The Letters of Charles Dickens Volume Iii Part 33

3; "simple and quiet, but very natural and touching."--_Evening Bore._

Ever affectionately.

NEW SONG.

TUNE--"Lesbia hath a beaming eye."

1.

Lemon is a little hipped, And this is Lemon's true position; He is not pale, he's not white-lipped, Yet wants a little fresh condition.

Sweeter 'tis to gaze upon Old ocean's rising, falling billows, Than on the houses every one, That form the street called Saint Anne's Willers.

Oh, my Lemon, round and fat, Oh, my bright, my right, my tight 'un, Think a little what you're at-- Don't stay at home, but come to Brighton!

2.

Lemon has a coat of frieze, But all so seldom Lemon wears it, That it is a prey to fleas, And ev'ry moth that's hungry tears it.

Oh, that coat's the coat for me, That braves the railway sparks and breezes, Leaving every engine free To smoke it, till its owner sneezes!

Then my Lemon, round and fat, L., my bright, my right, my tight 'un, Think a little what you're at-- On Tuesday first, come down to Brighton!

T. SPARKLER.

Also signed,

CATHERINE d.i.c.kENS, ANNIE LEECH, GEORGINA HOGARTH, MARY d.i.c.kENS, KATIE d.i.c.kENS, JOHN LEECH.

[Sidenote: Rev. James White.]

WINTERBOURNE, _Sunday Evening, Sept. 23rd, 1849._

MY DEAR WHITE,

I have a hundred times at least wanted to say to you how good I thought those papers in "Blackwood"--how excellent their purpose, and how delicately and charmingly worked out. Their subtle and delightful humour, and their grasp of the whole question, were something more pleasant to me than I can possibly express.

"How comes this lumbering Inimitable to say this, on this Sunday night of all nights in the year?" you naturally ask. Now hear the Inimitable's honest avowal! I make so bold because I heard that Morning Service better read this morning than ever I have heard it read in my life. And because--for the soul of me--I cannot separate the two things, or help identifying the wise and genial man out of church with the earnest and unaffected man in it. Midsummer madness, perhaps, but a madness I hope that will hold us true friends for many and many a year to come. The madness is over as soon as you have burned this letter (see the history of the Gunpowder Plot), but let us be friends much longer for these reasons and many included in them not herein expressed.

Affectionately always.

[Sidenote: Miss Joll.]

ROCKINGHAM CASTLE, NORTHAMPTONSHIRE, _Nov. 27th, 1849._

Mr. Charles d.i.c.kens presents his compliments to Miss Joll. He is, on principle, opposed to capital punishment, but believing that many earnest and sincere people who are favourable to its retention in extreme cases would unite in any temperate effort to abolish the evils of public executions, and that the consequences of public executions are disgraceful and horrible, he has taken the course with which Miss Joll is acquainted as the most hopeful, and as one undoubtedly calculated to benefit society at large.

[Sidenote: The Hon. Mrs. Watson.]

DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Friday Night, Nov. 30th, 1849._ _A Quarter-past Ten._

MY DEAR MRS. WATSON,

Plunged in the deepest gloom, I write these few words to let you know that, just now, when the bell was striking ten, I drank to

[Ill.u.s.tration: H. E. R.!]

and to all the rest of Rockingham; as the wine went down my throat, I felt distinctly that it was "changing those thoughts to madness."

On the way here I was a terror to my companions, and I am at present a blight and mildew on my home.

Think of me sometimes, as I shall long think of our glorious dance last night. Give my most affectionate regards to Watson, and my kind remembrances to all who remember me, and believe me,

Ever faithfully yours.

P.S.--I am in such an incapable state, that after executing the foregoing usual flourish I swooned, and remained for some time insensible. Ha, ha, ha! Why was I ever restored to consciousness!!!

P.P.S.--"Changing" those thoughts ought to be "driving." But my recollection is incoherent and my mind wanders.

[Sidenote: M. Cerjat.]

DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Sat.u.r.day, Dec. 29th, 1849._

MY DEAR CERJAT,

I received your letter at breakfast-time this morning with a pleasure my eloquence is unable to express and your modesty unable to conceive. It is so delightful to be remembered at this time of the year in your house where we have been so happy, and in dear old Lausanne, that we always hope to see again, that I can't help pushing away the first page of "Copperfield" No. 10, now staring at me with what I may literally call a blank aspect, and plunging energetically into this reply.

What a strange coincidence that is about Blunderstone House! Of all the odd things I have ever heard (and their name is Legion), I think it is the oddest. I went down into that part of the country on the 7th of January last year, when I was meditating the story, and chose Blunderstone for the sound of its name. I had previously observed much of what you say about the poor girls. In all you suggest with so much feeling about their return to virtue being cruelly cut off, I concur with a sore heart. I have been turning it over in my mind for some time, and hope, in the history of Little Em'ly (who _must_ fall--there is no hope for her), to put it before the thoughts of people in a new and pathetic way, and perhaps to do some good. You will be glad to hear, I know, that "Copperfield" is a great success. I think it is better liked than any of my other books.

We had a most delightful time at Watsons' (for both of them we have preserved and strengthened a real affection), and were the gayest of the gay. There was a Miss Boyle staying in the house, who is an excellent amateur actress, and she and I got up some scenes from "The School for Scandal" and from "Nickleby," with immense success. We played in the old hall, with the audience filled up and running over with servants. The entertainments concluded with feats of legerdemain (for the performance of which I have a pretty good apparatus, collected at divers times and in divers places), and we then fell to country dances of a most frantic description, and danced all night. We often spoke of you and Mrs. Cerjat and of Haldimand, and wished you were all there. Watson and I have some fifty times "registered a vow" (like O'Connell) to come to Lausanne together, and have even settled in what month and week. Something or other has always interposed to prevent us; but I hope, please G.o.d, most certainly to see it again, when my labours-Copperfieldian shall have terminated.

You have no idea what that hanging of the Mannings really was. The conduct of the people was so indescribably frightful, that I felt for some time afterwards almost as if I were living in a city of devils. I feel, at this hour, as if I never could go near the place again. My letters have made a great to-do, and led to a great agitation of the subject; but I have not a confident belief in any change being made, mainly because the total abolitionists are utterly reckless and dishonest (generally speaking), and would play the deuce with any such proposition in Parliament, unless it were strongly supported by the Government, which it would certainly not be, the Whig motto (in office) being "_laissez aller_." I think Peel might do it if he came in. Two points have occurred to me as being a good commentary to the objections to my idea. The first is that a most terrific uproar was made when the hanging processions were abolished, and the ceremony shrunk from Tyburn to the prison door. The second is that, at this very time, under the British Government in New South Wales, executions take place _within the prison walls_, with decidedly improved results. (I am waiting to explode this fact on the first man of mark who gives me the opportunity.)

Unlike you, we have had no marriages or giving in marriage here. We might have had, but a certain young lady, whom you know, is hard to please. The children are all well, thank G.o.d! Charley is going to Eton the week after next, and has pa.s.sed a first-rate examination. Kate is quite well, and unites with me and Georgina in love to you and Mrs.

Cerjat and Haldimand, whom I would give a good deal (tell him) to have several hours' contradiction of at his own table. Good heavens, how obstinate we would both be! I see him leaning back in his chair, with his right forefinger out, and saying, "Good G.o.d!" in reply to some proposition of mine, and then laughing.

All in a moment a feeling comes over me, as if you and I have been still talking, smoking cigars outside the inn at Martigny, the piano sounding inside, and Lady Mary Taylour singing. I look into my garden (which is covered with snow) rather dolefully, but take heart again, and look brightly forward to another expedition to the Great St. Bernard, when Mrs. Cerjat and I shall laugh as I fancy I have never laughed since, in one of those one-sided cars; and when we shall again learn from Haldimand, in a little dingy cabaret, at lunch-time, how to secure a door in travelling (do you remember?) by balancing a chair against it on its two hind-legs.

I do hope that we may all come together again once more, while there is a head of hair left among us; and in this hope remain, my dear Cerjat,

Your faithful Friend.

1850.

NARRATIVE.