Item Info

Accession Number: n.a.n.
Physical Description: [4] pages and envelope
Transcription:

H.W. Office
Wednesday Nineteenth December 1855

My Dear Georgy. As I wrote to Kate on Sunday night, and as I promised you a letter, I indite the present distracted communication to your extensive Self. Distracted because I am halfway out of our wits with cold; the weather being intensely severe (hard East wind, and heavy frost last night); and the two hours and forty minutes ride from Peterboro this morning, being wonderfully frigid.

Rockingham was inexpressibly sad. There were Cavendish Boyle and his wife, Mary, Bigg, James and his sister. The weight upon my own spirits, imposed there by the sight of the place, necessarily fell to some extent one everybody else - everybody knowing I had not been there, since poor dear Watson's death - and it really was a mournful evening. At a quarter past ten, I left those long low downstairs rooms - now made very comfortable - an retired to the old bedroom, monstrously depressed. I was obliged to read and smoke before my fire till past midnight, before I could become myself again. In the morning, we got on much better, and were much more like our old selves. Georgy and Eddy (both handsome, and very nice boys) went with all the rest of us to Peterboro and we were quite merry.

Before we started, I went quietly into the church, to see poor Watson's grave. He likes in a damp, dull vault - I should so much preferred the churchyard - among the seats near the Communion Table, is the stained glass Memorial Window designed by Mrs. Watson and Boxall. Not very good, except in color - and with a good deal of landscape (which is an immense fault in stained glass), extremely like bad pickled cabbage. Just as we were going away, Mrs. Watson asked me, in a strange manner, if I had been in the old Gallery upstairs? I said No, and she returned "Then do come!" So we walked up together, and she raised that great iron latch, and we went in, and the furniture was all piled in a ghostly heap in the middle, and the carpet was up, and the curtains were down. She turned her head away and looked out of a window, and for the life of me I could not decide upon the delicacy of friendliness of making any allusion to her grief. Consequently I turned my head and looked out of another window, until she moved. Then we both came out together, silently and sadly.

Peterboro was a wonderful success. We were in an extremely clean and comfortable Inn, and the Reading was prodigious - as fine an audience as could possibly be, and I think I never did it so well. Wills was unfortunately subpaena'd as a witness on a trial, and couldn't go; so Mark came to the rescue and acted as bottle holder. Young Fitzwilliam and Lord Huntley proposed a vote of thanks. As they made an awkward pause before beginning, and as I saw they were asses, I walked off, and retired - book, paper-knife, and all, - to the Hotel. Ten minutes afterwards, I hear a violent flutter of petticoats on the stairs, and in come the Boyle's amazingly agitated, to say that Ld. Huntley has spoken for some ten minutes of poor Watson by name (though expressly cautioned not to do it, as she was there), and that she had been greatly shocked and had run out. I packed off Mary to her bedroom without delay, charging her in comforting Mrs. Watson, to assure her that I and Lemon knew nothing of it. This succeeded very well, for she came down about the middle of supper, with signs of having been crying violently, but quite reassured. We were very comfortable for half an hour, and then they went to bed, and Mark and I smoked and drank the Exciseman away by my bedroom fire. She was very much cut up this morning when I took leave of her. So indeed they all were (I had picked up the Boyles at Weedon, on my way down): for we had got on very affectionately and wll, in the old way, and I dare say Rockingham would look strange again when they reached it. Mrs. Watson looks wonderfully well in health. Little Wentworth is a nice little boy now; the girl very nice too; and the poor little posthumous child, pretty and pleasant.

I have (of course) not seen Charley since I returned, and don't yet know whether he is coming for Xmas Day. But I should think he is, as there is a strong move for the release of bondsmen and bondswomen of all sorts, at that time. I have no other news, of course, except that "the little woman was delighted with the napkin rings, and wrote a little note to express her gratification. Tell Catherine with my love that I hope to write her from Manchester. Love to Mamey, Katey, Harry, and the Noble Plorn.

- Yes! I have one bit of news. On Sunday I saw Anne at Tavistock House - looking pulled and ill - and she had not been in the dining-room five minutes before she began to cry in the old way. I forget, on consideration, whether I told this to Catherine. On the whole I am inclined to think I did.
Ever My Dear Georgy
Most affectionately Yours
CD.

MssDate: Nineteenth December 1855
Media Type: Letters
Source: Rare Book Department
Recipient: Hogarth, Georgina, 1827-1917
Provenance: Christie's Nov 17/78 lot 234, Gratz

Bibliography:

The Letters of Charles Dickens, Pilgrim Edition, Volume Seven, 1853-1855, p. 765-767.

Country: Creation Place Note:Household Words Office
Country:England
City/Town/Township:London

Call Number: DL H678g2 1855-12-19
Creator Name: Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870 - Author