Volume Ii Part 20 (2/2)
I feel it quite hopeless to endeavour to present my position before you, in reference to such a letter as yours, in its plain and true light.
When you suppose it would have cost Mr. Thackeray ”but a word” to use his influence to obtain you some curators.h.i.+p or the like, you fill me with the sense of impossibility of leading you to a more charitable judgment of Mr. d.i.c.kens.
Nevertheless, I will put the truth before you. Scarcely a day of my life pa.s.ses, or has pa.s.sed for many years, without bringing me some letters similar to yours. Often they will come by dozens--scores--hundreds. My time and attention would be pretty well occupied without them, and the claims upon me (some very near home), for all the influence and means of help that I do and do not possess, are not commonly heavy. I have no power to aid you towards the attainment of your object. It is the simple exact truth, and nothing can alter it. So great is the disquietude I constantly undergo from having to write to some new correspondent in this strain, that, G.o.d knows, I would resort to another relief if I could.
Your studies from nature appear to me to express an excellent observation of nature, in a loving and healthy spirit. But what then?
The dealers and dealers' prices of which you complain will not be influenced by that honest opinion. Nor will it have the least effect upon the President of the Royal Academy, or the Directors of the School of Design. a.s.suming your supposition to be correct that these authorities are adverse to you, I have no more power than you have to render them favourable. And a.s.suming them to be quite disinterested and dispa.s.sionate towards you, I have no voice or weight in any appointment that any of them make.
I will retain your packet over to-morrow, and will then cause it to be sent to your house. I write under the pressure of occupation and business, and therefore write briefly.
Faithfully yours.
[Sidenote: M. de Cerjat.]
OFFICE OF ”ALL THE YEAR ROUND,” _Friday, Feb. 1st, 1861._
MY DEAR CERJAT,
You have read in the papers of our heavy English frost. At Gad's Hill it was so intensely cold, that in our warm dining-room on Christmas Day we could hardly sit at the table. In my study on that morning, long after a great fire of coal and wood had been lighted, the thermometer was I don't know where below freezing. The bath froze, and all the pipes froze, and remained in a stony state for five or six weeks. The water in the bedroom-jugs froze, and blew up the crockery. The snow on the top of the house froze, and was imperfectly removed with axes. My beard froze as I walked about, and I couldn't detach my cravat and coat from it until I was thawed at the fire. My boys and half the officers stationed at Chatham skated away without a check to Gravesend--five miles off--and repeated the performance for three or four weeks. At last the thaw came, and then everything split, blew up, dripped, poured, perspired, and got spoilt. Since then we have had a small visitation of the plague of servants; the cook (in a riding-habit) and the groom (in a dress-coat and jewels) having mounted Mary's horse and mine, in our absence, and scoured the neighbouring country at a rattling pace. And when I went home last Sat.u.r.day, I innocently wondered how the horses came to be out of condition, and gravely consulted the said groom on the subject, who gave it as his opinion ”which they wanted reg'lar work.” We are now coming to town until midsummer. Having sold my own house, to be more free and independent, I have taken a very pretty furnished house, No. 3, Hanover Terrace, Regent's Park. This, of course, on my daughter's account. For I have very good and cheerful bachelor rooms here, with an old servant in charge, who is the cleverest man of his kind in the world, and can do anything, from excellent carpentery to excellent cookery, and has been with me three-and-twenty years.
The American business is the greatest English sensation at present. I venture to predict that the struggle of violence will be a very short one, and will be soon succeeded by some new compact between the Northern and Southern States. Meantime the Lancas.h.i.+re mill-owners are getting very uneasy.
The Italian state of things is not regarded as looking very cheerful.
What from one's natural sympathies with a people so oppressed as the Italians, and one's natural antagonism to a pope and a Bourbon (both of which superst.i.tions I do suppose the world to have had more than enough of), I agree with you concerning Victor Emmanuel, and greatly fear that the Southern Italians are much degraded. Still, an united Italy would be of vast importance to the peace of the world, and would be a rock in Louis Napoleon's way, as he very well knows. Therefore the idea must be championed, however much against hope.
My eldest boy, just home from China, was descried by Townshend's Henri the moment he landed at Ma.r.s.eilles, and was by him borne in triumph to Townshend's rooms. The weather was snowy, slushy, beastly; and Ma.r.s.eilles was, as it usually is to my thinking, well-nigh intolerable.
My boy could not stay with Townshend, as he was coming on by express train; but he says: ”I sat with him and saw him dine. He had a leg of lamb, and a tremendous cold.” That is the whole description I have been able to extract from him.
This journal is doing gloriously, and ”Great Expectations” is a great success. I have taken my third boy, Frank (Jeffrey's G.o.dson), into this office. If I am not mistaken, he has a natural literary taste and capacity, and may do very well with a chance so congenial to his mind, and being also entered at the Bar.
Dear me, when I have to show you about London, and we dine _en garcon_ at odd places, I shall scarcely know where to begin. Only yesterday I walked out from here in the afternoon, and thought I would go down by the Houses of Parliament. When I got there, the day was so beautifully bright and warm, that I thought I would walk on by Millbank, to see the river. I walked straight on _for three miles_ on a splendid broad esplanade overhanging the Thames, with immense factories, railway works, and what-not erected on it, and with the strangest beginnings and ends of wealthy streets pus.h.i.+ng themselves into the very Thames. When I was a rower on that river, it was all broken ground and ditch, with here and there a public-house or two, an old mill, and a tall chimney. I had never seen it in any state of transition, though I suppose myself to know this rather large city as well as anyone in it.
[Sidenote: Mr. E. M. Ward, R.A.]
3, HANOVER TERRACE, REGENT'S PARK, _Sat.u.r.day Night, March 9th, 1861._
MY DEAR WARD,
I cannot tell you how gratified I have been by your letter, and what a splendid recompense it is for any pleasure I am giving you. Such generous and earnest sympathy from such a brother-artist gives me true delight. I am proud of it, believe me, and moved by it to do all the better.
Ever faithfully yours.
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