I am ever your attached and faithful Friend.
[Sidenote: Mr. T. Longman.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Monday, Nov. 28th, 1859._
MY DEAR LONGMAN,
I am very anxious to present to you, with the earnest hope that you will hold him in your remembrance, young Mr. Marcus Stone, son of poor Frank Stone, who died suddenly but a little week ago. You know, I daresay, what a start this young man made in the last exhibition, and what a favourable notice his picture attracted. He wishes to make an additional opening for himself in the ill.u.s.tration of books. He is an admirable draughtsman, has a most dexterous hand, a charming sense of grace and beauty, and a capital power of observation. These qualities in him I know well of my own knowledge. He is in all things modest, punctual, and right; and I would answer for him, if it were needful, with my head.
If you will put anything in his way, you will do it a second time, I am certain.
Faithfully yours always.
FOOTNOTES:
[5] Mr. Edmund Yates.
1860.
NARRATIVE.
This winter was the last spent at Tavistock House. Charles d.i.c.kens had for some time been inclining to the idea of making his home altogether at Gad"s Hill, giving up his London house, and taking a furnished house for the sake of his daughters for a few months of the London season.
And, as his daughter Kate was to be married this summer to Mr. Charles Collins, this intention was confirmed and carried out. He made arrangements for the sale of Tavistock House to Mr. Davis, a Jewish gentleman, and he gave up possession of it in September. Up to this time Gad"s Hill had been furnished merely as a temporary summer residence--pictures, library, and all best furniture being left in the London house. He now set about beautifying and making Gad"s Hill thoroughly comfortable and homelike. And there was not a year afterwards, up to the year of his death, that he did not make some addition or improvement to it. He also furnished, as a private residence, a sitting-room and some bedrooms at his office in Wellington Street, to be used, when there was no house in London, as occasional town quarters by himself, his daughter, and sister-in-law.
He began in this summer his occasional papers for "All the Year Round,"
which he called "The Uncommercial Traveller," and which were continued at intervals in his journal until 1869.
In the autumn of this year he began another story, to be published weekly in "All the Year Round." The letter to Mr. Forster, which we give, tells him of this beginning and gives him the name of the book.
The first number of "Great Expectations" appeared on the 1st December.
The Christmas number, this time, was written jointly by himself and Mr.
Wilkie Collins. The scene was laid at Clovelly, and they made a journey together into Devonshire and Cornwall, for the purpose of this story, in November.
The letter to Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton is, unfortunately, the only one we have as yet been able to procure. The present Lord Lytton, the Viceroy of India, has kindly endeavoured to help us even during his absence from England. But it was found to be impossible without his own a.s.sistance to make the necessary search among his father"s papers. And he has promised us that, on his return, he will find and lend to us, many letters from Charles d.i.c.kens, which are certainly in existence, to his distinguished fellow-writer and great friend. We hope, therefore, it may be possible for us at some future time to be able to publish these letters, as well as those addressed to the present Lord Lytton (when he was Mr. Robert Lytton, otherwise "Owen Meredith," and frequent contributor to "Household Words" and "All the Year Round"). We have the same hope with regard to letters addressed to Sir Henry Layard, at present Amba.s.sador at Constantinople, which, of course, for the same reason, cannot be lent to us at the present time.
We give a letter to Mr. Forster on one of his books on the Commonwealth, the "Impeachment of the Five Members;" which, as with other letters which we are glad to publish on the subject of Mr. Forster"s own works, was not used by himself for obvious reasons.
A letter to his daughter Mamie (who, after her sister"s marriage, paid a visit with her dear friends the White family to Scotland, where she had a serious illness) introduces a recent addition to the family, who became an important member of it, and one to whom Charles d.i.c.kens was very tenderly attached--her little white Pomeranian dog "Mrs. Bouncer"
(so called after the celebrated lady of that name in "Box and c.o.x"). It is quite necessary to make this formal introduction of the little pet animal (who lived to be a very old dog and died in 1874), because future letters to his daughter contain constant references and messages to "Mrs. Bouncer," which would be quite unintelligible without this explanation. "Boy," also referred to in this letter, was his daughter"s horse. The little dog and the horse were gifts to Mamie d.i.c.kens from her friends Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Smith, and the sister of the latter, Miss Craufurd.
[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Monday, Jan. 2nd, 1860._
MY DEAREST MACREADY,
A happy New Year to you, and many happy years! I cannot tell you how delighted I was to receive your Christmas letter, or with what pleasure I have received Forster"s emphatic accounts of your health and spirits.
But when was I ever wrong? And when did I not tell you that you were an impostor in pretending to grow older as the rest of us do, and that you had a secret of your own for reversing the usual process! It happened that I read at Cheltenham a couple of months ago, and that I have rarely seen a place that so attracted my fancy. I had never seen it before.
Also I believe the character of its people to have greatly changed for the better. All sorts of long-visaged prophets had told me that they were dull, stolid, slow, and I don"t know what more that is disagreeable. I found them exactly the reverse in all respects; and I saw an amount of beauty there--well--that is not to be more specifically mentioned to you young fellows.
