BIB_ID
309451
Accession number
MA 1352.18
Creator
Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870.
Display Date
Baltimore, Maryland, 1842 March 22.
Credit line
Purchased with the assistance of the Fellows, 1951.
Description
1 item (2 pages, with address) ; 25.0 x 19.8 cm
Notes
Address panel with fragments of a seal and Dickens' signature to "Miss Burdett Coutts / Stratton Street / Piccadilly / London / England."
The letter is part of a collection, MA 1352, which consists of letters from Charles Dickens to the Baroness, to her companion Hannah (Meredith) Brown, or the latter's husband, William Brown; with 70 letters written by others to Miss Coutts or to Dickens in his capacity as her unofficial almoner; and a few others. See the collection-level record for more information.
The letter is part of a collection, MA 1352, which consists of letters from Charles Dickens to the Baroness, to her companion Hannah (Meredith) Brown, or the latter's husband, William Brown; with 70 letters written by others to Miss Coutts or to Dickens in his capacity as her unofficial almoner; and a few others. See the collection-level record for more information.
Provenance
The letters formed part of the Burdett-Coutts sale (Sotheby, 17 May 1922); they were purchased for Oliver W. Barrett in whose collection they remained until it was sold by his son (Parke-Bernet, 31 October 1951).
Summary
Reporting on his travels in America and apologizing for being neglectful; saying "The truth is that they give me everything here but Time! That they never will leave me alone. That I shake hands every day when I am not travelling, with five or six hundred people. That Mrs. Dickens and I hold a formal Levee in every town we come to, and usually faint away (from fatigue) every day while dressing for dinner. - In a word, that we devoutly long for Home, and look forward to the seventh of next June when we sail, please God, from New York - most ardently. I have sent you some newspapers; and I hope they have reached you. They gave me a ball at New York, at which Three Thousand people were present - and a public dinner besides - and another in Boston - and another in a place called Hertford. Others were projected, literally all through the States, but I gave public notice, that I couldn't accept them; being of mere flesh and blood, and having only mortal powers of digestion. But I have made an exception in favor of one body of readers at St. Louis - a town in the Far West, on the confines of the Indian territory. I am going there to dinner - it's only two thousand miles from here - and start the day after tomorrow. I look forward to making such an impression on you with the store of anecdote and description with which I shall return, that I can't find it in my Heart to open it - on paper. I don't see how I shall ever get rid of my gatherings. It seems to me, at present, that when I come home I must take a cottage on Putney Heath or Richmond Green, or some other wild and desolate place, and talk to myself for a month or two, until I have sobered down a little, and am quiet again. A prophetic feeling comes upon me sometimes, and hints that I shall return a bore;" asking if there is anything she would like him to bring her; asking her to thank Edward Marjoribanks for his letters of introduction which have been very helpful "...except the poor gentleman at Washington - who has been dead six years. Not finding him readily (no wonder!) I went into a bank to ask for him. I happened to make the enquiry of a very old clerk, who staggered to a stool and fell into a cold perspiration, as if he had seen a spectre. Being feeble, and the shock being very great, he took to his bed - but he has since recovered : to the great joy of his wife and family;" sending his regards to Miss Meredith and adding, in a postscript, "I forgot to say that I have been at Washington (which is beyond here) and as far beyond that, again as Richmond in Virginia. But the prematurely hot weather, and the sight of slaves, turned me back."
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