Volume Iii Part 70 (1/2)
(but she won't), no Scotch housekeeper can be. The Tavistock House season of four nights pauses for a reply. Scotch song (new and original) of Scotch housekeeper would pervade the piece.
YOU
had better pause for breath.
Ever faithfully.
POOLE.
I have paid him his money. Here is the proof of life. If you will get me the receipt to sign, the money can go to my account at Coutts's.
[Sidenote: Mrs. Charles d.i.c.kens.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Monday, May 5th, 1856._
MY DEAR CATHERINE,
I did nothing at Dover (except for ”Household Words”), and have not begun ”Little Dorrit,” No. 8, yet. But I took twenty-mile walks in the fresh air, and perhaps in the long run did better than if I had been at work. The report concerning Scheffer's portrait I had from Ward. It is in the best place in the largest room, but I find the _general_ impression of the artists exactly mine. They almost all say that it wants something; that n.o.body could mistake whom it was meant for, but that it has something disappointing in it, etc. etc. Stanfield likes it better than any of the other painters, I think. His own picture is magnificent. And Frith, in a ”Little Child's Birthday Party,” is quite delightful. There are many interesting pictures. When you see Scheffer, tell him from me that Eastlake, in his speech at the dinner, referred to the portrait as ”a contribution from a distinguished man of genius in France, worthy of himself and of his subject.”
I did the maddest thing last night, and am deeply penitent this morning.
We stayed at Webster's till any hour, and they wanted me, at last, to make punch, which couldn't be done when the jug was brought, because (to Webster's burning indignation) there was only one lemon in the house.
Hereupon I then and there besought the establishment in general to come and drink punch on Thursday night, after the play; on which occasion it will become necessary to furnish fully the table with some cold viands from Fortnum and Mason's. Mark has looked in since I began this note, to suggest that the great festival may come off at ”Household Words”
instead. I am inclined to think it a good idea, and that I shall transfer the locality to that business establishment. But I am at present distracted with doubts and torn by remorse.
The school-room and dining-room I have brought into habitable condition and comfortable appearance. Charley and I breakfast at half-past eight, and meet again at dinner when he does not dine in the City, or has no engagement. He looks very well.
The audiences at Gye's are described to me as absolute marvels of coldness. No signs of emotion can be hammered, out of them. Panizzi sat next me at the Academy dinner, and took it very ill that I disparaged ----. The amateurs here are getting up another pantomime, but quarrel so violently among themselves that I doubt its ever getting on the stage.
Webster expounded his scheme for rebuilding the Adelphi to Stanfield and myself last night, and I felt bound to tell him that I thought it wrong from beginning to end. This is all the theatrical news I know.
I write by this post to Georgy. Love to Mamey, Katey, Harry, and the n.o.ble Plorn. I should be glad to see him here.
Ever affectionately.
[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Monday, May 5th, 1856._
MY DEAR GEORGY,
You will not be much surprised to hear that I have done nothing yet (except for H. W.), and have only just settled down into a corner of the school-room. The extent to which John and I wallowed in dust for four hours yesterday morning, getting things neat and comfortable about us, you may faintly imagine. At four in the afternoon came Stanfield, to whom I no sooner described the notion of the new play, than he immediately upset all my new arrangements by making a proscenium of the chairs, and planning the scenery with walking-sticks. One of the least things he did was getting on the top of the long table, and hanging over the bar in the middle window where that top sash opens, as if he had got a hinge in the middle of his body. He is immensely excited on the subject. Mark had a farce ready for the managerial perusal, but it won't do.
I went to the Dover theatre on Friday night, which was a miserable spectacle. The pit is boarded over, and it is a drinking and smoking place. It was ”for the benefit of Mrs. ----,” and the town had been very extensively placarded with ”Don't forget Friday.” I made out four and ninepence (I am serious) in the house, when I went in. We may have warmed up in the course of the evening to twelve s.h.i.+llings. A Jew played the grand piano; Mrs. ---- sang no end of songs (with not a bad voice, poor creature); Mr. ---- sang comic songs fearfully, and danced clog hornpipes capitally; and a miserable woman, s.h.i.+vering in a shawl and bonnet, sat in the side-boxes all the evening, nursing Master ----, aged seven months. It was a most forlorn business, and I should have contributed a sovereign to the treasury, if I had known how.
I walked to Deal and back that day, and on the previous day walked over the downs towards Canterbury in a gale of wind. It was better than still weather after all, being wonderfully fresh and free.
If the Plorn were sitting at this school-room window in the corner, he would see more cats in an hour than he ever saw in his life. _I_ never saw so many, I think, as I have seen since yesterday morning.