Volume Ii Part 43 (1/2)
I have seldom seen a place look more hopelessly frozen up than this place does. The hall is like a Methodist chapel in low spirits, and with a cold in its head. A few blue people s.h.i.+ver at the corners of the streets. And this house, which is outside the town, looks like an ornament on an immense twelfth cake baked for 1847.
I am now going to the fire to try to warm myself, but have not the least expectation of succeeding. The sitting-room has two large windows in it, down to the ground and facing due east. The adjoining bedroom (mine) has also two large windows in it, down to the ground and facing due east.
The very large doors are opposite the large windows, and I feel as if I were something to eat in a pantry.
[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
HEN AND CHICKENS, BIRMINGHAM, _Thursday, Jan. 24th, 1867._
At Chester we read in a snowstorm and a fall of ice. I think it was the worst weather I ever saw. Nevertheless, the people were enthusiastic. At Wolverhampton last night the thaw had thoroughly set in, and it rained heavily. We had not intended to go back there, but have arranged to do so on the day after Ash Wednesday. Last night I was again heavily beaten. We came on here after the reading (it is only a ride of forty minutes), and it was as much as I could do to hold out the journey. But I was not faint, as at Liverpool; I was only exhausted. I am all right this morning; and to-night, as you know, I have a rest. I trust that Charley Collins is better, and that Mamie is strong and well again.
Yesterday I had a note from Katie, which seemed hopeful and encouraging.
[Sidenote: Miss d.i.c.kens.]
HEN AND CHICKENS, BIRMINGHAM, _Thursday, Jan. 24th, 1867._
Since I wrote to your aunt just now, I have received your note addressed to Wolverhampton. We left the men there last night, and they brought it on with them at noon to-day.
The maimed gasman's foot is much swollen, but he limps about and does his work. I have doctored him up with arnica. During the ”Boy” last night there was an escape of gas from the side of my top batten, which caught the copper-wire and was within a thread of bringing down the heavy reflector into the stalls. It was a very ticklish matter, though the audience knew nothing about it. I saw it, and the gasman and Dolby saw it, and stood at that side of the platform in agonies. We all three calculated that there would be just time to finish and save it; when the gas was turned out the instant I had done, the whole thing was at its very last and utmost extremity. Whom it would have tumbled on, or what might have been set on fire, it is impossible to say.
I hope you rewarded your police escort on Tuesday night. It was the most tremendous night I ever saw at Chester.
[Sidenote: Miss d.i.c.kens.]
LEEDS, _Friday, Feb. 1st, 1867._
We got here prosperously, and had a good (but not great) house for ”Barbox” and ”Boy” last night. For ”Marigold” and ”Trial,” to-night, everything is gone. And I even have my doubts of the possibility of Dolby's cramming the people in. For ”Marigold” and ”Trial” at Manchester, to-morrow, we also expect a fine hall.
I shall be at the office for next Wednesday. If Charley Collins should have been got to Gad's, I will come there for that day. If not, I suppose we had best open the official bower again.
This is a beastly place, with a very good hotel. Except Preston, it is one of the nastiest places I know. The room is like a capacious coal cellar, and is incredibly filthy; but for sound it is perfect.
[Sidenote: Anonymous.]
OFFICE OF ”ALL THE YEAR ROUND,” _Tuesday, Feb. 5th, 1867._
DEAR SIR,
I have looked at the larger half of the first volume of your novel, and have pursued the more difficult points of the story through the other two volumes.
You will, of course, receive my opinion as that of an individual writer and student of art, who by no means claims to be infallible.
I think you are too ambitious, and that you have not sufficient knowledge of life or character to venture on so comprehensive an attempt. Evidences of inexperience in every way, and of your power being far below the situations that you imagine, present themselves to me in almost every page I have read. It would greatly surprise me if you found a publisher for this story, on trying your fortune in that line, or derived anything from it but weariness and bitterness of spirit.
On the evidence thus put before me, I cannot even entirely satisfy myself that you have the faculty of authors.h.i.+p latent within you. If you have not, and yet pursue a vocation towards which you have no call, you cannot choose but be a wretched man. Let me counsel you to have the patience to form yourself carefully, and the courage to renounce the endeavour if you cannot establish your case on a very much smaller scale. You see around you every day, how many outlets there are for short pieces of fiction in all kinds. Try if you can achieve any success within these modest limits (I have practised in my time what I preach to you), and in the meantime put your three volumes away.