NARRATIVE.

In February of this year Charles Dickens made an expedition with his friend, and the illustrator of most of his books, Mr. Hablot K. Browne ("Phiz"), to investigate for himself the real facts as to the condition of the Yorkshire schools, and it may be observed that portions of a letter to his wife, dated Greta Bridge, Yorkshire, which will be found among the following letters, were reproduced in “Nicholas Nickleby.”  In the early summer he had a cottage at Twickenham Park.  In August and September he was again at Broadstairs; and in the late autumn he made another bachelor excursion ­Mr. Browne being again his companion ­in England, which included his first visit to Stratford-on-Avon and Kenilworth.  In February appeared the first number of “Nicholas Nickleby,” on which work he was engaged all through the year, writing each number ready for the following month, and never being in advance, as was his habit with all his other periodical works, until his very latest ones.

The first letter which appears under this date, from Twickenham Park, is addressed to Mr. Thomas Mitton, a schoolfellow at one of his earliest schools, and afterwards for some years his solicitor.  The letter contains instructions for his first will; the friend of almost his whole life, Mr. John Forster, being appointed executor to this will as he was to the last, to which he was “called upon to act” only three years before his own death.

The letter which we give in this year to Mr. Justice Talfourd is, unfortunately, the only one we have been able to procure to that friend, who was, however, one with whom he was most intimately associated, and with whom he maintained a constant correspondence.

The letter beginning “Respected Sir” was an answer to a little boy (Master Hastings Hughes), who had written to him as “Nicholas Nickleby” approached completion, stating his views and wishes as to the rewards and punishments to be bestowed on the various characters in the book.  The letter was sent to him through the Rev. Thomas Barham, author of “The Ingoldsby Legends.”

The two letters to Mr. Macready, at the end of this year, refer to a farce which Charles Dickens wrote, with an idea that it might be suitable for Covent Garden Theatre, then under Mr. Macready’s management.

LETTER TO MRS.CHARLES DICKENS

GRETA BRIDGE, Thursday, Fest, 1838.

MY DEAREST KATE,

I am afraid you will receive this later than I could wish, as the mail does not come through this place until two o’clock to-morrow morning.  However, I have availed myself of the very first opportunity of writing, so the fault is that mail’s, and not this.

We reached Grantham between nine and ten on Thursday night, and found everything prepared for our reception in the very best inn I have ever put up at.  It is odd enough that an old lady, who had been outside all day and came in towards dinner time, turned out to be the mistress of a Yorkshire school returning from the holiday stay in London.  She was a very queer old lady, and showed us a long letter she was carrying to one of the boys from his father, containing a severe lecture (enforced and aided by many texts of Scripture) on his refusing to eat boiled meat.  She was very communicative, drank a great deal of brandy and water, and towards evening became insensible, in which state we left her.

Yesterday we were up again shortly after seven A.M., came on upon our journey by the Glasgow mail, which charged us the remarkably low sum of six pounds fare for two places inside.  We had a very droll male companion until seven o’clock in the evening, and a most delicious lady’s-maid for twenty miles, who implored us to keep a sharp look-out at the coach-windows, as she expected the carriage was coming to meet her and she was afraid of missing it.  We had many delightful vauntings of the same kind; but in the end it is scarcely necessary to say that the coach did not come, but a very dirty girl did.

As we came further north the mire grew deeper.  About eight o’clock it began to fall heavily, and, as we crossed the wild heaths hereabout, there was no vestige of a track.  The mail kept on well, however, and at eleven we reached a bare place with a house standing alone in the midst of a dreary moor, which the guard informed us was Greta Bridge.  I was in a perfect agony of apprehension, for it was fearfully cold, and there were no outward signs of anybody being up in the house.  But to our great joy we discovered a comfortable room, with drawn curtains and a most blazing fire.  In half an hour they gave us a smoking supper and a bottle of mulled port (in which we drank your health), and then we retired to a couple of capital bedrooms, in each of which there was a rousing fire halfway up the chimney.

