- 15 -
'Somebody told me that the other evening, when he was obliged
to stay at home from perfect exhaustion of body and mind,
that a man inquired for him at the Tremont House, and, in spite
of Dickens's repeated refusals to see him, contrived to make his
way into his parlour, where the poor man was extended on the sofa;
he remained an hour and then requested Mr. D. to allow him to
bring up his wife, who was waiting below. Dickens told him he
really must excuse him he was too ill to remain up any longer,
and went to his room and threw himself on the bed. In spite
of this, the man brought up his wife and passed another hour
with Mrs. Dickens. Did you ever hear anything so disgusting
The women - not the commom people, for that you could excuse
- float round him in the streets, wait for him at corners, and
Alexander's room (where Dickens's portrait was being painted)
is crammed every day with girls and women who call themselves
ladies, to see him when he comes out of the studio. The other
day he was absolutely obliged to force himself through the
crowd, and one woman stepped before him and said to him:
'Mr. Dickens, will you be kind enough to walk entirely round
the room, so that we can all have a look at you This is
one of the million things which I could tell you which make
me feel sometimes as if I should cry with mortification'.
But Dickens himself seems to have forgiven the Bostonians everything. They
are, he wrote to W.C. Macready on January 31st, 'as delicate, as considerate,
as careful of giving the least offence, as the best Englishmen I ever
saw. - I like their behaviour to Ladies infinitely better than that of my
own countrymen; and their Institutions I reverence, love, and honor'.
This mood seems to have been sustained until after he had been a few
days in New York, to which he travelled from Boston via Worcester, Spring
field, Hartford (where he spoke at another public banquet in his honour)
and New Haven. New York, Dickens found, was determined to out-do Boston
in feting him. A committee of prominent citizens had been formed to organise
a grand soiree, which came to be called 'the Boz Ball', at the Park Theatre
on February 14th. Thousands of people attended, paying $5 a head. The
theatre was 'decorated and embellished in a style of elegance far surpassing
anything of the kind ever seen in that house', the band played 'God Save
the King' on Dickens's entrance and the crowd broke into 'loud demonstrations
of applause', a series of tableaux vivants depicting scenes and characters
from his books was presented, the pit floor had been boarded over to form
a huge dance-floor, and a lavish buffet supper was served in an upstairs
saloon. The affair was derided by some sections of the press (especially,
of course, the Boston papers and by some private individuals, as lud
icrously far-fetched and tasteless but Dickens himself seems to have enjoyed
'this extraordinary festival', as he called it. A few days later he was
honoured again, in a more conventional way, by a public dinner chaired by
Washington Irving (with whom he had established a thriving, and very genuine,
mutual admiration society).
