My own history may be summed up in very few words; and even those I should have spared the reader but for my friend’s allusion to me some time since. I have no deeper sorrow than the loss of a child,—an only daughter, who is living, and who fled from her father’s house but a few weeks before our friend and I first met. I had never spoken of this even to him, because I have always loved her, and I could not bear to tell him of her error until I could tell him also of her sorrow and regret. Happily I was enabled to do so some time ago. And it will not be long, with Heaven’s leave, before she is restored to me; before I find in her and her husband the support of my declining years.
For my pipe, it is an old relic of home, a thing of no great worth, a poor trifle, but sacred to me for her sake.
Thus, since the death of our venerable friend, Jack Redburn and I have been the sole tenants of the old house; and, day by day, have lounged together in his favourite walks. Mindful of his injunctions, we have long been able to speak of him with ease and cheerfulness, and to remember him as he would be remembered. From certain allusions which Jack has dropped, to his having been deserted and cast off in early life, I am inclined to believe that some passages of his youth may possibly be shadowed out in the history of Mr. Chester and his son, but seeing that he avoids the subject, I have not pursued it.
My task is done. The chamber in which we have whiled away so many hours, not, I hope, without some pleasure and some profit, is deserted; our happy hour of meeting strikes no more; the chimney-corner has grown cold; and Master Humphrey’s Clock has stopped for ever.
Dear Friends,
Next November we shall have finished the tale of which we are at present engaged, and shall have travelled together through twenty monthly parts and eighty-seven weekly numbers. It is my design when we have gone so far, to close this work. Let me tell you why.
I should not regard the anxiety, the close confinement, or the constant attention, inseparable from the weekly form of publication (for to commune with you in any form is to me a labour of love) if I had found it advantageous to the conduct of my stories, the elucidation of my meaning, or the gradual development of my characters. But I have not done so. I have often felt cramped and confined in a very irksome and harassing degree by the space in which I have been constrained to move. I have wanted you to know more at once than I could tell you; and it has frequently been of the greatest importance to my cherished intention, that you should do so. I have been sometimes strongly tempted (and have been at some pains to resist the temptation) to hurry incidents on, lest they should appear to you who waited from week to week, and had not, like me, the result and purpose in your minds, p. xixtoo long delayed. In a word, I have found this form of publication most anxious, perplexing, and difficult. I cannot bear these jerky confidences which are no sooner begun than ended, and no sooner ended than begun again.
Many passages in a tale of any length, depend materially for their interest on the intimate relation they bear to what has gone before, or to what is to follow. I have sometimes found it difficult when I issued thirty-two closely printed pages once a month, to sustain in your minds this needful connection: in the present form of publication it is often, especially in the first half of a story, quite impossible to preserve it sufficiently through the current numbers. And although in my progress, I am gradually able to set you right, and to show you what my meaning has been, and to work it out, I see no reason why you should ever be wrong when I have it in my power by resorting to a better means of communication between us to prevent it.
Considerations of immediate profit and advantage ought in such a case to be of secondary importance. They would lead me, at all hazards, to hold my present course. But for the reason I have just now mentioned, I have after long consideration, and with especial reference to the next new tale I bear in my mind, arrived at the conclusion that it will be better to abandon this scheme of publication in favour of our old and well-tried plan which has only twelve gaps in a year, instead of fifty-two.
Therefore my intention is, to close this story (with the limits of which I am of course by this time acquainted) and this work, within, or about, the period I have mentioned. I should add, that for the general convenience of subscribers, another volume of collected numbers will not be published until the whole is brought to a conclusion.
Taking advantage of the respite which the close of this work will afford me, I have decided, in January next, to pay a visit to America. The pleasure I anticipate from this realization of a wish I have long entertained, and long hoped p. xxto gratify, is subdued by the reflection that it must separate us for a longer time than other circumstances would have rendered necessary.
On the first of November, eighteen hundred and forty-two, I purpose, if it please God, to commence my book in monthly parts, under the old green cover, in the old size and form, and at the old price.
I look forward to addressing a few more words to you in reference to this latter theme before I close the task on which I am now engaged. If there be any among the numerous readers of Master Humphrey’s Clock who are at first dissatisfied with the prospect of this change—and it is not unnatural almost to hope there may be some—I trust they will, at no very distant day, find reason to agree with
ITS AUTHOR
September, 1841.
Now that the time is come for taking leave, I find that the words I have to add are very few indeed.
We part until next November. It is a long parting between us, but if I have left you anything by which to remember me, in the meanwhile, with no unkind or distant feelings—anything by which I may be associated in spirit with your firesides, homes, and blameless pleasures—I am happy.
Believe me it has ever been my true desire to add to the common stock of healthful cheerfulness, good humour, and good-will, and trust me when I return to England and to another tale of English life and manners, I shall not slacken in this zealous work.
I take the opportunity for thanking all those who have addressed me by letter since the appearance of the foregoing announcement; and of expressing a hope that they will rest contented with this form of acknowledgment, as their number renders it impossible to me to answer them individually.
I bid farewell to them and all my readers with a regret that we feel in taking leave of Friends who have become endeared to us by long and close communication; and I look forward with truthfulness and pleasure to our next meeting.
November, 1841.
[0] Postscript, printed on the wrapper of No. 87 of “Master Humphrey’s Clock”.
[255] Old Curiosity Shop begins here.
[292] Old Curiosity Shop is continued here, completing No. IV.
[300] Old Curiosity Shop is continued to the end of the number.
[306] Old Curiosity Shop is continued from here to the end without further break. Master Humphrey is revived thus at the close of the Old Curiosity Shop, merely to introduce Barnaby Rudge.
[311] This was Barnaby Rudge, contained in vol. ix. of this Edition. This is, as indicated, the final appearance of Master Humphrey’s Clock. It forms the conclusion of Barnaby Rudge.
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