lery. My fourth
(this sounds like a charade), a born little sailor, is a midshipman in
H.M.S. _Orlando_, now at Bermuda, and will make his way anywhere.
Remaining two at school, elder of said remaining two very bright and
clever. Georgina and Mary keeping house for me; and Francis Jeffrey (I
ought to have counted him as the third boy, so we'll take him in here as
number two and a half) in my office at present. Now you have the family
bill of fare.

You ask me about Fechter and his Hamlet. It was a performance of
extraordinary merit; by far the most coherent, consistent, and
intelligible Hamlet I ever saw. Some of the delicacies with which he
rendered his conception clear were extremely subtle; and in particular
he avoided that brutality towards Ophelia which, with a greater or less
amount of coarseness, I have seen in all other Hamlets. As a mere _tour
de force_, it would have been very remarkable in its disclosure of a
perfectly wonderful knowledge of the force of the English language; but
its merit was far beyond and above this. Foreign accent, of course, but
not at all a disagreeable one. And he was so obviously safe and at ease,
that you were never in pain for him as a foreigner. Add to this a
perfectly picturesque and romantic "make up," and a remorseless
destruction of all conventionalities, and you have the leading virtues
of the impersonation. In Othello he did not succeed. In Iago he is very
good. He is an admirable artist, and far beyond anyone on our stage. A
real artist and a gentleman.

Last Thursday I began reading again in London--a condensation of
"Copperfield," and "Mr. Bob Sawyer's Party," from "Pickwick," to finish
merrily. The success of "Copperfield" is astounding. It made an
impression that _I_ must not describe. I may only remark that I was half
dead when I had done; and that although I had looked forward, all
through the summer, when I was carefully getting it up, to its being a
London sensation; and that although Macready, hearing it at Cheltenham,
told me to be prepared for a great effect, it even went beyond my hopes.
I read again next Thursday, and the rush for places is quite furious.
Tell Townshend this with my love, if you see him before I have time to
write to him; and tell him that I thought the people would never let me
go away, they became so excited, and showed it so very warmly. I am
trying to plan out a new book, but have not got beyond trying.