New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1870-07-05
CHARLES DICKEES.

recording my personal recoll tctions Of beloved
friend fearing that beautiful and precious they are to
they would seem very slight, pale, unsatisfactory
things TO the world of TRIBUNE readers; still, every
thing relating to him TO have some interest and
value, while hearts all consciously ycarnng
toward that new-made grave in the Abbey have con
oluded to do the best can to tell simple story OF him
who is gone or rather Of what he was to me.
1t in june 1882 just eighteen years before the date
of his DEATH that first Charles Dickens in London
had sent letter TO him, from his friend Mr. c. T. IL
James Mrs Dickens called at his request and invited
me to a dinner kindly promising that should meet
number Of the authors and artists that most desired 10
sec. have in my mind still perfectly distinct picture
of the bright elegant interior Of Tavstock House. ana OF
its inmateSof my host himself then in his early prime
of Mrs. Dickens, plump, rosy, English, handsome
woman, with certain air Of observation-disclosures, yet
gentle and kindlyMss Hogarth, very lovely person,
with charming manners-and the young ladies,
then Gerry young-rcal English girls, fresh and simple,
and innocent looking English daisies was received
in the library. Mr. Dickens-how clearly he stands he
fore me now with his frank encouraging smile and the
light of welcome in his eyes was then slight in person,
and rather pale than otherwise. The symmetrical form
of his head and the fine, spirited bearing Of the whole
figure struck me at oncethen the hearty 60nhone the
wholesome sweetness Of his smile; but more than any
thing else the great beauty of his eyes. They were the
eyes OF master with no consciousness Of mastery IN
Them they were brilliant without hardness, and search
ing without sharpness. felt, always felt that they
read me clearly and deeply vet could never fear their
keen scrutiny They never made you feel uncomforta-
BILE. l but think it pity that in so many of the
pictures have Of him the effect of his eyes is nearly
lost by their being cast down They had in them all the
humor and all the humanity Of the man. You saw in
them all the splendid possibilities OF his genius, all the
manly tenderness of his nature
Approaching Mr.. Dickens as did, with what he would
have considered extravagant herO-worship was sur
prsed TO find myself speedily and entirely at my ease
stn he seemed put forth effort TO make me feel So
H.. xroa mil Lex
and apparently unconscious In conversation he was
certainly not brilliant after the manner of professional
talkcr His talk did not bubble with puns, nor scnti-
late with eprams but il racy and suggestive with
fine flavor Of originality and satire, and the effect OF
everything he said doubled by the EXPIRE sion of
those wonderful eyes. They great listening eyes
When remember how they would kndle at even my
crude criticisms my awkward attempts to convey TO
him the ideas and emotions which my visit TO the Old
World had called ont, imagine the eager look, the
kindred with which they must have responded TO
the wonderful talk OF Douglas Jcrod and the lightning
like play Of his wittO the splendid cynicsm of Carlyle,
the titanic fances Of LandOr to the dramatic word
painting Browning At such times, the whole synpa-
tbetic, mobile face must almost have worn the look of
that Of
whea planet sSms into his Ken"
So completely in his generous appreciation and hospt
able interest did Mr. Dickens to pass out of himself
that had strange difficulty in realizing that he was he
that the alert, jaunty figure, dressed with extreme
nicely and in a style bordering the ornate, and with
such elegant and luxurious surroundings, was indeed
the great friend Of the people the romancer Of common
life; that the kindly, cOnsderate host who saw every
thing heard everything vas the poetic, dramatic novel
is who next Shakespeare, had been for years the
"god Of my idolatry." --.--~= 49,
Ineed not here describe that dinnerparty. partial
list of the guests viii show how brilliant it must have
been: Charles Kemble and his daughter Adelaide Mad
ame sarOris); Mr.. Proctor Barry CORNWALL, and his
accomplished wife; Emil Devrient, the great German
actor; John Kenyon the poetbanker, and his grand
friend, Walter Savage Lander.
At various times during the evening had with my
host little talks Of which fortunately made some notes
remember he gTaciOusly invited me to assist MN III
making claretpunch, and while we were engaged IN
that serious wOrkQ stirred in the sugar for my parp-l
told him how delighted l with Bleak House, then
in its early numbers and how especially interested was
in Esther summersOn his first essay at writing IN the
character Of a woman and to my mind wonderful IN
stance of mental TRANSPORTATION. Most writers m9squer-
ndng in feminine attire, later, reveal the
beard under the muller" the boots beneath the kre,
but nowhere is any such masculine, HlusiOn-breaBng
revelation mado in this exquisite personation. MI
Dickens seemed pleased and confessed that the charac-
ter OF this young lady, as autObigraphicaly evolved
had cost him no little labor and anxiety Is 1t quite
natural" he asked quite grsh 2" Ircpled that if an
American woman could speak for English young woman
hood il certainly was; and when he said he about
10 get Esther love, and hardly knew how he should be
able to manage the delicate difficulties of the case, told
him that 1 he would carry her triumphantly
thrOugh-and he did.
Then and aftcrward my host talked with quite
freely but with singular modesty of his own produc-
tons and modes Of study and writing, answering my
questions frankly and patiently asked II certain char-
aeters which pointed out generally esteemed very pc
culiar and eccentric If not positively unnatural ana I'M
possible were altogether beings Of the mind pure
creatures OF his fancy; and he said explicitly that
the most fantastic and terrible Of his characters were the
most real-tc unnatural" were the natural-the ex-
aggeration just those strange Owths those ac-
tual human traits he had copied most faithfully from
lie sam Weller whom everybody recognized as an ac-
quaiuance was not real hut quite an imaginary per
sonage he sad-was only the representative of class
Afterward standing by his study table, and observing
the exquisite order and nicely of its arrangements
asked him if he actually did his everyday work there.
Oh yes he said "Isithere and write, through almost
every morning"
sDoes the spirit always come upon you at Oncef'
asked.
sNo-sometimes" he answered, "I have TO coax it;
sometimes do little else than draw figures make dots
on the paper and plan and dream till perhaps my time is
nearly up But always sit here, for that certain time"
What "A lesson l. this for lesser writer's Yet for one
cannot claim TO have profted by IT,
Yankee-like, pursued my interesting Investigations
asking linn it, in the flow Of inspiration did not
come tin near the for lunch, exercise he left that
seat when the hour struck or remained.
81 20 at once" he said hardly waiting to complete
sentence. could not keep my health otherwise. let
nothing deprive me Of my tramp"
Then asked IL the mental work did not 60 on az he
walked and said he supposed it always did in some
degree especially when he alone yetthat he thought
he cav almost all there was 10 be seen in his walks
about London and Paris-indeed everywhere he went
that he had trained his eye and TO let nothing escape
him that he had received most valuable suggestions and
hints of character that way remember that he said
q, This connection that he seldom came upon group Of