Volume Ii Part 22 (1/2)
I cannot tell you how sorry I am to receive your bad account of your health, or how anxious I shall be to receive a better one as soon as you can possibly give it.
If you go away, don't you think in the main you would be better here than anywhere? You know how well you would be nursed, what care we should take of you, and how perfectly quiet and at home you would be, until you become strong enough to take to the Medway. Moreover, I think you would be less anxious about the tour, here, than away from such a.s.sociation. I would come to Worthing to fetch you, I needn't say, and would take the most careful charge of you. I will write no more about this, because I wish to avoid giving you more to read than can be helped; but I do sincerely believe it would be at once your wisest and least anxious course. As to a long journey into Wales, or any long journey, it would never do. Nice is not to be thought of. Its dust, and its sharp winds (I know it well), towards October are very bad indeed.
I send you the enclosed letters, firstly, because I have no circular to answer them with, and, secondly, because I fear I might confuse your arrangements by interfering with the correspondence. I shall hope to have a word from you very soon. I am at work for the tour every day, except my town Wednesdays.
Ever faithfully.
P.S.--Kindest regards from all.
[Sidenote: Mr. John Watkins.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT, _Sat.u.r.day Night, Sept. 28th, 1861._
DEAR MR. WATKINS,
In reply to your kind letter I must explain that I have not yet brought down any of your large photographs of myself, and therefore cannot report upon their effect here. I think the ”cartes” are all liked.
A general howl of horror greeted the appearance of No. 18, and a riotous attempt was made to throw it out of window. I calmed the popular fury by promising that it should never again be beheld within these walls. I think I mentioned to you when you showed it to me, that I felt persuaded it would not be liked. It has a grim and wasted aspect, and perhaps might be made useful as a portrait of the Ancient Mariner.
I feel that I owe you an apology for being (innocently) a difficult subject. When I once excused myself to Ary Scheffer while sitting to him, he received the apology as strictly his due, and said with a vexed air: ”At this moment, _mon cher_ d.i.c.kens, you look more like an energetic Dutch admiral than anything else;” for which I apologised again.
In the hope that the pains you have bestowed upon me will not be thrown away, but that your success will prove of some use to you, believe me,
Faithfully yours.
[Sidenote: Mr. Edmund Yates.]
GAD'S HILL PLACE, HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT, _Sunday, Oct. 6th, 1861._
AFTER THE DEATH OF MR. ARTHUR SMITH.
MY DEAR EDMUND,
Coming back here to-day, I find your letter.
I was so very much distressed last night in thinking of it all, and I find it so very difficult to preserve my composure when I dwell in my mind on the many times fast approaching when I shall sorely miss the familiar face, that I am hardly steady enough yet to refer to the readings like a man. But your kind reference to them makes me desirous to tell you that I took Headland (formerly of St. Martin's Hall, who has always been with us in London) to conduct the business, when I knew that our poor dear fellow could never do it, even if he had recovered strength to go; and that I consulted with himself about it when I saw him for the last time on earth, and that it seemed to please him, and he said: ”We couldn't do better.”
Write to me before you come; and remember that I go to town Wednesday mornings.
Ever faithfully.
[Sidenote: Miss d.i.c.kens.]
OFFICE OF ”ALL THE YEAR ROUND,”
_Thursday, Oct. 10th, 1861._
MY DEAREST MAMIE,