We have had for breakfast, toast, cakes, a Yorkshire pie, a piece of beef about the size and much the shape of my portmanteau, tea, coffee, ham, and eggs; and are now going to look about us.  Having finished our discoveries, we start in a postchaise for Barnard Castle, which is only four miles off, and there I deliver the letter given me by Mitton’s friend.  All the schools are round about that place, and a dozen old abbeys besides, which we shall visit by some means or other to-morrow.  We shall reach York on Saturday I hope, and (God willing) I trust I shall be at home on Wednesday morning.

I wish you would call on Mrs. Bentley and thank her for the letter; you can tell her when I expect to be in York.

A thousand loves and kisses to the darling boy, whom I see in my mind’s eye crawling about the floor of this Yorkshire inn.  Bless his heart, I would give two sovereigns for a kiss.  Remember me too to Frederick, who I hope is attentive to you.

Is it not extraordinary that the same dreams which have constantly visited me since poor Mary died follow me everywhere?  After all the change of scene and fatigue, I have dreamt of her ever since I left home, and no doubt shall till I return.  I should be sorry to lose such visions, for they are very happy ones, if it be only the seeing her in one’s sleep.  I would fain believe, too, sometimes, that her spirit may have some influence over them, but their perpetual repetition is extraordinary.

Love to all friends.

Ever, my dear Kate,
Your affectionate Husband.

LETTER TO MR.THOMAS MILLTON

TWICKENHAM PARK, Tuesday Night.

DEAR TOM,

I sat down this morning and put on paper my testamentary meaning.  Whether it is sufficiently legal or not is another question, but I hope it is.  The rough draft of the clauses which I enclose will be preceded by as much of the fair copy as I send you, and followed by the usual clause about the receipts of the trustees being a sufficient discharge.  I also wish to provide that if all our children should die before twenty-one, and Kate married again, half the surplus should go to her and half to my surviving brothers and sisters, share and share alike.

This will be all, except a few lines I wish to add which there will be no occasion to consult you about, as they will merely bear reference to a few tokens of remembrance and one or two slight funeral directions.  And so pray God that you may be gray, and Forster bald, long before you are called upon to act as my executors.

I suppose I shall see you at the water-party on Thursday?  We will then make an appointment for Saturday morning, and if you think my clauses will do, I will complete my copy, seal it up, and leave it in your hands.  There are some other papers which you ought to have.  We must get a box.

Ever yours.

LETTER TO MR.SERJEANT TALFOURD‚ M.P.

TWICKENHAM PARK, Sunday, July 15th, 1838.

MY DEAR TALFOURD,

I cannot tell you how much pleasure I have derived from the receipt of your letter.  I have heard little of you, and seen less, for so long a time, that your handwriting came like the renewal of some old friendship, and gladdened my eyes like the face of some old friend.

If I hear from Lady Holland before you return, I shall, as in duty bound, present myself at her bidding; but between you and me and the general post, I hope she may not renew her invitation until I can visit her with you, as I would much rather avail myself of your personal introduction.  However, whatever her ladyship may do I shall respond to, and anyway shall be only too happy to avail myself of what I am sure cannot fail to form a very pleasant and delightful introduction.

Your kind invitation and reminder of the subject of a pleasant conversation in one of our pleasant rides, has thrown a gloom over the brightness of Twickenham, for here I am chained.  It is indispensably necessary that “Oliver Twist” should be published in three volumes, in September next.  I have only just begun the last one, and, having the constant drawback of my monthly work, shall be sadly harassed to get it finished in time, especially as I have several very important scenes (important to the story I mean) yet to write.  Nothing would give me so much pleasure as to be with you for a week or so.  I can only imperfectly console myself with the hope that when you see “Oliver” you will like the close of the book, and approve my self-denial in staying here to write it.  I should like to know your address in Scotland when you leave town, so that I may send you the earliest copy if it be produced in the vacation, which I pray Heaven it may.

Meanwhile, believe that though my body is on the banks of the Thames, half my heart is going the Oxford circuit.

