Volume Iii Part 15 (1/2)

[1] The little dog--a white Havana spaniel--_was_ brought home and renamed, after an incidental character in ”Nicholas Nickleby,” ”Mr.

Snittle Timbery.” This was shortened to ”Timber,” and under that name the little dog lived to be very old, and accompanied the family in all its migrations, including the visits to Italy and Switzerland.

[2] Life Insurance Office.

[3] Mr. Macready's--so p.r.o.nounced by one of Charles d.i.c.kens's little children.

Book II.

1843 TO 1857.

1843.

NARRATIVE.

We have, unfortunately, very few letters of interest in this year. But we are able to give the commencement of Charles d.i.c.kens's correspondence with his beloved friends, Mr. Douglas Jerrold and Mr. Clarkson Stanfield; with Lord Morpeth (afterwards Lord Carlisle), for whom he always entertained the highest regard; and with Mr. Charles Babbage.

He was at work upon ”Martin Chuzzlewit” until the end of the year, when he also wrote and published the first of his Christmas stories--”The Christmas Carol.”

He was much distressed by the sad fate of Mr. Elton (a respected actor), who was lost in the wreck of the _Pegasus_, and was very eager and earnest in his endeavours to raise a fund on behalf of Mr. Elton's children.

We are sorry to be unable to give any explanation as to the nature of the c.o.c.kspur Street Society, mentioned in this first letter to Mr.

Charles Babbage. But we publish it notwithstanding, considering it to be one of general interest.

The ”Little History of England” was never finished--not, that is to say, the one alluded to in the letter to Mr. Jerrold.

Mr. David d.i.c.kson kindly furnishes us with an explanation of the letter dated 10th May. ”It was,” he says, ”in answer to a letter from me, pointing out that the 'Shepherd' in 'Pickwick' was apparently reflecting on the scriptural doctrine of the new birth.”

The beginning of the letter to Mr. Jerrold (15th June) is, as will be readily understood, an imaginary cast of a purely imaginary play. A portion of this letter has already been published, in Mr. Blanchard Jerrold's life of his father. It originated in a proposal of Mr.

Webster's--the manager of the Haymarket Theatre--to give five hundred pounds for a prize comedy by an English author.

The opera referred to in the letter to Mr. R. H. Horne was called ”The Village Coquettes,” and the farce was ”The Strange Gentleman,” already alluded to by us, in connection with a letter to Mr. Harley.

[Sidenote: Mr. Charles Babbage.]

DEVONs.h.i.+RE TERRACE, _April 27th, 1843._

MY DEAR SIR,

I write to you, _confidentially_, in answer to your note of last night, and the tenor of mine will tell you why.

You may suppose, from seeing my name in the printed letter you have received, that I am favourable to the proposed society. I am decidedly opposed to it. I went there on the day I was in the chair, after much solicitation; and being put into it, opened the proceedings by telling the meeting that I approved of the design in theory, but in practice considered it hopeless. I may tell you--I did not tell them--that the nature of the meeting, and the character and position of many of the men attending it, cried ”Failure” trumpet-tongued in my ears. To quote an expression from Tennyson, I may say that if it were the best society in the world, the grossness of some natures in it would have weight to drag it down.

In the wisdom of all you urge in the notes you have sent me, taking them as statements of theory, I entirely concur. But in practice, I feel sure that the present publis.h.i.+ng system cannot be overset until authors are different men. The first step to be taken is to move as a body in the question of copyright, enforce the existing laws, and try to obtain better. For that purpose I hold that the authors and publishers must unite, as the wealth, business habits, and interest of that latter cla.s.s are of great importance to such an end. The Longmans and Murray have been with me proposing such an a.s.sociation. That I shall support. But having seen the c.o.c.kspur Street Society, I am as well convinced of its invincible hopelessness as if I saw it written by a celestial penman in the Book of Fate.