AN ARMCHAIR ESSAY

Dominion, Volume 21, Issue 291, 8 September 1928, Page 24

AN ARMCHAIR ESSAY

“BOZ,” AND HIS EARLY LOVES.

(Written for “The Dominion.”) (By Charles Wilson.)

As a rule I do not applaud, the too frequently practised "nosing out” of early stories, too often scandalous about great writers and their women friends. In the case of Dickens, however, there is so little that is in anyway to be. considered more merely than a misunderstanding, aud so much more to the great novelist’s credit, that one can forgive the hunt-, ing up of old documents, the printing of additions to old biographies, and to the general raking up of what we call Dickensian.*!. , Within the last few weeks has appeared a new biography, claiming to add much to the information given in Forster’s hundreds of pages that is new, and now yet again Mr. Ralph Strauss Is writing for the London "Sunday Times” a series of papers on the novelist’s life and literary work which promise to include a variety of newly-acquired aud newly-arranged knowledge on the subject. To-day I would fain jot down a few notes on the part played by women in “Boz’s” early life. MTien a young man is but eighteen Cupid is often fated to exercise no small-influence upon his heart. This was the case with “Boz.” When still a lawyer’s clerk, but rapidly learning shorthand, and his desire to be a re-

porter, with special ambitions towards that famous place, the Reporters’ Gallery of the House of Commons, Charles Dickens was introduced by a young bank clerk friend Kolle, whom, the story goes, had become a participator in some of “Boz’s” amateur acting “specs,” to a Miss Maria Beadnell. She was pretty, in a piqmmte style, pert mannered, and. I am afraid, not a little empty-headed. In all probability just the sort of good-looking, lightheaded girl who caught the young man’s fancy without too much discrimination on his part. The Bcadnells. were highly respectable folk who lived in Lombard Street. One brother was manager of an adjoining bank (afterwards drawn, in “A Tale of Two Cities,” as Tellson’s). and had three daughters, one engaged to a tea merchant, the second to marry voting Kolle, - “Boz’s” friend, and the third. Maria. Boz was at once “hard hit,” as the saying goes. How “hard’ hit” is shown by the several letters of this period which, coining into the, possession some years ago of the Bibliophiles Society of Boston, an American companionship, were never reprinted in entirety, but of which the present writer has long possessed copies. It is probably from these letters that Messrs. Strauss, Loys, and otherrecent commentators ou Dickens’s youthful days and doiugs, has been allowed to quote. The love affair went on. Maria, clearly of flirtatious temperament, being given to be not a little exacting. Whatever her own opinions and desires, the “family”—and in those Victorian times the “family” had not a little to say as to possible and probable matrimonial projects —did not ap-i patently very much approve of the Dickens connection. When Maria was twenty, she was despatched to Paris to finish her education. The lover was sorely put out, but found new excite- , meat in his wonderful rise in life through being able to join the staff of a newly-established newspaper. "The True Sun,” of which, by the way, the first dramatic critic came from Newcastle in the person of John Forster, destined to survive Dickens, to be his life-long friend and his biographer. Good luck poured in upon the young man, for within a few months room was found for him on - the reporting staff in the sacred “House,” of the “Mirror of Parliament,” conducted by one of his uncles on his mother’s side. His greater success in life no doubt prompted Dickens to press his suit, but since returning from Paris the young lady seems to have “soured,” as the Americans say, upon him and the letters mention the name of another young lady, Miss Mary Anne Leigh, who, according to Mr. Strauss, was disliked by the lover, “as being set against him.” Al last, however, having twice proposed to Miss Beadnell (by letter, by medium of the friendly Mr Kolle), the “family” evidently tabooed personal meetings, “Boz,” who had, of course, not failed to notice that his charmer had fallen away somewhat in any affection she might have bad for him, wrote virtually breaking off the connection. I quote part of the final epistl.e: “He was specially anxious to write.” he told her," knowing that the opportunity of addressing you through Kolle —now my only means of communication with you—will shortly be lost.” Then follows a passage which is a clear indication of the young man’s tine character. “He has done his utmost to be worthy of her, but all in vain. I have come to the unqualified determination that 1 will allbw no fcelof pride, no haughty dislike to making a reconciliation, Io prevent my expressing it without reserve. . . I will only openly and at once say there is nothing 1 more sincerely and earnestly desire than to be reconciled to you. . .