Mrs. Dickens and Charley desire their best remembrances (the latter expresses some anxiety, not unmixed with apprehension, relative to the Copyright Bill, in which he conceives himself interested), with hearty wishes that you may have a fine autumn, which is all you want, being sure of all other means of enjoyment that a man can have.

                              I am, my dear Talfourd,
                                                Ever faithfully yours.

P.S. ­I hope you are able to spare a moment now and then to glance at “Nicholas Nickleby,” and that you have as yet found no reason to alter the opinion you formed on the appearance of the first number.

You know, I suppose, that they elected me at the Athenaeum?  Pray thank Mr. Serjeant Storks for me.

LETTER TO MRS.CHARLES DICKENS

LION HOTEL, SHREWSBURY, Thursday, Nost, 1838.

MY DEAREST LOVE,

I received your welcome letter on arriving here last night, and am rejoiced to hear that the dear children are so much better.  I hope that in your next, or your next but one, I shall learn that they are quite well.  A thousand kisses to them.  I wish I could convey them myself.

We found a roaring fire, an elegant dinner, a snug room, and capital beds all ready for us at Leamington, after a very agreeable (but very cold) ride.  We started in a postchaise next morning for Kenilworth, with which we were both enraptured, and where I really think we MUST have lodgings next summer, please God that we are in good health and all goes well.  You cannot conceive how delightful it is.  To read among the ruins in fine weather would be perfect luxury.  From here we went on to Warwick Castle, which is an ancient building, newly restored, and possessing no very great attraction beyond a fine view and some beautiful pictures; and thence to Stratford-upon-Avon, where we sat down in the room where Shakespeare was born, and left our autographs and read those of other people and so forth.

We remained at Stratford all night, and found to our unspeakable dismay that father’s plan of proceeding by Bridgenorth was impracticable, as there were no coaches.  So we were compelled to come here by way of Birmingham and Wolverhampton, starting at eight o’clock through a cold wet fog, and travelling, when the day had cleared up, through miles of cinder-paths and blazing furnaces, and roaring steam-engines, and such a mass of dirt, gloom, and misery as I never before witnessed.  We got pretty well accommodated here when we arrived at half-past four, and are now going off in a postchaise to Llangollen ­thirty miles ­where we shall remain to-night, and where the Bangor mail will take us up to-morrow.  Such are our movements up to this point, and when I have received your letter at Chester I shall write to you again and tell you when I shall be back.  I can say positively that I shall not exceed the fortnight, and I think it very possible that I may return a day or two before it expires.

We were at the play last night.  It was a bespeak ­“The Love Chase,” a ballet (with a phenomenon!), divers songs, and “A Roland for an Oliver.”  It is a good theatre, but the actors are very funny.  Browne laughed with such indecent heartiness at one point of the entertainment, that an old gentleman in the next box suffered the most violent indignation.  The bespeak party occupied two boxes, the ladies were full-dressed, and the gentlemen, to a man, in white gloves with flowers in their button-holes.  It amused us mightily, and was really as like the Miss Snevellicci business as it could well be.

My side has been very bad since I left home, although I have been very careful not to drink much, remaining to the full as abstemious as usual, and have not eaten any great quantity, having no appetite.  I suffered such an ecstasy of pain all night at Stratford that I was half dead yesterday, and was obliged last night to take a dose of henbane.  The effect was most delicious.  I slept soundly, and without feeling the least uneasiness, and am a great deal better this morning; neither do I find that the henbane has affected my head, which, from the great effect it had upon me ­exhilarating me to the most extraordinary degree, and yet keeping me sleepy ­I feared it would.  If I had not got better I should have turned back to Birmingham, and come straight home by the railroad.  As it is, I hope I shall make out the trip.

God bless you, my darling.  I long to be back with you again and to see the sweet Babs.

Your faithful and most affectionate Husband.

LETTER TO MASTER HASTING HUGHES

DOUGHTY STREET, LONDON, Deth, 1838.

