ess, is comprehensible enough; and in truth it
is unfair, both to painter and model, that we should take such
portraits too seriously. Landor, who sat for the thunderous and kindly
Boythorn, had more reason to be satisfied. Besides these one may
mention Joe, the outcast; and Mr. Turveydrop, the beau of the school
of the Regency--how horrified he would have been at the
juxtaposition--and George, the keeper of the rifle gallery, a fine
soldierly figure; and Mr. Bucket, the detective--though Dickens had a
tendency to idealize the abilities of the police force. As to Sir
Leicester Dedlock, I think he is, on the whole, "mine author's" best
study of the aristocracy, a direction in which Dickens' forte did not
lie, for Sir Leicester _is_ a gentleman, and receives the terrible
blow that falls upon him in a spirit at once chivalrous and human.

What between "Bleak House," _Household Words_, and "The Child's
History of England," Dickens, in the spring of 1853, was overworked
and ill. Brighton failed to restore him; and he took his family over
to Boulogne in June, occupying there a house belonging to a certain M.
de Beaucourt. Town, dwelling, and landlord, all suited him exactly.
Boulogne he declared to be admirable for its picturesqueness in
buildings and life, and equal in some respects to Naples itself. The
dwelling, "a doll's house of many rooms," embowered in roses, and with
a terraced garden, was a place after his own heart. While as to the
landlord--he was "wonderful." Dickens never tires of extolling his
virtues, his generosity, his kindness, his anxiety to please, his
pride in "the property." All the pleasant delicate quaint traits in
the man's character are irradiated as if with French sunshine in his
tenant's description. It is a dainty little picture and painted with
the kindliest of brushes. Poor Beaucourt, he was "inconsolable" when
he and Dickens finally parted three years afterwards--for twice again
did the latter occupy a house, but not this same house, on "the
property." Many were the tears that he shed, and even the garden, the
loved garden, went forlorn and unweeded. But that was in 1856. The
parting was not so final and terrible in the October of 1853, when
Dickens, having finished "Bleak House," started with Mr. Wilkie
Collins, and Augustus Egg, the artist, for a holiday tour in
Switzerland and Italy.

FOOTNOTES:

[20] "History of English Literature," vol. v.

[21] "Recollections of Writers," by Charle