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Interview with Charles Dickens

Kate Douglas Wiggin’s interview with Charles Dickens that she took with the famous writer when he was on a reading tour through the States. She was a small child, and she and her mother were on their way from their home in the village of Ilollis, Maine, to Charlestown, Massachusetts. Dickens was on his way from Portland to Boston. She had read every story that Dickens had published up to that time, and in her childish imagination she had pictured him as one of the greatest men that ever lived.

Kate tells us: There on the platform stood the adored one. His hands plunged deep in his pockets (a favorite posture), but presently one was removed to wave away laughingly a piece of famous Berwick sponge-cake offered him by Mr. Osgood, of Boston, his traveling companion and friend. I knew him at once: the smiling, genial, mobile face, rather highly colored, the brilliant eyes, the watch-chain, the red carnation in the buttonhole, and the expressive hands, much given to gesture. It was only a momentary view, for the train started, and Dickens vanished, to resume his place in the car next to ours, where he had been, had I know it, ever since we left Portland.

When my mother was again occupied with her book, I slipt away and entered the next car. I took a humble, unoccupied seat near the end, and gazed steadily at the famous man, who was chatting busily with Mr. Osgood. Half an hour passed, perhaps, and one gentleman after another came from here or there to exchange a word of greeting with him. So that he was never for a moment alone. Suddenly however Mr. Osgood arose, and, with an apology, went into the smoking car. I never knew how it happened; I had no plan, no preparation, no intention, no provocation; but invisible ropes pulled me out of my seat, and, speeding up the aisle, I planted myself squarely down, an unbidden guest in the seat of honor. I had a moment to recover my equanimity, for Dickens was looking out of the window, but turned in a moment and said, with justifiable surprise: ” God bless my soul, where did you come from? ” She replied she lived in Hollis and was going to Charlestown to visit her uncle and his family, and that she was very sorry she had to miss his lecture the night before. Incidentally she told him of some one who had been there but, unfortunately, had not read all his stories. Here is her account of what followed:

‘”Well, upon my word! “ he said. “You do not mean to say that you have read them! “

“Of course I have, “ I replied. “ Every one of them but the two that we are going to buy in Boston, and some of them six times. “

“Bless my soul! “ he ejaculated again. “ Those long, thick books, and you such a slip of a thing! “

“Of course, “I explained, conscientiously, “I do skip some of the very dull parts once in a while; but not the short dull parts, but the long ones. “

He laughed heartily. ” Now, that is something that I hear very little about, “ he said. “I distinctly want to learn more about those very dull parts, “ and, whether to amuse himself or to amuse me, I do not know, he took out a note book and pencil from his pocket and proceeded to give me an exhausting and exhaustive examination on this subject – the books in which the dull parts predominated, and the characters and subjects which principally produced them. He chuckled so constantly during this operation that I could hardly help believing myself extraordinarily agreeable; so I continued dealing these infant blows under the delusion that I was flinging him bouquets. It was not long before one of my hands was in his and his arm around my waist, while we talked of many things. A part of our conversation was given to a Boston newspaper next day by the author himself, or by Mr. Osgood.