cordiality had been maintained in public. Dickens had taken the chair at the dinner to Thackeray in '55, and had alluded to the "treasures of wit and wisdom within the yellow covers;" Thackeray, in his lectures on "Weekday Preachers," declared that he thought Dickens was specially commissioned by Divine Benevolence to delight mankind. But Dickens read little, and thought less, of Thackeray's later work; and once, when I was speaking of the ruthless strictures of the Saturday Review on “Little Dorrit," Thackeray, agreeing with me in the main, added, with that strange, half-humorous, half-serious look, "though, between ourselves, my dear Yates, ‘Little D.' is d-d stupid."

Of course, Thackeray knew perfectly well that Dickens was advising me in all my movements in this matter, that he had publicly espoused my cause at the General Meeting, and had resigned his seat on the Committee on account of my treatment by that body; but the subject was never discussed in any way between the two men until late in the autumn of this same year.

In November, Dickens, returning to town after an absence of some months, heard from me that the writ in my action was about to be served. He expressed to me, I dare say for the fiftieth time, his conviction that the Garrick Club Committee had no right to interfere in the matter, but at the same time reiterated his recommendation that it should be accommodated without legal proceedings and without public scandal. Upon this, two letters passed between him and Thackeray. I asked Dickens for these letters, and his reply was: "As the receiver of my letter did not respect the confidence in which it addressed him, there can be none left for you to violate. I send you what I wrote to Thackeray and what he wrote to me, and you are at perfect liberty to print the two. I am, of course, your authority for doing so."

"Tavistock House, Tavistock Square, London, W.C. "Wednesday, 24th November, 1858.

"MY DEAR THACKERAY,-Without a word of prelude I wish this note to revert to a subject on which I said six words to you at the Athenæum when I last saw you.

Coming home from my country work, I find Mr. Edwin James's opinion taken on this painful question of the Garrick and Mr. Edmund Yates. I find it strong on the illegality of the Garrick proceeding. Not to complicate this note or give it a formal appearance, I forbear from copying the opinion; but I have asked to see it, and I have it, and I want to make no secret from you of a word of it.

"I find Mr. Edwin James retained on the one side; I hear and read of the Attorney-general being retained on the other. Let me, in this state of things, ask you a plain question.

"Can any conference be held between me, as representing Mr. Yates, and an appointed friend of yours, as representing you, with the hope and purpose of some quiet accommodation of this deplorable matter which will satisfy the feelings of all concerned?

"It is right that, in putting this to you, I should tell you that Mr. Yates, when you first wrote to him, brought your letter to me. He had recently done me a manly service I can never forget, in some private distress of mine (generally within your knowledge), and he naturally thought of me as his friend in an emergency. I told him that his article was not to be defended; but I confirmed him in his opinion that it was not reasonably possible for him to set right what was amiss on the receipt of a letter couched in the very strong terms you had employed. When you appealed to the Garrick Committee and they called their General Meeting, I said at that meeting that you and I had been on good terms for many years, and that I was very sorry to find myself opposed to you; but that I was clear that the Committee had nothing on earth to do with it, and that in the strength of my conviction I should go against them.

"If this mediation that I have suggested can take place, I shall be heartily glad to do my best in it-and God knows in no hostile spirit towards any one, least of all to you. If it cannot take place, the thing is at least no worse than it was; and you will burn this letter, and I will burn your answer. Yours faithfully,

"To W. M. THAOKERAY, Esq."

"CHARLES DICKENS.

"36 Onslow Square, 26th November, 1858. "DEAR DICKENS,-I grieve to gather from your letter that you were Mr. Yates's adviser in the dispute between me and him. His letter was the cause of my appeal to the Garrick Club for protection from insults against which I had no other remedy.

"I placed my grievance before the Committee of the Club as the only place where I have been accustomed to meet Mr. Yates. They gave their opinion of his conduct and of the reparation which lay in his power. Not satisfied with their sentence, Mr. Yates called for a General Meeting; and the meeting which he had called having declared against him, he declines the jurisdiction which he had asked for, and says he will have recourse to lawyers.

"You say that Mr. Edwin James is strongly of opinion that the conduct of the Club is illegal. On this point I can give no sort of judgment; nor

be held between me, as representing Mr. Yates, of yours, as representing you, in the hope and ccommodation of this deplorable matter which all parties?'

Dickens to say that, since the commencement of ed myself entirely in the hands of the Commitm still, as ever, prepared to abide by any decirrive on the subject. I conceive I cannot, if I once more personal, or remove it out of the it for arbitration.

y peaceful means for ending it, no one will be

of this letter, in Thackeray's handwriting, is, ssession. It was given me, years after it was found it with a miscellaneous lot of Thacked at a sale.

“Life of Charles Dickens," alludes to this matent, hardly now worth mention, even in a note." the estrangement was complete and continuous, ay never exchanged but the most casual convernost certainly at the time no one was more enerackeray than John Forster himself. I perfectly when Dickens showed him the letter of the he burst out with, "He be d-d, with his

munication. Within a few weeks the legal action was abandoned on my part, and the affair was at an end.

Such is the history, with nothing extenuated nor aught set down in malice, of a most important event in my life; whether the result was for good or ill I am wholly unable, as I said before, to decide. Its importance prevents its being in any way slurred over, and I have told it in full with every detail.

I have told it, not to vindicate myself-for no one can see more clearly than I do the silliness and bad taste of the original article-nor, most assuredly, to cast any slur upon Mr. Thackeray's memory; for I firmly believe that, had he lived, he would have been led to acknowledge that the severity of my punishment was out of proportion to the offence committed.

I have told it that that portion of the public which is interested in literary squabbles may be rightly informed as to the extent of my offence; and that those who bear my name may rest assured that the act, which has been so frequently referred to and so bitterly punished, was one for which-though they may deplore the thoughtlessness which prompted it, and the obstinacy with which it was persisted in-they can have no real reason to blush.

CHAPTER X.

DESK, STAGE, AND PLATFORM.

1858-1872.

IN September, 1858, when the Garrick episode, though not finally closed, so far as the lawyers were concerned, had virtually been brought to an end by the vote of the General Meeting expelling me from the Club, I went for my autumnal holiday to Seaton, a sea-side village in Devon, on the borders of Dorsetshire, which had been discovered, as a place combining plenty of the picturesque with thorough rest and quiet, by my friend William Fenn the artist, who usually acted as our pioneer in such matters. Discovered, I may say; for though Seaton is now a thriving watering-place, with its railway-station, its esplanade, and its red cliffs dotted with villas and terraces, it was then a primitive village, inaccessible either by railway or public coach, and only to be reached by driving from Bridport almost unknown and wholly unvisited; but with its lovely views, fresh air, and perfect peace, the exact spot for a tired Londoner in search of repose both of body and mind.

We were a family party, arriving by coach, which I had chartered at Bridport—my mother, ourselves, and our children—and we settled down at the little Baths House, which almost stood in the sea, and gave ourselves up to enjoyment. There were lovely walks and drives, visits to the romantic fishing and lace-making-not without a touch of smuggling — village of Beer, potterings about with Fenn on his sketching expeditions, and a stay for a few days with my friend Mr. Henry Webster, then inhabiting Shute House, near Colyton, a few miles off, where among our fellow-guests was the present Master of the