Katie dined with us yesterday, looking wonderfully well, and singing "Excelsior" with a certain dramatic fire in her, whereof I seem to remember having seen sparks afore now. Etc. etc. etc.
With kindest love from all at home to all with you, Ever, my dear Macready, your most affectionate.
[Sidenote: Mr. W. Wilkie Collins.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, TAVISTOCK SQUARE, LONDON, W.C., _Sat.u.r.day Night, Jan. 7th, 1860._
MY DEAR WILKIE,
I have read this book with great care and attention. There cannot be a doubt that it is a very great advance on all your former writing, and most especially in respect of tenderness. In character it is excellent.
Mr. Fairlie as good as the lawyer, and the lawyer as good as he. Mr.
Vesey and Miss Halcombe, in their different ways, equally meritorious.
Sir Percival, also, is most skilfully shown, though I doubt (you see what small points I come to) whether any man ever showed uneasiness by hand or foot without being forced by nature to show it in his face too.
The story is very interesting, and the writing of it admirable.
I seem to have noticed, here and there, that the great pains you take express themselves a trifle too much, and you know that I always contest your disposition to give an audience credit for nothing, which necessarily involves the forcing of points on their attention, and which I have always observed them to resent when they find it out--as they always will and do. But on turning to the book again, I find it difficult to take out an instance of this. It rather belongs to your habit of thought and manner of going about the work. Perhaps I express my meaning best when I say that the three people who write the narratives in these proofs have a DISSECTIVE property in common, which is essentially not theirs but yours; and that my own effort would be to strike more of what is got _that way_ out of them by collision with one another, and by the working of the story.
You know what an interest I have felt in your powers from the beginning of our friendship, and how very high I rate them? _I_ know that this is an admirable book, and that it grips the difficulties of the weekly portion and throws them in masterly style. No one else could do it half so well. I have stopped in every chapter to notice some instance of ingenuity, or some happy turn of writing; and I am absolutely certain that you never did half so well yourself.
So go on and prosper, and let me see some more, when you have enough (for your own satisfaction) to show me. I think of coming in to back you up if I can get an idea for my series of gossiping papers. One of those days, please G.o.d, we may do a story together; I have very odd half-formed notions, in a mist, of something that might be done that way.
Ever affectionately.
[Sidenote: Mr. John Forster.]
11, WELLINGTON STREET, NORTH STRAND, LONDON, W.C., _Wednesday, May 2nd, 1860._
MY DEAR FORSTER,
It did not occur to me in reading your most excellent, interesting, and remarkable book, that it could with any reason be called one-sided. If Clarendon had never written his "History of the Rebellion," then I can understand that it might be. But just as it would be impossible to answer an advocate who had misstated the merits of a case for his own purpose, without, in the interests of truth, and not of the other side merely, re-stating the merits and showing them in their real form, so I cannot see the practicability of telling what you had to tell without in some sort championing the misrepresented side, and I think that you don"t do that as an advocate, but as a judge.
The evidence has been suppressed and coloured, and the judge goes through it and puts it straight. It is not _his_ fault if it all goes one way and tends to one plain conclusion. Nor is it his fault that it goes the further when it is laid out straight, or seems to do so, because it was so knotted and twisted up before.
I can understand any man"s, and particularly Carlyle"s, having a lingering respect that does not like to be disturbed for those (in the best sense of the word) loyal gentlemen of the country who went with the king and were so true to him. But I don"t think Carlyle sufficiently considers that the great ma.s.s of those gentlemen _didn"t know the truth_, that it was a part of their loyalty to believe what they were told on the king"s behalf, and that it is reasonable to suppose that the king was too artful to make known to _them_ (especially after failure) what were very acceptable designs to the desperate soldiers of fortune about Whitehall. And it was to me a curious point of advent.i.tious interest arising out of your book, to reflect on the probability of their having been as ignorant of the real scheme in Charles"s head, as their descendants and followers down to this time, and to think with pity and admiration that they believed the cause to be so much better than it was. This is a notion I was anxious to have expressed in our account of the book in these pages. For I don"t suppose Clarendon, or any other such man to sit down and tell posterity something that he has not "tried on" in his own time. Do you?
In the whole narrative I saw nothing anywhere to which I demurred. I admired it all, went with it all, and was proud of my friend"s having written it all. I felt it to be all square and sound and right, and to be of enormous importance in these times. Firstly, to the people who (like myself) are so sick of the shortcomings of representative government as to have no interest in it. Secondly, to the humbugs at Westminster who have come down--a long, long way--from those men, as you know. When the great remonstrance came out, I was in the thick of my story, and was always busy with it; but I am very glad I didn"t read it then, as I shall read it now to much better purpose. All the time I was at work on the "Two Cities," I read no books but such as had the air of the time in them.
To return for a final word to the Five Members. I thought the marginal references overdone. Here and there, they had a comical look to me for that reason, and reminded me of shows and plays where everything is in the bill.
Lastly, I should have written to you--as I had a strong inclination to do, and ought to have done, immediately after reading the book--but for a weak reason; of all things in the world I have lost heart in one--I hope no other--I cannot, times out of calculation, make up my mind to write a letter.