I do not hesitate to prophesy that in time the works of Dickens will be the most valuable after Shakespeare. He is one of the few English authors whose appeal is universal. Even in translation his works are wonderful, and they have been translated into almost every language, keeping their peculiar raciness, though they must sacrifice their English idiom. Dickens will be read always, by the man in the street as well as by the scholar.
LAST LETTER WRITTEN BY CHARLES DICKENS
Speaking of the generosity of Mr. White in presenting the Pickwick leaf to the British Museum recalls to my mind the magnificent gift of Mr. John Gribbel of the Glenriddel Burns manuscripts to Scotland. The great liberality displayed by this Philadelphian should do much to cement international relations. All the friends of Bobbie Burns in Scotland—and they are legion—gave up hope when these manuscripts were purchased by Mr. Gribbel, believing them lost to the homeland forever. You can imagine the thrill in every Scotchman’s heart, from Sidney to Edinburgh, when the stirring news came, hot over the cable, that they were to be returned to their native land.
“THE DYING CLOWN”: ORIGINAL DRAWING BY ROBERT
SEYMOUR FOR DICKENS’S “PICKWICK PAPERS”
(Seymour committed suicide after finishing this drawing)
When Mr. Gribbel bought this collection in 1914, I was naturally disappointed that I did not secure the Glenriddel manuscripts myself. But I was as delighted as any bra’ laddie directly descended from the celebrated ploughboy when I learned of Mr. Gribbel’s gift.
However, there are always compensations in this game if you have the patience to wait. I recently secured probably the greatest collection of Burns manuscripts, the one formerly belonging to that fine student and most charming of men, Mr. R. B. Adam, of Buffalo, New York. I had known of this collection all my life, but never dreamed that I should one day own it.
It includes the original manuscripts of the great poems of Burns that are enshrined in the souls of every lover of true poetry. Perhaps the foremost is the original draft of “Tam o’ Shanter,” written on twelve leaves, which Burns presented to Cardonnel Lawson in 1790. There is also the appealing “There Was a Lass and She Was Fair”; the beautiful poem, “The Last Time I Came O’er the Moor”; the exquisite lyric, “To a Woodlark”; and that lovely characteristic poem, “Wilt Thou Be My Dearie,” in which Burns himself especially delighted. Indeed, these original drafts truly give Burns “an immortal life in the hearts of young and old,” and when I read and reread in the poet’s own hand Burns’s “On Hearing a Thrush on a Morning’s Walk,” the magnificent “Address to Edinburgh,” and the sonorous “Lament of Mary, Queen of Scots,” I am thrilled to the marrow.