire this morning, and have had to
turn out elsewhere to breakfast; but the chamber has since been cleaned
up, and we are reinstated. Manchester is (_for_ Manchester) bright and
fresh.
Tell Russell that a crop of hay is to be got off the meadow this year,
before the club use it. They did not make such use of it last year as
reconciles me to losing another hay-crop. So they must wait until the
hay is in, before they commence active operations.
Poor Olliffe! I am truly sorry to read those sad words about his
suffering, and fear that the end is not far off.
We are very comfortably housed here, and certainly that immense hall is
a wonderful place for its size. Without much greater expenditure of
voice than usual, I a little enlarged the action last night, and Dolby
(who went to all the distant points of view) reported that he could
detect no difference between it and any other place. As always happens
now--and did not at first--they were unanimously taken by Noah
Claypole's laugh. But the go, throughout, was enormous. Sims Reeves was
doing Henry Bertram at the theatre, and of course took some of our
shillings. It was a night of excitement for Cottonopolis.
I received from Mrs. Keeley this morning a very good photograph of poor
old Bob. Yesterday I had a letter from Harry, reminding me that our
intended Cambridge day is the day next after that of the boat-race.
Clearly it must be changed.
[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
QUEEN'S HOTEL, MANCHESTER, _Saturday, March 20th, 1869._
Getting yours and its enclosure, Mary's note, at two this afternoon, I
write a line at once in order that you may have it on Monday morning.
The Theatre Royal, Liverpool, will be a charming place to read in.
Ladies are to dine at the dinner, and we hear it is to be a very grand
affair. Dolby is doubtful whether it may not "hurt the business," by
drawing a great deal of money in another direction, which I think
possible enough. Trade is very bad _here_, and the gloom of the Preston
strike seems to brood over the place. The Titiens Company have been
doing wretchedly. I should have a greater sympathy with them if they
were not practising in the next room now.
My love to Letitia and Harriette,[29] wherein Dolby (highly gratified by
being held in remembrance) joins with the same to you.
[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
MANCHESTER, _Sunday, March 21st, 1869._
Will you tell Mary that I have had a letter from Frith, in which he says
that he will be happy to show her his pictures "any day in the first
week of April"? I have replied that she will be proud to receive his
invitation. His object in writing was to relieve his mind about the
"Murder," of which he cannot say enough.
Tremendous enthusiasm here last night, calling in the most thunderous
manner after "Marigold," and again after the "Trial," shaking the great
hall, and cheering furiously.
Love to all.
[Sidenote: Mr. John Clarke.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT,
_Wednesday, March 24th, 1869._
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,
I beg to assure you that I am much gratified by the desire you do me the
honour to express in your letter handed to me by Mr. John Clarke.
Before that letter reached me, I had heard of your wish, and had
mentioned to Messrs. Chappell that it would be highly agreeable to me to
anticipate it, if possible. They readily responded, and we agreed upon
having three morning readings in London. As they are not yet publicly
announced, I add a note of the days and subjects:
Saturday, May 1st. "Boots at the Holly-Tree Inn," and "Sikes and Nancy"
from "Oliver Twist."
Saturday, May 8th. "The Christmas Carol."
Saturday, May 22nd. "Sikes and Nancy" from "Oliver Twist," and "The
Trial" from "Pickwick."
With the warmest interest in your art, and in its claims upon the
general gratitude and respect,
Believe me, always faithfully your Friend.
[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
ADELPHI HOTEL, LIVERPOOL, _Sunday, April 4th, 1869._
By this post I send to Mary the truly affecting account of poor dear
Katie Macready's death. It is as sorrowful as anything so peaceful and
trustful can be!
Both my feet are very tender, and often feel as though they were in hot
water. But I was wonderfully well and strong, thank God! and had no end
of voice for the two nights running in that great Birmingham hall. We
had enormous houses.
So far as I understand the dinner arrangements here, they are much too
long. As to the acoustics of that hall, and the position of the tables
(both as bad as bad can be), my only consolation is that, if anybody can
be heard, _I_ probably can be. The honorary secretary tells me that six
hundred people are to dine. The mayor, being no speaker and out of
health besides, hands over the toast of the evening to Lord Dufferin.
The town is full of the festival. The Theatre Royal, touched up for the
occasion, will look remarkably bright and well for the readings, and our
lets are large. It is remarkable that our largest let as yet is for
Thursday, not Friday. I infer that the dinner damages Friday, but Dolby
does not think so. There appears to be great curiosity to hear the
"Murder." (On Friday night last I read to two thousand people, and odd
hundreds.)
I hear that Anthony Trollope, Dixon, Lord Houghton, Lemon, Esquiros (of
the _Revue des Deux Mondes_), and Sala are to be called upon to speak;
the last, for the newspaper press. All the Liverpool notabilities are to
muster. And Manchester is to be represented by its mayor with due
formality.
I had been this morning to look at St. George's Hall, and suggest what
can be done to improve its acoustics. As usually happens in such cases,
their most important arrangements are already made and unchangeable. I
should not have placed the tables in the committee's way at all, and
could certainly have placed the dais to much greater advantage. So all
the good I could do was to show where banners could be hung with some
hope of stopping echoes. Such is my small news, soon exhausted. We
arrived here at three yesterday afternoon; it is now mid-day; Chorley
has not yet appeared, but he had called at the local agent's while I was
at Birmingham.
It is a curious little instance of the way in which things fit together
that there is a ship-of-war in the Mersey, whose flags and so forth are
to be brought up to St. George's Hall for the dinner. She is the
_Donegal_, of which Paynter told me he had just been captain, when he
told me all about Sydney at Bath.