All that one can do is to raise himself by his own exertions and unceasing assiduity I have done, and will do. I have no guide to by which to ascertain your present feelings, and I have. God knows, no means of influencing them in my favour, I have never loved, and I can never love any human being other than yourself. We ha-vs had dlf-

ferences, and we have lately been entirely separated. Absence, however, has not altered my feelings in the slightest degree; and the love I now tender you is as pure and lasting as at any period of our former correspondence.” The young journalist begged for a definite answer, and Maria, remaining cold, went on his way, as he says, and that way was not for many years to be crossed by Maria Beadnell, who. as lie ami she had no idea at that time, was to figure as Dora Spenlow. in "David Copperfield,” and as Flora Finehing, in "Little Dorrit,” wi.se Maria Beadnell, the woman who in his youth, be had so ardently loved, upon whom he had heaped all the lockedup wealth of his affection and imagina tion—what a change! And now, well what was she like now? says the Cleuman of the story, the Dickens himself that was in youth, “Flora, always tall, had grown to be very broad, too, and short of breath, but that was not much. Flora, whom he had left a lily, had become a peony, but that was not much. Flora, who had seemed enchanting in all she said, and thought, was diffuse and silly. That was much. Flora, who had been spoiled and artless long ago, was determined to be

spoiled and artless now. That was a fatal blow. The Maria Beadnell, who, painted as Flora Finehing, the Maria who had turned Dickens down for a then well-to-do merchant, Mr. Henry Winter, had lost all charms for the man with nine children, who was fated to meet her in later life, to lend her money, and then to lose sight of for ever. So much for the first woman to figure in “Boz’s” life. After a short experience as Parliamentary reporter of the "Mirror of Parliament,” in which one of his ■ uncles was interested, young Dickens passed on to another reporting job on the “Morning Chronicle,” for which the reporter did some very clever work in the provinces, whither he would journey to jot down in his painfullyacquired shorthand (Gurney’s system), the orations of many political celebrities. On one occasion he went down to Bristol, and while in the West annexed for future use the curious old names of Pickwick and others, which lie was to use later on. As Parliamentary reporter he made the acquaint-

ance of Mr. George Hogarth, and was a welcome visitor at'the Chelsea home of the senior newspaper man. He got to know the Hogarth girls, who all played so important a part in his career, and to one of whom, Catherine, he soon became engaged. The two others were Mary, the younger, and Georgina, who survived her illustrious brother-in-law by some years. Married at St. Luke’s Church, Chelsea, where Charles Kingsley’s father was then vicar, the young couple lived happily at their small but snug chambers in Furnivall’s Inn, off Holborn. By this time he was prospering, for in addition to his salary as a reporter he was getting extra payment for his “Sketches by Boz,” and, thanks to the kind offices of William Harrison Ainsworth, h<! was introduced to George Cruikshank. who contributed some very effective sketches to accompany them. They were published in two handsome volumes by Macrone, and sold well. Not only this but an event of some moment in Dickens’s life was to come when, “in fear and trembling,” as he was told, one dark night a young man stole up a right of way in Fleet Street, with the manuscript of a satirical paper, “Mr. Minns and Ills Cousin,” called, when published, "A Dinner at Poplar.” The author’s agitation. when it appeared in “full glory of print.” was so great that he was told that he was "forced to turn into Westminster Hall, a moment or two, for my eyes were so dimmed with pride and joy that they could not bear the streets, and were not tit for the Strand.” I must, not be betrayed into retelling the genesis and progress of “Pickwick.” but the young author’s acquaintance with the Hogarths grew steadily after the marriage, and Mary Hogarth was staying with the young couple at Furnivall’s Inn, when she. who all are agreed upon, was the sweetest and gentlest of girls, suddenly passed away in her brother-in-law’s arms. Dickens, it may be said, had always almost wor-

shipped the younger sister, and the shock was so great that the publication of “Pickwick” was suspended. On June arriving there was no "“Pickwick.” and all sorts of absurd rumours floated about. It was said that “Pickwick” could not have been the invention of one man and that one of the collaboratenrs bad died. Another story widely circulated was that the author had gone mad, and had to be sent away to an asylum. It was even I said that he was dead. Dickens was for a time unable to proceed. It was nearly two months before the task of writing that marvellous chronicle of humour could be shouldered again, and with it that of “Oliver Twist,” which was being published almost simultaneously. On Mary’s gravestone, still to be seen in the Kensal Green Cemetery in London, are the words written by Dickens himself: “Young, beautiful and good, God numbered her among His Angels at. the early age of seventeen,” Mary Hogarth figures, partially of course, in stories under various mimes in several of Dickens’s stories. He idealised her no doubt, and it is perhaps a question whether she ever really existed as he imagined her. But that her picture tilled his mind at times right up to the qnd of his career, there can be no doubt. He cherished her memory as that of one who stood beside him at times in spirit form, and who ever influenced him for good. “Rose Maylie,” “Little Nell.” “Ada Clare” of “Bleak House,” “Agnes” in “David Coppergeld.” “Lucy Manette” in “A Tale of Two Cities” —each has something of her, scarcely to be clearly defined, no doubt, but ever present when these tales were being written.