The Letters of Charles Dickens Volume Iii Part 35

SUGGESTIONS FOR t.i.tLES OF "HOUSEHOLD WORDS."

THE FORGE:

A Weekly Journal,

Conducted by Charles d.i.c.kens.

"Thus at the glowing Forge of Life our actions must be wrought, Thus on its sounding anvil shaped Each burning deed and thought."--_Longfellow._

THE HEARTH.

THE FORGE.

THE CRUCIBLE.

THE ANVIL OF THE TIME.

CHARLES d.i.c.kENS'S OWN.

SEASONABLE LEAVES.

EVERGREEN LEAVES.

HOME.

HOME-MUSIC.

CHANGE.

TIME AND TIDE.

TWOPENCE.

ENGLISH BELLS.

WEEKLY BELLS.

THE ROCKET.

GOOD HUMOUR.

[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]

148, KING'S ROAD, BRIGHTON, _Tuesday Night, March 12th, 1850._

MY DEAR WILLS,

I have made a correction or two in my part of the post-office article. I still observe the top-heavy "Household Words" in the t.i.tle. The t.i.tle of "The Amus.e.m.e.nts of the People" has to be altered as I have marked it. I would as soon have my hair cut off as an intolerable Scotch shortness put into my t.i.tles by the elision of little words. "The Seasons" wants a little punctuation. Will the "Incident in the Life of Mademoiselle Clairon" go into those two pages? I fear not, but one article would be infinitely better, I am quite certain, than two or three short ones. If it will go in, in with it.

I shall be back, please G.o.d, by dinner-time to-morrow week. I will be ready for Smithfield either on the following Monday morning at four, or any other morning you may arrange for.

Would it do to make up No. 2 on Wednesday, the 20th, instead of Sat.u.r.day? If so, it would be an immense convenience to me. But if it be distinctly necessary to make it up on Sat.u.r.day, say by return, and I am to be relied upon. Don't fail in this.

I really _can't_ promise to be comic. Indeed, your note put me out a little, for I had just sat down to begin, "It will last my time." I will shake my head a little, and see if I can shake a more comic subst.i.tute out of it.

As to _two_ comic articles, or two any sort of articles, out of me, that's the intensest extreme of no-goism.

Ever faithfully.

[Sidenote: Rev. James White.]

DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _July 13th, 1850._

MY DEAR WHITE,

Being obliged (sorely against my will) to leave my work this morning and go out, and having a few spare minutes before I go, I write a hasty note, to hint how glad I am to have received yours, and how happy and tranquil we feel it to be for you all, that the end of that long illness has come.[8] Kate and Georgy send best loves to Mrs. White, and we hope she will take all needful rest and relief after those arduous, sad, and weary weeks. I have taken a house at Broadstairs, from early in August until the end of October, as I don't want to come back to London until I shall have finished "Copperfield." I am rejoiced at the idea of your going there. You will find it the healthiest and freshest of places; and there are Canterbury, and all varieties of what Leigh Hunt calls "greenery," within a few minutes' railroad ride. It is not very picturesque ash.o.r.e, but extremely so seaward; all manner of ships continually pa.s.sing close insh.o.r.e. So come, and we'll have no end of sports, please G.o.d.

I am glad to say, as I know you will be to hear, that there seems a bright unanimity about "Copperfield." I am very much interested in it and pleased with it myself. I have carefully planned out the story, for some time past, to the end, and am making out my purposes with great care. I should like to know what you see from that tower of yours. I have little doubt you see the real objects in the prospect.

"Household Words" goes on _thoroughly well_. It is expensive, of course, and demands a large circulation; but it is taking a great and steady stand, and I have no doubt already yields a good round profit.

To-morrow week I shall expect you. You shall have a bottle of the "Twenty." I have kept a few last lingering caskets with the gem enshrined therein, expressly for you.

Ever, my dear White, Cordially yours.

[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]

HoTEL WINDSOR, PARIS, _Thursday, July 27th, 1850._ _After post-time._

MY DEAR WILLS,

I have had much ado to get to work; the heat here being so intense that I can do nothing but lie on the bare floor all day. I never felt it anything like so hot in Italy.

There is nothing doing in the theatres, and the atmosphere is so horribly oppressive there that one can hardly endure it. I came out of the Francais last night half dead. I am writing at this moment with nothing on but a shirt and pair of white trousers, and have been sitting four hours at this paper, but am as faint with the heat as if I had been at some tremendous gymnastics; and yet we had a thunderstorm last night.

I hope we are doing pretty well in Wellington Street. My anxiety makes me feel as if I had been away a year. I hope to be home on Tuesday evening, or night at latest. I have picked up a very curious book of French statistics that will suit us, and an odd proposal for a company connected with the gambling in California, of which you will also be able to make something.

I saw a certain "Lord Spleen" mentioned in a playbill yesterday, and will look after that distinguished English n.o.bleman to-night, if possible. Rachel played last night for the last time before going to London, and has not so much in her as some of our friends suppose.

The English people are perpetually squeezing themselves into courtyards, blind alleys, closed edifices, and other places where they have no sort of business. The French people, as usual, are making as much noise as possible about everything that is of no importance, but seem (as far as one can judge) pretty quiet and good-humoured. They made a mighty hullabaloo at the theatre last night, when Brutus (the play was "Lucretia") declaimed about liberty.

Ever faithfully.

[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]

DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _August 9th, 1850._

MY DEAR WILLS,

I shall be obliged to you if you will write to this man, and tell him that what he asks I never do--firstly, because I have no kind of connection with any manager or theatre; secondly, because I am asked to read so many ma.n.u.scripts, that compliance is impossible, or I should have no other occupation or relaxation in the world.

[Symbol: right hand] A foreign gentleman, with a beard, name unknown, but signing himself "A Fellow Man," and dating from nowhere, declined, twice yesterday, to leave this house for any less consideration than the insignificant one of "twenty pounds." I have had a policeman waiting for him all day.

Faithfully yours.

[Sidenote: Mrs. Charles d.i.c.kens.]