I have seldom seen a place look more hopelessly frozen up than this place does. The hall is like a Methodist chapel in low spirits, and with a cold in its head. A few blue people shiver at the corners of the streets. And this house, which is outside the town, looks like an ornament on an immense twelfth cake baked for 1847.
I am now going to the fire to try to warm myself, but have not the least expectation of succeeding. The sitting-room has two large windows in it, down to the ground and facing due east. The adjoining bedroom (mine) has also two large windows in it, down to the ground and facing due east.
The very large doors are opposite the large windows, and I feel as if I were something to eat in a pantry.
[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
HEN AND CHICKENS, BIRMINGHAM, _Thursday, Jan. 24th, 1867._
At Chester we read in a snowstorm and a fall of ice. I think it was the worst weather I ever saw. Nevertheless, the people were enthusiastic. At Wolverhampton last night the thaw had thoroughly set in, and it rained heavily. We had not intended to go back there, but have arranged to do so on the day after Ash Wednesday. Last night I was again heavily beaten. We came on here after the reading (it is only a ride of forty minutes), and it was as much as I could do to hold out the journey. But I was not faint, as at Liverpool; I was only exhausted. I am all right this morning; and to-night, as you know, I have a rest. I trust that Charley Collins is better, and that Mamie is strong and well again.
Yesterday I had a note from Katie, which seemed hopeful and encouraging.
[Sidenote: Miss d.i.c.kens.]
HEN AND CHICKENS, BIRMINGHAM, _Thursday, Jan. 24th, 1867._
Since I wrote to your aunt just now, I have received your note addressed to Wolverhampton. We left the men there last night, and they brought it on with them at noon to-day.
The maimed gasman"s foot is much swollen, but he limps about and does his work. I have doctored him up with arnica. During the "Boy" last night there was an escape of gas from the side of my top batten, which caught the copper-wire and was within a thread of bringing down the heavy reflector into the stalls. It was a very ticklish matter, though the audience knew nothing about it. I saw it, and the gasman and Dolby saw it, and stood at that side of the platform in agonies. We all three calculated that there would be just time to finish and save it; when the gas was turned out the instant I had done, the whole thing was at its very last and utmost extremity. Whom it would have tumbled on, or what might have been set on fire, it is impossible to say.
I hope you rewarded your police escort on Tuesday night. It was the most tremendous night I ever saw at Chester.
[Sidenote: Miss d.i.c.kens.]
LEEDS, _Friday, Feb. 1st, 1867._
We got here prosperously, and had a good (but not great) house for "Barbox" and "Boy" last night. For "Marigold" and "Trial," to-night, everything is gone. And I even have my doubts of the possibility of Dolby"s cramming the people in. For "Marigold" and "Trial" at Manchester, to-morrow, we also expect a fine hall.
I shall be at the office for next Wednesday. If Charley Collins should have been got to Gad"s, I will come there for that day. If not, I suppose we had best open the official bower again.
This is a beastly place, with a very good hotel. Except Preston, it is one of the nastiest places I know. The room is like a capacious coal cellar, and is incredibly filthy; but for sound it is perfect.
[Sidenote: Anonymous.]
OFFICE OF "ALL THE YEAR ROUND," _Tuesday, Feb. 5th, 1867._
DEAR SIR,
I have looked at the larger half of the first volume of your novel, and have pursued the more difficult points of the story through the other two volumes.
You will, of course, receive my opinion as that of an individual writer and student of art, who by no means claims to be infallible.
I think you are too ambitious, and that you have not sufficient knowledge of life or character to venture on so comprehensive an attempt. Evidences of inexperience in every way, and of your power being far below the situations that you imagine, present themselves to me in almost every page I have read. It would greatly surprise me if you found a publisher for this story, on trying your fortune in that line, or derived anything from it but weariness and bitterness of spirit.
