The following pages were written more than twenty years since, and were
then published periodically in Household Words.
In the original form of publication the Rogue was very favorably received.
Year after year, I delayed the republication, proposing, at the suggestion
of my old friend, Mr. Charles Reade, to enlarge the present sketch of the
hero’s adventures in Australia. But the opportunity of carrying out this
project has proved to be one of the lost opportunities of my life. I
republish the story with its original conclusion unaltered, but with such
occasional additions and improvements as will, I hope, render it more
worthy of attention at the present time.
The critical reader may possibly notice a tone of almost boisterous gayety
in certain parts of these imaginary Confessions. I can only plead, in
defense, that the story offers the faithful reflection of a very happy
time in my past life. It was written at Paris, when I had Charles Dickens
for a near neighbor and a daily companion, and when my leisure hours were
joyously passed with many other friends, all associated with literature
and art, of whom the admirable comedian, Regnier, is now the only
survivor. The revising of these pages has been to me a melancholy task. I
can only hope that they may cheer the sad moments of others. The Rogue may
surely claim two merits, at least, in the eyes of the new generation—he
is never serious for two moments together; and he “doesn’t take long to
read.” W. C.
GLOUCESTER PLACE, LONDON, March 6th, 1879.