RESPECTED SIR,

I have given Squeers one cut on the neck and two on the head, at which he appeared much surprised and began to cry, which, being a cowardly thing, is just what I should have expected from him ­wouldn’t you?

I have carefully done what you told me in your letter about the lamb and the two “sheeps” for the little boys.  They have also had some good ale and porter, and some wine.  I am sorry you didn’t say what wine you would like them to have.  I gave them some sherry, which they liked very much, except one boy, who was a little sick and choked a good deal.  He was rather greedy, and that’s the truth, and I believe it went the wrong way, which I say served him right, and I hope you will say so too.

Nicholas had his roast lamb, as you said he was to, but he could not eat it all, and says if you do not mind his doing so he should like to have the rest hashed to-morrow with some greens, which he is very fond of, and so am I. He said he did not like to have his porter hot, for he thought it spoilt the flavour, so I let him have it cold.  You should have seen him drink it.  I thought he never would have left off.  I also gave him three pounds of money, all in sixpences, to make it seem more, and he said directly that he should give more than half to his mamma and sister, and divide the rest with poor Smike.  And I say he is a good fellow for saying so; and if anybody says he isn’t I am ready to fight him whenever they like ­there!

Fanny Squeers shall be attended to, depend upon it.  Your drawing of her is very like, except that I don’t think the hair is quite curly enough.  The nose is particularly like hers, and so are the legs.  She is a nasty disagreeable thing, and I know it will make her very cross when she sees it; and what I say is that I hope it may.  You will say the same I know ­at least I think you will.

I meant to have written you a long letter, but I cannot write very fast when I like the person I am writing to, because that makes me think about them, and I like you, and so I tell you.  Besides, it is just eight o’clock at night, and I always go to bed at eight o’clock, except when it is my birthday, and then I sit up to supper.  So I will not say anything more besides this ­and that is my love to you and Neptune; and if you will drink my health every Christmas Day I will drink yours ­come.

I am,
Respected Sir,
Your affectionate Friend.

P.S. ­I don’t write my name very plain, but you know what it is you know, so never mind.

LETTER TO MR.W.C.MACREADY

DOUGHTY STREET, Monday Morning.

MY DEAR MACREADY,

I have not seen you for the past week, because I hoped when we next met to bring “The Lamplighter” in my hand.  It would have been finished by this time, but I found myself compelled to set to work first at the “Nickleby” on which I am at present engaged, and which I regret to say ­after my close and arduous application last month ­I find I cannot write as quickly as usual.  I must finish it, at latest, by the 24th (a doubtful comfort!), and the instant I have done so I will apply myself to the farce.  I am afraid to name any particular day, but I pledge myself that you shall have it this month, and you may calculate on that promise.  I send you with this a copy of a farce I wrote for Harley when he left Drury Lane, and in which he acted for some seventy nights.  It is the best thing he does.  It is barely possible you might like to try it.  Any local or temporary allusions could be easily altered.

Believe me that I only feel gratified and flattered by your inquiry after the farce, and that if I had as much time as I have inclination, I would write on and on and on, farce after farce and comedy after comedy, until I wrote you something that would run.  You do me justice when you give me credit for good intentions; but the extent of my good-will and strong and warm interest in you personally and your great undertaking, you cannot fathom nor express.

Believe me, my dear Macready,
Ever faithfully yours.

P.S. ­For Heaven’s sake don’t fancy that I hold “The Strange Gentleman” in any estimation, or have a wish upon the subject.

48, DOUGHTY STREET, December 13th, 1838.

MY DEAR MACREADY,

I can have but one opinion on the subject ­withdraw the farce at once, by all means.

I perfectly concur in all you say, and thank you most heartily and cordially for your kind and manly conduct, which is only what I should have expected from you; though, under such circumstances, I sincerely believe there are few but you ­if any ­who would have adopted it.

Believe me that I have no other feeling of disappointment connected with this matter but that arising from the not having been able to be of some use to you.  And trust me that, if the opportunity should ever arrive, my ardour will only be increased ­not damped ­by the result of this experiment.

Believe me always, my dear Macready,
Faithfully yours.