On the evidence thus put before me, I cannot even entirely satisfy myself that you have the faculty of authorship latent within you. If you have not, and yet pursue a vocation towards which you have no call, you cannot choose but be a wretched man. Let me counsel you to have the patience to form yourself carefully, and the courage to renounce the endeavour if you cannot establish your case on a very much smaller scale. You see around you every day, how many outlets there are for short pieces of fiction in all kinds. Try if you can achieve any success within these modest limits (I have practised in my time what I preach to you), and in the meantime put your three volumes away.
Faithfully yours.
P.S.--Your MS. will be returned separately from this office.
[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
LIVERPOOL, _Friday, Feb. 15th, 1867._
My short report of myself is that we had an enormous turn-away last night, and do not doubt about having a cram to-night. The day has been very fine, and I have turned it to the wholesomest account by walking on the sands at New Brighton all the morning. I am not quite right, but believe it to be an effect of the railway shaking. There is no doubt of the fact that, after the Staplehurst experience, it tells more and more, instead of (as one might have expected) less and less.
The charming room here greatly lessens the fatigue of this fatiguing week. I read last night with no more exertion than if I had been at Gad"s, and yet to eleven hundred people, and with astonishing effect. It is "Copperfield" to-night, and Liverpool is the "Copperfield"
stronghold.
[Sidenote: Miss d.i.c.kens.]
GLASGOW, _Sunday, Feb. 17th, 1867._
We arrived here this morning at our time to the moment, five minutes past ten. We turned away great numbers on both nights at Liverpool; and Manchester last night was a splendid spectacle. They cheered to that extent after it was over, that I was obliged to huddle on my clothes (for I was undressing to prepare for the journey), and go back again.
After so heavy a week, it _was_ rather stiff to start on this long journey at a quarter to two in the morning; but I got more sleep than I ever got in a railway-carriage before, and it really was not tedious.
The travelling was admirable, and a wonderful contrast to my friend the Midland.
I am not by any means knocked up, though I have, as I had in the last series of readings, a curious feeling of soreness all round the body, which I suppose to arise from the great exertion of voice. It is a mercy that we were not both made really ill at Liverpool. On Friday morning I was taken so faint and sick, that I was obliged to leave the table. On the same afternoon the same thing happened to Dolby. We then found that a part of the hotel close to us was dismantled for painting, and that they were at that moment painting a green pa.s.sage leading to our rooms, with a most horrible mixture of white lead and a.r.s.enic. On pursuing the enquiry, I found that the four lady book-keepers in the bar were all suffering from the poison.
[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
BRIDGE OF ALLAN, _Tuesday, Feb. 19th, 1867._
I was very glad to get your letter before leaving Glasgow this morning.
This is a poor return for it, but the post goes out early, and we come in late.
Yesterday morning I was so unwell that I wrote to Frank Beard, from whom I shall doubtless hear to-morrow. I mention it, only in case you should come in his way, for I know how perversely such things fall out. I felt it a little more exertion to read afterwards, and I pa.s.sed a sleepless night after that again; but otherwise I am in good force and spirits to-day. I may say, in the best force.
The quiet of this little place is sure to do me good. The little inn in which we are established seems a capital house of the best country sort.
[Sidenote: Miss d.i.c.kens.]
GLASGOW, _Thursday, Feb. 21st, 1867._
After two days" rest at the Bridge of Allan I am in renewed force, and have nothing to complain of but inability to sleep. I have been in excellent air all day since Tuesday at noon, and made an interesting walk to Stirling yesterday, and saw its lions, and (strange to relate) was not bored by them. Indeed, they left me so fresh that I knocked at the gate of the prison, presented myself to the governor, and took Dolby over the jail, to his unspeakable interest. We then walked back again to our excellent country inn.
Enclosed is a letter from Alfred, which you and your aunt will be interested in reading, and which I meant to send you sooner but forgot it. Wonderful as it is to mention, the sun shines here to-day! But to counterbalance that phenomenon I am in close hiding from ----, who has christened his infant son in my name, and, consequently, haunts the building. He and Dolby have already nearly come into collision, in consequence of the latter being always under the dominion of the one idea that he is bound to knock everybody down who asks for me.