Eleanor Picken Christian

Eleanor Picken was born in 1820. Her father, a writer, died when she was a child. She was adopted by the lawyer, Charles Smithson. When she was nineteen she met Charles Dickens. She was excited by meeting this famous writer and later described his "marvelous eyes and long hair". However, she disliked his "huge collar and vast expanse of waistcoat, and vast expanse of waistcoat, and the boots with patent toes." Eleanor added: "young as I was, I was aware of the vagaries of dress indulged in by authors and artists; but this was something unusual".

In September 1840 Dickens and his family took a holiday at Broadstairs. He invited the Smithsons to join him by taking a house in the town. Over the next few weeks Eleanor saw a great deal of Dickens who seemed very attracted to the young woman. During the evenings the two families played guessing games like Animal, Vegetable, Mineral and charades. They also danced together and she later commented that "at these times I confess I was horribly afraid of him" as he was guilty of the "most amusing but merciless criticisms".

One evening Dickens took Eleanor to the beach to watch the evening light fade as the tide came in. Eleanor later recalled: "Dickens seemed suddenly to be possessed with the demon of mischief; he threw his arm around me and ran me down the inclined plane to the end of the jetty till we reached a tall post. He put his other arm round this, and exclaimed in theatrical tones that he intended to hold me there till the sad sea waves should submerge us."

Eleanor "implored him to let me go, and struggled hard to release myself". Dickens told her: "Don't struggle, poor little bird; you are powerless in the claws of such a kite as." Eleanor explained: "The tide was coming up rapidly and surged over my feet. I gave a loud shriek and tried to bring him back to common sense by reminding him that my dress, my best dress, my only silk dress, would be ruined."

Eleanor called out for Catherine Dickens: "Mrs Dickens, help me, make Mr Dickens let me go - the waves are up to my knees!" Eleanor explained: "The rest of the party had now arrived, and Mrs Dickens told him not to be so silly, and not to spoil Eleanor's dress." Dickens replied: "Dress, talk not to me of dress! When the pall of night is enshrouding us... when we already stand on the brink of the great mystery, shall our thoughts be of fleshly vanities?"

Claire Tomalin , the author of Dickens: A Life (2011), has pointed out: "Clearly there was some chemistry between Eleanor and Dickens, and he must have felt that she enjoyed his attentions. She was after all the star of the evening, the chosen one, even if chosen as victim. But he was an aggressive admirer. On two occasions he rushed her under a waterfall, ruining the bonnet she was wearing each time, and he pulled her hair during games, a gesture both boyish and intimate."

After they arrived back in London Eleanor went to lunch at Dickens's home at Devonshire Terrace with the Smithsons. However, Dickens refused to leave his study and Eleanor did not see him again. Tomalin has argued: "Two things might help to explain why he turned against her. One was that she was ready to argue with him. Since his marriage he had been used to deference, while Eleanor describes herself defending Byron's verses when he criticized them, and standing up for herself generally. The other was that he may have noticed her diary keeping and objected to it. Dickens was the observer, and had no wish to be the observed."

Eleanor Picken married the naval officer Edward Christian in 1842. She did not see Dickens again until November 1858, when she attended a reading of A Christmas Carol in Southampton. Eleanor remarked that "his face lined by deep furrows, hair grizzled and thinned, his expression care-worn and clouded". She added that he had "withered and dwindled into a smaller man".

Charles Dickens died on on 8th June, 1870. In 1871 Eleanor published Reminiscences of Charles Dickens from a Young Lady's Diary , in the Englishwoman's Domestic Magazine . Eleanor published a follow-up article, Recollections of Charles Dickens, His Family and Friends , in Temple Bar magazine.

Eleanor Picken Christian died 1898.

Primary Sources

(1) Claire Tomalin , Dickens: A Life (2011)

Clearly there was some chemistry between Eleanor and Dickens, and he must have felt that she enjoyed his attentions. She was after all the star of the evening, the chosen one, even if chosen as victim. But he was an aggressive admirer. On two occasions he rushed her under a waterfall, ruining the bonnet she was wearing each time, and he pulled her hair during games, a gesture both boyish and intimate...

Two things might help to explain why he turned against her. One was that she was ready to argue with him. Since his marriage he had been used to deference, while Eleanor describes herself defending Byron's verses when he criticized them, and standing up for herself generally. The other was that he may have noticed her diary keeping and objected to it. Dickens was the observer, and had no wish to be the observed.

(2) Eleanor Picken Christian, Englishwoman's Domestic Magazine (1871)

Dickens seemed suddenly to be possessed with the demon of mischief; he threw his arm around me and ran me down the inclined plane to the end of the jetty till we reached a tall post. He put his other arm round this, and exclaimed in theatrical tones that he intended to hold me there till the "sad sea waves" should submerge us.

"Think of the emotion we shall create! Think of the road to celebrity which you are about to tread! No, not exactly to tread, but to flounder into!"

Here I implored him to let me go, and struggled hard to release myself.

"Let your mind dwell on the column in The Times wherein will be vividly described the pathetic fate of the lovely E.P., drowned by Dickens in a fit of dementia! Don't struggle, poor little bird; you are powerless in the claws of such a kite as."

The tide was coming up rapidly and surged over my feet. I gave a loud shriek and tried to bring him back to common sense by reminding him that "My best dress, my only silk dress, would be ruined." Even this climax did not soften him: he still went on with his serio-comic nonsense, shaking with laughter all the time, and panting with his struggles to hold me.

"Mrs Dickens!" a frantic shriek this time, for now the waves rushed up to my knees; "help me, make Mr Dickens let me go - the waves are up to my knees!"

The rest of the party had now arrived, and Mrs Dickens told him not to be so silly, and not to spoil Eleanor's dress. "Dress!" cried Dickens "talk not to me of dress! When the pall of night is enshrouding us... when we already stand on the brink of the great mystery, shall our thoughts be of fleshly vanities?"