its actors being Mr. Crummles the manager (Dickens in other
words), the Author of the play, Mr. Lemon and Mr. Egg, and the manager's
sister-in-law and eldest daughter. It was followed by the Guild farce of
_Mr. Nightingale's Diary_, in which besides the performers named, and
Dickens in his old personation part, the manager's youngest daughter and
Mr. Frank Stone assisted. The success was wonderful; and in the three
delighted audiences who crowded to what the bills described as "the
smallest theatre in the world," were not a few of the notabilities of
London. Mr. Carlyle compared Dickens's wild picturesqueness in the old
lighthouse keeper to the famous figure in Nicholas Poussin's
bacchanalian dance in the National Gallery; and at one of the joyous
suppers that followed on each night of the play, Lord Campbell told the
company that he had much rather have written _Pickwick_ than be Chief
Justice of England and a peer of parliament.[187]

Then came the beginning of _Nobody's Fault_, as _Little Dorrit_
continued to be called by him up to the eve of its publication; a flight
to Folkestone to help his sluggish fancy; and his return to London in
October to preside at a dinner to Thackeray on his going to lecture in
America. It was a muster of more than sixty admiring entertainers, and
Dickens's speech gave happy expression to the spirit that animated all,
telling Thackeray not alone how much his friendship was prized by those
present, and how proud they were of his genius, but offering him in the
name of the tens of thousands absent who had never touched his hand or
seen his face, life-long thanks for the treasures of mirth, wit, and
wisdom within the yellow-covered numbers of _Pendennis_ and _Vanity
Fair_. Peter Cunningham, one of the sons of Allan, was secretary to the
banquet; and for many pleasures given to the subject of this memoir, who
had a hearty regard for him, should have a few words to his memory.

His presence was always welcome to Dickens, and indeed to all who knew
him, for his relish of social life was great, and something of his keen
enjoyment could not but be shared by his company. His geniality would
have carried with it a pleasurable glow even if it had stood alone, and
it was invigorated by very considerable acquirements. He had some
knowledge of the works of eminent authors and artists; and he had an
eager interest in their lives and haunts, which he had made the subject
of minute and novel enquiry. This