The Letters of Charles Dickens. Vol. 3, 1836-1870 — A Closer Reading

The Editor's Hand and the Volume's Structure

The preface, signed by Mamie Dickens and Georgina Hogarth, states that this volume 'consists of Letters only' because their narrative concluded in the second volume. They thank the Earl of Lytton, Sir Austen H. Layard, and others for providing new letters. The editors also note that they have 'collected together the letters from Charles Dickens which have already been published in various Biographies' and arranged them chronologically, interspersing new material with previously printed ones. This editorial choice means the reader encounters letters without connective commentary, relying on footnotes for context. The errata page, correcting names and titles, hints at the editorial care taken with the text. For a first-time reader, the preface signals that this is a supplement, not a standalone biography, and that the letters themselves must carry the narrative.

Early Letters: Professional Beginnings and Personal Voice

The earliest letters, from 1836, show Dickens as a young writer navigating the theatrical world. To John Hullah, he reports that The Sunday Times, The Dispatch, and The Satirist 'blow their critic trumpets against unhappy me most lustily.' He speculates that either he has 'grievously awakened the ire of all the "adapters"' or the drama is 'decidedly bad.' The tone is buoyant, even when facing negative reviews. In another letter, he mentions Mr. Hogarth's visit with news that Braham spoke 'highly of my works and "fame" (!),' the exclamation mark suggesting amused disbelief. These early letters reveal a correspondent who is both ambitious and self-aware, comfortable with hyperbole and irony. The reader can observe how Dickens's professional relationships—with collaborators, publishers, and friends—are conducted with a blend of warmth and strategic charm.

Later Letters: Friendship, Illness, and Literary Judgment

By the late 1850s, Dickens's letters reflect deeper personal bonds and a more reflective tone. In December 1858, he writes to Arthur Smith, who is severely ill: 'I cannot tell you how surprised and grieved I was last night to hear from Albert of your severe illness.' He promises to 'write a cheery word to the dear fellow in the morning.' The letter is affectionate, with Dickens lamenting that he must travel to Manchester without Smith. In 1859, he writes to painter W. P. Frith about a sitting, joking that the 'velvet coat likewise if the tailor should have sent it home' is 'more to be doubted than the man whose signature here follows.' To Mrs. Cowden Clarke, he responds to her praise of his work, saying it is 'more than all else.' He describes his desk at Gad's Hill, where two green leaves stand as a constant reminder of her. These letters show Dickens as a loyal friend, a playful correspondent, and a writer deeply affected by the opinions of those he respects.

A Critical Eye: Dickens as Reader and Reviewer

In 1860, Dickens writes to Henry F. Chorley about Chorley's novel Roccabella. He offers a detailed critique, noting that after 'a few pages' and 'the shadow on the bright sofa at the foot of the bed,' he knew he was 'in the hands of an artist.' He praises the story as 'remarkably ingenious' and confesses that he 'cried over it heartily.' This letter is one of the few in the excerpts where Dickens acts as a literary critic, and it reveals his criteria for good fiction: immediate engagement, artistic control, and emotional impact. The reader can compare this response to Dickens's own fiction and to the critical reception he himself received. The letter also demonstrates his generosity toward fellow writers, a trait that appears in other correspondence. For a first-time reader, this letter provides a rare glimpse of Dickens's aesthetic principles in action.

Reading this volume sequentially allows one to observe Dickens's voice maturing from the buoyant young author of 1836 to the reflective, gravely affectionate correspondent of the 1860s. The letters are not arranged by theme but by date, so the reader must piece together context from footnotes and internal references. Pay attention to the recurring motifs: health, travel, literary gossip, and the business of writing. The editors' decision to include only letters, without narrative, means that the reader becomes an active participant in constructing the story of Dickens's life from these fragments.

The rain kept me inside with The Letters of Charles Dickens, Vol. 3, where his restless warmth leapt off every page. Reading his candid notes to friends, I found myself wondering how private correspondence shapes belief, and later I drifted to The Voice of Faith in the Valley of Achor: Vol. 1 [of 2] being a series of letters to several friends on religious subjects — Story, Setting & Ideas. That volume, too, felt like listening to someone thoughtful in a dim room, speaking only to me.