- Brief description
- Letter, from Charles Dickens to Thomas Beard, 21 March 1843
- Label
- In this letter Dickens to his good friend Thomas Beard he tells a story about his dog, Timber. Dickens had brought Timber back from his trip to America in 1842. The dog was his companion for over 12 years, even travelling with him to Italy, where, covered in fleas, the shaggy dog had to be shaved. He refers to a farm house in Finchley. This was Cobley's Farm, which his friend John Forster said is where he came up with the character of Mrs Gamp. The farm was located where Queen's Avenue is today.
- Collection
- Archives & Manuscripts
- Object number
- A43
- Object type
- letter
- Production person
- Dickens, Charles
- Production date
- 21/03/1843
- Inscription content
- Thomas Beard Esquire | 42 Portman Place | Edgeware Road.
Devonshire Terrace | Twenty First March 1843
My Dear Beard.
I write to you with mingled feelings of Pride and Shame--of honest pride, for that I have discovered a sequestered Farm House at Finchley, five miles and a half from the Regents Park, whereat I do beseech the honor of your company to dinner, next Sunday; and to which retreat I will myself conduct you, if you will be here at a quarter before Two. Beds on the premises, or close at hand.
Now for the bitter, bitter shame.
I don't know whether I mentioned to you at the Theatre, that a Finchley Postman, meeting me in the road accompanied by an animal I brought from America, made proposals of marriage, having reference to that creature--in short, to Timber; for I must write his name, sooner or later. Having my doubts on certain points of consummation, I avoided the subject (ran away, in fact) but yesterday, of all evil days in the year, I met this demon Postman in a solitary lane. Again he proposed; and I think I saw distinctly, something fiendish in his face. The result was, that the settlements (involving all possible contingencies of probable puppies) were arranged; and Timber was taken by Topping to the demon's cave; I dining meanwhile, at a rural tavern in the neighbourhood.
The female appeared to be of his own breed--in the full glow of youth and passion--and in every point of view, in the highest state of perfection.
He was absent one hour and a half.
He returned, covered with disgrace and mortification. He had done nothing. The official report was, that he had tried, but was considered to be weak in his loins.
I am in a distracted frame of mind. Dreadful thoughts come over me at times, of taking his life. At other times I think of only taking his--but I will not anticipate. Heaven send him a safe deliverance. He is at present in a basket on the top of the bookcase, pending the decision of the particular kind of Torture to which he shall be exposed.
Yours despondingly
CHARLES DICKENS
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